#saturday nights dates with the cat

[syrupfog]

Nami uses Sanji’s oven door as a mirror because the kitchen has the best lighting and it’s the warmest room on the ship. Also because Sanji could never refuse her.

[simpingforheros]

Jason’s Wife?!

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Meet Mrs. Todd?! Jason got eloped and he doesn’t intend on sharing his blushing bride just yet.

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Established Relationship, Eloping, Jason being an ass to his family (for good reason), Jason calling Reader Ma (can’t remember who wrote about that, please tag them because I love this headcanon), P in V, unprotected sex (don’t advertise for the unsafe sex, put some breading on yalls chicken before dumping it in oil) , Oral (m receiving), Body Worship, Phone/Facetime during the deed, Exhibition Kink, Mating Press, Slight Breeding Kink, Degradation, Praise, crying kink??,TOXIC-ish And POSSESSIVE! Jason Todd is back, Traumatizing Dick again.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the praise I got on my last Jason Todd Fanfic! I didn’t know you guys would like my first smut that much so I made a part 2. Enjoy your next fix you horny bastards (jk I love you guys )

AN: This is Part 2 to Jason’s Girl??, so go read that for some context. Also a quick shout out to the mutual who started my spiraling decent into his madness, @jjenthusee , who was the main inspiration because of their amazing artwork! Also I’m sorry this was late and I don’t update as often, I’m in my second semester in a health major and I’m stumped man. I’ll update when I can I promise.

A/N: Part 3>>> Jason Broke What??

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jason Todd is a lot of things. He’s known for bad things and good things. It depends on who you ask.

A menace, a murderer, a zombie, an asshole, etc.

A son, a brother, a hero….

But there’s two things everyone can agree on.

1). He’s a good boyfriend.

For the last 6 months since Jason finally revealed his secret girlfriend of two years, the Bat Family learned just how much of a better person Jason was when (Y/N) was around.

His voice was softer and kinder to others. His temperament was more patient and his fists stayed loose. Her presence acting like a balm to sooth his soul as soon as he feels her comforting hand on his skin.

There were obvious moments of trouble, such as little squabbles or one gets snappy at the other, but normally they sort it out. Even if Bruce and the rest of the family didn’t know her for long, they knew that she had the backbone to handle Jason and give him what he needed without babying him.

Jason even shows his love for her in goofy ways, such as wearing matching shirts or color coordinated outfits. The two are now known for their Friday date nights and lazy Saturdays where they don’t wanna be disturbed. Their late night rides or their silent evenings where either a book or controller is in hand.

Red Hood is known for lingering around certain streets where she would be at when she had to work late, and he always had a bottle of water or granola bar he ‘mysteriously appeared’ out of thin air.

Jason was known for being proud of building the healthiest relationship he’s ever had with someone who didn’t fall in love with him because he was Bruce Wayne’s son, or Batman’s protege. She fell in love with Jason Peter Todd and all he was.

Which leads to the one thing that the family also knew him for.

2) Jason Todd would not tell anyone when he dropped down on one knee and asked (Y/N) to be his wife.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The proposal was a spontaneous to say the least.

Their usual Saturday routine of laying on the couch, too exhausted from the week to move. Jason laid on the opposite side as his beloved, her feet dangling off to the side of his hips as his own rested behind her shoulders. They both had a book in as they enjoyed their silence. The only noise coming from the soft patter of Frank coming over to lay on his adopted father.

The tabby cat that Jason claimed to not like despite the male cat clinging to him like glue. The cat jumped onto his stomach with a deep groan emitting from him. A soft giggle filled the room as she sets her book down and pulls the feline to her.

“I still don’t understand why my cat likes you more than me.” She comments as she strokes the tabby’s fur.

Jason scoffs as he carefully rolls off the couch and onto his feet. “Probably to spite me.”

He heads to the kitchen to grab them a drink as he hears one comment that seemed to change everything in one second.

“What’s gonna happen when we have a kid? Would you think they would prefer you over me or would we have another Frank?…”

The question was a hypothetical one, a normal one couples would ask just to make sound in the air. Jason would have probably answered light heartedly with a kiss or a smart ass comment to make her laugh, but it felt different. He felt different.

There wasn’t a ‘if’ in the question like it would or wouldn’t happen, but a definite of ‘when’ it would happen. Jason knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Hell, he managed to not fuck up a relationship he kept hidden for 2 years. He knew he wanted to marry her the moment he decided to open up and let her into his life by moving her in and introducing her to his family.

So, even if it was on an impulse, Jason returns back into the living room and as he placed their drinks on the coffee table as he kneels on the floor beside the couch. (Y/N) sits up as she smiles at him, unaware of the decision he made.

“Penny for your thoughts, Todd?” She asked playfully as she offers him an imaginary penny in between her pinched fingers.

Jason smiles as he takes her out stretched hand before kissing the back of it.

“Marry me.”

The seriousness in his eyes made her playful attitude dissolve to disbelief.

“What?…”

“I wanna marry you, (Y/N)…You are the everything I could ever want and don’t deserve. But I can’t imagine building a life like the one we have with anyone else. You are one of the few lights this dark world has and I wanna love and protect you for the rest of our lives.” Jason explains as he nervously massages her hand as his eyes shined with deep love and affection. “Even if I don’t have a ring yet and we are in our pajamas, will you accept me and let me become yours forever?”

Tears streamed down her face as she nods frantically. Her arms quickly wrapping around Jason’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Jason melts into her and begins to move to be on top of her on the couch until a sharp hiss makes him stop.

“Quiet, Frank…” Jason grumbles at the cat.

“Daddy is trying get some sugar from Mama~”

+++++++++++++++++

A week later, Alfred appeared extra peppy for the day. His duties were quickly done before the family was awake and his fidgeting gotten everyone concerned. Alfred was the normally level-headed gentle hand of the house, so seeing him so giddy made everyone nervous.

It wasn’t until he surprisingly left in one of his better suits and a gift bag that the rest of the Wayne Family just decided that he may be going to an event or some kind.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Tim asks his younger brother from behind a book.

Damian shrugs as he says, “How should I know?”

The answer wouldn’t come until later that evening. Alfred came back with both the brightest smile and red swollen eyes. In his hands were a single pale pink rose and a camera as he scurries to the study.

Tim, Dick, and Damian, who were scattered around the living room, followed out of curiosity. What’s gotten Alfred this way? An old flame? The thought of Alfred getting down and dirty made the boys shudder before they continue to the study and ultimately down to the Batcave.

“Yo, Alfred.” Dick calls out as he exits the elevator.

Alfred stood by the large chair over looking the Batcomputer as Bruce’s hulking form peaked over the leather. The clicking of the mouse playing in the background as Alfred turns his head to address Dick.

“Yes, Master Richard?” He says. In his hand was the camera with cables connecting it to the computer.

“Where have you been? You kinda left in a hurry…”

Tim jumps in as he says, “I mean, we aren’t trying to be rude, but you did seem kinda jumpy this morning.”

Damian’s words cut through the other two like ice as his eyes look at the monitor.

“Did Todd and his woman get married?”

Dick and Tim look back at Damian before their shocked expressions look up to the monitor. Their eyes widen in disbelief at the image before them.

Standing in a suit was a an absolutely beeming smile was Jason Todd with his hands interlocked with (Y/N), who was wearing a white dress. The dress didn’t look like the traditional floor length gown. Instead it was a backless chic dress with a bow on the back. Her hair was down and decorated with pearl ornaments as a matching ribbon choker was around her neck with a single aged pearl on it.

In their interlocked finders, a familiar set of rings shined . Martha Wayne’s sparkling diamond engagement ring and her wedding band was on (Y/N)’s finger as a matching wedding band was on Jason’s finger.

The surroundings didn’t look like a typical wedding venue with flowers and ribbons with a crowd of people. It was a courthouse, Gotham City Courthouse. On (Y/N)’s side stood Alfred holding a pale pink bouquet that was most likely the bride’s. What surprised them the most was a smiling Bruce on Jason’s side, a look of pride on his face that he rarely shown.

The boys break out of their shell as Dick complains.

“This can’t be real… Jason and (Y/N) got married without telling any of us….AND YOU LET JASON HAVE MARTHA’S RING!!” Dick snaps as his irritation grew. “You said I was gonna have it.”

Bruce sighs as he says, “I said that before you cheated on both of your girlfriends with each other.”

Alfred chuckles as he says, “And Master Jason specifically stated that he only wanted me and Master Bruce there.”

Tim frowns as he asks, “Why weren’t we invited?”

Alfred gives the boy a sympathetic look before reciting, “Miss (Y/N) and Jason only wanted a small ceremony and off what he said, ‘Damian makes (Y/N) uncomfortable when he calls her Jason’s woman and a distraction. Dick is plain out not invited because of reasons he knows why. And Tim can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, so he’s not invited.’”

Damian tsks as he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to go anyways.”

Dick was flustered as the images of the incident Alfred was referring to. He still can’t get her moans out of his head…

Tim pouts and says, “I’m gonna remember this…But why was Bruce invited then?”

Bruce responds with a smirk , “Because I was asked to give away the bride.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As soon as the newly weds returned their apartment, the lust sprinkled down like hale. Her well manicured hair was now messy as his hands held her head. His mouth devouring her moans as her own lips kept up with his pace.

Her fingers desperately removing his tie as the shrilling ring of Jason’s cell phone fills the air. He ignores it in favor of trailing tongue against his bride’s as she slings off the tie.

“Gonna answer that?” She mumbles as his mouth begins to trail down her jawline. Jason doesn’t answer as his hands scoop up under her thighs to pick her up. Her giggles were music in his ears as he says,

“It’s probably just Tim or Dick. Probably bitching about the wedding…”

Jason carries his wife through the threshold of their apartment hallway as his lips remained on hers. Their vows sealed in teeth and tongues as he expertly guided them into the bedroom.

His phone finally stopped ringing as he places her on the bed. Hands groping and pulling off of clothing as he unwraps her down to her underwear and stockings. His mouth hot against her breast as she pushes his now unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.

His other hand dipping into her underwear as he flicks her erected nipples like a guitar. Her sweet music filling the room as he’s met with a creamy cunt under her white thong.

“Fuccck, ma..” He moans against her breast. Jason pulls away with a devilish smirk as he runs his finger over her sopping folds, carefully avoiding her hole and clit. “I can’t tell what I like more…your pretty tits or your sloppy cunt…”

(Y/N) feels the wave of shameful arousal fill her stomach as she whines out, “Stop teasing me, baby. It’s our wedding day and you’re acting like a jackass…”

Her body jolts as he pinches her clit. Her hips jerking as she moans at the sensation. Jason had a look of faux sympathy before mumbling against the valley of her breasts.

“Oh, you’re right…” His voice barely audible to her as he begins to rub heart shaped patterns on her clit, making sure to dip down to her gasping pussy as he dips down. “I’m not acting like a good husband, ain’t I? Let me make it up to you, Mrs. Todd.”

His lips attached to her unabused nipple before his middle finger finally dips into her pulsing hole. His groan accentuated by the scraping of his teeth against her sensitive flesh. The feeling of her cunt sucking his one finger in making him light headed as her moans ringed out.

“Jason…stop teasing me…I want you…” She begs as her hips try to meet the thrust of his finger. He growls at her bossiness before yanking his finger out of her pulling her panties down her thighs.

Her eyes glared at him for the loss of stimulation before he quickly pops her pussy lightly. The wet slap of skin making her cringe in embarrassment before Jason begins to leave a trail of open kisses and bites down her body. Making sure to pay special attention to the matching tattoo on her hip before he mumbles to her with a lazy smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

Before he could dig into his meal, the shrill ring of his phone invades the space. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen before declining the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed as he glares at the offending device.

“Stupid Dick..” He groans before a soft hand on his face draws him back to her. Her gentle touch bringing peace to his mind as she pulls him up to press a soft peck to his lips.

His mind goes blank as she gently lures him to stand before she kneels down, trailing kisses down his exposed chest and his scars. Her love poured into his body as her lips traced his autopsy scars. Her eyes shining so pretty as she presses an extra long kiss to his matching tattoo on his Adonis belt.

The silent vow that was made a year and a half into dating on a drunk night out with Roy.

‘I am hers and she is mine’

“Let me be a good wife to you, Mr. Todd.” She whispers against his skin. Her breath like hot fire before her hands snake off his belt and trousers. Her mischievous eyes gleaming in lustful delight as Jason’s lip curls in between his teeth. His eyes almost glowing as she presses her warm lips against his clothed tip. His hand fisting into her hair as he hisses at her.

“Don’t you fucking tease me…”

*RING* *RING*

Jason glares at the phone before he snatches it up. He sees the familiar notification as his own image shown on the phone. FaceTime.

“Answer it.”

“What?” Jason asks in confusion before looking down to her. His surprise was suppressed with a hiss as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear. Her hand lazyily stroking him as she gives him a look of faux innocence.

“Answer it. It’s rude to ignore family..”

Jason feels a smirk curled onto his face as he realizes what she wanted. His dick hardened to iron as he remembers why he fell for her.

She was just as fucked as he was.

With that, Jason schools his face as he answers the phone with an annoyed expression.

“What?” He says as the image of his brother appears on his phone screen.

Dick glares at Jason before snapping at him. “You got fucking married?! Without inviting any of us?!”

“Didn’t Alfred tell you why we didn’t want you guys there?” Jason asked in as much annoyance as he can muster as he felt the wet pull of lips around his cock.

His hand gripping her hair kept her from getting more than his tip in as he hides his reaction. Her tongue licking his tip like a kitten wanting milk.

“But we are family for fucks sake.”

Jason’s actual annoyance getting the best of him as he hisses,

“I’m sorry, but I recall you trying to fuck my wife.”

“THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HER!!”

Jason becomes distracted as (Y/N) starts sucking him off. Her drool and his precum slowly beginning to coat her mouth and hand as it strokes what she can’t fit into her pretty mouth.

His brow furrowed as his pleasure and annoyance started to mix on his face. Jason decides to get some payback on both his wife and brother as he slyly mentions.

“Oh but you had no problem rubbing one out when I sent those videos.”

He pulls her closer to his pelvis to muffle her surprised moan. If he wasn’t on the phone, he would degrade her like a slut with how she acts when she remembers being recorded. Her cheeks hollow as Dick’s jaw drops as Jason mentions the videos.

“I-I..”

“Admit it.” Jason says, his voice grew more taunting. “You probably still jack off to the videos because you’re nothing but a loser who cheats on any good woman he gets because you’re scared of attaching to someone.”

Jason can feel her eagerness grow as she sucks harder, actually pulling him as deep into her throat as she can. He almost wanted to both laugh at how cute she was as she gagged around him and coo at how proud he was of her. Her jaw was gonna be hurting like a bitch either way.

Dick’s baffled expression almost made it better as his eyes shined with shame over what Jason knew to be true.

“That’s why Bruce gave me Martha’s ring.” Jason says as he forces (Y/N) to take him all the way down her throat. Her nose pressing into his light patch of black hair as Jason says. “fuck…I can fuck (Y/N) like I fucking hate her guts and she would take it because she knows I would rather swallow glass than fuck anyone else like I do her. To even love anyone halfway as I do her would be a sin…”

The fluttering feeling of her throat as her nails digged into his thigh affirming his conviction.

“I’m not afraid to get attached… As long as she lives, I’ll never let her go…”

He hangs up before Dick can respond as he yanks her back by her hair. Her coughing and gasping for air as she whine painfully at both the lost of his cock in her mouth and the painful grip on her scalp.

Jason releases her hair before kneeling beside her on the floor. His expression tender as he cups her face. Her light makeup look from the wedding was now smudged off with her mascara flowing down her face with her tears. Her lips puffy and wet from his assault on her mouth. Her body littered in forming bruises from his teeth. Her cunt sloppy and leaking a clear sheen down her thighs. Her cheek leaning into his palm as her eyes shined at him with nothing but love and desire.

“Fuck…” He groans before crawling inbetween her legs as he pushes her to lay down on the floor. His mouth back on hers as his throbbing erection lightly dragged against her fluttering pussy. The head catching her clit despite the watery resistance as she whimpers into his mouth.

“You look so pretty like this…” Jason says before sticking his tongue down her throats. Their tongues tangling for a moment before his hands cup her face and pull her away. “You feel it, don’t you?”

She whines as his hips rolled against hers. Her cunt angry as it fluttered around nothing. His nearly red dick twitching as it desires salvation in her temple as Jason breathlessly whimpers.

“Feel how bad I need you baby? Fuck I can’t stand it. I wanna fuck you every day so I can see you look like this.” He says as he wraps his hand his member. He slaps her pussy with it twice before dragging his head over her entrance, the heavy appendage dipping in slightly as he says.

“I wanna ruin you so good. You’re such a good pretty girl that I want to ruin and make as fucked up as me…”

Her gasps fill the room as he starts to bully his tip into her. Even though they were both well experienced with each other, every time she takes him feels like the first time with that delicious stretch.

His unusually talkative mood doesn’t let up as he pushes his hips into her, forcing her to take him.

“You’re so gorgeous…” He whispers as he pulls her legs over his shoulders as he grasps her hips, forcing them up as he starts to fill her to the hilt. “God, this pussy is unbelievable…gonna fill her up everyday and eat her out every night…”

His thrusts start off slow but hard as her hands desperately held onto what bit of Jason she could as he fucked her like a doll. Her whimpers and moans filling the air as the sticky sound of his balls smacking her ass.

His hot breath tickles her ears as his hips develop the torturous pattern of pistoling into her like a hard buck before rolling in a deep and filling thrust. Her eyes filling with tears and brain fog as he filled her lust sick brain with praise.

“Such a good little wife…a sweet little thing with a nice soft body for me…” He groans as his pace becomes brutal. His precision and memory impeccably beats anything he learned as a vigilante as he assaults her G-spot. Her eyes rolling back as lighting strikes her the brain as she begins to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck. fuck…” she sobs incoherently as Jason licks the tears off her face.

“You look so hot when your cry…” Jason moans as his thrusts start to become more sloppy. His reaches between them as he rubs tight circles on her clit as he thrusts harder into her soft cunt.

“Will you cry some more please?” He’s asked in a cruel tone. His eyes blown out with desire as he lets his full weight pin her down under him. His added weight making her pinned as she cries. Her stomach tightening at the overwhelming presence of him and his cock destroying her insides.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Ma…” He says as his own whimpers fall through. “Gonna watch you get swollen and carry a little perfect baby and know that you’re mine…that no one can love you like me… ain’t that right?”

Her impending orgasm blocking off all rational thoughts as her mouth hangs open. His hand pulls from her clit to her frustration and grabs a hold of her jaw. Forcing her to look at him as he says harshly.

“Who do you belong to ,Pretty Girl?”

Her eyes widen as she says, “You…I belong to you baby…”

Jason smirks as he starts thrusting faster. Her shrieks just music in his ears as she falls off the edge. Her vision clouded as white flashes in her vision. Her body nearly convulsing as her cunt squeezes Jason into his own orgasm. His warm seed flooding her quivering womb as he presses a kiss into her neck.

The pair remained still for a moment as they gasped for air. The natural chill of the room causing them to tremble at the stimulation. Her small hand moving first as she grabs his hand, her fingers playing with the gold band on his finger as she whispers.

“My husband…” A soft satisfied smile on her lips as Jason grins widely into her neck as he mumbles.

“All yours, Mrs. Todd.”

**********************

AN: Yea I didn’t know how to end this. 😭 I hope you guys like it because I’m not too sure if the smut is good or not. Let me know what you think as I’m trying to clear out the drafts. Again, Thank you @jjenthusee for inspiring these two fanfics and for being a great mutual.

*******************

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE THEFT, COPYING, REPOSTING, AND PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK ON THIS SITE OR OTHER SITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION.

[katiascraft]

"Him" | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x bestie!reader.

Summary: Oblivious idiots to lovers. That's what Max said.

Word count: +2,7k.

Warnings: nooone just pure fluff and some language hehe. Not a native english speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author's note: AAAAAAA i loved writting this one 🥹 Dont forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

“You only say that because you fancy him, y/n. You can't play with me”Max said out of nowhere while talking about the whole Lando drama and his fourth championship at Danny Ric’s house. Your three have been best friends for quite some time now. Actually, you have been friends with most of the grid for a couple of years now. They were like family to you and recently, you moved countries to live and study in Monaco and be able to spend more time with your friends.

“What have you just said motherfucker?” you acted offended. Nethertheless it took you by surprise that he said such a thing when you have never talked about Lando and your feelings for him with him nor danny. But Max knew you too well to already know the whole story. Of course Danny laughen and you could feel the heat going up your face. You feel exposed so you try to cover up by drinking another sip from your glass of white wine. You thank god it was in the privacy of Danny's house and not some random bar for everyone to hear.

“Oh c’mon y/n, i think it’s pretty too obvious by now” max continued noticing the panic and surprise on your face.

“Yeah, it is obvious and cute to see how you drool, staring at him everytime he talks. And not to mention you eat him alive at races when he is all sweaty -” danny continued the torture but you stopped them both making them laugh.

“Just stop!” you said “you guys are impossible!” your face was red and anxiety took over you for a moment.you sighed defeated. “To be honest with you, yeah, I do like him. But lets be real, im nt even his type at all” you said remembering how he was kissing magui, that model he fucks now and the, kind of a situationship, in front of your fucking face the whole night a few weeks ago. “And even as impossible as it sounds, if there was an actual chance for me with him, we wouldn't work either. I'm complicated. And he doesn't see me like that. He never did. And i'm sure that won't change like ever” you added just convince yourself of everything you said. It was impossible, right? There was no chance in this universe for him to see you like that. You are so far from what he used to date. It's just an innocent crush. You’ll meet someone,right? You saw Max denying with his head.

“y/n, i know you are not the most confident human being i know but be fucking for real, you are not complicated. And everything you said it's nonsense. You are fun to be around, you make him laugh until he pisses himself, you give him his favorite things, you bake him cookies and pies, you listen to him when he is sad, you are like the bestest person next to him. And let me tell you, I have no doubts he is into you as much as you are. It's in your eyes guys. You love each other more fondly than you want to admit” he said leaving you speechless for a moment and with a mess of confusion around your head. You wanted to believe him but at the same time you can’t.

“Mic drop, sir” Danny said and they both laughed. You smiled but rolled your eyes in disbelief.

“I wish” you finally said, making Max roll his eyes.

“Two oblivious idiots, can you believe it danny?” Max said ironically and Danny followed him.

“I see it mate. It's sad. I wanna cry” he said.

“You guys are impossible." You declared to go back to your trivial talk about cats and australia barbecue.

(...)

It was a beautiful saturday. You were thankful Ria said yes to accompany you to buy a new outfit for tonight's party. Martin Garrix was in town and lando invited you all to his friend's show. Coffees in hand, you were chatting about everything and anything.

“So the plan is a sexy outfit just to impress your boy?” she teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with the idea that I like lando? As if he would care what I wear or not” you said, a little irritated. You just wanted to conquer someone else tonight to forget about all of this and move one. You knew it was impossible that Lando liked you back so why be stuck in it? You were gonna dress up and doll up and conquer whoever you may please. That was your masterplan.

“Girl, you need to relax. I say it first hand: he cares a lot fucking much. He likes you. I just know.but you two are too dumb to accept it” she said raising her shoulders.

You felt so confused once again. These were Lnados friends who knew him just like you did. First it was Max and Danny and now it is ria. You didn't want to fool yourself. And at the same time you wanted him to know for the longest time. You wanted him to notice you. And you also knew him and you knew how he is with girls and if he liked you then he would've told you by now.

“Ria, dont play with me” you begged. Concern showed in your voice. She gave you a gentle hug by your side.

“I won't ever do that to you y/n. I would never in a million years forgive myself if I did. You're my friend and I just want you to be happy. Believe me” her voice was soft and sweet. You just smile and change the subject. You didn't want to discuss this anymore. Nor did you think you could handle it.

(...)

Saturday night finally came and so did the margaritas you so dearly adore when you needed to forget reality. You were pretty tipsy by now. You met Franco Colapinto and you didn't even know he was invited but oh god he was so fun to be around. You've Been talking to him the whole night about whatever to be honest.and yeah, he looked really hot tonight by the way. You felt lucky he even looked at you and so you followed around.

You bumped into Max at the bar table after ordering yet another margarita. He looked at you a little tipsy as well.

“So you replaced lando for an argentine prince, huh?” He teased you.

“Oh shut the fuck up verstappen. Were in public” you said going back to the barman who was handing you your precious margarita drink. He rolled his eyes.

“Be careful. Lando's not happy” he said and disappeared into the people holding his vodka with red bull. Weird mix but he was loyal to his employers i guess.

You came back to where Franco was waiting for you to be back. He looked so cute under the lights in that white shirt he was wearing. And speaking of white shirt you saw Lando talking to him. You cursed yourself right there. You may or may not have ignored him the whole night. But you just couldn't face him after what all your friends said. You just didn't want to be tempted by his pretty shiny green eyes and his mouth. Oh what you'd give up just to taste his lips.

“Oh there is the missing girl,” Lando said, looking at you when you arrived and smiling nervously. The tension established between you two even Franco noticed it.

“Guess it is my turn to go to the bar. Be right back, guys” he said and left the two of you alone. You took a sip from your glass avoiding his sight.

“What's wrong with you?” he said kind of offended? Anger could be clearly heard in his voice. You sighed not knowing what to answer.

“What do you mean lando?” you decided to play the fool. You wanted to run away. His eyes were intimidating you.

“One day we watch movies together and bake cookies and the other you ignore me for several days and even flirt with another dude straight to my face?” what he just told you took you by surprise. You frowned, confused at his statement. The tension was burning your throat. He got closer and so you finally faced him. You looked at him. His face straight and his eyes dark with a little sparkle. You couldn't read what was going on inside him. Maybe he was just as confused as you were. “You look too pretty in that dress to be talking to him and not me” you could breathe his warm breath tasting tequila mixed with lemon. You swallowed hard. Your insides exploded. what was happening? He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. His touch burns your skin sending shivers down your spine. This was actually happening? Your hands were shaking. You really thought about what to tell him. A devilish smile appeared in his face when he thought he left you speechless. But you weren't ready to let him win.

“Well, for your information, I'm single and I can talk to wherever my vagina pleases so that shouldn't be none of your business. Also, why would I talk to you if you have been talking with more than one girl tonight? I'm a selective lady. What can I say” you smiled innocently.

He bit his lip. He tightened his grip around you. More possessive. More irresistible. Your innocent smile turns into a triumph smile. ”so if you dont mind i’ll keep talking to Franco and luckly fuck him. Have a good night Landito” you said provocatively leaving lando hanging into his words as you pulled away and walked away from him. His brain is malfunctioning.

And as you promised you kissed and fucked Franco Colpinto that night.

(...)

It was already the next sunday and Lando had disappeared. There was nowhere to be found. He didn't reply to your texts nor your calls. He became just dead silent. That made you feel even more confused than you already were. What did it mean what happened at the party? What were his intentions? Why didn't you kiss him? You were torn into feeling guilty and stupid at the same time. Like you had an actual chance with him but you didn't take it. And you didn't even know why. You hated yourself so much for that. How stupid.

Max, Lando's best friend, invited you over along with Pietra and Lando. You were cooking some vanilla flavored cookies with chocolate chips. The famous crumble cookies. Lando has been pretty much ignoring you. And you have been really quiet. Very unusual both ways. The tension was irritating. Max and Pietra tried to play it cool but it was very uncomfortable. When Lando came back from the bathroom, Max took him into the terrace and you stayed with pietra inside in the kitchen doing your stuff.

“Babe, what happened between you two?” she sounded genuinely worried. You sighed stressed.

“To be honest with you, I don't know. After a weird moment at the party last Saturday, he has been ust ignoring me. I didn't know if he was even alive if Max didn't invite us here. Very childish in my opinion but what can I say? I Didn't face him either.” you explained and pietra frowned her eyebrows.

“You need to talk honey. You need to tell him” she said, sobbing in your arms. You pressed your lips together looking outside through the glass door straight to lando seriously talking to max.

(...)

After the worst and most traumatic hang around with Max and Pietra - the cookies were great by the way - Lando offered to give you a ride and you said yes. Probably the worst decision of your life because the tensi could be cut by a knife and it was hard to breathe of how dense the air was inside the car. His radio was playing Jmaes Blunt ‘you’re beautiful". It was one of your favorite songs. How pretty was to you to enamour someone just by existing in the subway going to work or going back from university. You just romanticized that idea. You started mumbling the lyrics in a whisper just to not disrupt his comfort. But after a few seconds he turned off the radio and you looked at him weirded out.

“I can't do this anymore,” he said, parking his car on the side of the road. Anxiety kicked you. You licked your lips looking at your hands and he was just starting to nowhere outside his car window.

“I really like you y/n. I am in love with you in fact. And dim so stupid i realized about it when i saw you with Franco kissing. His hands touching you grossed me out. It felt wrong because that should've been me - not him” he finally looked at you. What he just said took you by surprise and you wanted to cry but holded inside. You looked back at him. The knot in your throat was unbearable.

“We are idiots,” you said, remembering what Max said to you a couple of months ago.”Because I'm in love with you. I was too afraid to tell you and ruin what he had. Losing you terrifies me. And to be honest I just thought you wouldn't even look at me that way. I never felt pretty enough for you, I don't know why” when he heard you say that last sentence his heart sank.

“I always felt you were out of my league to be honest. Please, y/n, you're gorgeous, and funny as fuck, and intelligent, and sweet and such a great person. You're almost perfect. Don't ever talk about you like that. I'm just an idiot. A normal stupid ass dude. Don't compare yourself like that ever again” he said feeling a little guilty for you to feel that way even though it was not his fault.

You gave him a soft smile nodding.”you know? I can't believe every single friend of yours told me for months that you liked me and I just couldn't believe it. How dumb I gotta be. So I'll fight the intelligent compliment of yours” you said, making him laugh.

“But let's be honest, who thinks straight when they are in love?” he said with the most precious smile and sparkly eyes looking at you so fondly. You knew you had heart eyes in your eyes.

“Fair point” you said, smiling widely. And you giggled out of nervousness. He did too.

Two kids in love. You dreamed about this day for so many years. You just hoped that it wasn't another dream because it felt like one. And without asking, Lando took you out of your self doubt and inner conversion pressing his lips into yours in the most felt kiss you have ever given. The man that you are Lando norris. You cupped his face on your hands making the kiss more intimate and passionate. A kiss you two wanted to give for so long. You said everything in that kiss. You just knew this was it. This was the start of the most exciting and magical love story. And it was yours.

It was him. It has always been him. Lando. Your best friend. Him and no one else by your side.

(...)

Your eyes filled with tears of joy. You were at the wedding of one of your best friends: max verstappen. Lando was holding your hand gently and so dearly. They were speaking their vows and everything was so emotional. You were such a sensitive soul. Lando loved that about you. So pure in emotions. So vulnerable yet so strong and brave. That was you and watching the isle,he knew it was you who was gonna be there with him when the moment came around. The bride kissed the man and you two cheered the new wife and husband of the group. You looked at Lando for a moment knowing he was the love of your life and it was gonna be you two there one day.

What you did not expect was to take in your own hands the wife’s bouquet announcing you were next in line to get married. Youcelebrated in happiness and laughter around your friends and Lando. You kissed him so fondly.

“I love you bestie” you said between his lips grabbing him by the neck, the bouquet in one of your hands.

“I love you bestie, forever” he said with heart eyes hugging you looking at you with love in every fiber of his body.

“Forever and always” you assured him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any idea my inbox is open so send your requests!

[razrbladekiss]

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: he’s grumpy, and you’ve got enough happiness for the pair of you. you visit joel’s little coffee shop every morning, and he can’t deny that he enjoys the monotony of life with you the other side of his counter.

PAIRING: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: inspired by lorelai gilmore and luke danes, so with that info do what you will. this is full on golden retriever x black cat realness. fluffy. banter-y. dialogue-y. joel is grumpy but he’s sexy so we don’t mind. enjoy, my besties. not sure if i’ll do a part two, but i’ll let you know in due time, of course.🍁🫶🏻

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s like he’s moving from muscle memory. Putting down a cinnamon roll and maple hazel latte—with two extra shots of espresso—in front of the third purple stool at his counter, is almost ingrained into his brain. He wonders if one day you’ll ever take him by surprise and order pancakes, or a chai tea.

And you will. Just not today.

“Cinnamon roll, please!” You call from the door as you bumble over the threshold, fighting with the belt loop on your coat that’s gotten stuck on a brassy handle for the third time this morning.

“Already one step ahead of ‘ya.” Joel gestures to the breakfast spread at the wooden bar, and you smile.

Despite being a closed-off, stupid-person-hating, placid-at-times, grumpy old man, you can’t help admitting that you enjoy Joel’s company and general presence in your life.

His shop appeared on Birch Grove one sunny Saturday morning about three years ago, and you haven’t skipped a day since. Aside from Christmas Day, you have religiously sat at Joel’s counter and shared the trials and tribulations of life in Dallas as an overzealous twenty-something every single day.

He’s a great listener. Or, at least, you think that he is. He never interrupts you, or speaks over you. Joel always lends an ear to listen, even if he doesn’t always say all that much in response to whatever it is that you’re elucidating or complaining about.

“Thank you.” Breathlessly, you say. You take a seat and dump your purse onto the counter. “Got a busy day today. I’ve got a meeting, and I’m meeting Maria for lunch, and I’ve got a date—“

Joel’s face heats up. He turns to face you, striving to stay indifferent.

“A date?” Nonchalant, he asks. He slings a dish-cloth over his shoulder, and lifts a brow. “Does this man know that he’s going on a date with you?”

You make a face while stuffing a fork-full of pastry into your mouth. He’s so smug. With his stupid flannel and stupid little hat, you just want to rip the complacency from his lips. But he’s a good man. Just likes to try and take you down a few pegs.

But he can’t. Because you’re stubborn. And a little annoying.

“No, I just thought that I’d show up at his house in the middle of the night—because I’ve followed him home from work a few times and know where he lives—and rip him right out of his bed just like the troll that Danny Devito plays in Its Always Sunny.”

Joel let’s out a little laugh, not bothering to argue that what you had just told him didn’t actually happen in that episode, but finding it funny nonetheless.

He nods his head to you. “What’s his name?”

“Marcus.” Exaggerating your heart-eyed gaze, you tell him. “I met him at Costco—“

“Ah, Costco. Where every great love story starts. First you’re bulk-buying toilet paper, the next you’re sharing a dollar fifty hot dog—“

“Ha ha, Joel, you’re soooo funny.”

“I try.” He says, flippant, pouring coffee into another customer’s cup when they appear at the counter for a refill. He lifts the carafe and gestures to your almost-empty mug. “Want another?”

Your gaze is set on your wristwatch. It’s seven twenty-nine, and you need to be at work for nine thirty. Mentally you strive to figure out how much more time you can spend at the cafe, before you’re having to leave to get there on time.

“Is it maple hazel flavored?”

Joel tilts his head, glaring at you.

You swig the dregs of latte in your mug, and then push the polka-dot ceramic across to him. “Please.” You say, shyly.

Joel busies himself with customers, and general business-owner things for a few minutes while you finish your cinnamon roll and coffee. You can’t help watching him.

Because he’s great. He’s very caring—though extremely stern at times—and you know that if you’re having a bad day, Joel is only a two minute and thirteen second walk away.

He feels the same, too. Kind of. He knows that you’ll be sauntering into his shop at some point every day, and finds himself looking forward to seeing your wide-eyed gaze and larger-than-life smile.

And though he won’t admit it in so many words, Joel has a soft spot for you. It hasn’t always been apparent—he thought that you were utterly insufferable and obsessive when he first met you—but he can’t deny the fact that his life would be very dull without you.

Even if you do have a tendency to try to get underneath his skin.

“Are you dating, Joel?”

He rolls his eyes.

“What? It’s a very normal question to ask somebody that hasn’t been in a serious relationship for an entire twelve months.”

He pulls the cloth from his shoulder and wipes at his hands. “You and I both know that I ain’t got no interest in settlin’ down with anyone. Not yet, anyway.”

“You were willing to with Tess.” Pushing things a little, you say. You lift the coffee mug to your lips when Joel opens his mouth to chastise you, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re right. He can’t because he wanted to, once upon a time. Before Tess walked out of his life—not long after you started frequenting his shop—he wanted it all. A wife, kids, the white picket fence that his parents had back in Austin when he was a kid.

But it doesn’t always work out that way, and Joel has learned to live with the idea that if it’s too good to be true, then it most likely is.

“I can set you up with someone—“

“Not happening.” He says. “Last time you sent me on a blind date, the girl asked me if I was into pegging.”

You giggle. “Well? Are you—“

Joel says your name, glaring pointedly.

“Sorry.” Instinctively, your lips are set into a straight line. “But I can totally do better, this time. I know this girl—she works at this law firm—and—“

“Not interested.”

“Okay.” You smile, tight-lipped. You lift your mug, striving for your third cup of coffee this morning.

Joel pours the liquid gold into the cup, before he’s telling you that he’s not going to be giving you another for fear of you ricocheting off of each wall in his place.

“You’ll turn into a cup ‘a coffee one day.”

Nodding—with a completely content smile—you say; “least I’ll be happy.”

“You’re always happy.” Joel mithers to himself, turning away. It’s one thing that he admires about you, though loathes at the same time.

Endless optimism and positivity is only something that he can long for, because he’s simply not capable of it. It baffles him how you are, especially when he’s—on occasion—so rude to you. So miserable, and cold, and completely undeserving of your friendship.

He likes that you’re so forgiving. That—even after he accidentally offended you last summer when making a comment about your then boyfriend—you can never hold a grudge, especially when it comes to him.

Because you both hold one another on a pedestal so high, neither can seem to do anything to tear themselves down. And Joel really enjoys your daily routine. That’s why he’s never not in the shop.

“You got any weekend plans?”

“Never do.”

You stretch out your arms—intertwining your fingers as you do to make them click—and offer a small smile when he cringes.

“You wanna catch a movie?” Shirking the idea that you have a date tonight—with a man who you really aren’t all that interested in, you’re just being nice—you propose.

Joel’s heart starts to beat at a tempo that’s noticeably quicker than usual. Not a lot, but it’s certainly faster.

“I think that the theatre downtown is showing the original Beetlejuice, on Saturday.”

He nods, approving. “I—uh—I’ll have to get someone to cover—“

“I’m sure you can ask your brother. Or maybe Maria?”

“I ‘spose.” Reluctant, he says. “But what about Michael? What if he wants a second date?”

“Well, his name is Marcus. And if he wants a second date—which I doubt he will—then he’ll just have to live with the fact that I have plans with a friend on Saturday night.”

He hopes that you can’t see him blush.

“Won’t it be weird?”

“Why?”

“We hardly speak outside of the shop.”

“God, Joel.” You throw your head back, laughing. “We’re the same people wherever we are. And we’re going to the movies—not a lot of talking takes place there, hon.”

His nostrils flare at your sarcasm, but mainly at the little pet name. Joel knows that you’re sweet—that you often use those terms of endearment when speaking with those that you care about—but it does something to him.

Something that he does not like.

“You can either come, or stay here and be miserable because you have no social life, or no girlfriend, or no other friends aside from me, your brother, and your brother’s wife—“

“Alright, fine.” Joel stops your miniature hate-train, and puts his hands against the counter. Your eyes zone in on the veins embellished within tan skin—how prominent they are when he’s fronting irritation—and let out a small sigh.

He’d be a lot more handsome if he smiled more, you think.

“So.” You paw at your purse, pulling it off the wood. “I’ll let you know what time the showing is, and we can make plans around that.”

Joel rounds the island and follows you as you pad toward the door, veritably sweating. “Plans?” He asks. “You never said nothin’ ‘bout plans. I thought we were just gonna catch a movie?”

“We are.” You tell him. “But we need to buy snacks, and grab dinner before we go—“

“Now you’re just describing a date.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m describing hanging out with a friend, Joel.”

“A friend?”

“An acquaintance…?” Testing the waters, you ask. Your eyes squint a bit, awaiting his retort.

But he just smiles.

“A friend.”

You smile back. Bigger.

“Perfect.” Your purse is slinging over your shoulder, and you pull your jacket to close so that the darned loops don’t get stuck on the door handle. Again. “I can’t wait.”

“It’ll be…nice.”

“Jeez, Joel. At least try to sound enthused.”

His hands shoot up in defense. “I am. Just have a hard time showin’ it.”

Your head nods. “I know. I’m only kidding. It’s nobody’s fault that you’re the human equivalent of Oscar The Grouch—“

“Alright, get out.” He holds open the door for you, smiling tight-lipped as he watches you leave. “Enjoy your meeting. And your lunch. And your date.”

You chuckle, thanking him with another bright smile.

“See you in the morning, Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You step onto the sidewalk—that’s festooned with red and orange leaves as the tree above starts to shed its skin—turning to wave at him. “See ‘ya, kiddo.”

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. i

purely just some fun and games putting big grumpy joel miller slap bang in the middle of a romcom. i hope you guys enjoy. dedicated to big sis @mrsmando, who is the light of my life, let herself be completely swept away by this idea into unhinged, whimsical mania with me, and who inspired so many lil details for this story. love u, zhort x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you strike up a deal to attend a wedding with your neighbor as his date. what could go wrong?

warnings: age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), grumpy!joel initially finds reader mildly infuriating, cursing, alcohol consumption, discussion of a car accident (non-graphic) & dead parents, softdom!joel as per, fingering, handjob, comeplay, spitting, drunk unprotected one night stand, creampie, praise kink, one mention of nausea (but nothing happens, my little emetophobic angels), someone falls pregnant and it's not joel miller i'll tell you that much. honk if you love cats!!!

word count: 9.8k 

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s just gone seven on a Saturday night when his knuckles rap on your door.

The sun casts tall, angled shapes on your living room wall. Lights the pages before you in a glow of tangerine. Refracts through the glass tumbler on your coffee table and bleeds the amber liquid onto the pale wood surface. Everything lit in some variation of gold, everything bowing its head quietly as the day begins to turn its back.

The house is still. The world feels still, as though transitioning. Like you’re sat in a waiting room, leg bouncing, anticipating something you don’t know to look for yet.

Perfect, comfortable, still – until he’s on your porch. And he knocks again.

You snap your book shut and slide it across the table, nudging the heavy glass. The ice clinks, irritated.

“You mind fastenin’ your…delicates to your clothesline a little better?”

His voice shoulders its way into your hallway before you’ve even pulled the door back enough to see him. Not that you need to see him to know who it is. You’ve lived in Austin three years now and met only one person with a voice as low and toneless as Joel Miller’s. Slung in sarcasm, dripping with disdain. All that.

You cross your arms and slant against the doorframe, unable to mask your amusement. “Excuse me?”

He answers by lifting his left hand. From his pointer finger hang a tiny pair of white panties, lace pattern fluttering in the late summer breeze. You glance over his shoulder as you steal them from his grasp, balling them in your fist.

“Uhuh. They were sitting on my back lawn. I have company tonight, y’know. I can’t have women’s underwear just – lyin’ in my damn yard.”

Your head tilts. Ears prick. “Company? You hostin’ somethin’?”

His shoulders drop with a sigh. “No. I am not hostin’ anythin’.”

“Good. ‘cause I’d want an invite.”

“If I were hostin’, you’d be the last person I would invite. And you know that.”

“Ouch,” you pout, “that hurts, Miller. I watered your plants while you were off visiting your brother last month. They woulda died without me there.”

“And I am grateful to you,” Joel grumbles, “but that doesn’t mean I need those anywhere in view of my kitchen window.” He throws a pointed finger to your elbow, where your panties sit scrunched in your fist.

You look down to the froth of frill spilling between your knuckles, and back up to his dark features – his glower casting a shadow over the hazel eyes and deepening the creases between his brows. You smirk, a realization dawning.

Company – that he doesn’t want seeing a pair of someone else’s underwear.

“You have a date.”

Joel’s tongue flicks across the inside of his cheek. He glances over his shoulder and speaks through his teeth. “No, not a date,” he quietly tells the street.

“But you have a lady comin’ over. Or at least – someone you don’t want seeing these.” You unfold your arms and twirl your fist. The gentle wind lifts the lace.

He grunts. A low hmph. Agreement, you think.

“Sounds like a date.”

He hisses, “’s not a date.”

Your stare doesn’t slip from his. Not when his brows tighten, not when his jaw does, too. Not even when he sucks a breath between gritted teeth. Your smile widens.

Finally, with a sigh, he concedes. “It’s…it’s somebody Tommy ‘n Maria are tryna set me up with. Alright?”

“So – a date.”

“If you don’t –” Joel’s head flicks over to his own driveway at the same time his hand lifts, a pointed gesture you read as – shut the fuck up. “We’re just having a few drinks. Just – hangin’ out.”

“Just hangin’ out,” you repeat, eyes widening. “One-on-one. With some woman who – Wait, Tommy’s in Wyoming. How the hell do he and his wife know someone way the hell down here?”

“From before they moved. And – Maria ain’t his wife. Yet. They’re getting married next month.”

Suddenly the sun reappears over the dark horizon. The evening begins to clear up, make sense again. You lift your chin, nodding.

“Right, right. So, she gonna be your plus one, or…?”

The understanding raises his heckles again. Exasperated, he asks, “How many damn questions are you gonna –? I’m only here to – to return your –” He nods once more to the pale fabric in your hand.

A laugh shoots from your nostrils. “What’s the matter? You don’t like – whatever her name is?”

“Laura.”

“Laura,” you breathe.

“And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with her. She just – she…”

“She…?”

“She has, like, five cats, and it’s just…hair, everywhere. And at their engagement party, she spilled an entire margarita down me. Right down my –” He sweeps a hand down his front, balling his fists again once they reach the hem of his shirt.

Your lips turn, amused. “Five cats. Cat lady Laura. Well. Have fun, I guess. Thanks for these.”

He acknowledges your raised fist with a bashful glance. He’s already halfway down your front steps when he says, “Keep an eye on your laundry from now on,” and strides off back to his own place.

Joel has lived here his whole life. In Austin. You’ve no idea when he moved in next door, just that he was here when you did. You don’t know much about him at all – the fact he even filled you in enough to tell you about his date is shocking enough.

The day you first arrived, U-Haul truck squealing to a halt by the curb, he found himself unlucky enough to be stood in his front yard watering the blond patches of his grass. He saw you struggling to open the rear door of the truck, and with a grumble and a glance across the street for a more eager rescuer, he tossed his hose and came over to help.

He unclicked the heavy latch and pushed the door up with enough ease to put you to shame. And he seemed to feel some obligation when he saw the mass of belongings stuffed in the back, to help you unload them. Didn’t seem overjoyed by the thought, mind you, what with the sigh he let slip when you hopped up and held out the first box.

He indulged you for no more than one hour. Answered every question you had about the neighborhood, dodged every one about himself. He told you about the couple across the street with the newborn baby, told you about your neighbor on the other side who pretends to garden just so she can snoop on everyone else’s business. And as soon as the last box thudded down on your gleaming living room floor, he nodded, and paced back over to his own property.

He's a good guy. You know this much. He’s a dick to you most days, but he’s honest, and he’s kind when you catch him in the right light. He takes deliveries for you when you’re not home; he once drove Diane to the vets when she showed up on his doorstep in the dead of night, Fred the Jack Russell ailing in her arms.

He’s observant. Noticed just this summer the three different plumbers who showed up to your house in the space of two days, and came over as the third guy was leaving – his shining bald head low between his shoulders.

‘s the matter? Joel asked, watching the navy overalls sink into the rusted vehicle.

Kitchen sink’s leakin’. Fuckin’ – nobody can fix it.

He shouldered you out of the way with his then-trademark sigh and left twenty minutes later, your kitchen finally free of the dripdripdrip you’d been plagued with for a week straight.

He’s good. He’s a good neighbor. But, man, is he private.

You’ve never seen the inside of his place. His body blocks it anytime you’re on his doorstep. He has a brother, you know that – though, only since last month, when he asked you to keep an eye on his garden – and you know, now, that the brother is getting married.

You know that he likes country music, know he plays guitar – accidentally. You heard him one day in the spring, when he left his window open and you were lounging by your pool. When he looked out and noticed how you’d angled your sunbed to listen, really listen, he slammed it shut.

You know he’s single and childless and has been for at least the three years you’ve lived next door to him.

You know little fucking else.

The words on the curled pages seep into one another. You’re staring through the book now back in your hands, the shape of your living room blurring around you: the brick fireplace, the still, red light of the TV. The lulling sway of the sheer curtains, pushed like the tides by the air through the open window.

You cross your ankles on the coffee table. Your lips purse. Tongue dabs at the smoky-sweet singe of whiskey on the flesh of your cheeks. From here, you can see the street outside Joel’s house. If – when – Laura pulls up, you’ll know. And you’ll be here to watch. Survey. Observe.

See what kind of woman a guy like Joel Miller takes to his brother’s wedding.

It’s nine fifty-two when she eventually leaves.

She’s been in there two hours and seventeen minutes. Her car – a kind of rotten green Chevrolet with one tail light out – sits patiently out front, like even it can’t wait to help her fucking disappear.

You’re hoisting a swollen black bag down your drive when his porch light flickers on and his front door opens. The glossy plastic exhales as it slumps against the trashcan. You dust your hands. Joel hasn’t noticed you yet.

“…so nice gettin’ to properly know you,” Laura’s crooning, sidestepping as Joel walks calmly down to her car. Ushering her. You hold back a laugh.

“Thanks for comin’,” he says, his voice falling flat in the windless evening. He’s a step ahead of her, like a parent leading their child away from the park. She’s still babbling about his six-string.

“Maybe next time I can hear a little somethin’…” she says, and you know from the way he halts that Joel hears the same questioning tone you do, the way somethin’ curls up at its end.

“Maybe,” he says, curtly. His words curl down. And then nothing else, and Laura – who, now that she’s a little closer, stood on the curb by her car door, you notice has sweeping golden hair which flicks away from her plump cheeks, and bright eyes which dazzle in the dusky glow – is forced to cough up one last chance.

���I gave you my number,” she says, then, “I didn’t get yours?” and this time, it’s definitely a question.

Joel pretends to pat down his pockets. “I musta left my phone in the house.”

You can’t help it. A scoff bursts from your lips. But he still doesn’t look over.

“Well,” Laura tugs on the handle, “thank you for a lovely evenin’. I’ll hear from ya.”

Joel smiles but puts a hand on the door, like he might slam it shut for her if she tried to backtrack. But she doesn’t. She swings both legs in, pulls it closed, and the engine spurts to life.

As she pulls off, Chevrolet jolting a little, you notice the bright yellow bumper sticker plastered squint beneath the license plate. You walk silently over to Joel, grass prickly under your socks.

“Honk If You Love…Cats,” you murmur, shoulder brushing off his bicep.

He sniffs. Tightens the grip his arms have on his chest. His eyes are fixed on the one red light, slowly shrinking into the distance. “Don’t even.”

“Good date?”

“I said don’t.”

“She talk much about her cats?”

“Goodnight.”

“Did you ask their names, at least?”

He’s backing up, crossing the dark lawn towards his front steps. He looks you up and down, his lips a flat line. Your sweat shorts. Your bare legs. The tight vest top molded around your breasts. His eyes shoot back up. “No more questions. No more pesterin’ me.”

“Nothin’ about the cats? Seriously, dude?” You lift your arms, grinning after his dark figure, swaggering up the porch steps.

Joel ignores you. He disappears through his front door and the light is snuffed. You slink back up to your house, grateful for the blanket of darkness covering the skip in your step.

Eleven hours later, you’re stood in front of your bedroom mirror.

The day melts against your window. Brilliant blue sky, cradling soft puffs of snow-white clouds. Crows on Diane’s roof cawing, slowly yellowing trees rustling. The bright, hot square across your front where the sun forces her way in.

You turn, taking the loose hem of your sleepshirt in your fingers, and pull it over your body, tossing it to the foot of the bed as you examine the pattern of colors hanging from inside your closet.

You take them one by one, tug them free, slot them back in. Eventually you settle for a gray hoodie, cropped and loose. As you haul it from its hanger, there’s a whine from the wooden cabinet. A squeal. The top shelf rips from either side, dropping to the closet floor and taking the pole with it.

“What the f–? You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you growl, stepping forward to run your fingers along the splintered wood where the nails have ripped themselves free. Four black holes, jagged insides of the closet pricking your fingertips.

The crumple of clothes and hangers sulks up at you pathetically. You fall back onto your bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. The fan whirs slowly, scooping your gaze and throwing it in lazy circles.

The closet was old, anyways. Was here when you moved. It’s probably about time you had some new ones built. But fuck, that’s gonna cost. Ripping the old ones out, building them from scratch. The fan pulls your eyes back around to twelve o’clock.

Joel’s a contractor. He could do ‘em. Might give you a discounted rate, too, for all the times you move his newspaper from his front lawn to his doorstep for him. Either that, or he’d want something in return. And what handy skills do you have? You once knitted a scarf for you grandma for Christmas. Maybe not Joel’s thing. You can cook mac ‘n cheese – though one lousy meal isn’t payment enough for an entire wall of solid wood, two panes of glass and two days’ labor.

A favor, maybe. An IOU. What the fuck kinda favor does Joel Miller need–?

You’re hopping over the tiny burst of hedge between his yard and yours before the thought is finished, bending to scoop his newspaper up and slotting it under your arm. He answers just as you lift your fist to pound on his door for a second time.

You slap the rolled paper into his chest. “I have an idea.”

He squints at you in the summer light. “Wh–? Didn’t I tell you not to p–?”

“I’ll be your date.”

Joel blinks.

“I’ll be your date,” you repeat. “I got a wardrobe needs replacing. You do it, for free, and I’ll be your date.”

“Your wardrobe?”

“Crapped out on me this mornin’. I don’t want to pay for some stranger who’ll overcharge me ‘n do a half-assed job. Fix it, ‘n you don’t have to take cat lady Laura to Tommy’s wedding. And you can fix my kitchen sink, too.”

“I already fixed your kitchen sink.”

“It’s back at it. Drippin’ all through the damn night. Drip drip drip –”

“Alright.” Joel’s palm is up again. He does that a lot when he’s talking to you. “Alright. Wardrobe ‘n sink.”

“We have a deal?” you ask, extending your hand.

His chest fills with a thoughtful breath. His eyes scan you up and down, lingering somewhere a little lower than your jaw for a second. And then, the heavy weight of his palm against yours. The tightening of his fingers around your wrist. One sure shake.

Deal.

Two weeks before the wedding, you’re at Joel’s door again.

He’s in a black tee, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair is damp, fringe still dripping onto his forehead. He runs a hand through the gray-singed brown and stares at the tangle of fabric slung over your arm. “The hell is this?”

“Do you know what you’re wearin’?”

His eyes roll up to meet yours. “Do I know what I’m wearin’?”

You nod. “You’re the best man. Guessing Tommy has you covered?”

“Black suit,” he says, after a beat.

“That’s it? He ain’t got no theme?”

Joel’s head cocks. “I don’t do themes.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under his arm fixed against the doorpost. He manages three words of protest and then shuts the door in resignation, turning to watch as you take his stairs two at a time.

“You are so damn annoyin’, you know that?” his voice echoes behind you.

“You want this date or not, Miller?” you call over your shoulder, following the route through the identical house to your own bedroom – thankful when you nudge the door and it opens to reveal his bland, colorless decor. “Very…gray,” you note, feeling the shadow of him over your shoulder.

You throw the dresses down on his bed, satin and lace and pink and green swimming between one another on his sheets.

“I’m not wearin’ a dress.”

You glower at him. “Ha. We have to match.”

He rubs the towel against the back of his head, drying the dark hair. “Match how?”

“Y’know, your suit ‘n my dress. If I’m your date, we have to match.”

“Already told you. I’m wearin’ a black suit.”

“Right. But, like – what color tie? And can it be any of these colors?” You hold your hands out, surfing over the sea of shades. “Maybe,” you lift your eyebrows, eyes darting to the pale teal color, “this one?”

Joel entertains you for all of five seconds, lifting his cheeks in a false grin before they deflate. “No. Black.”

“Joel.”

He slings the towel over his folded arms, and looks at you plainly. “Black,” he says again, in a tone of voice which sounds something like a door being slammed shut.

Your eyes thin, and you gather your dresses up in one swipe. “Can you just –? Will you make sure that you match my corsage, at least?”

“Why the hell are you so hung up on this?”

“I’m not. I’m just tryna make it believable. You turned down cat lady Laura, this is what you get.”

He sighs, tossing the towel over to his laundry basket. “I will make sure I match your corsage. Happy?”

“Happy. Are you ready?”

“Give me five minutes.”

You huff, head rolling back. “You are so prima-donna, Joel Miller.”

With a sarcastic chuckle, he shoves you out of his bedroom to get dressed. You saunter down his stairs, drinking in every detail of his home as though it’s the only chance you’ll get to see it.

It probably is, when you think about it. You don’t imagine he’ll be inviting you over for drinks anytime soon.

Your eyes move along the wall as you slowly thump down his stairs, thrown from framed photo to framed photo – a black and white photo of a man with a tousle-haired boy on his lap, the kid’s tongue sticking from the corner of his mouth as he wraps his small hand around the neck of a guitar; an out-of-focus Christmas photo, a family of four sat in front of a million multicolored orbs dotted along the branches of a tree; a kid with skinned knees crouched by a German shepherd, his lanky arms hooked around the dog’s thick neck.

One brown suede jacket hangs from a coat peg at the bottom, Joel’s boots sat loose and unlaced beneath. A dark blue blanket draped over the back of his couch. A painting of a moose over his fireplace. Shelves lining one entire wall decorated with carved-wood animals, with more photographs of times gone and memories made, with books and DVDs that lend your fingertip with a heap of white dust as you drag it across their spines.

Enough to paint a picture, not quite enough to show you the colors. The tones, the depth. Despite your best efforts, the man remains a mystery. You settle with the fact he will never be fully revealed.

The creak of his stairs turns your attention from the guitar on the wall around to his tall figure, fixing the collar of the loose flannel over his shoulders.

“You ready?” Joel asks, bending with a groan to reach for his boots.

“Yep,” you reply, leaning forward to glance into his kitchen while his head’s down. The most you manage to observe are the light drapes, the sunlight shooting through and bouncing off of a white-topped island.

“’s go,” he says, keys dangling from his finger.

It takes twenty minutes to drive to Home Depot.

You chitter in Joel’s ear the entire time, reading from his handwritten list of measurements and supplies needed for your new closet. ‘n how do you know this is all enough? Because I know. What if you get started and it’s not? I won’t; it’s enough. You sound so sure. That’s ‘cause I’ve done it before, kid. You take many closetless girls out on fake wedding dates, Joel?

“What’s our story, then?” you ask in the store, fiddling with hanging packets of door hinges while Joel reads thrice over his note. Your hand dives into the bag of M&M’s he begrudgingly bought you at a gas station on the way.

“Our story?” he mumbles back, the words slipping under the mental math you can see going on behind his eyes.

“Like, when people ask how we met. What’s our meet-cute? Both reached for the same door hinge, our hands touched and lit aflame? That kinda thing?”

He doesn’t laugh. Your smile dampens instantly. You kick his boot. “Joel.”

“’sec,” he frowns, “I’m focusing.”

You lean close, pushing on your toes to study the folded slip. His scrawled numbers, the pencil lines blunt and smudged in the creases of the paper.

“Twentytwofortysixeightyninetyfivesixhundredelevenfourtwelvenineteen–”

Joel’s lips seep a maddened sigh; he glances down the aisle like a store attendant might separate you from him if he demanded with enough passion, or maybe if he slipped them a twenty.

“Do you mind?” he barks, his expression a brick wall for your giggles to fall flat to the floor against.

“Home Depot’s your stomping ground. Why the hell do I gotta come watch you pick hinges and timber?”

“Because it’s your damn closet I’m fittin’. Just –” he swipes two packets from their peg, tossing them into the shopping cart, “– come on.”

Joel makes off down the muck-colored floor, the overhead lights reflecting harshly in the shiny surface. The front right wheel of the cart trembles as it rolls, nervously leading the two of you down an aisle lined with cylinder tins and pamphlets on Choosing the right finish.

“So, are your parents gonna be at this wedding?” you ask, taking the cart from Joel’s hands when he drifts off to study a shelf of wood varnish.

His jaw turns towards you, and then back to the tin in his hand. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do I get to meet ‘em?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna introduce your date to your mom and dad?”

He scoffs, stealing a handful of candy. “My fake date?”

“They don’t know that. Let me meet Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

He holds two tins up, offering them to you like answer to your question. “Matt or gloss? Guess it don’t really matter if I’m painting ‘em after.”

“Stop fuckin’ ignoring me. I hate when you do that.”

He leans in close, lowering the matt varnish into the cart. “You think I’m gonna introduce you ‘n your potty mouth to my mom?”

You smirk, eyes narrow. “Dick.”

“Funny. What color paint you want? You said something about duck egg?”

“Planning on repainting my room that color, yeah. Hey, you could –”

He swats your pointed finger away, taking the cart back. “We shook on new wardrobe. No changin’ the deal,” he mutters, wandering over to the rainbow of paint tins on the opposite side of the aisle.

You follow him over, eyes moving from blue over to green, the tins plastered with the fake smiles of families and fluffy pet dogs on the front. “Where are your mom and dad from?” you ask.

“Austin,” he replies, eyes squinting to read the small print on the back of one vibrant shade. You shake your head and guide his wrist back to the shelf, where he obediently sets the heavy tin back. “Never known anywhere else,” he adds. “What about you? Where’s Mr. and Mrs. Potty Mouth?”

“Uh,” you swipe at your nose awkwardly, “they’re up in Allandale. That’s where I grew up.”

“That so? I got a cousin who used to live that way. Used to take my bike up every Saturday. He lived right by this old car shop, all these old classics they used to fix up ‘n resell.”

“Yeah,” you say, “right next to the cemetery, right?”

“That’s the one,” Joel says, lifting paint tins to the light and setting them down again. “They live nearby?”

Your breathing shifts, starts to claw its way up your throat. Your chest heats, skin lighting with an irritating anxiety. “They’re, um,” you gulp, “they’re in the cemetery.”

Joel pauses, letting the tin slip from his grasp with an echoing thud against the wooden shelf which reverberates in your ears a second too long. “Oh,” he says, set on your expression.

“It’s okay – I don’t mind. It’s – it was a car accident, back when I was eight. I wasn’t in it, or anything. I grew up with my grandma. Really, Joel, I don’t mind,” you add, when his face falls and he begins to apologize.

“I had no idea,” he says, and you break the eye contact before you break a fucking sweat.

“’s all good,” you murmur, lifting paint tins of your own now, focusing on deblurring your glossy vision, “I got to buy a big house with the money they left.”

It thaws him a little. He snorts, and taps the lid of the tin you’re holding. “That one’s nice. You, uh – you okay?”

You finally turn back, the world clearer, colors no longer bleeding into one another through sharp tears. “Yeah. I’m fine. We got everything?”

Joel nods, and wheels the cart around. “You can meet her, if you want. My mom. She’s a little full on, but I reckon you can handle her.”

You smile, following him down the aisle.

A month after he delivered your underwear back to you, you’re back on Joel’s doorstep.

Your hand flicks nervously at your side as you wait for him to answer, petals of your corsage quivering. The clip of his footsteps echoes down the stairs, a deep sound growing louder and louder until the door clinks open and you’re separated only by air.

Joel’s eyes scan down your body at the same time yours scan down his. Black suit, sure enough, just without the jacket, and with his tie slung around his loose collar. You both freeze when your eyes meet again, your lips silently forming the shape of an avalanche of words that refuse to sound until Joel’s do.

“Wow, you –”

“– look great, I –”

“– nice dress, is that –? Sorry –”

“– no, I’m sorry, you were – sorry.” A laugh pushes from your throat. “You look – you look good. Scrub up well, ‘n all that.”

“You too. You – Yeah. That’s a nice color, after all. You suit it.” His eyes linger on your chest, your breasts draped in lustrous silk, decorated with the glint of golden jewelry. You notice.

“Thanks. After all?” You snort, and Joel’s exterior seems to crack a little.

He steps back, ushering you in. “Alright,” he says, taking the tote with your change of clothes from your wrist. He watches across the street as you step over the threshold, his fingertips light on your back as you pass by, like little shocks of lightning up your spine. “You know what I meant.”

Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heels clicking along his varnished floor. Your arms lock around your torso, holding your pashmina in place while Joel totters around, tossing his jacket over his shoulders. His shirt stretches from his tight waistband, fabric flattening against his tummy. Your eyes shoot north again when he speaks.

“You mind doin’ my tie? It’ll end up squint if I do.”

“Sure,” you reply, stepping forward.

He buttons the top of his shirt and lifts his chin, staring at the wall behind you as you tug on the black fabric, the silk slipping through your fingers. You steal glances at the trim of his beard, his pink lips beneath the dark bristles; the slope of his nose, the lines on his worn skin.

He’s rough around the edges, sure, a man in his late forties. But there’s something soft about him, something familiar and…comfortable. The pages of a used sketchbook, the lived-in material of a favorite dress.

You pull the knot higher until it’s sitting in the notch below his Adam’s apple, smoothing it down and giving his chest a light pat before stepping back again.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he mumbles, and a spark lights in your chest. “Oh,” he says, holding a finger up and disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a little white box, holding it out for you to see.

Your cheeks swell, eyes flitting up to acknowledge the proud look on his face. “Very nice. Good job.”

“You can do the honors,” Joel says, handing you the boutonniere by the stem.

You pin it through his lapel, straightening it with a focused glance. Joel’s eyes are on you, watching the flutter of your eyelashes, the tilt of your head. “There,” you whisper, leaning back.

He extends his elbow, something of a smile on his lips. You don’t see it often. It beckons a mirrored expression.

Arm in arm, Joel leads you out to the truck, where he helps you up and waits for you to scoop your dress into the footwell before closing the door. You watch patiently as he locks the front door, slings both your bags over his shoulder and jogs back to the truck, tossing them in the backseat before joining you in the front.

“How come he didn’t send a limousine? Or a Jag, or somethin’?”

“You think we’re made a’ money?” Joel asks, smirking.

You return the smile, wrapping your shawl over your body. “Can I pick the music?” you ask, earnestly, a tinge of sweetness to your voice.

Joel glances over again, reaches behind your headrest to reverse out of the drive. He runs his tongue along his top teeth. “No,” he says.

Three hours later, Tommy and Maria are married.

The wedding is…big. Joel’s family is big. The venue – a rustic hotel suite, fairy lights draped from the rafters, blooming flowers sprouting from crystal vases, lace tablecloths and tied chair cushions and wax dripping from thick, naked candles – is big.

Joel’s been good about it – that friendly neighbor you see all too little has been kicked into high gear. He delivered you by hand straight to his mom – a small woman with silver hair neatly twisted into an updo at the back of her head – who took your hand and held it tightly all the way to your seats.

Kind and warm, she asked where you were from, how you met Joel, how long you’d been dating. She offered you some tissues before the ceremony started, then winked and nodded in Joel’s direction as the bridesmaids swept down the aisle.

You lingered behind the photographer while he took photos of the wedding party, instructing them to shuffle a little closer, that’s it; ma’am, with the red hair, lower your bouquet a little; alright, now, everyone: big smiles!

You worried that Joel had kept the same placated smile frozen on his face for so long that it might never melt away, might never return to the stoic scowl you’re so used to seeing on him. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him, until he waved you down, flicked his hand, and beckoned you over to the group.

You hesitated. I don’t know if I –

Get over here, girl, Tommy had called, grinning alongside his big brother.

The two Millers slotted you in like a jigsaw piece between their bodies, two arms wrapped around your back – Tommy’s, loose on your shoulders, and Joel’s, tight around your waist. He held you close, squeezing you into his side while the photographer praised the party and snapped photo after photo, the flash burning into your eyes by the time he clapped his hands and thanked you all for your patience.

Drink? Joel had asked, and you’d responded with one thumb up, the other massaging your eyelids. He squeezed your shoulder and disappeared into the crowd of bodies.

He’s still over there – by the bar, a wooden structure draped in ivy and studded by steel bolts. His beer in one hand and your wine in the other. A lean, poised figure stood opposite him – her dress a royal purple, her hair a wave of brown spilling over her bare shoulders.

She’s beautiful – a striking charm which draws your eye to her like an arrow directly through the sea of bodies between here and there. Her languid movements, the slow roll of her neck to sweep the hair from one side of her body to the other.

Her head falls back in laugher, her bejeweled hand falls softly on his arm. Your throat closes sharply. Joel nods, angling as if to make off, but she holds onto him and leans in. He laughs, then, at whatever her full lips whisper into his ear, and he finally breaks off from her and returns to you.

He pushes the glass by its base across the smooth tablecloth. Your fingers brush over one another as you trade, the stem sitting between your index and middle. He’s warm, his knuckles kissing yours.

“How was it, then, talkin’ to my mom?” Joel asks.

You smile, propping your chin on the heel of your palm. “I like her. She’s funny.” And then, when he tosses his head in response, “Who were you talkin’ to?”

Joel follows your eyeline over to the woman in the purple dress. The glint of white crystal on her neck. The drama of dark hair on pale skin. “Uh,” he wanders around your back to his chair, “we used to work together.”

Your nails tap against the glass. “Oh, yeah?”

He sniffs. Doesn’t meet your eye. “Yep.”

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

He watches a blue orb dance over your head on the wall, a spot of light from the disco ball over the dancefloor. “Lotta memories.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

His eyes plummet. Fall from the string bulbs straight to your face, sparkling in the rainbow lights. “You want me to look at you? There.”

You grin. “’s better. If you stare up there long enough, they might stick.”

“Safer to have ‘em stuck on you, is it?”

“Mhm,” your voice echoes around the curve of your wine glass, “better view. So, who is she?”

Joel shifts uncomfortably. He twirls the bottle in his fingers. “We…we were together for some time. A few years.”

“An ex,” you muse, stain of lipstick left on the rim of your glass. “How many years?”

“Eight.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Eight – eight years?”

Joel nods, waiting for you to catch your breath. Expression never changing. Bottle still twirling. “Haven’t seen her in a while. We were just catchin’ up.”

“Eight fucking years. Why the fuck aren’t you married?”

He scoffs. “That’s a fifth-date question.” He lifts the bottle to his lips, tongue pushes against the glass.

“I don’t need five fuckin’ wardrobes,” you quip, and he laughs. Like, genuinely laughs. His head tips back, his teeth show. Your chest swells, confidence and relief blooming there. She didn’t make him laugh like that – not from where you were watching.

It becomes something of a mission in the back of your mind – tallying up how many times you can make his chest shudder, his shoulders jerk. How many times he leans in closer and repeats whatever you said, eyes closing over and hand hitting his thigh. How many times he looks at you and your stomach flutters, the blood cartwheels through your veins, the bones of your ribcage readjust and make room for the swelling of your heart.

Within four rounds, you’ve lost count.

The thudding beat of the music muffles in your drunken ears, like it’s coming from the next room. Your gaze fixes on the vase in the center of the table, the bouquet spilling over the glass. The wide burst of speckled lilies, the humble blush of tulips between. The colors soften and blur the longer you stare at them.

The jerk of Joel’s shoulders stirs you from your daydream. That’s one more.

“What?” you ask, head rolling to look over to him.

“You still in there?” he asks, one word slurring into the next like waves lapping.

You scoff, looking back to the pink flowers. “You know who has tulips?” you ask him.

He lifts his eyebrows. Who?

“Alice.”

“Brown?”

Your head nods heavily. “One time, she was out getting her mail, and I had just pulled up in my car on the phone to my best friend – he’d just broken up with his girlfriend, it was a whole thing…” You bat your hand. “Anyway. She pretended to tend to her tulips for forty-five minutes while I sat talkin’ to him in the driveway.”

Joel’s head tilts back with a burst of laughter. “She hear every word?”

“Every – damn – word. Stood by the fence listenin’.”

“That woman is som’ else,” Joel says, shaking his head. He stares down at the bottle between his fingers. His thumbs play with the curled corner of the label. “Didn’t I warn you about her?”

“Mhm.” You smile, realizing he has the same memory that you do, locked up somewhere in his mind. The sweat running down his temple, the dark patch between his shoulder blades. His hands gripping the heavier boxes, leaving you to carry the linen, the base of a lamp. Nodding as he wandered back over to his own porch, calling back for you to Holler if you need anythin’.

The high squeal of the Sweet Child O’ Mine intro snaps you back to the wedding reception. Tommy and Maria are playing air guitar on the dancefloor over Joel’s shoulder. You unstick your gaze from his white shirt, unsure how long you’ve been fucking staring.

Joel sits forward, drags his chair across the polished floor closer to you. He fixes the strap on your dress, untwisting it before settling back again. Your eyes follow his fingers as they leave your shoulder and sit back on the curve of his thigh, lifting when his voice breaks through to your eardrums.

“What room number did you say you were, again?”

Your shoulders roll. “Thirty-four, I think.”

Joel nods. Points to himself. “Thirty-six.” And then he glances over his shoulder, watches as Tommy kneels before Maria and rocks his head, his messy mop of hair tossed across his shoulders. The older Miller brother turns back. “Think they’ll miss us if we call it a night?”

“We’re callin’ it a night?”

“Figure if I’m headin’ off then you won’t wanna be sat here by yourself,” Joel says, and he’s right. He stands up, sets the half-empty bottle on the tablecloth and stares down at you. “I’m callin’ it a night,” he tells you. “You comin’?”

The colors in the room spin like the reels of a slot machine. Your fingers sit lightly in his outstretched palm, and you pull yourself up alongside him.

“’s a good girl,” he mutters, looking over your shoulder to the doorway, and your eyes sober up long enough to catch the flicker in his eye.

You totter along the hallway, arm in arm, anchoring yourselves together. Whichever way one sways, the other inevitably follows. You’re laughing, and Joel’s hushing you, warning that there are folks tryna – tryna sleep, we’re in a fancy place, hey, da-rlin’, no – you gotta shhhut up.

“Great party,” you decide, finally docking against your door.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, leaning a little on the wall. The gentle glow of the hallway lights him perfectly; the strong angle of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. The hazel pools that make up his irises, the swollen circles of black in the middle. And the twinkle in them, like the moon reflecting on dark water, every time his gaze lifts to you.

He’s different tonight. Maybe it’s the alcohol. The way it colors everything in a peachy film, all objects softened and rosy and shapeless. But he feels different, too. You suddenly realize, shoulder pressed hard against the cold doorframe, that you’ve never touched one another more than you have today. His elbow in yours, his arm around your waist, his hand through yours as you danced together.

“Are you tired?” you ask, head rolling.

“Tired? No. Drunk, yeah. Not tired.” He laughs again. It’s infectious.

“You wanna come inside?” you ask, words leaping from your giggle.

He takes ten seconds to consider it. Slumps into the wall, steadied only by his forearm pushing him back upright. His watch face catches the light behind him.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah, I do.”

Your hand fumbles in your clutch for the keycard, swiping the handle and pushing down heavily. You spill into the dark room, light sneaking in from the sconce outside your window, and spin back to face him, his hand locked tight with yours.

Joel follows you slowly as you back towards the bed, kicking your heels off and tripping over the skirt of your dress. When your legs hit the plush mattress, his body leans into yours. Your lips ghost across his, your words pushing them apart one by one.

“This ain’t – part of the – agreement,” you murmur, the coarse hair of his beard scratching your chin. You pull apart his tie, loosening the knot.

“Changed my mind,” he replies, collapsing on top of you on the bed.

Your head rolls back when his lips suck into your neck. You wrestle with his belt, with the waist of his suit trousers. “No changin’ the deal, remember?”

“Tell me to stop.”

If you had any intention of answering him, your body overrides it. Words lassoed and dragged back down where they came from, your throat opening only to gasp when Joel’s teeth graze the flesh of your breast. His fingers tug on the straps of your dress, letting them fall from your shoulders until your chest sits exposed.

He drags his tongue along your skin, dipping between your tits while his hands massage them, fingers pinching your nipples. Your back lifts and his hands move beneath, following the curve of your spine to where your dress pools loose around your waist. He pushes down, slinking the smooth fabric from your body.

“You fuckin’…” He clicks his teeth, laughing behind them. Another flush of heat washes over your skin.

You giggle, bending your knees to cover the lace panties he knows all too fucking well. Joel stops you, pushes your legs back down with two heavy hands.

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he murmurs, opening your body up again. “You were so happy about me seein’ ‘em a few weeks ago, no?”

“’s different,” you reply, tang of alcohol fueling your words, “now I just want you to take them off me.”

He cocks his head, drinking every word you’re handing over like it’s water from an oasis. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t you?”

You pull him closer by the collar and line your mouth against his, the tip of your tongue wetting the inside of his lips. “You got no fucking idea,” you whisper, whipping the shirt from his torso.

Joel growls, flipping you over and pulling you by the shoulders flush against his chest. You hook an arm around his neck, turn to grant him access to your lips. He kisses you like a starved animal, savoring every taste, teeth nipping at your tingling lips.

His hand curves around your hips, pushing beneath your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger pushing on the spongey hood of your clit. Your head falls limp against his collarbone, back arching as Joel holds you steady with an arm around your waist.

“’s alright, baby,” he coos, his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna take good care of ya. Gonna give you what you need, alright?”

A strangled moan unravels across your tongue, echoing into Joel’s mouth. Your hips begin to gyrate, meeting the rhythm of his hand, his finger massaging rough circles into your clit. He smirks, peeling the panties down your thighs.

“Attagirl,” he breathes, “you want it bad, huh? Gettin’ so worked up so fast. Here.”

He removes his hand from between your legs, ignoring your moan of protest and replacing it with two fingers on your bottom lip. “Open,” he instructs, and you obey like a fucking dog. He slips them in, thick and heavy, and waits for you to coat them with your wine-stained tongue.

Joel pushes down, forcing a muffled gag from your throat which lifts the corners of his mouth. He shakes his head lightly, whispering, “You got it, ‘s okay.”

A thread of saliva strings between his fingers and your lips when he lowers his hand again, trailing his fingers through your folds until he’s dancing along the seam of your cunt. You jolt forward; Joel hauls you back.

“Just fucking – do it,” you whimper, your walls clenching around nothing.

He holds his fingers together, curling and inserting them in a painfully slow motion. Your knees widen on the mattress, body sinking down by instinct to meet his fist, to feel his thick fingers and wide knuckles as deep as they’ll go.

You gasp when Joel begins hooking them inside you, nudging against your walls like your heartbeat against your clit. Your hand lowers, slipping beneath his loose waistband, beneath the elastic of his boxers and around his already solid cock.

Joel groans, fucking you harder on his hand. “Fuck, just like that, baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Uhuh,” you reply, voice wanton and broken.

You squeeze him, your fist moving up and down, his warm skin following the movements of your tight grip. His tip is already soaked, precome staining his underwear, dribbling down your thumb.

Joel uses his free hand to shove his pants down, crumpling on the floor at his feet when they free his cock. You carve your mouth around his, the two of you exchanging breath and flicking your tongues together as you fuck one another’s hands, the room slowly filling with the hot, muggy smell of sex.

Joel’s the first to cave. With a jerk of his hips, he takes you by the wrist and frees himself from your clutches.

“You’re gonna make me come, darlin’,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers from your cunt.

“That’s kinda the point here,” you reply, teeth bumping into his in a grin.

Joel shakes his head, lifting his hand, glistening with your arousal. “Gotta feel this fucking pussy first.”

You smile, parting your lips for him for the second time, suckling on his fingers and licking them clean of your own salty slick. His cock draws sticky trails on the seam of your thigh.

“Yeah,” Joel breathes, eyes fixed on the place where you close around him, “that good, baby? You gonna let me taste you?”

You release his fingers and he pulls you in, tongue slipping against yours with a groan which vibrates against your jaw. When your lips part, you hold your mouth open, your tongue sat on your bottom lip.

Joel reacts instantly, collecting a bead of saliva in front of his teeth and letting it drop into your mouth. You moan and swallow it, a cocktail of beer and whiskey and slick. Joel watches as you lick your lips, the stained-pink coated in a thick, white shine.

“Alright,” he says, letting you fall forward onto the bed. He jacks himself a few times, spitting into his hand and using it to coat his cock.

“Want you to come in it,” you whine, wiggling your ass for him as he lines up at your slit. You can feel the arousal gathered on his tip, dripping down your cunt.

“Yeah, baby,” Joel growls, a smirk on his lips as he watches himself slowly disappear inside you. And then –

You both fall silent, mouths hanging wide open as you each feel the width of his cock and the tightness of your cunt. The way your body opens up to accommodate his size, the direct pain and ethereal pleasure of Joel pushing into you.

“Fuck,” he groans, your pussy drawing him in with a sweet, wet sound. “Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. So damn gorgeous in that dress.”

You slowly move your hips back to meet him at the base of his cock; dark, trimmed hair bristling against your lips. Joel’s hands lock around your waist, holding you steady with his entirety buried inside, letting you adjust to him.

He’s so fucking big, so wide and deep that your breath tears rugged from your lungs, barreling up your windpipe. Your walls squeeze tight as he pulls out like your body refuses to let him go, like your cells understand better than you do that you were made for this – made for him. Like the only place in the world that he belongs, is somewhere deep inside you.

So big that it hurts, each time he fills you up and stretches you wide open. The pain an eye-rolling, lung-closing, limb-shaking sensation.

Your elbows give, falling chest-first onto the mattress while Joel fucks you hard, his hands gripping your hips. Your cheek and breasts flat against the sheets, your back arched. He slams into you, edging you closer and closer with each meeting of his warm skin against yours, each sopping slap of come and saliva.

The mattress shifts above your head, two valleys where his palms push down heavily, then the weight of his body at the back of your thighs. He towers over you, hips hammering so hard that you’re forced to hook your fingers around his wrists just to stay on the same fucking planet.

“Gonna – fuckin’ – come – baby,” he spits, his jaw locked tight. “You want it in this little pussy? You think she can take it all?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the edges of your words rounded by the silk sheets. “Joel, I – fuck –”

“Yeah, she can,” he agrees, playing with the hair spilling across your shoulders and taking it in a fistful.

The hazy drunken blur begins to turn over in favor of something sharper, something electric pulsing through your veins. Every part of your body alive, everything rising to meet the same high, the same release. You cling onto him, body beginning to melt beneath his.

Joel’s lips press between your shoulder blades. “Don’t fight it, baby, let go. I got you.”

You moan his name in one last pathetic attempt before the world whitens. You clench around him as a deafening orgasm shocks through your body, curling your back and forcing your nails deep into Joel’s wrists.

“Fuck, baby, fuck me,” Joel gasps. He slams into you one final time before you feel the staggered pump of his come flooding between your walls. “Ahh,” he groans, pushing apart your ass cheeks to watch the trickle seep from your cunt. “Good fucking girl. Take it, baby. That’s my girl.”

He turns you over onto your back and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him against your body as he thrusts into you again, tenderly pushing his spend deeper inside. It draws a strained moan from your throat.

“’s alright,” he coos, hips slowing against yours, “just feel it, baby. You feel how deep I am?”

“Uhuh,” you cry, nails digging into his skin, damp with sweat.

“So fuckin’ full of me,” he says, more to himself, before collapsing alongside you, holding your thigh on his hip, his tip still sheathed inside you.

You lie like that for a while, listening to the distant hum of music from downstairs, the party still raving in the belly of the hotel while you two lay in content bliss somewhere in its ribcage. Tracing one another’s features, learning the lines on Joel’s face, the flecks of gray in his eyebrows – all the parts you’re never close nor brave enough to get to know.

His right hand massages your plush waist, his left arm a pillow to rest your heavy, dizzy, drunk head on.

“I wanna do it again,” you whisper, the words sneaking out between heavy breaths.

Joel nods. His bottom lip sticks with sweat to yours. His hips push a little neater into you. “I wanna do it again, too.”

“I wanna do it all night.”

He hasn’t stopped nodding. He shrugs, tightens his grip around your shoulders, and tilts his head. “Then let’s do it all fucking night,” he says, and his lips slam back into yours.

The morning after the wedding, Joel drives you home. The truck soars down the highway, the two of you an uncomfortable distance apart. The same sobering distance you’ve kept all morning – the unreal aftermath of sex.

The rolling waves of bedsheets between your bodies; the sun sifting her long fingers through his hair as she peered through the curtains. The way you’d silently pushed yourself from the mattress, fragmenting your movements and allowing the spring to dip a fraction at a time so not to wake him. The spongey feel of the hotel carpet under the balls of your feet as you’d tottered to the bathroom. The sharp shot of the lock sliding into place, echoing like a bullet.

He waited until you finished showering to get ready himself. Sat on the edge of the bed patiently and watched your shadow beneath the door, the to-and-fro of your silhouette breaking the sliver of golden light as you dressed your sticky body. When you pulled on the metal lock again, he was sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose. His bare shoulders were curved, and tanned. You blinked twice to store the image and turned away as he stood.

He says he feels hungover. You say you do, too. It’s the closest you come to talking about it. You hop out of the truck in his drive, your tote bag hooked on your shoulder. The canvas gnawing at the silk inside. Joel tells you he’ll see his end of the deal through in a couple weeks.

“Real busy with work,” he mutters apologetically, his wrists still balancing on the steering wheel.

“That’s good,” you tell him, nodding. “I ain’t in any rush. I know where you live, so.”

A relieved laugh pushes from his lips. “I will get to it,” he assures you.

You shrug casually. “Whenever, Joel.”

You don’t talk for a few days. A few days bleeds into three weeks. You find yourself stood by his front tires, throwing his newspaper onto the porch and scampering when it lands. The noise like a bomb dropping.

Slowly, as the month draws on, you become braver and braver – daring closer and closer to his front door, until you’re back to marching up the steps like you own the place, depositing the roll on his doormat. Rubbing your thumbs against your fingers to feel the ink like satin.

The door cracks open as you make your way back down his steps one bright morning.

“Hey, kid,” Joel murmurs, reaching down for the paper with a groan.

“Hey.”

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, leaning his forearm against the door.

Your head tilts back and forth, your hand lifting to shield your eyes from the sun. “Think I ate som’ bad, maybe. Weird stomach this mornin’.”

Joel’s chin angles. “Hope it ain’t contagious. Was thinkin’ I could get that closet started for you, maybe tomorrow?”

The offer takes you off guard. You buffer for a few seconds before answering, “Sure. Sure, just, uh – just come over whenever, I guess.”

“Nine work for you?”

You nod. “Nine’s good. See ya then.”

It’s something like nine when you find out.

You wake feeling groggy. Tired, sluggish. A heavy ache pulling on your breasts as you rise from bed, tender and swollen. You stand in the bathroom, milky morning light filtering in through the doorway, and your stomach lurches. Waves of nausea deep in your belly, rocking back and forth, swirling and spiraling.

You’ve a box under your sink. It makes sense. Before Joel was some date from Hinge, who fucked you against the wall of his living room and who snored so loud that you left before the sun came up. Negative. Like always.

But it never hurts to be sure.

The pack tears like it’s liquid in your hands. Peels back to reveal the plastic white test, the bubblegum pink cap – like it’s something fun and sweet to place the direction of your future into this little device. A clinical compass needle.

Three to five minutes. You set it down on the counter and drag yourself back through to your room, lifting your bedsheets, tucking them under the mattress, heaving your pillows back into place against the headboard. An uncomfortable heat boiling under the surface of your skin, a prickle of sweat clinging to the nape of your neck.

A sickly taste harboring on your tongue, you pad back to the bathroom and swipe the test up. Your eyes scan past the result window to the counter as you reach for your toothbrush – and then snap abruptly back to the tiny oval. Your outstretched hand freezes in midair. There’s no fucking w–

Your arm swings back to reach for the light cord. The bulb hesitates – flickers, like it’s unsure whether to reveal the truth to you. It knows something you don’t. It’s seen something it doesn’t want to show you. You stare at the pregnancy test.

Two little pink lines stare back. And Joel knocks at your door.

[kaaaaaaarf]

Sirius, who owns a popular nightclub in NYC, and Remus, who is dragged there by Lily one Friday night, but would really rather be drinking tea in his tiny industrial art studio apartment in the Bronx with his cat. Wolfstar hit it off, and Sirius takes him home—which happens to be a multi-story apartment in an old building in Tribeca that he paid for not with inheritance, but with the money he makes from his legitimate business. Remus has never been less comfortable in someone's apartment, feels like he's getting Punk'd.

Months go by and they keep seeing each other, but Remus has a panic attack every time he goes over because he is slightly afraid of the doorman at Sirius' building.

Remus, panicked and sweating: What if he doesn't let me in? It's after midnight!

Sirius: What, do you think he's gonna make you answer his riddles three before you'll be allowed in or something?

Remus: I dunno, maybe!!! Should I bring him a coffee to say sorry?

Sirius: Sorry for what?!

Remus: I don't know, existing???

He braves the doorman, though, because he's nervous about letting Sirius see his apartment, which in addition to being industrial and the size of a box, only has heat 45% of the time and has a shower rigged over the toilet. He's like no way can I take this fucking model-level hottie anywhere near this dump because it isn't meant to be lived in...but eventually, six months into the relationship he relents and brings him over. Remus is nervously pacing around his apartment, picking up clothes from his floor and Sirius is completely unbothered, more concerned with petting the cat than with how the apartment looks. It turns out that actually, Sirius lived in a very similar apartment when he was first disowned by his family and was starting up the club with a loan from Fleamont.

Sirius: Remus, sit down. My old apartment was way worse—there was actually a hole in the wall behind the bathroom mirror that lead into another apartment. I had to padlock the fucking thing so I didn't get robbed.

Nevertheless, they still spend most of their time at Sirius' place, so Remus starts baking so that he can give the doorman a peace offering for disturbing him so frequently, which turns out to be a hobby he can't really afford.

Remus, wringing his hands: Lily, I don't know if i can afford to be with this guy...I really like him, and he always pays for our dates and stuff, but I am really eating it with all the money i'm spending on the doorman. ☹️

Lily: ...I love you, but you're an idiot.

Eventually, Remus gets over his fear of Gary (the doorman), and they actually become friends. His peace offerings turn into weekly screenings of Bake Off episodes behind the security desk in the lobby. Sirius has no idea this is happening, just that Remus is always busy Tuesday nights at 7pm. He comes downstairs to walk Padfoot one day and has to double take at his boyfriend and Gary laughing about a soggy bottom.

When Gary retires a few years later, Remus actually sobs, but continues to meet him at the park on the corner on Saturday mornings with his and Sirius' daughter.

The end????

(This has been a co-production from me and @pain-in-the-riri who are both absolutely doing the work we're being paid for and not plotting the lives of wolfstar)

[lucysarah-c]

Levi's horrible flirtling skills part 9.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

Indecipherable groans echoed through the room, merging with the sound of the alarm. Reluctantly sitting up, still in uniform, the bed covers crumpled under the weight as the person rose.   

Perhaps it was easier to abandon it after only an hour or two of sleep before having to get up again. A long night and a long day ahead. From the window, the light was already sneaking in subtly as the sun began to rise earlier. Pushing the door open, the bustling place was a harsh welcome so early.   

“Morning...” The greeting was said without much emotion.   

“Morning, Y/N!” one of the girls replied as she prepared breakfast in the small kitchen while another girl, a redhead, sat at the round dining table, which also served as a living room.   

Each of them was getting ready for the day ahead. Y/N easily began to prepare herself something to eat, trying not to disturb the girl who was already using the kitchen, while the redhead curled her eyelashes while sipping tea. With a loud sigh, Y/N took a seat and had a simple toast.   

“How was yesterday?” the redhead asked.   

“Good... all the babies were healthy.”   

“I was talking about the date.”   

“Yeah, how did that go?” The other girl, with light brown hair and golden eyes, sat down too.   

Y/N simply shrugged, putting on face cream as she passed down the tea. “Good, I guess...” she replied, almost disinterested, but as she slowly woke up, she got a cheeky grin. “He’s taking me to the official party.”   

The other two girls gasped excitedly as if they were the ones invited. “But that’s Saturday, right?”   

“Yeah.”   

“Better! You promised me we’d go to Edward’s party on Friday,” the brunette added.   

“Don’t forget girls’ night on Wednesday,” the redhead chimed in. “And we promised Charlie to help her choose something for the hospital event next week on Tuesday.”   

“Ugh, but I thought we were all going to the downtown party together. There will be happy hour for all the drinks!” The brunette pouted slightly. “But I guess you and your all-mighty new guy have better plans than us.”   

“I know, I know,” Y/N replied calmly. “I’m aware.” 

Y/N chuckled, biting her lower lip as the other two girls joked with each other. “So? That’s all?”      

Y/N grimaced uneasily, softly humming, almost disinterested. “He was very... nice and cute, well-behaved.”   

“Are you describing humanity’s strongest or a dog?”   

It made her snort with laughter. “Minnie!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth as she laughed.   

“He’s not that talkative,” she tried to justify. “Or... perhaps he’s shy, stoic...” she clicked her tongue. “I don’t know.”   

There was a soft hum of uncertainty filling the silence, but it was overpowered by one of the cats demanding food. “Going, going,” one of the girls said as she got up and rushed to the cat's demands.  

 “I just... hope that maybe around his friends, he’ll get a bit more confident,” Y/N said, raising her hands in the air as if pushing her last hope onto the idea.   

  “Maybe,” the brunette tried to support the idea, resting her head on her hand. “You said he’s nice...”   

  “He is! He’s very nice...” she said, as if it were a consolation prize, letting the words drag out as if the idea didn’t fully satisfy her. “It’s just that I like my man with a bit more spice... a bit less vanilla.” 

— 

“Ugh...” A loud groan followed as the suit, still on its hanger, was brought closer to the position it would have once worn, allowing him to admire his reflection in the mirror. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this.” 

“’Cause you’re desperate?” Hange spun around in the chair, messily eating a snack, which made Levi frown as crumbs dirtied his pristine floor. “Think about it... you could make it kinda official this way and make sure the MPs won’t be hitting on her.” 

“I don’t think we’re quite there yet,” Levi replied, the idea of publicly declaring his relationship status not exactly appealing. “Don’t you think it’s too soon to make it official?” 

Hange shrugged. “Do you want my honesty?” 

“Yes, and I also want you to stop dropping crumbs on my floor.” 

The brunette took an extra messy bite before speaking. “I don’t think she sees it that way...” 

The little excitement Levi felt was quickly fading, and after Hange’s words, it simply ceased to exist. “Capital girls are taken to official military balls all the time... someone had to say it to you, shorty.” 

The squad leader probably thought of this as ripping off a band-aid. 

“Yeah,” Levi replied curtly, trying to hide his own disappointment. “Did you take a damn shower already? You stink.” 

Scoffing, Hange rose from their position, grabbed a bunch of crackers from the bowl to eat them all at once, and frowned deeply as they left. “I hope you get to empty your balls soon so maybe you’ll stop being so constipated.” 

Levi swore he was ignoring his usual, right, self-preservation instincts when he agreed to bring her there. The suit felt odd on him; he hated the environment, the people, the situation, how he was handling it, and particularly the looks. 

All those old greasy men who had lost touch with reality, their privilege, and their classism, were eyeing her. ‘She’s looking fucking breathtaking, but for fuck’s sake, behave,’ he thought. 

Her tight little red dress, her shiny, innocent eyes, her sweet smile, her shoulders and neck on display as she had her hair up—Levi was sneaking little peeks each time he got a chance. He could hide those, but the types of stares that he could hardly hide—and had no intention of hiding—were the ones he gave when he was just two steps away from her, and she was already being approached by another man. 

‘They’re like fucking flies,’ Levi thought, clicking his tongue, two dishes in hand as he walked back to her side. 

“It’s my first time at one of these events,” he began to pick up their conversation from afar. 

“Oh, there’s always a first time for everything, sweetie,” Levi knew exactly who he was—a high-ranking Garrison member from the west. “Did you come alone? Want me to get you something to eat?” 

“She came with me,” Levi spat out before she could look around and point him out. 

“Captain, I heard you came, but I didn’t believe it. Maybe we should insist on inviting you more often if you’re going to bring such pretty company all the time,” the dark-haired man said slowly, walking away as Levi’s gaze never wavered. Raising his cup in the air, he added, “Miss.” 

She timidly smiled back without saying much. 

‘If I ever catch him outside the walls... I’m pushing him over. His wife will thank me,’ Levi thought. 

Returning to her, he handed her what he had gotten from the buffet. “Thank you. I think he was a bit tipsy,” she said, taking her dish. 

Levi looked down at the dinner, which consisted mostly of little pieces heavily decorated. He grimaced. 

‘Can’t they just give normal fucking food for once? With the money they wasted on this posh shit, we could have gotten food that actually fills you up,’ he thought. 

He took a small bite, but the whole piece could easily fit in his mouth, and the taste didn’t appeal to him. “Do you want to get another drink?” 

Levi tried to swallow the bite he had taken before speaking. ‘I just had three glasses... maybe I don’t want to look like an alcoholic. Isn’t that what everyone thinks of soldiers? That all we do is get pissed drunk on citizens’ money?’ 

“I’m fine,” he said, but seeing her disappointment, he quickly added, “I can go and get you one if you want.” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

‘... that didn’t sound good. Fuck, what did I do wrong? I didn’t want another, but should I have just said yes?’ 

As the night went on, Levi began to regret his decision to attend. First, they were left completely alone as Hange and Erwin went to secure funds, and then she asked his worst nightmare. 

“Do you want to dance?” 

‘Shit... I fucking adore you, but there’s a limit...’ 

“I’m not much of a dancer.” 

Later, they were catching some fresh air on one of the balconies, also taking in the gardens, when they encountered a group of men smoking. “Do you want to go to another balcony?” he asked, catching the scent of cigarettes. 

The resigned look on her face as she forced a smile made him feel uneasy. “It’s fine, I’m not made of glass.” 

‘... maybe I’m the one who needs a cig. What did I say this time? I was just trying to be—’ 

“Sorry, you’re very nice,” she interrupted, running her hand through his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. But the pleasant smile and condescending tone didn’t match the words. 

“Miss? The gentleman over there sent you this,” another staff member brought over the fifth drink sent her way. 

“Oh, thanks,” she said, accepting the glass. “You sure you don’t mind?” 

Shaking his head softly, Levi responded, “No.” 

‘I’ve killed people in the underground for less... way less,’ he thought. 

Clenching his teeth and trying to take deep breaths, Levi thought, The last thing I need tonight is to get jealous over stupid drinks... I learned my lesson last time. 

He noticed her rejecting those who asked her to dance, but Levi could see it all over her face. 

She’s bored... she’s so damn bored that she can’t even hide it anymore. 

It’s like knowing you’re running out of gas and not being able to reach anywhere safe with the 3DMG... Damn it! It's not my fault, I didn’t plan the party. 

Maybe I should have taken her for a dance... 

No, let’s be honest, I can’t do that. 

Levi’s mind was racing, seeing all his efforts crumble before his eyes without him being able to do anything. It didn’t help that the one time Erwin dragged him over to talk to some donors, he saw her from afar, chatting with a friend from the MPs and having a blast. Laughing, drinking, whispering in each other’s ears. 

This is a damn test... and I’m failing like the biggest idiot who hasn’t touched a single book all semester. 

The nobleman Erwin was trying to force Levi to listen to kept talking while Levi dissociated, trying not to pay attention. What the hell am I doing wrong? He tried to keep up the pretense until he saw it. 

Her being approached by another person, who stopped by and began talking and talking. 

No... no, over my dead body. 

Nile was rambling to her about something that had caught her attention enough that she was listening intently. 

No way I’m letting that asshole with a pitiful excuse for a beard talk behind my back, because I know that’s what he’s doing. 

“Yeah, very interesting, but if you’ll excuse me,” Levi interrupted the older man under the scrutiny of an extremely disappointed Erwin. 

He took quick steps, trying to reach them as fast as possible. 

“Nile,” Levi spat out the name as he got by her side, frowning at the man. 

“Oh, the Commander was just telling me that he met you when you were still living in the underground,” she commented as if there was a need for an introduction. 

“Ah, is that so?” Levi feigned interest. “Doesn’t your wife need a hand, Nile? Three kids are a lot to handle.” 

“Levi,” the MP acknowledged the Captain’s presence, “Marie is doing just fine, thank you. I was surprised you brought someone with you, so I decided to share some knowledge.” 

“He was just telling me that you beat his team up and stole their 3DMG gear when you were a thug.” 

Nile might be Erwin’s old friend, but he definitely wasn’t Levi’s, and they hadn’t been on the best of terms since... well, ever. “Maybe, I don’t really remember. If I had to remember each MP I put in their place...” 

“It was illegal, Levi,” Nile insisted. “You know... Levi was known for getting very close to a few female MP soldiers who went down there to meet him.” 

What the hell? You’re already married, why do you care? Levi felt the color drain from his face. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what he did as a thug, but the underground was different, and he wasn’t ready to introduce her to that part of him. 

“Oh,” she hummed in understanding, turning to her left to look at the Captain. “Is that so?” 

“That was many years ago,” Levi added. 

“No, it wasn’t that many.” 

“Tch,” Levi went to grab her hand and suggested, “Don’t you want to go for a stroll around the gardens?” 

“No, I want to keep listening to how you put MP girls in their place in the hallways of the underground,” she replied, catching him completely off guard. 

What the hell? What else did you tell her, moron? She’s going to think I’m some asshole who goes around pretending to be a fuckboy. 

“Tell me, sir.” Her shining eyes and bright smile confused him deeply. “Why are you recalling or telling me any of this?” 

Suddenly, both men fell silent, and her change in attitude was unexpected. Levi noticed how her fake smile turned into a cheeky grin. 

“Are you jealous that those girls got railed up in a hallway and you didn’t? I’m confused.” 

“N-No!” 

Levi was speechless as he admired her. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not the jealous type. I’m sure we can all come to an agreement! I mean, as long as your wife is in favor,” Y/N replied, taking another sip of her drink but never breaking eye contact. 

Nile scoffed and left without saying much. “Cheers!” she said, raising her glass in the air. 

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Levi whispered, trying to form a coherent thought. 

“Hmm?” She took another sip and chuckled. “Me? I didn’t know you were like that, Captain.” 

I claimed victory too fast. 

“No. Well, I was a brat back then.” 

“Is that so?” She questioned, but Levi was slowly noticing the changes in her body language. “Tell me,” she whispered, getting so close to his face that Levi could taste the liquor on her breath as she spoke. 

Frowning, he listened. “If I had been allowed to go down there...” her voice dropped lower with each word, “Would you have railed me up against a damp wall too?” 

Holy... shit— 

“That depends,” Levi’s voice dropped too, as neither of them broke eye contact, the tension between them rising. “I only punished them if they misbehaved in my territory.” 

She softly bit her bottom lip and looked at him through her lashes. “I can misbehave too, Captain.” 

The roll of her tone as she pronounced his title... I could get hard just from that... what the hell is happening? I don’t care, but I’m enjoying it. 

Levi chuckled; it came naturally at seeing her batting eyes at him and taking innocent little sips. “I thought you were a good girl.” 

“Oh, I’m a good girl,” she pouted, “...but I may like to do bad things with you.” 

I want to grip that stupidly pretty face of yours and... damn, where have you been my whole life? 

“Like what?” he asked huskily. 

She slowly rolled her eyes, swaying a little side to side and checking that they weren’t being observed. “I’m so bored.” 

“Are you? Tch, what a spoiled little thing you are,” Levi couldn’t resist running a finger down the side of her face, pushing a non-existent hair out of the way. 

“I don’t want to make Erwin mad at us...” she muttered, looking to the side, pretending. “What do you say you use those thug skills of yours to sneak us out of here, and we go to my place where my friends are out?” 

Forget whatever I said—God bless you, Nile! 

“I would say, give me fifteen minutes and meet me by the bathroom.” 

Play it cool, try to ignore the fact that all your blood is rushing down to your dick. 

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

Her hands moved to pretend she was arranging the folds of his suit. “I would say, make it ten.” 

Chapters left: 2

I wrote this high on painkillers and antibiotics, be nice lol

[channieismyboy]

chanel chance

{dilf!seonghwa x f!reader}

synopsis: When y/n is alerted that there's been a flood in her apartment and no one can take her, what will she do when Mr. Park asks her to stay with him?

masterlist | part 3 | part 5

warnings: age difference (y/n is 21, seonghwa is 29), eventual smut, language, kind of slow burn, sad attempts at humor - wc: 2.3k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Everyday, a man lives a debilitating cycle. He wakes up, goes to work, sleeps, and repeats this endless circuit. He has gotten used to this schedule over the last few years. The only joy in his life would be brought on by his little daughter, whom he loves with all his heart. He tries his very best to put on a facade of happiness whenever he spends time with her. Wanting to protect her innocence from vague feelings of misery for as long as he possibly can, until he eventually matures.

There was no room for love in his life anymore. Romance is certainly unattainable for him due to his lack of availability. It is not like he does not have opportunities to date, there are plenty of women and men who often throw themselves at him. However, it is merely for his title or money. They want to gain something from him.

This man views love differently than the people who he converses with on a daily basis. Most of those individuals view marriage, or dating as a contract. As an opportunity to enlarge their company’s resources, get more publicity from the media, or even to trick the public to buy more of their products. Since this man has seen this happen numerous times in his lifetime, even had a hands-on experience of it in his home, he has made a choice that he would no longer give romance a chance. As those couples that marry for money, or titles, almost certainly end up unhappy, divorcing quickly after marrying, or scandals of them cheating on one another are posted publicly on the news.

However, this man’s principles had begun to change once he had met someone different. Someone who he found beautiful in every way imaginable, who made his heart skip a beat in a way he never knew it could…

This man is Park Seonghwa.

-

You check the time, it is now 11:37 PM. You're lying awake, staring aimlessly at your ceiling, with the fairy lights illuminating your otherwise dark room. Replays of a few nights ago rerun in your head. You think about how gentle Mr. Park was with you, and how caring he is with his daughter. It makes your heart ache. You sadly have never got to experience a proper father-daughter relationship, or even one at all. However, you're grateful you have your uncle and your aunt. They've truly made your life special in every way imaginable. Your eyes begin to feel heavy, and the familiar wave of tiredness hits you until you're asleep.

It is now saturday morning, today you will babysit Jieun and today you will finally see Mr. Park. You get slightly too excited about that last part, and shake your head at your thoughts. You have been thinking about him a lot recently, you really shouldn't, for the sake of keeping your job.

You wake up and check your phone, scrolling aimlessly through your socials and texts from Minho and Jisung. Replying to the endless amounts of texts they've sent along with pictures of them on their vacation to Jeju Island. You struggle to get through the pure amount of them.

The afternoon passes calmly. You quickly make yourself some dinner and shower after precisely picking out your outfit to go see Mr. Park while on a facetime call with both Minho and Jisung. as annoying they are, they are never caught wearing a bad outfit.

"Are you calling us so you can look great for Mr. Hot ceo?" Minho asks with a deadpan tone, which juxtaposes with the cute cat in his lap that he's petting every so sweetly. "You wanna impress him?" Jisung adds while wiggling his eyebrows.

"It's not that, I just want to look presentable is all" you fib, while showing them the black skirt, black stockings with a deep burgundy Ralph Lauren knit sweater that jisung had picked out. Minho looks at you with an 'I'm not buying it' face and you cave in.

"Okay fine! Can you blame me for wanting to look nice when babysitting a good looking ceo's daughter? Plus I do have to look professional for this job, I can't just show up in sweats. and he probably thinks I'm a kid, so it doesn't matter anyway" you say, opting for the look you have on.

"Honestly, I would do the same" jisung adds after applauding your look.

-

After your shower, you get dressed and put on just a bit more makeup than usual, and spray on your 'Chanel Chance' perfume. It won't hurt to look nice for the man anyway. You board the bus and sit down while listening to some music. you're now deep in thought, thinking back to minho's comment. it won't hurt to look good for the man anyway. He's literally a high power ceo, regardless of how he looked, you had to go to his home and look presentable anyway. with a posh neighborhood like his and such a fancy house like his, you would look like the odd one out not arriving dressed in the very few expensive clothing items you own.

Your stop arrives and you head out quickly, mentally preparing to meet John again and explain why you are there. You feel slightly awkward just walking up a hill with nothing else but your purse and phone in hand. You wish you had a car that can drive you around, but it broke down on you and is in the shop being replaced. You try not to think about the bill ahead of you, that's too many scary thoughts in a row.

Trailing along, you are soon met with John at the gate. He looks at you up and down. "Can I see some ID?" he demands. You open your purse and show him your driver's license. He lets you through, luckily Mr. Park's home is close to the gate, so it's not a far walk. You stop at the familiar home. it's 6:25 PM, you're grateful that once again you're early. You quickly double check your hair and retouch your lip gloss before knocking on the door. You wait a bit until it opens.

This time you are greeted directly by Mr. Park, and he glances at you up and down before welcoming you with a polite smile. You do the same, and note how nicely dressed he is. The black buttoned up shirt with just a few buttons undone tucked into his black trousers complement the glasses he's wearing, he look's so professional with them on.

"Hello Ms. L/n, it's nice to see you." he says with a slight smile on his face. "Hello Mr. Park" you greet back with a bright and polite smile.

"Laura, my housekeeper isn't here on Saturdays so it's just going to be you and Jieun for today. Please come in," he gestures into the home. You take off your shoes and enter the place after closing the door. You look around his place once again, still in shock by its size and beauty. Mr. Park sure has taste. You walk behind him and follow him to the living room, where Jieun is already sitting, watching cartoons.

He turns to face you, eyes directly on yours. Suddenly it's quite hot in the room. "I'll leave you both here and I'll be back just before 9:00 PM, call if anything happens, although I know she's in great hands" he says to you before saying goodbye to his daughter.

"Enjoy your meeting Mr. Park!" you say. He exits before lovingly wishing his daughter goodbye.

-

Your time spent with Jieun is always pleasant. She's as bright and playful as ever, telling you about her latest works of art (cute scribbles) and her excitement to learn more at pre-school. She has such a bright future ahead of her, you think. The time passes quickly as soon it's almost 9:00.

You hear the familiar pitter-patter of raindrops beginning to fall down, and you silently curse to yourself. You did not bring an umbrella with you and now you'll have to walk down in the rain until you reach the bus stop. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Jieun scream out for her dad. You raise your head up and you greet Mr. Park.

He places Jieun down and tells her to get ready for bedtime. She does just that after saying goodbye to you with a warm hug that you so happily reciprocated.

"Alright," he says while reaching into his wallet and pulling out many bills. "This should do it for the night" and he gives you the money. You check the amount and your eyes bulge out a little at the amount. 150$ you count and recount again quickly, this is much more than last time. You shake your head and attempt to give him back the money.

"Mr. Park, this is way too much. I cannot accept this amount."

"Please, just take it. It honestly isn't a lot for me and I'm just happy you made Jieun smile so brightly." His tone and expression are so genuine you have no choice but to give in and accept it.

"Okay, I'll accept it this time Mr. Park. Thank you very much."

You head to put back on your shoes and prepare yourself to walk back in the rainfall. He watches you intently, with his head turned to the side as he leans on the wall. You feel as though you're being watched by an eagle, as you feel his eyes never once leaving your form. your cheeks burn slightly.

"Are your friends here to pick you up?" Mr. Park speaks up. "No, it's just me on my own this time" you answer.

"You're not walking home are you? I didn't see a car parked in the driveway when you came." He asked with concern laced in his soft spoken words.

"No. I'm just going to walk to the bus stop nearby-"

"I'll drive you there then" he cuts you off. He sees the familiar look of 'you don't have to' already on your face, the one he just saw moments ago while paying you. Before he lets you speak, he explains himself. "I just don't want you to get a cold out in the rain. I need my babysitter to be in perfect condition, you know."

Yet again, Mr. Park has made it impossible for you to refuse him. "Alright, if you insist, then I have no choice but to say yes" you say with a smile, and you see him laugh slightly at your words.

To say his car is nice, would be a great understatement. You have no knowledge of cars, but even to a novice like you, this car is down right spectacular. The nicely polished black outside with leather seats, just how rich is this man?

Mr. Park opens the door for you and ushers you in gently. He gets in quickly after, and you glance at your phone, after realizing it's been buzzing for quite a while now. You see all the missed calls from your Landlady. Panic surges through you, did you forget to pay your rent? No you remember sending out the amount just a week ago. what could it be then? Mr. Park can tell you're anxious.

"I'm sorry," you mutter. "It's something to do with my apartment, could I quickly make a call?" you ask. "Of course, be my guest," Mr. Park says, gesturing for you to dial the number.

The phone rings and she picks up quickly. "Hello?"

"Ms. L/n, there has been a minor flood in the apartment. You must come quickly and evacuate all of your belongings. We'll need to undergo repairs for about 3 days." You let her speak, and your face drops.

You face Mr. Park and judging from his expression, he's heard everything from your call.

"Were there any damages to my apartment room?"

"Luckily your floor had no damages, it was the floors under you that mainly got affected. Still you'll need to leave for a few days. Please come quick and find a place to stay until then. Goodbye."

You hang up the phone and think to yourself silently. Wondering who you could stay with. Mr. Park asking you the same question out loud. Minho and Jisung are too far away and you don't have a key to their apartment you explain to them.

"What about your uncle?" Mr. Park asks.

"I wish but, they're having renovations and there's barely any room for them in the house." you answer.

It's silent for a moment, the raindrops splattering heavily as the rainfall speeds up, a storm is starting to form outside. You think about any other people you know that you can stay with. The list is already quite short.

"Stay with me," and you turn your head to meet, a shocked expression to his lighthearted smile.

"I really can't. I don't wish to intrude like that." you shake your hands in defense.

"Unless you have anyone else to turn to, I'm your best bet Ms. L/n. You won't be intruding anyway. I'm not uncomfortable with it and I think Jieun would be delighted to have you over for 3 days." he shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

This is the third time he has persuaded you this night. No wonder he's a successful businessman, he can talk you right into doing whatever wants, and you're not opposing any of it.

Staying with him won't be too bad right? I mean he must have room in this mansion of his. Plus he is always busy and I have class so we won't interact as much right?

Your face begins to heat up at the thought of being in such close proximity to Mr. Park. Wait, why are you thinking of that right now?

You exhale and look at him as you've made your decision.

"I'll stay with you."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

a/n: hey yall! so long time no see. i'm going to continue this series after not touching it for almost 2 years. i'm sorry for the delay but even i had to know how this was going to end. i hope some of yall are interested in it still (praying actually). anyways please enjoy this part, i'll see you soon!!

please let me know if you wanna be added to the tagslist!!

tagslist: @miamyre @flowersiinherhaiir @vvsmydiamonds127 @prodsh00ky @jhmylove @sunwoosberrie @jenotation @seonghwasstar @zwiehe @nagadiluc @kodzukein @heavenly-mobo @nevieatiny @smeetb0ne3 @yeosxxx @koalakoala8 @imalildelulu @sookacc @lunaa2210 @asjkdk @wal-nutt @iheartyeonjunnn @yoonsanbin

[foreingersgod]

you’re caroline harvey fic absolutely ate. please write more for her there’s such a lack of fics 😫

Scaredy Cat . CH

pairing: caroline harvey x reader

A/N: i had to rewrite this 3 times because it kept sounding super awkward, so if this is horrible, im sorry LOL

“maybe we should watch something else, babe…” caroline offered from the spot next to you on the bed. she had an arm wrapped lazily around your shoulder, legs tangled with yours under the sheets “it’s gonna get you scared and then you won’t be able to sleep”

it was a simple date-night-in on a gloomy saturday. the rain pouring heavily outside made it impossible to continue with your original plans, forcing you and caroline to resort to a movie night in your shared apartment. in all honesty, you didn’t mind-you’d much rather snuggle up in bed with your girlfriend, snacking on a half eaten box of pizza and throwing on a show. you had been scrolling through netflix for what felt like an eternity until you came upon the horror section, recognizing a movie poster that you thought looked quite interesting. you turned to caroline with a pleading look, begging her agree to watch it with you. but she knew you more than you knew yourself and was quite quick to suggest something else.

she knew you were jumpy person, easily paranoid over little things, so she was aware that watching this movie wouldn’t end like you thought it would. you always claimed to like horror movies-love them, in fact-but without fail, you’d end up shutting it off before it even got to the good part. she thought she’d spare you of the jumpscares and inevitably the nightmares you were sure to have by picking a different movie.

“but it looks so good!” you pouted, bottom lip jutting out as you gave her your best puppy dog eyes. a look you knew she could never refuse “i promise i won’t chicken out! please?”

she rose her eyebrows at you, head tilting to the side in distrust. but you doubled nonetheless as you continued your pleas.

“alight alight, fine” she agreed, rolling her eyes “but i don’t want to hear about how scared you are when we go to bed, got it?”

you smiled almost instantly, shaking your shoulders in excitement and pressing play on the movie. your body scooted closer to caroline’s and your hand found its way to her sweatpant-clad thigh. an off key, eerie music emitted from the screen as the movie began to roll.

“i’m a woman of my word” you said, waving her off “it’s probably not even that scary, i’m sure i’ll be fine”

famous last words.

like caroline had expected, your excitement was short lived. only 20 minutes had passed before you were jolting in your seat and clinging onto her arm. it took all she had to not burst out laughing every time one of the jumpscares took you by surprise. she noticed how your hand squeezed her bicep every time one of the scenes got increasingly suspenseful, how you would cover eyes with one hand with your fingers parted slightly.

finally the movie ended after a huge plot twist, resulting in you letting out a relieved sigh. just like you had promised, you made it the entire way through.

“so,” caroline began, watching the credits take over the screen as she turned the TV off. she looked over to you, fear practically radiating off of your body “was it worth it?”

“yea” you nodded as you chewed on the inside of your cheek “not bad at all”

it was quite obvious that you were lying. from the meekness of your voice to the extensive clingy-ness, caroline knew that you were more deceiving than you intended to let on. but despite that, she wanted to let you have your moment of pride and let you workout the fright yourself.

“y’sure? you’re looking a bit pale, babe. gonna make it through the night?”

“i’m fine!” you shrugged it off once more, slumping down on the bed and pulling the comforter up over your body abruptly. sleep seemed to be the only thing to soothe your mind. your feet found company with hers as you grappled for any source of comforting touch “can we just go to bed now?”

caroline obliged as to not press any further. you wouldn’t be a happy camper if she had proved you to be wrong. she followed in your actions, nuzzling into bed and pulling you flush against her chest like she always did. for several moments, it seemed the world was silent for the night. trees rustled outside your bedroom window, the frame of your apartment building creaking with each whoosh of the wind, the quiet breathes of your girlfriend hitting the nape of your neck softly. it was like any other night, drifting off to sleep with one another, until caroline felt you tossing and turning.

“YN,” she mumbled, half asleep. she sat up using her elbow to prop herself up as she gently shook your arm “what’s going on, you keep moving around over there?”

you muttered something into your pillow, your words incoherent to caroline. the restless movements of your limbs continued as she tried asking you again, only to be met with a defeated whimper.

“what?”

“i said,” you finally removed your face from your pillow, craning your neck so she could hear you better “i really need to pee”

“you-” she shook her head “if you need to pee, go to the bathroom…”

“but i can’t”

“why not?”

“because,” an embarrassed whisper escaped your throat “i’m too…scared to get up”

her infectious laugh bounced off the walls of the bedroom. a sound soothing enough to make you forget about the pressure on your bladder for a swift moment. you groaned as she carefully pulled the duvet down the bed.

“alright, scaredy cat” the bed dipped as she threw her legs off the mattress, feet already planted on the plush carpet “come on”

“huh?”

“i said come on” she was now on your side of the bed, searching in the dark for your hand blindly. she gripped it softly as she tugged you out of bed “i’ll go with you”

“you don’t have to do that” she guided you towards the bathroom with her hand still grasping onto yours. the ground beneath you creaked with each step, causing you to stay on high alert. you felt caroline’s thumb rub small circles on the skin of your hand to let you know she was right there with you.

“no,” she said, flipping the switch to the bathroom lights and ushering you in. she found residence on the sink counter, her legs kicking carelessly in the air “but i want to”

you couldn’t help but smile, a rosy blush creeping onto your cheeks. caroline had to the be the sweetest person on the planet. not everyone was so fortunate to have a partner that would escort them into the bathroom at 2 am after watching a scary movie. you did your best to keep the bathroom break short, doing your business quickly as you felt guilty for waking your girlfriend up.

“better?” she asked as you washed your hands.

“much” you sighed before facing her, letting your arms drape across her shoulders as you melted into her embrace “thank you, baby, you’re the best”

“anything for my girl” she grinned. the scent of her berry chapstick lingered on her lips as she leaned into you, placing a chaste kiss to your lips “but that was the last time you’re watching a scary movie, i told you that you were gonna get scared”

“okay whatever” you joked, releasing her from your grasp as you headed back to bed “maybe i just wanted you to protect me”

you both climbed back under the covers, the mattress below you still warm from your weight. the night was still peaceful, everything just the same as you had left it. your bodies fell back into their typical positions as you placed a hand atop her chest.

“mmm” she mumbled, burying her face in the crook of your neck once again “you know i always will”

“yea,” you said, feeling how her heartbeat slowed under your touch, indicating she was nearly asleep. with heavy eyelids, you let yourself do the same as you drifted into a similar slumber “i do”

[nnight-dances]

FOR LOVERS WHO HESITATE.

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. xu minghao)

GENRE: fluff, some angst

TROPES: best friends to lovers, reader is oblivious and an idiot sometimes, kinda he fell first and she fell harder, reader is a moa lol and also a hopeless romantic, wonwoo is in photography school and a youtuber.

it's raining cats and dogs when you step out of the shower and the burst of thunder that follows has you thanking that your commute from work to home hadn't seen any such rain. it's a big night for you, after all, you can't have anything spoiling it. it's txt's comeback night and for once, your schedule's freed up in time for you to be able to enjoy the coming weekend with some brand new music from your favorite kpop group. what's more is you had a date on saturday and where usually you would be shaking with nervousness, you actually quite liked this guy. his name was minghao, and he made you feel a calmness with him that you had yet to feel with another man on any dating apps. maybe there was hope after all…

you apply your prized lavender-scented body lotion as you re-listen to some old albums that have been close to your heart and hum along happily. you're about to turn the kettle on for some tea when you hear the doorbell ring. with a sigh, you glance at the time. there were only a handful of people who'd drop by your place at 9 on a friday. 

"wonwoo," you murmur when you start to vagule recall texts from him about coming over for ramen and ice cream. you pad over and open the door to the tall man peering at you through his glasses, "you didn't read my texts again, did you?" 

you gasp in feigned offense, "wow, you're really just gonna assume i didn't? of course i did! and that's why i knew it was you barging into my house this late at night."

"late?" wonwoo questions your wording as he lets himself in and then pauses when he catches sight of the elaborate set-up in your living room. the tiny projector you had bought ages ago and long-forgotten about is now out and function, displaying your laptop screen on the white wall, open on txt's youtube channel. 

"ohhh," he slowly turns around in realization, "are they coming out tonight?"

"coming back, yes," you call out from the kitchen, turning the kettle on like you'd planned, "i'm making some tea, you want any?"

"no, but i'll have the ramen you promised me." 

you narrow your eyes at him, "you do realize you promised yourself ramen, right?" 

"come on, y/n!" wonwoo starts whining, "you never hang with me anymore! it's always just work, home, txt, hinge boyfriend, work, work with you. what about jeon wonwoo time? what about best friend bonding hours?"

you can't help the chuckle that escapes you, watching the tall man slumped against your light blue fridge with a pout on his lips. he pushes his glasses back with sleeve of his black hoodie to stare you down. 

"...i hear you, sir," you start, "but to be fair, we did hang earlier this week when i took you out to lunch for getting a million subscribers on your youtube channel." 

"that doesn't count!" he complains, "that was like, duty-based hangout."

"right," you laugh, "listen, woo, i do wanna hang but you did see my plans for the night in the living room. so i mean, if you wanna grab some ramen and watch five men being silly before their new music drops… you're more than welcome." 

this time wonwoo's quiet, mouth moving undecidedly as he weighs his options. then, he shrugs, realizing he wasn't going to change your plans for the night. "eh, sure. it's not like it's my first time anyway." 

"cool! we have a plan!" you clap, "glad we came to an understanding." 

wonwoo laughs as he watches you take out to packets of ramen and start preparing the soup for them. now that he knows he gets to spend time with you, he relaxes, taking in the light blue pyjama set you have on. it matches the scrunchie in your hand and the hairclips that hold your bangs back in place. he notices how in the silence you naturally start humming a song under your breath, the melody vaguely familiar to wonwoo from the time he's spent listening to txt with you. 

truth be told, wonwoo really needed this tonight. he's had a long week of juggling classes and content creation, now that he had the new burden of pleasing a million people who had put their trust in him to speedrun and try out the newest video games. he's also had to meet up with friends, old and new, who reached out to him thanks to his new milestone. while he was always so grateful for the support, at the end of the day, he was an introvert and it was only in solitude he could gain back the energy he'd spent. 

except of course, solitude came back when it was with you, nevermind the real definition of the word. easy to say, over the years of your friendship with wonwoo, he'd become used to finding comfort in your warmth, though it changed with time. when you were both in college, it meant studying together and holding each other through the hard times. when you graduated and went on to get a job at a publishing company you'd always admired, wonwoo continued school to get a masters in photography like he'd always dreamed. now, comfort meant escaping his dorm room to drop by your place so he could bother you. 

sometimes, he hesitated, worried that he might actually be bothering you. you were an actual working adult, after all. but then, he'd find you sending him stupid memes in the middle of the night on a working night and he'd change his mind, knowing he couldn't go another week without seeing your face. 

"hello? you're just gonna stand there and watch me do all the work?" 

your stern voice breaks wonwoo out from his daydreaming and focus on the two steaming bowls of ramen that have appeared on the kitchen counter. "oh, sorry," he says, "just zoned out."

"not that you would've been much help with your hands of disaster."

"hey," wonwoo calls, "that's unfair, i'm a perfectly competent cook."

you raise a brow at him, "really, woo? would you say a perfectly competent cook would cut his thumb on a potato peeler? or, what was it the other time, would he spill boiling hot soup all over himself?"

wonwoo purses his lips. "whatever. i can just wash dishes if you're gonna be so mean about my cooking skills."

"sorry, woo, but there are no skills to be mean about," you murmur as you top the ramen with some fried egg. "anyway, here, take these and i'll bring us drinks. beer good with you?"

"you know it, sir," he confirms as he carries out your orders, balancing the bowls in each hand and making his way to the living room. he takes a seat on the couch, when something on the screen catches his attention. though your youtube screen is crowded with suggestions related to txt on different variety shows, there's a video in the corner that shows wonwoo's face. he recognizes it as one of his newer videos this week, one he made to thank his followers for their overwhelming support. he's honestly surprised to the red bar under the video indicate that you'd already watched the whole video. he didn't think you'd have the time to watch an hour long video.

he can't help the satisfied smile that creeps up his face, feeling a new level of accomplished knowing you were so up to date with his content.

"you're really just gonna grin like that to yourself?" your voice calls out, "i'm scared, should i keep a weapon close?"

wonwoo shrugs, "i don't know, would you really have the guts to kill your favorite youtuber?" 

you're caught off-guard and when you see wonwoo's video on the screen, you redden, averting your gaze as you place two cans of beers on the table. "so much for supporting my best friend," you mumble, adorable pout on your lips as you break open your chopsticks, stirring the hot ramen around. 

wonwoo keeps his smug excitement over the fact that you didn't deny his claim to your favorite youtuber and simply joins you in cooling his noodles. "anyway, i thought that txt was releasing new music? why would that include them being silly?"

"the countdown live, obviously," you inform him before slurping some ramen.

"ahh, right, i forgot those were a thing. when does the live start?"

you turn your laptop to yourself and scroll till you find the link to the countdown live, "hmm, let's see. it says here that there's 33 minutes." 

"wanna watch an episode of demon slayer while we wait?" wonwoo asks gingerly, ready to be rejected immediately. but you seem distracted by your phone, your quick typing indicating you were texting someone. "hm? texting a new guy?" he asks, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. 

you hum out a yes and after a minute, you put your phone down, smile on your lips. "you must really like him if you're texting him back that fast," he comments.

you look at him with a chuckle, "i met him last week on hinge. woo, he's stunning and genuinely nice. how rare is that combination?" you sigh, "i honestly still think he's a little too good to be true but i guess i'll find out tomorrow."

"tomorrow?" he asks, "where's he taking you out?"

you cough, "we're going to a museum and then to lunch at an italian place."

"damn," wonwoo mutters, "he's rich then, i presume?"

you hit wonwoo's arm, "what's your next question? how much does he make a year? his criminal history?"

"i mean, does he have one?"

"wonwoo," you warn him, "he's a perfectly nice guy. or so i hope. anyway, wanna watch this episode of txt's show? it'll warm you up for the live." 

wonwoo quietly nods as you click on the recommended video. he takes a deep breath to settle the storm in his stomach and sips his ramen soup to clear his head. he was here to spend time with you, not fight with you over questionable dates you found on hinge. 

"that one's soobin, right? he's my favorite," wonwoo smiles when the guy's dimples deepen with a joke another member cracked. 

"i thought you liked beomgyu!" you laugh, "you're a really unfaithful one, aren't you?"

he shrugs, "i don't know what you're talking about, i've always been biased toward soobin." 

"you didn't even know his name till five minutes ago, but sure, woo, if you insist."

the episode ends with both of you weak with laughter, partly because of the goofy nature of the games txt was playing but mostly because throughout, one of you would make a remark that would get the other laughing and build from there. it really was a never-ending battle with laughter when wonwoo was around. 

"oh, i must know what happens next! i know soobin's gonna win this thing," wonwoo says. 

"ahh, as much as i want to watch the second episode, we should tune into the live or we're gonna be late," you tell him. "we can watch the second one some other time?"

"it's a date," wonwoo teases back before he can stop himself from filtering his thoughts. but it's too late, you've turned to him with a look of scrutiny, wondering if he was joking or not. 

"right, okay, here it is," you pull up the live, which has been on for about five minutes. soobin is in the middle of talking about the album when you tune in. "ohh, look, your favorite boy's talking about the album."

"i see that," wonwoo smiles, "where's your favorite guy at?"

"hmm, wait… ah, there he is, yeonjun with his new haircut," you gasp, "god, black hair suits him so well." wonwoo narrows his eyes at the black-haired guy you've pointed out. you're right, he looks amazing, though he can't tell if it's the hair or just his general abundance of beauty. 

the rest of the countdown live goes not unlike before, with you helpfully supplying wonwoo with any context he might missing behind the member's comments. at exactly midnight, wonwoo watches their new music video with you, laughing when at its end you immediately click the replay button. after its third re-watch, you switch to spotify and listen to the entire album once before nodding in satisfaction.

"that's a solid album," wonwoo comments, smiling at your half-contained excitement. "it's everything i need to get through life till their next comeback," you say, "the title track's my favorite for the first time. although that might change as i relisten to the album."

"the title's the catchiest so that's probably right," he says. wonwoo's about to say some more about the album when he catches the look in your eyes. "what's wrong?"

"sorry, i feel bad for making you sit through that for like, three hours."

wonwoo's heart melts a little when he catches you fiddling with the hem of your pyjama top. he lets out a lighthearted chuckle, "you didn't force me. i had fun, y/n."

you smile, "i had fun, too. i always do with you." wonwoo's heart skips a beat at your admission, his cheeks warming up, "oh, right, i should show you the new speaker i bought the other day." you stand up and run over to your room excitedly. 

a few minutes pass and wonwoo sighs, hand at his chest, trying to calm himself down. he rests his head against his arm, slumping against the sofa, as his mind races. this won't do, he thinks, closing his eyes to shut out his bothersome thoughts. 

perhaps, he calms down a little fast because when you return with the speaker clutched in your hand, you find him dozing off on the couch. you smile at the sight, plopping down next to him. "always falling asleep anywhere, aren't you?" you mumble under your breath, eyes drawn to the portrait of serenity that wonwoo was. you watch him breathe steadily for a while before you rest your head against his arm, inexplicably drawn to the sight before you. 

you felt… weird, almost itchy, when you're this close to wonwoo. his eyelashes were longer than you expected at this distance and you have to contain the desire to brush your knuckles against them. you wonder what he must be thinking, to appear to be so at peace. you let out a hum unknowingly and wonwoo stirs. 

he comes to with a start, feeling a weight on his arm that hadn't been there when he fell asleep. and then he opens his eyes, almost convinced he's still dreaming when he finds your head against his hand, blinking solemnly as if you had been watching him sleep.

wait… hadn't you actually been watching him sleep? wonwoo starts to wonder but you cut him off when you whine, "you dozed off, jeon wonwoo." 

"sorry, i didn't mean to," he mutters, unusually shy. 

"well, it's fine. it's getting late," you say. then, after a moment, "do you just want sleep over? it's kind of a trek to your dorm from here."

wonwoo hesitates, blood rushing to his face at the idea of sleeping over at your place. "no, it's fine, i'll just go back."

"no, i would feel too bad letting you do that," you insist with a pout, "plus, it's saturday tomorrow so you don't have to worry about rushing back to class or anything."

he pauses. you were right, it was a pretty reasonable proposition once he thought about it with straight mind. "then, i will," he agrees, "but where do i sleep?" the question comes from the knowledge that you did only own one bed, the one that was in your bedroom. never mind that it was big enough to fit you both, the fact that it was in your bedroom made it off-limits in wonwoo's mind. 

"my bed?" you ask.

wonwoo sits up, "absolutely not."

"damn," you mumble, but don't think much of it, "i guess you'll have to take the couch then?"

"that works for me."

you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to push him to sleep in your bed if he really was that strongly against it but you can't help but pry a little more. "you sure you don't prefer a soft mattress with proper pillows?"

"you forget that i can fall asleep anywhere at any given moment with minimal trouble," he shrugs. "but i will ask of you to lend me one of your plushies."

you chuckle at that, "alright then, if you insist. i'll bring you a blanket and a plushie." when you leave to accomplish said missions, wonwoo takes a second to marvel and… well, panic at his situation. 

he'd only ever slept over at your place once and that was when he passed out from drinking too much soju. that didn't really count, especially since that time hoshi and karina had also passed out next to him on your floor. so this really felt like a big deal to wonwoo. 

you come back with a pile of a soft pink blanket and a matching pink bunny in your arms, dropping them next to wonwoo on the couch. "there," you say, "you want tea before you sleep?"

"nope."

"anything else? water?"

"oh, is there a toothbrush i can borrow?"

"ah, right. i should have some spare ones lying around. come, i'll show you."

it's nearly 2 am by the time wonwoo's in bed (couch), changed into some oversized shorts you had and sporting the same skincare that you used every night. it's all a little much for his poor heart, doing these domestic things with you as if he hasn't been down bad for you since he can remember. 

"okay~ goodnight, woo, sleep tight!" you call out. you pat his cheek, crouching next to the couch as you watch him settle down for the night. he mumbles back a goodnight somewhat quietly and you can't help but laugh to yourself at how adorable wonwoo looked.

"tell me if you need anything, okay?"

you stand up, ready to head to bed yourself and really, wonwoo should be thankful he can be alone at last, perhaps, collect his thoughts and rest his brain for the day. but being up so late must be getting to his reason because he reaches out to hold your wrist when you're about to leave, with a hurried, "wait!"

you stop with a raised brow, "what's wrong?"

"my goodnight kiss!" he blurts out with a sudden rush of courage. "i need one to fall asleep."

silence follows his words and wonwoo's ear slowly start to burn up when he hears the echoes of his absurd request playing back in his mind. he lets go of your wrist just as quickly he'd reached for it, covering up with a half-laugh, "i was just kidding. good night!" 

a beat passes and he thinks you must really find him ridiculous to not respond to anything he's said but before he can dig himself any further into the hole he's made, he feels your hair brush against his skin. he barely has time to register your body leaning over him when he feels you lips press against his cheek. the moment should last forever but it's over all too quick. wonwoo can't see your face in the darkness but he hears your voice near his ear, breath soft, "good night, woo."

he could die now, he really could, and he would die a happy man. he muffles the sound that escapes his throat when he hears the door to your room creak as you close it behind you. you, on the other hand, stare at yourself in the mirror in disbelief at what just happened. 

you really didn't know what to make of wonwoo's request out of the blue, but something about the way he looked so cozy, hair sticking out every which way in the moonlight that spilled into your living room, something about this night in general had you feeling strange. you felt the same itch you'd felt when you found yourself unable to take your eyes off a sleeping wonwoo. it's like when you encounter a beautiful cat lounging in the sun and had to drop everything so you could take in its joyful existence. you couldn't move an inch, completely fascinated by this being before you.

"what the fuck am i thinking…" you mumble, feeling your cheeks warm up. "i must be really tired." 

turns out even after a night's sleep you feel as confused as you did when you fell asleep. with a grunt of frustration, you roll over in bed and choose to scroll on your phone to distract yourself for a bit. it's almost 11 when you hear a knock on your door. you contemplate pretending to be asleep but then there's another knock, followed by wonwoo's, "y/n?"

you feel too bad leaving wonwoo to fend for himself in your home so you force yourself out of bed, patting your hair down as you pad over to the door. "hey, morning–" 

your greeting is interrupted mid-way when wonwoo's face moves close to you – hilariously close until he's kissing your cheek. your breath catches in your throat and you freeze up. wonwoo stands back up, arms on the doorway, a small smirk on his face. what had possesed him overnight? 

you could only ponder in defeat when he merrily called out, "good morning! did you sleep well?" 

"i… did…" you start and then stop, hand coming up to the cheek where wonwoo had kissed you. "what was that for…" you wonder more to yourself but wonwoo picks up your flustered question and shrugs.

"i was only paying you back for your goodnight kiss," he smiles, unsettling you to your very guts, "that was your good morning kiss."

you groan, suddenly losing all clarity. frustrated, hiding the blush creeping up your neck, "you know that's not a real thing…" but where you mean to sound harsh, you simply sound bewildered. wonwoo swallows his chuckle and pats your head, "i'm hungry. can you make me breakfast?"

you glare at him, trying to figure out what his real plan was but he simply follows up with, "pretty please? you wouldn't let a guest in your home leave on an empty stomach, right?"

"i- uh, let me wash my face and i'll make you something," you say, pausing for a split second befroe shutting the door in wonwoo's face. you speedrun your morning routine despite your very best efforts to act and thus, feel normal, you wash your face and brush at your teeth at an abnormal speed. you stare at yourself in the mirror when you consider changing out of your pjyamas and mentally scold yourself for acting like an idiot.

"stupid," you tell yourself as you leave your room to find wonwoo cackling at his phone screen. no matter how you look at it, wonwoo's acting different… he seems more confident, or rather, full of conviction, though you couldn't think of any reason why that would be. 

etiher way, in an attempt to act normal, you start making eggs for breakfast, scrambled and slightly runny the way you know wonwoo likes them. "toast?" you ask him as you whip the eggs onto a plate. "yes,," he calls out, "with some butter, please!"

you sigh as you place a slice of toast on his plate, sliding it toward him. you plop the stick of butter next to him with a knife and tell him with a sarcastic smile, "you can butter your own toast." 

"i sure can," he says with a satisfied smile. you really can't understand what he was thinking and it pisses you off, but not nearly enough to sit next to him as you dig into your own plate of eggs.

"as thanks for feeding me two meals in a row," wonwoo starts, swallowing a mouthful of food, "can i do anything for you? buy you a new pan? go grocery shopping with you?"

"i'm good, thanks."

he frowns at your curt reply. "ohh, how about a movie? it could make for a solid saturday night."

"sorry, i've a date tonight, remember?"

"ah, that," he says, flatly, "i mean, if you have time later right?"

"i'm pretty sure i'm gonna be beat by the time i'm done with the date. maybe tomorrow," you say but you know he can tell you're only half-heartedly saying so. he gives up after, thankfully for you. 

"all right, i should get going! as it turns out i forgot my clothes in the dryer for two days straight and someone threw them onto the floor…" you let out a horrified gasp at wonwoo's casual confession, "so i should probably deal with that."

"dude, please, why aren't you running back to your dorm right now?" 

"alright, alright, i get it! see you later, y/n!"

with that, the man's off, seeming somewhat appropriately concerned for his clothes now. you sigh once you hear the door close after him, resting your forhead on your fist. your head hurts and it's not even noon. you're mostly just having a hard time comprehending the last 12 hours you spent with wonwoo. 

it's not out of the ordinary for you to do impromptu things with him like this but you feel strangely empty now that he's gone. what's worse is your mind keeps replaying this morning when he kissed your cheek like a broken record. it makes you feel like a pervert, thinking about the kiss as if it wasn't wonwoo, your best friend for life. plus, there's that itchy feeling that won't let up every time you think about him. "man, this sucks," you groan out, opening your phone, "and i still have to get ready for that date." 

in an efffort to clear out the weariness you feel, you hop into the shower and take extra long in there, singing along to the new txt album and letting your worries wash away with the new vanilla scented body wash you'd bought earliere that week. without a doubt, you feel much better after, patting your damp skin down with some skincare.

that's when you're suddenly reminded of how last night wonwoo had crouched next to you, ridiculously focused on applying the products you handed him all over his face. he looked adorable, straining to get every pore covered as his fingers ran over his face. he had to squint of course since you'd told him you wouldn't stand him getting your precious skincare all over his glasses. after he was done, he'd elbowed you lightly, "how do i look?" 

"so clean and healthy, my princess," you joked as you patted him on the head. the proud look on his face made you swoon a little–

what the actual fuck. "fuck," you curse out loud when you realize you'd lost your newly regained sanity to the walk down last night's memory lane. "what the fuck," you repeat under your breath as you through your last steps in a hurry. you feel yourself spiralling again when a ping on your phone saves you. 

it's minghao.

minghao: afternoon, y/n! hope u slept well last night :)

minghao: just wanted to tell you i might be a little late cuz i forgot i had to run an errand for my mom! sorry

you melt a little at how sincere he is in informing you of every little change in your plans and can't help but feel a little guilty for viewing the date as a burden. that's right, you owed it to minghao to respect the date and approach it with an open mind. confusing feelings for your best friend for another day. 

you: hey!! thx for telling me but don't worry about it 

you: i'll text you when i get there so you know where to find me 

minghao: that would be great yay

minghao: can't wait to see you 

you: me either :) 

— 

minghao is amazing, exactly as you expected him to be. he shows up at the exact ETA he'd texted you earlier and not without a whole rose in his hand. when you turn impossibly red and shake his kindness away with a, "...but i didn't get you anything," he smiles and tells you to take it, "it's an apology for me being late to our first date." 

you inwardly lose it over his emphasis on first date and calm yourself down, accepting the rose with a thankful smile. you had to keep it together if you want there to be another date, for real. he's incredibly sweet the whole time, walking through the museum at a comfortable pace – enough that you'd be able to admire the piece but not too long that you ended up staring into nothing. 

after over an hour of perusing the museum's collection, your feet start to hurt a little, no thanks to the uncomfortable loafers you'd brought out for the special ocassion. it's like minghao senses your discomfort and offers to rest at the museum's in-house cafe and get some refreshments. "ahh, i'd love that," you mumble shyly, embarassed that he could see through you so well. 

over coffee, you try not to stare at minghao, noticing the few strangers who would pass by your table and do a double take at the man in front of you. he did catch the eye, what with his blonde hair which sat just right by the nape of his neck. you couldn't think of the last time you'd seen someone pull off a mullet so well.

"sorry if i'm a little out of it today," minghao starts with a small smile, "i slept much later than i usually do because my friend came over without notice."

"wait, you won't believe it but something really similar happened to me last night too," you say with a grin. "what did your friend want?" 

"really?" he asks with a similar smile. "also, well, he's not really a friend, more like a former roommate who can't get over the fact that i got a job and now have my own place. he likes to cope by barging in and having meals with me or watching a movie."

"wow, it's insane how similar your story is… my friend's still in college so he likes to also barge in and eat my food that i cook and watch stuff with me."

the two of you share a laugh, thrilled at the newfound similarity. "that's cool, we're like each other in a lot of ways, huh?"

"yeah, that's pretty cool," you agree. this is bad. you can't stop smiling. was minghao always this charming?

not that you would know, you remind yourself, laughing at his blunt sense of humour all throughout lunch, barely focused on the taste of the pasta minghao had ordered. you feel unlike yourself. like you're floating and all you could feel was minghao's magnetic charm, keeping you focused on him and him alone. or maybe that was the wine talking. 

that's how you end up at your place, kissing his face, before you can comprehend the situation. "fuck," you breathe between kisses, "i don't usually kiss on the first date." 

minghao pulls away with a small grin, "i don't either." with that, he kisses you again. and again. eventually, you make it to the couch, each somewhat recovering in their own way. now that you're back to your senses a little, you're more than glad things didn't go any further with minghao. it really was only the first date. you would hate to regret any of it later. 

"oh, i'm so rude, i didn't even offer you a drink or anything," you stand up, embarassed, "can i get you something? water? tea? coffee? um, i also have beer but i don't know if that's to your taste." 

minghao chuckles, "you don't have to worry, y/n. i'm good as it is."

"no, that won't do. we've been here for like 20 minutes and i haven't even gotten you water," you say, walking over to the kitchen.

"to be fair," you hear minghao say smugly, "we were kinda occupied for a hot second."

"...right," you mumble, reddening a little, "well, i'm gonna get you something whether you want it or not, so what will it be?" 

"some tea would be great," he admits finally. "nice, two teas coming up in five," you call out. you spend another 30 minutes just talking to minghao over tea, when you hear a knock at your door. you frown. 

you try to excuse yourself but minghao gets a phone call at that very second so you silently gesture to the door and he nods in understanding. you open the door and almost close it right back when you see wonwoo on the other side. he's grinning, all merry as if he didn't just interrupt your date. 

"wonwoo?" you question, "can i help you?"

"wow, that's cold," he says. "am i interrupting something?"

"actually, yes. remember the date i had today?"

"i thought that was just some boring stuff like museum and italian food?? now, he's followed you home??" 

you shush wonwoo urgently, thankful that minghao was still on the phone and couldn't hear his rude comments. "wonwoo, i'm busy. i'll hang tomorrow–"

"no, i wanna say hi to your date," wonwoo declares, pushing by you and into the living room where minghao talking on the phone. "rude, bro's on the phone in the middle of a date."

before you can ridicule wonwoo's stupid reasoning, minghao turns around, apparently done with his call and raises a brow when he spots the new figure next to you. you grimace apologetically, "sorry, minghao, this is the friend i was telling you about earlier. i tried to stop him but he wanted to say hi–"

"you've been badmouthing me behind my back?" wonwoo interrupts you with an unimpressed look, shaking his head. "whatever she's told you about me, i'm sorry. i'm wonwoo, nice to meet you."

minghao stands up and strides over to shake wonwoo's hand like the nice guy he is and introduces himself. "nice to meet you, too. i'm minghao." 

"i just came by because we had plans tonight," he says, with a side glance at your perplexed face, "but i guess i must've gotten the time wrong or something."

"oh, no, no, you're probably right. i've been here longer than planned," wonwoo doesn't miss the small smile minghao throws at you. "but i should head out, too. i also have some guests coming over later tonight."

you look deflated at how things are going, "are you sure?" minghao nods as he gathers his things – things such as a brown leather jacket that looked more expensive than any item of clothing wonwoo owned – and heads for the door. you follow him like a lost puppy. 

when you reach the door, out of wonwoo's earshot, you apologize to wonwoo again and he brushes your sorrys off, "don't worry about it. i'm the one who should be sorry for taking off like this. i would've liked to spend time with your friend."

"i don't know how that would've gone down," you say uneasily, "but thank you for today. really. it was great."

"i'm glad to hear that," minghao says with a grin. he reaches close and hugs you, a warmth radiating between you when he pulls away. "thank you for letting me take you out. i hope we can do it again some time." with that he places a kiss on your cheek and takes his leave. 

once he's gone, you go back inside and sigh, a mix of feelings in your chest. on the one hand, you feel uneasy now that your date with minghao is over, doubtful of whether he really meant his words about wanting to go on another date with you. your past experience had taught you can never tell with men, even if they told you they loved spending time with you with the sweetest smile on their lips. 

on the other hand, you were now alone with wonwoo, which was a whole another problem on its own. a problem you didn't feel equipped to handle right now. not when you still hadn't sorted your feelings about him out. whatever it was, it wasn't easy and it sure as hell didn't become any easier when wonwoo was staring you down, intently. 

"...wonwoo," you start, voice low, "i'm really sorry but i don't have the energy for this right now. i just want to head to bed now."

wonwoo doesn't hide the look of hurt on his face. "what? it's like six right now."

"yeah, but i've had a long day and–"

"is this because i interrupted your date with minghao?"

you feel an rush of annoyance rush to your head but reign it for the sake of your friendship. "it's not about anything other than the fact that i'm tired."

"you seemed perfectly energetic when minghao was here. why'd you invite him over anyway? i thought you kept it chill on the first date." 

"well, have you considered that i just genuinely liked him enough to bring him over? more importantly, i don't see how any of this is your business, wonwoo."

"of course it is! i care about you–"

"if you care about me, maybe don't cut my date short next time!" 

the silence is resounding, following your silence and you hate yourself when you see the grave look on wonwoo's face. he was being for real right now. but you really can't bring yourself to understand him.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i just don't know what you want from me, okay? i thought you would support me when i'm finally have some luck finding a boyfriend–"

"what i don't understand is why you want to find a boyfriend so bad. i think you're happy enough as it is and you only seem to become upset over men. why invite heartbreak into your life–"

"because i'm a romantic, wonwoo. i just want to fall in love!" you tell him, "i got degree my parents wanted, settled for a job that makes me enough money and maybe a little happy sometimes, but the one thing i want to do for myself is find someone i can love. i want to experience love, at least once in my life. is that really so bad?"

wonwoo scoffs much to your utter disbelief, "some romantic you are…"

"what the fuck did you just say?" 

you see him visibly inhale deeply and sigh. "y/n, i don't have a problem with you finding love." 

"really? because it sure looks like you do? i know you don't really care about love but–"

"why would you think that?" 

"well, have you ever been in love?" you ask him incredulously. 

"of course i have!" he cries out, "i'm in love with you, y/n." 

"you wouldn't–" you start when he says he's been in love and then stumble over your words when you hear his next words. you stop short with your mouth hanging open, "you're– wait, what?"

over the recent years, wonwoo had thought about whether his feelings really needed to be said out loud at this point – he felt like he was crazy obvious. but looking at the shocked look on your face right now, it was clear that if you would never have figured out his feelings without him telling you. which is fair, he can't expect you read people's minds but what really got his heart in a twist was the fact that you hadn't even remotely considered him liking you, which meant you were far from liking him back. 

though this a fact he's gotten used to, he feels the sting stronger than usual, maybe because the last day has him confused. to be honest, when you'd kissed him without a warning, it got to his head. thought maybe he had a chance after all. it was that high he'd been riding the whole time; that morning when he shamelessly kissed your cheek, this evening when he invited himself into your place when he knew you had a date over. 

but now he's positive he was delusional because all you have are platonic feelings for him at the end of the day.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i had absolutely no idea that–" you don't even know what to say, you cut yourself off, "i'm- i can't give you a clear answer right now. but if you give me some time, i promise i can."

"you don't have to answer me, y/n," wonwoo says with a bittersweet smile, "i know how you feel about me. but i had to tell you at least once before i gave up. i don't want you to feel burdened by my confession, just– why don't you forget about it?"

you blink at his words slowly, "but–"

"i should probably leave," he says, "i've long overstayed my welcome here." with that, he heads for the door, not heeding your requests for him to wait a second, "sorry for ruining your date by the way," he calls out as he leaves without another glance. 

– 

it takes you a whole day of overthinking your entire life – after all, that's how long you'd known wonwoo now – to come anywhere close to an answer. and really, it's not much. so far this is what you have: 

a week ago, you had never once considered wonwoo as more than a friend. maybe the best friend you'd ever have, perhaps a rare and special connection that you wouldn't have with another person. while the idea had come up, through other people doubting the purely platonic nature of your relationship, you had truly never entertained the thought. not because you had something against it, but because you were convinced a link like the one you had with wonwoo was only possible in a friendship. 

but then last night had happened, and something had possesed you to kiss him on the cheek – that something might've something to do with the itch in your body every time he was closer than normal, something to do with the way you'd been captivated by his sleeping form. 

and reflecting back, you were dumbfounded by how many times wonwoo had tried to hint at his feelings. a few years ago, when you'd gotten drunk with friends back in college, they'd dared wonwoo to kiss the person he liked and he'd politely declined, muttering that he couldn't kiss someone who was being pursued by someone else. as it turns out, and as you had been too stupid to realize, you had been the only one there in a talking stage with a guy you'd met at your part-time job. 

then, there was the way he always responded to you quickly, no matter what, ready to do things he was otherwise reluctant to do. always asking to spend time, always trying to stay close. there was also the eye-contact that he barely made with other friends, even other people – the way you'd look at him to find him already looking at you. 

"i'm an idiot," you tell yourself as you stare at wonwoo's contact on your phone, wanting to hear his voice but not when you still were so undecided. 

that's how it gets all the way to friday and you still haven't reached out to wonwoo. if you're daft reaction to his feelings hadn't closed the deal, your radio silence for the past week sure did. but unwilling to accept that truth, you call him, only a little surprised when he doesn't pick up. 

he must be mad, you think. but as much as that thought scares you, you can't stand giving up already. you end up making your way to his college campus, hoping he'd be in his room, even though it was 6 on a friday night. 

uncertainly, you knock on his door. and then louder a few more times when you don't hear a response. you're close to giving up and walking yourself home when you hear faint voices inside. "--sick of you making me open the door every time—" it's wonwoo's roommate, mingyu. he stands before you, in boxers and incredibly shirtless, and you think you should've at least texted wonwoo that you were coming over. 

but despite your apprehensions, mingyu doesn't seem embarassed, just amused. "oh? it's noona." 

you can't help but smile lightly at mingyu's use of the honorific, as if you weren't only a few months older than him. but him continuing the yearslong tradition reassured you, though you were sure he'd heard some foul things about you from wonwoo over the past few days. 

"hey, mingyu," you wave uncertainly, and try to get a look into the room past him with no avail, "sorry to show up like this, but is wonwoo around? i was trying to reach out to him but he didn't pick up." 

"ah, right, wonwoo…" mingyu says as if he didn't quite know who you were talking about. you can see the gears turning in his head, probably considering if he should tell you the truth or not. the choice is made for him when wonwoo's voice reaches you. he's screaming, "KIM MINGYU, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS BACK RIGHT NOW— WE'RE FUCKING LOSING OUR LEAD BECAUSE OF–" 

you stifle a laugh at mingyu's guilty expression. "right, so he is here," you comment in what you hope is a neutral tone. "you think i can see him?" 

he pauses, looking unsure, "listen, i don't know the full details of what happened with you guys, but wonwoo's been really quiet the past week and i'm not sure if seeing you right now– if he's in the right state of mind…" 

"is that so…" you mumble disheartenedly, though this was a fact that you yourself had been grappling with. "i guess i should leave him alone, then." you're about to take your leave when an arm drapes itself over mingyu's bare shoulder, wonwoo's face poking into your view. 

you freeze up when you lock eyes with wonwoo's face, his smile visibly disappearing. "y/n? what're you doing here?" 

"i was just–" you rub your neck, looking away in an attempt to come up with a credible excuse, "i was just taking a walk around here and thought i'd drop by to say hi. but um, since you guys seem busy, i'll just find another time. anyway, good night!" 

with that, you take yourself out of their sight, rushing down the stairs to the room so fast that you almost trip over and die. thankfully though you've made it to the door that leads out without actually leaving a crime scene on the poor residents' hands. 

"y/n! wait!" 

you stop in your tracks when wonwoo's voice echoes in the stairwell and almost lose all feeling in your knees when you see him run after you, out of breath. "god, woman, since when have you been this fast?"

"sorry," you say quietly, though you're not sure why you're apologizing. 

"can we talk?" 

you look up at him in surprise, "...that should be my line."

"i know, gyu told me why you actually came by," wonwoo admits with a deep sigh, "that idiot, i can't believe he tried to shoo you away without even letting you in. sorry about him."

"no, he was just trying to protect your peace. i get it."

"really? in what world is keeping a guy from the girl of his dreams 'protecting his peace'?"

you gasp at wonwoo's blatant admission and swallow against the lump in your throat. wonwoo looks tired, you can tell from the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulder is set, and you feel guilty for adding to his exisiting stress. you owe it to him to give him a proper closure. 

"wonwoo, i'm so sorry i didn't reach out to talk this past week. i was just so in my head figuring things out and i kept losing the guts to face you. i truly can't express how much i treasure what we have, and honestly, i'm starting to doubt if it was always platonic. because somewhere along the way, i got so used to being around you, i didn't think about what it meant to be that close to someone.

"that being said, i still can't wrap my head around how i feel. i know it's not the clear answer i promised you, but if you give me a little bit more time, i will be able to think it through. but i understand if you wanna keep your distance with me while i do that. sorry." 

"why do you keep apologizing?" wonwoo asks you, brows set in confusion, "you're maybe the sweetest person ever to even think so hard about your feelings for me. and i understand if you need time, it's years' worth of feelings after all… but, there's one thing…" 

you perk up at the last part of his words, "yeah, what is it?"

"i don't think i can keep my distance from you," he says, eyes dropping to his feet for a few beats before meeting yours again, "i thought about it and honestly, the worst thing about the past week was that i couldn't just thoughtlessly intrude into your house and eat with you after a long day. maybe that's on me for having quality time as my love language, but god, y/n, i think i'd be a miserable man if i had to live without you."

"wonwoo, i…" 

"i'm warning you, if you say sorry one more time, i'm gonna do something bad. plus, i feel much lighter now that the cat's out of the bag. i can finally be the truest version of myself around you."

swallowing the millionth apology on your tongue, you say, "then let's not avoid each other. maybe spending time with you will help me understand how i feel–" you stop yourself mid-sentence when you hear what it sounds like, "wait, no, that sounds insensitive… what i meant was–"

"wait, no, you might actually be onto something," wonwoo says and you feel a chill run down your spine at the smirk that takes hold over his face. "perhaps i can find a way to make you sure about me? like, seduce you?"

"what? that's not what i was suggesting–" 

"i know but it's what i am suggesting!" he says, slowly closing in on you, hand coming to rest atop your head. "maybe i can finally let go and do the impulsive things i've wanted to do– don't worry, all within a limit, of course. think of it as the talking stage?" 

"the talking stage?" when he puts it like that, you can see some reason behind it. it wasn't serious enough to be a relationship but still served as a step up from your normal friendship with wonwoo. "i guess that wouldn't be not fine…"

"wouldn't be not fine…" wonwoo repeats your words under his breath, "so you're fine with it??" he sighs in relief, fingering coming to brush through your hair before they returned by his side. "alright then! glad we came to an understanding! now, i'm sorry i must excuse myself for i promised kim mingyu i'd be back at game night in no time." 

"oh yeah, you should definitely get back to game night," you say with a soft smile, but then catch him by the wrist as he turns around, "oh, wonwoo! thanks for letting me say my thing, by the way… and i'm sorry."

he sighs lowly at that, pulling you into a hug, "what did i say about apologizing again? now i have to do a bad thing or i'll be someone who doesn't keep his word." before you can protest, he pulls apart and leans in close to kiss your cheek. then he kisses your other cheek– and then, your forehead. you're turning beet red by the time he stops at your nose, laughing at your struck expression. "alright, now we're good. and i should be the one thanking you for taking my feelings seriously. i'll see you later, yeah? we should do something tomorrow since it's a saturday." 

"yeah," you agree and give him a slight push away, "okay, now go do your thing with mingyu or he's gonna hate me even more."

"he doesn't hate you, he's just–"

"don't wanna hear it! go play your games, gameboy!" 

"alright, miss, whatever you say."

– 

"watch it," wonwoo warns you, eyes fixed on your screen, "no, no, don't go that way, the turret's gonna hit you."

"i don't understand," you whine, "there's too many things on my screen." 

when you'd agreed to let wonwoo teach you how to play one of his favorite games, league of legends, you hadn't forseen the amount of stress would running in your veins. your head hurts and your vision is blurry. you've just started and you're only up against the easiest level of bots but every time you step outside the safety of your base, you seem to get immediately obliterated. 

"okay, y/n, here, let me show you," wonwoo shifts closer to you and if anything, it makes it harder to focus when you feel his shoulder come to rest against yours. at the same time, his warmth soothes you somewhat when he calmly instructs you where to go and how to attack the enemy. his tips help you drastically and in the next ten minutes, you've gotten to the enemy's turret, eventually scoring a kill.

"wonwoo! i got my first kill! did you see that?" you turn to him with a bright grin and find him sporting a similar grin, his hand coming to pat your head. "you did so well!" 

that's how you slowly make it through the first game, securing a victory, mostly thanks to wonwoo's overpowered skills, destroying his own lane and getting to the base in no time. "god, you're such a show-off," you mumble when you see the dramatic difference in KDAs on the final stat summary page. "i don't think i was built to be a gamer." 

"now why would you say that?"

"look at me, woo! i'm sweating my balls off and that was only against bots! i won't last a day in the real world," you complain with a pout, "plus my fingers aren't fast like yours. i take forever to cast my skill and by that time, it's too late."

"y/n, it took me like a week of playing to get my first kill against a bot," wonwoo tells with a grimace, "so the fact that you got through that with a decent KDA is incredible. and my fingers got because i played so much, i didn't get good in a day."

you sigh, resting your head on the couch, "hmm, you have a point."

"but we can call it day if you're tired," he says with a smile, coming back to rest his shoulder next to you and following your resting figure, "thanks for trying though."

"it was fun, but i'm gonna need a week before i can touch this game again."

you feel the laugh that leaves wonwoo in your own chest, the sound filling you with his joy, as if it were your own. without thinking about it, you shuffle closer to him, a soft sigh escaping you when you feel his bicep harden against your arm. 

"you good?" he asks you in a low voice when you stay unmoving for a while. you nod with your eyes still closed. "i'm doing great," you say, "just recharging." when wonwoo doesn't say anything in response, you take a peek at him to see him looking at you sideways, with a goofy smile. 

"mind telling me why you're looking at me like that?" 

"nothing, i just thought it was cute how you volunteered to play league for our date when you don't even know how to play."

you flush, "well, i figured i'd have you teaching me the ropes. and i've been wanting to play with you because you said it's one of your favorite games." 

"that's sweet of you, isn't it?" wonwoo says, unable to stop smiling. "you always treat me so well." 

"i do, for some reason. it's almost like i'm attached to my best friend or something."

you bite your tongue when you accidently let the words slip, tensing up as you start to correct yourself. "i didn't mean it like–" 

"y/n, don't worry about it," wonwoo shushes you with the same smile he's had this whole time. "i know what you meant. and i'm flattered." 

you sigh in relief as you drop your eyes to your lap, fiddling with your fingers, somewhat nervous for no real reason all of a sudden. maybe it's because you're conscious of wonwoo, afraid to slip up again and say something hurtful.

"you don't have to be so careful around me, you know?" he starts, "i've lived with this feelings for a while so it takes a lot for me to sway. and remember no matter what happens between us, i'm always gonna be your friend at the end of the day." 

"thank you for saying that," you say quietly, eyes still on your hands, feeling guilty. 

"hey, at least look at me if you want to show your gratitude."

"i can't. i'm…" you trail off, and then, "i'm sorry." 

"there it is again," wonwoo groans, "now you've done it. i'll have to punish you again for apologizing." his hand comes to rest atop your restless ones, slowly stopping your uneasy movements and intertwining his fingers with yours. and then steadily, he takes your hand close to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the knuckles. "the more you say sorry, the more i'm gonna have to work harder to make sure you fall in love with me, okay? and it's honestly pretty bad for my heart if i keep having to do things like this, so spare me."

bad for your heart? you question him in your head but don't voice iti, shaking your head at wonwoo's sly words. "you're insane," you murmur. 

"alright, that's more like it." 

– 

the following week, you see new sides of wonwoo because he takes it on himself to do all kinds things that are out of the blue for him. for one, he's been labelling every hang-out as a date, even when that day entailed perfectly normal activities you'd done a million times over with him. "it's an attempt to rewire your brain," he tells you with a foxy grin, "i'm making sure you don't forget to view me as a love interest."

speaking of love interests, he'd been straightforward with you that if you wanted to go out with minghao that would be fine. but you'd declined the possibility because you wouldn't know what to do with yourself around him now that you were immersed in the uncertainties of your relationship with wonwoo. and on thinking long and hard about the date with minghao, you'd gotten the feeling that you were interested in his looks more than anything. sure, he'd been so charming but it was wonwoo that was keeping you up at night. 

that's why you find a way to turn him down when he asks if you'd like to go on another date with him:

minghao: hey, y/n! there's a night market near where i live this weekend

minghao: i've never been able to go but i've heard it's super pretty

minghao: so i was wondering if you'd like to come with me? :) 

you: hey, minghao

you: i'm sorry, i don't think i can see you again

you: i really enjoyed our date but there's someone else i'm talking to atm

minghao: oh

minghao: i see

minghao: dw about it! it was nice to see you either way!minghao: but just out of curiosity, is this new person your friend from the other day?

you: huh??

minghao: you know the one who came to your place when i was over

you: …it is him

you: how'd u know

minghao: hehe i just got a vibe

minghao: he looked at you like you were lovers in another lifetime

you: girl what 

you: i mean that's so sweet but really?? didn't he just look at me like i was going to feed him for the night?

minghao: no way, when a guy looks at u like that… i don't know how else to say it but he'd love if you were a worm

you: interesting

you: thanks? idk

you: you're cool for a guy that just got rejected 

minghao: it's ok, i'm sure i can land another date in time for the night market ;)

you: of course you can 

you: goodnight minghao :)

minghao: night, y/n! maybe we'll meet as friends someday 

you: maybe…

"damn it, he's smooth…" wonwoo whines when you show him your screen the next day, only after you've made him promise you that he wouldn't jump to conclusions. "i don't think i can stand you being friends with him. like ever."

"wonwoo, i don't think that's gonna happen. but even if it did, i don't know, i think he'd make a great friend."

"oh he most definitely would. that's precisely the problem. i can't be outdone by another man like that," he says in a ridiculously grave tone, "he's too cool. i wouldn't stand a chance against him."

"you realize that the only reason i'm not going on that date with him is because i'd rather go on a date with you?" you poke wonwoo's arm with a soft smile.

the man hesitates, processing your words before a smile breaks out onto his face. "wait— i mean, of course i know i'm– wait, does that mean you–?"

"i'm in love with you, wonwoo. i think i've always been. i was just too much of an idiot to understand it."

wonwoo's imagined you saying something along these lines a lot but what he's been far more prepared for is you rejecting him. for the longest time, he's lived with the reality of you not reciprocating his feelings and that's honestly what became normal for him along the way. so when you look into his eyes, it's like you're looking into his soul and leaving him completely starstuck. all he can see is you before him for a solid few seconds before he truly comprehends you. 

"don't look so shocked! i thought this whole week was for this exact outcome!" you laugh at his speechlessness. 

"right," wonwoo swallows against his dry throat, suddenly shyer than he's ever been, "i'm just shocked. i didn't expect for it to actually work? i don't know, are you sure you love me? it's not just as a friend? like, i'd understand if it's just because we've known each for the longest time and seen each other through hard times."

"wonwoo…" you exhale, "are you rejecting my feelings right now?"

"no! of course not!"

"then why are you doubting me? i know how i feel about you. that's the whole reason why i took so long to give you an answer."

"i know," his gaze drops to the floor, head reeling a little. this is what he's wanted deep down for the longest time so he can't help but feel like he's dreaming right now. 

when you hear the doubt in his voice, you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look back at you. "wonwoo," you shake him, "i love you." you peck him on the nose. "i want you to be my boyfriend, if you'll have me."

"of fucking course," wonwoo seems to return to his senses when you press your lips against his skin. cheeks red and eyes wide, his hands find your body, fingers already by your jaw, pulling you closer. "i love you so much, i think it'll kill me one day. but for now i think being your boyfriend will do." 

you giggle at his dramatic statement and close the distance between you, feeling the warm of his breath like never before. he kisses you back immediately, letting out a low groan at the action, the hand at your waist, squeezing you lovingly. 

"can't believe i waited so long to do that," he says when the two of you pull back. 

you kiss his cheek with a soft mewl, "you're so warm, woo." 

"am i?" he wonders, arms moving on their own as they bring you closer to his chest. he kisses your forehead, "now we can both be warm." 

— 

"okay, okay, i'm ready to leave," you call out victoriously as you step out into the living room. wonwoo looks up from the projector screen where he's currently rewatching a run-through of a new game was gonna try out for his channel. but he immediately loses the smart comment he was gonna throw out there when he sees you, all dolled up and showing off the dress you're wearing with a smug smile.

it's a simple blue dress with a modest neck and long skirt that hugged your hips perfectly. and it also happened to be the dress wonwoo's birthday gift to you last year. you'd worn it out with him before but this is definitely the first time you'd taken it out on a proper date. and how appropriate for it to be a date with wonwoo himself. 

"you like?" you ask him as you walk closer to him, running a hand through his hair. 

"i love," he replies instantly, arm coming to your lower back, "you look heavenly. god, do we have to go out? i don't mind just staying here and watching you in this dress."

"no," you decline his ridiculous request firmly, "i've been wanting to visit this bookstore for the past year. so i'm sorry, love, but you'll have to do with watching me read if you really want to be creepy."

"it's not creepy if i'm your boyfriend, is it now?"

"...maybe."

"alright, i think i'm good to go then! let's go!" 

at the bookstore, you genuinely have to shake wonwoo off your back and force him to find a book he likes before you leave. he complains and whines about how he just wants to enjoy his girlfriend's taste in books but when he does finally wander off, you find him engrossed in a book he found in the science-fiction section.

you sneak up onto him with a grin, "enjoying yourself?"

he looks up, "...surprisingly. but only because i got kicked out…"

"you wanna get that?" you ask him, taking a glance at the book cover. "just drop in here," you show him your basket that already has a couple of your picks in it.

"you're buying?"

"mhm, think of it as a token of our first real date?"

wonwoo smiles, eyes bright, "alright then. thanks." 

after that, the two of you walk over to the restaurant wonwoo had had reservations at. it was also a fairly new place but had gotten popular for being a couples' hot spot. and wonwoo understands why when the waiter shows you to your table for the night– it's secluded by a corner on the porch, with nothing but a candle illuminating the surroundings. 

"ah, we can also move the table so that both chairs are next to each other?" the waiter says with a polite smile, "would you like that?"

"yes, please!" wonwoo calls out enthusiastically and you squeeze his hand with a chuckle as the waiter nods and shifts for the rearrangement. 

"this is perfect," he says when you sit next to him. "this way, i can still hold your hand," he mutters. 

"you're cute," you tell him with a soft grin, "i love you."

wonwoo leans in to kiss your lips softly, leaving you a little breathless when he slips in a quiet, " and i love you more than you could imagine." 

author's note:

oh my god this fic took everything out of me to get out there... took a whole entire week but she's here, i really hope you guys like it!! i'm really down bad for wonwoo recently, to the point that he might've joined my bias line haha... more reason why tomorrow's gonna kill me. honestly though, this man will keep me going through some tough times (aka jeonghan and wonwoo shortage).

also, i lowkey fell in love with minghao while writing him here so expect a fic soon??? lol idk for a moment there i was confused who this fic was really for (sorry wonwoo i love u tho). as always, thank you for reading and i love reading what you think so please do let me know <3

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #9

CH9. Simmer | The Menu 18+ [6K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

“We’re gonna be late.” 

Your voice wasn’t much more than a high keen, a breathy thing that you managed to squeak out between Eddie’s kisses. You were at an awkward angle - not that you cared - leaning over the stick shift in the boy’s van to meet his lips. It was early, almost eight in the morning, your work day ready to start in only a few minutes. You weren’t even in uniform, not yet, still in a pair of worn jeans and one of Eddie’s stolen sweaters. 

September had crept in without you knowing, the heat leaving town with every new morning. The skies were still blue, an endless stretch of it, the clouds still big and white. But the suffocating warmth gave way to cooler mornings and colder nights, the sun dipping behind the diner by seven in the evening and leaving the tables in navy shadows. It was nicer. It gave you an excuse to curl into Eddie on the nights you shared a bed. 

Not that you needed one. 

“What do you mean we?” Eddie laughed, the noise vibrating against your throat, his mouth pushed there in an affectionate kiss. He nosed at the skin along your jaw, stretched over the centre console so he could sneak a hand underneath the maroon sweater, fingers grazing your ribs. “I’m not workin’ until tonight.”

You whined at the reminder, a needy, frustrated noise because even though Eddie had spent the night at your apartment, you still hadn’t had your fill. It had been weeks of seeing each other - dating - letting the boy take you out like he’d promised, dinners and movies and walks and late night conversations that bled into sleepovers that were filled with kisses and tangled legs, shared pillows and new pieces of information about the boy that you collected like jewels. 

Eddie Munson liked sleeping with the window open no matter what the weather. 

Every Saturday morning, before the sun had really risen, Eddie drove to the next town over to a place called Duck’s Farm and bought all the fresh produce he could from a man called Mr Duffy. They shared a coffee and swapped recipes under the shade of the apple trees. 

There were seven cats in the trailer park that Eddie fed every evening on his porch. Sushi, Mochi, Ramen, Cheeseburger, Toast, Nacho and Lasagna. Tiny plates full of kibble and leftover chicken beside a bowl of water and Eddie didn’t close the door until each cat had had their full and curled against his legs before hopping off into the night.  

Eddie liked to press kisses to your cheek when you least expected. Awfully sweet things, making your throat thick with fondness, sticky in affection. He’d dot them over your skin, across the apple of your cheeks and towards your temple, one on your forehead when your head lay next to his on his pillow. 

Eddie had an awful habit of insisting on driving you to work even when he had a day off or a chance to lie in, but then loved to make you late by pulling you into a soft kiss that turned into a make out session in the front of his van.  

Eddie Munson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, an agonising thing that took up every waking thought. 

It was lovely. 

You hadn’t done more than kiss, albeit heated, all encompassing, hot and messy in the cradle of his lap, pressed against your apartment walls, the side of his van after work. But that’s as far as it had gone, for now. 

For now. 

“You’re awful,” you pretended to complain, titling your chin up so Eddie could kiss down your throat. “Leaving me all alone.”

The boy hummed, mouthing along your jaw until you were squirming, his big hand squeezed between the tops of your thighs as you pressed your legs around his fingers. “I know, m’the worst.” Another kiss, to the corner of your mouth. He still tasted like your toothpaste, the coffee you’d poured for him in your mug with the little fried eggs on it. “I’ll see you later, though. Bring you in something sweet, if that’ll keep me in the good books.”

You wanted to beam, you wanted to squeal. You wanted to scrabble into the boy’s lap and bury your face in the crook of his neck so he couldn’t see the effect he had on you. “You don’t have to,” is what you murmured instead. “It’s your afternoon off.”

Eddie nipped at your jaw, teeth grazing and making you jump. “I know I don’t have to,” he whispered back. He smoothed his love bite with a kiss. “But I wanna, that okay?”

You nodded, shy even after spending the night tucked into his side, his shirt in lieu of pyjamas, his sweater keeping you warm now. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Good,” Eddie grinned, smile matching yours although his seemed brighter, more lovely. “I’ll see you soon, don’t get any prettier, alright?”

You flushed hot and rolled your eyes to hide the way he’d got you flustered, gathering your bag as you opened the van door, leaning over to meet Eddie halfway. You hummed when his hand cupped your cheek, bringing you in for the fortieth kiss that morning, or at least there abouts. A longing thing, full of flirt and affection and built up tension. Then two short ones, lingering when you didn’t have time to, dots of Eddie’s lips on each cheek and then he was letting you go. 

“Have a good day, sweetheart.”

You wanted to pout and tell him you couldn’t possibly without him, but that seemed a little pathetic even for your standards. So you smiled and told him to do the same, your bag heavy against your side, packed with your uniform and a flask of tomato and basil soup eddie had made the night before, complaining with a smile about how your knives weren’t sharp enough, your pots too small for his big hands. 

—————

You were tying your apron when Chrissy caught you coming out the staff room, Eddie’s sweater swapped for your dress and you missed the smell of his cologne almost immediately. 

“Was that Eddie? Dropping you off?” Chrissy asked sweetly. Her hair was down today, curly and she smelled like lavender. “That’s sweet.”

You didn’t trust yourself to talk around the girl, not even now, too worried your voice would come out too small, too weak, cracking down the middle with anxiety. For what reason, you weren’t really sure, but if you thought about it hard enough, the image of Chrissy lounging over Eddie’s workstation was still stuck in your head even weeks later.  

“Mmm,” you hummed instead, smiling tightly as you both walked out through the kitchen and into the diner. 

It was a quiet day, the lunch service was slow and Steve was talking to a girl in a summer camp T-shirt in the corner booth, grinning at her with pink cheeks and bright eyes. Jonathan was whistling along to the radio, scooping fresh beans into the coffee machine with one hand as he played hacky sack with Argyle through the kitchen hatch with the other. 

It wasn’t until you were placing new cutlery on a recently cleaned table that you realised the girl was still lingering. Bubblegum snapping against peach tinted lips, Chrissy appraised you with a tilt of her head. “So, what’s Eddie doing today?”

“What?” You didn’t mean to sound so defensive, so snappy. But Chrissy sounded so sure and so confident with Eddie’s name in her mouth and it set your teeth on edge. “Uh, I’m, I’m not sure?”

“You’re not?” Chrissy pouted and pulled on a strawberry blonde curl. “You mean, you don’t know what your boyfriend is doing today?”

You placed the fork down a little too hard, the metal clattering against the table top, your chest a little too tight. 

Chrissy leaned in, dainty fingers straightening it up for you. “He is your boyfriend, right?��

You didn’t know the answer to that. Eddie had called you his girl, a public declaration for sure, but since that day there hadn’t been anymore talk about relationship statuses. And between the sleepovers and dates and kisses and the rides to work, you hadn’t worried about it, didn't doubt it. But now, with Chrissy staring at you with an expectant smile on her lips, question after question came back. Insecurity flooded your head, your chest, your thoughts. Had you read too much into it? Was Eddie looking for something serious? 

You thought back to Eddie’s words, what he liked to call you, hands on your hips, in your hair, lips on yours. Pretty girl, sweet girl, shy girl. And ‘my girl,’ you couldn’t forget that one. But the absence of the world ‘girlfriend’ seemed more apparent than ever in your relationship. 

“I, uh— yeah? Yes.” You sounded so much more confident than you felt but the regret stabbed you sharp as soon as you let the words leave your lips. 

Chrissy’s mouth curled up but it didn’t seem like a smile, not a particularly friendly one anyway. “Yes, he’s your boyfriend? Or yes, you don’t know what he’s doing today?” 

You blinked, heat rising up your neck in a way that felt familiar. It felt like panic, like being tricked and trapped and suddenly you wished you could turn on your heel and scramble for the safety of the kitchen, the safety of Eddie’s arms. But for now, the walk-in might just have to do. 

“Um. Uh, both?” 

You didn’t hang around for more questioning. No, you dropped the cutlery and breezed past Mr Creel, ignoring the way he scowled at you over the rim of his coffee mug. And when you skittered into the kitchen, Argyle was dicing chicken and Steve was dumping empty plates into the sink. Both boys looked up as you burst in, surprised at your sudden appearance but you held your breath and smiled tightly before heading straight for the walk-in. 

“Is everything oka—?” The door snapped shut before Steve could finish his sentence, but he reckoned that as long as you came out before your fingertips were blue, it wasn’t a concern. 

That’s how the rest of the shift went, the afternoon clinging onto the last of the sunlight as it faded into evening and you tried your best to avoid Chrissy for the most part. You waited on the few tables that filled, had some of Eddie’s soup and talked to Argyle over the sizzle of grilled chicken, disappearing into the walk-in whenever Chrissy said something that made your heart stutter and stop. 

“I can’t wait for Eddie to come in, think he’ll make me some of his ramen?”

“Oh my god, did Eddie tell you about the time there was a storm? The power went out and he drove across town to get me home safe, isn’t he such a sweetheart?”

 “How long have you and Eddie been official? Did he buy you a present? Did he ask you in a super cute way?”

So by the time the boy did appear for his shift, a whole six hours after he’d dropped you off, your fingertips were numb and you couldn’t feel your feet. But you lit up at the sight of him through the kitchen hatch, scribbling down Mr and Mrs Adele’s order in a messier scrawl than normal as you watched Eddie button up his chef whites over the shirt you’d watched him pull on that morning. 

You tried not to skip your way into the kitchen and honestly, you couldn’t even let the fact that Chrissy was already lingering pull down your mood. You put through your order before sliding up to the boy, smiling as he grinned at the sight of you, his hands busy tying back his curls but he still ducked his face down to yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Thought I told you that you weren’t allowed to get any prettier?” He scowled, dramatic and grumpy and lovely all at once. 

You wrinkled your nose at him, knowing fine well you had a collection of stains on the front of your apron and your hair wasn’t anywhere as neat as it had been the last time you saw him. “You’re a liar, Eddie Munson,” was all you could say, cheeks warm enough to make you forget about your cold hands. 

“I’m ain’t no such thing,” he murmured as he tucked a dish towel into his own apron. He didn’t even seem to notice Steve swanning into the kitchen, snorting at the sight of you both. “Y’had a good day?”

You hummed, noncommittal, too aware of the other girl who was pretending to look at the pantry shelves. So you shrugged and nodded at the same time, giving into your urges and letting yourself lean against the boy, your head against his chest. 

“You just missed me, huh?” Eddie whispered against the shell of your ear, all faux conspiracy and your skin prickled at the feel of his lips against you. 

That question gained another hum as an answer, but this one was much warmer, softer, much more agreeable. “You could say that,” you whispered back. 

The question was on the tip of your tongue, an awkward one for the workplace, sure, and you didn’t dare ask it with an audience but the not knowing ate away at a piece of your heart. And surely you couldn’t survive that. Right?

What are we? Are you mine? I know I’m yours. Do you want me? Can I have you? Can we do this? Please, let’s do this. 

Eddie must’ve sensed your mood, your apprehension, because he pulled back enough so he could see your face, one big hand cupping your chin so he could guide it upwards until your eyes met his. That grumpy face came into view, that lovely, pretty, frowning expression you’d come to understand so well. It meant he was worried, it meant he was concerned. It meant that he cared. 

“You okay?” 

You nodded after a beat of hesitation, smiling enough that your eyes crinkled in the corners. 

“You had food?”

You nodded again, heart aching as your hands reached out almost as if you couldn’t stop them, sliding around his sides and clinging to his clean chef jacket. 

“You gonna come hang out w’me after dinner rush?”

Your hands weren’t cold anymore and although you couldn’t see it, you heard the swing of the door as Chrissy left.  “Yeah,” you finally spoke. “Yes please.”

—————

Jim’s emptied out after eight o’clock. No one in Hawkins seemed to crave any burgers or shakes on a Tuesday night and that was okay with you. Steve’s shift had long ended, Chrissy was getting ready to hang up her apron at nine o’clock and hand over to Nancy. But when Argyle turned off the last grill, Eddie looked out the hatch at the empty tables, he turned to Nancy and told her to take the night off. 

She’d raised a pointed brow, suspicious. “Will you take me off the timesheet?”

Eddie scoffed, “no.”

“Will you tell Jim?”

“You callin’ me a snitch, Wheeler?”

So Nancy took the night off, the diner stayed empty, the neon light above the bar flickered and you and Eddie were alone. 

It was tempting to lock the door, but the roads and the parking lot were quiet, lit by old street lights, the air turning cooler now the sun was gone. You watched Eddie pull out a mixing bowl, the radio playing a song you didn’t know, perched on the countertop with your apron in a crushed heap beside you. You swung your legs to the beat as you watched him, eyes curious as he dumped heaps of flour, brown sugar and cinnamon into the bowl. 

Butter and eggs, huge chunks of chocolate and fudge. 

“What’re you making?” You asked, smiling warmly as Eddie grinned and sauntered over to you, leftover chocolate between his fingers. 

Eddie hummed, nudging at your knees with his hips until you spread them for him, cheeks warm as the hem of your dress slid up a little. He stood close, curls pulled loose, a chunk of sweetness between his finger and thumb. He lifted it to your mouth, brushing at your lips, his eyes tracking the movement the whole time. 

You were sure you heard him breathe out a little heavier than before when you parted them for him, lips grazing his fingertips, tongue barely touching as you took the piece of chocolate. Eddie didn’t say anything when you bit into it, milky, sweet, rich. With nothing to hold, his hands fell to your thighs, palms warm and strong as they gripped you tighter than expected. You watched the boy swallow, throat bobbing and his gaze still on your mouth. 

“Cookies,” he murmured distractedly. “Was gonna make cookies.”

“Going to—?”

Eddie leaned in without much preamble, catching your lips in a kiss you almost didn’t expect. It wasn’t the soft, gentle kind you had been used to, the coaxing type that he always began with. This was a kiss that reminded you of the night in the trailer, the night with grilled cheeses and distractions. He was on you fast, desperate and you met him with just as much eagerness. 

You gasped into his mouth, lips parting immediately, sighing when his tongue licked over yours. It was easy for your hands to wind into his hair, nails scraping nicely over his scalp, making him groan and pull you closer to the edge of the counter. His hands were already wandering, a needy touch, fingertips skating upupup under your dress, skimming over the elastic edge of your underwear and suddenly all the kisses you’d shared weren’t nearly enough anymore. 

Maybe it was insecurity, maybe it was possessiveness. Maybe it was just the way Eddie was kissing you, but suddenly you needed all of him, all at once. 

“Eddie,” you sighed his name, gave it to him on a breath and it tasted like chocolate, sweet and sugary and you. It made his expression crumple, his hands pulling you closer still, fingers digging into the dough of your ass and suddenly you were flush enough against him that you could wrap your legs around his hips. “I— I just—”

The boy nodded like you knew, even if you weren’t sure what you were asking for yourself. So he let you throw yourself back at him, lips pressed almost clumsily to his, teeth clacking before your nose bumped his and you tilted your head just the right way. Eddie made pretty noises for you, hands roaming up to your hips, trapped between the cheap material of your dress and bare skin. Fingers gripped at your underwear, tugging just enough for the cotton to peel away from you. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Eddie gasped, breath taken from him, sounding wrecked. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, chest heaving. “Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t— we should… stop…”

The rejection stung for just a second, maybe two, but you watched Eddie’s gaze fall back to your mouth and he didn’t take his hand away from your bare legs. You shook your head, lips parted and glossy from his kisses, your nose nudging up against his as you leaned in again, needy, wanting. 

“Please don’t,” you murmured and Eddie thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.  

“Should be takin’ you to a bed,” Eddie told you, stern sounding but he was kissing across your jaw, dotting his lips over your chin, the apple of your cheek. 

You whined, not agreeing or disagreeing, but you tugged at Eddie’s curls all the same, coaxing Eddie back into a kiss and it was heated, it was longing, it was teeth and tongues and everything you weren’t supposed to be doing in the workplace.  

“Should be takin’ my time with you,” Eddie groaned, sucking marks into your neck, palming at your ass and hissing when you rocked yourself against him, trying to gain some friction to ease the throb between your thighs. “Should be stripping you down and getting you in my sheets.”

The idea of it made you keen but Eddie was popping the top buttons of your dress and nosing at the collar, pushing it out of his way so he could see the swell of your breasts and kissing at your shoulder over your bra strap. “You need to tell me to stop, sweetheart, or—”

“Nonono,” you told him, “don’t wanna stop. Don’t need a bed, don’t need— Eddie, I just want you, please.” You sounded as shy as you did desperate, cheeks warm, eyes heavy with need, squirming on top of the metal station as you tried to keep yourself together. 

“Hey, hey, don’t ever gotta say please for me, ‘kay?” Eddie’s brows knitted together, hands leaving your legs just to cup your cheeks. His thumbs smoothed over your cheeks, pressing sweetly into them until you nodded. “Gotta be quick though, yeah? M’gonna take my time with you later, promise, baby.”

You nodded as you both spared a glance at the empty diner. Luckily, the hatch was at an angle where no one would see much if they happened to walk through the door, but Hawkins seemed to be asleep and the night was just for you and Eddie. 

“Hold onto me,” Eddie ordered and he sounded gruff, voice heavy with emotion, with want and you watched his lashes flutter when you did as were told, looping your arms around his neck. It helped you lift your hips for him, made it all the easier for the boy to hook his fingers into the sides of your underwear and pull. “Atta girl, there you go.”

He pocketed the cotton and lace, glancing back at the door one more time and the radio changed, static interrupting the station before a new song kicked in, a familiar voice crooning through the speakers. 

“Well, here I am, my honey. C’mon, you cry to me.”

No time was wasted when Eddie pulled your legs apart, thumbs sweeping at the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, a soothing touch that only made you burn worse, the heat from the summer coming creeping back into the autumn night, the kitchen burning, a simmer under your skin. You reached up, searching, looking for a kiss but Eddie shook his head, curls falling into his eyes and the softest of smiles on his lips. 

“Wanna watch, yeah? Can I do that?” He asked, a hand sweeping from your neck to your chest, fingers played over your sternum, sneaking into the open buttons until they flirted with the lace edge of your bra and he could push you back a little. You leaned onto the palms of your hands, stretched out for him, waiting, breath held. “You’re so pretty. Prettiest girl, my shy girl, huh? So good for me.”

Eddie spoke quietly, praise mixing with the music and you keened, eyes shuttering closed as his thumb swept softly over your folds, barely parting you, just letting you get used to his touch. If he’d had more time, if he’d had you in his bed, he would’ve kissed his way from ankle to hip bone, pressed kisses and marks into your skin until you looked like a painting. But for now, he watched your face crumple and scrunch when his thumb pushed in and found your clit, wet and slick for him, your mouth falling open in a quiet moan as he rubbed small circles. 

“Good?” He asked and it wasn’t cocky, it wasn’t dirty, it was an earnest question. Teach me, it said. Help me make it good for you, show me what you like. “Like that, sweetheart? Or harder?”

You gasped, nodding your head and trying to keep your gaze locked on Eddie’s. He moved his hand perfectly, pace steady and his touch gentle, before it built a little, pressing a little firmer and your toes curled. “Like that,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “Just like that, Eddie.”

“Good girl,” Eddie told you, his free hand sweeping up your ribs, fingers dancing over the buttons he didn’t dare undo. Not here. Not yet. Not like this. He leaned over you, dotting kisses where he could reach. Your cheek, your nose. “You’re so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ cute, you know that? Those noises? Gonna knock me dead, sweetheart, Christ.”

You made that noise, a gasping, breathy thing as Eddie slid a finger into you, a slow, tight stretch that had you spreading your legs for him again and this went against so many health code violations it wasn’t even funny, but you were past caring. Nothing else mattered except the way Eddie was looking at you and how he crooked his finger just right.

“I need you,” you told him, a hot whisper, an almost cry and you leaned back into him, tugging at his collar until he got the hint and kissed you something filthy, tongue licking over yours until your cunt got a little tighter around his knuckle. “Eddie, now, please.”

“Barely got you ready, babe,” Eddie panted, another finger joining the first and the stretch was delicious. The boy swore when you rocked your hips against his hand, pushing his own into your thigh so he could gain some friction on his aching cock. “Shit, shit, okay, fuck—”

“This isn’t what I had planned,” he rasped as he tore off his chef's jacket and let it bundle on the tiles. His hands were shaking as he popped the button on his jeans, the noise of his zipper quiet under the music. 

“Loneliness, loneliness, such a waste of time, woah, yeah…”

“Wanted to treat you right, wanted to take my time,” Eddie assured you again, but he groaned when your hands took over from his and you went searching under the band of his boxers. You found his cock, thick and hard, twitching at your touch. “Shit, sweetheart. Wanted to make you mine.”

There it was, the words that filled the hole in your chest. You were kicked into high gear, surging forward to press kisses to the boy’s neck, upupup until you were mouthing along his jaw, catching his lobe between your lips as you pumped your hand a little faster. Eddie clung to you, hips jerking as he rested his head heavy against the side of your own, his cheeks warm, his breath catching. 

“I am,” you told him. Your voice sounded watery, emotions caught between your teeth and tongue, your heart pounding so hard surely Eddie could hear it behind your bones. “Already am, okay? You’re mine right? That’s what this is?”

“Christ, yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie gasped, hands cradling your cheeks so he could kiss you, messy, distracted kisses that were broken up with groans and cries. “Thought you knew? Huh? You didn’t know that?”

You shrugged, half hearted because you were still too caught up in touching the boy, your fingers curled around his cock, revelling in how heavy it felt for you, how thick and hot and ready. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted softly, teeth leaving marks on your bottom lip and you leaned in, forehead against Eddie’s as you watched him, transfixed, loving the way he was falling apart for you. 

Another gasp, Eddie’s jaw hanging open as you pumped him slowly, fingers getting tighter around him when you stroked over his tip. He was all pink cheeks and a wrinkled brow, his expression everything from pouty and flustered to completely gone. “Fuck, shit, slowdownpleasefuck— baby, you’ve had me since the day Wayne told me to drive you home. Made myself dumb over you,” he laughed, breathless. “Thought you knew you were my girl.”

“S’nice to hear it again, I guess,” you whispered and there it was, the thing you’d wanted. Reassurance. “Just felt… silly.”

Eddie pushed your hand away from him, soft, gentle, before he threw an uncaring glance over his shoulder at the empty diner and then pulled you in by the crooks of your knees. You let him hold you there, legs hitched around his hips and he pumped himself once, twice, before lining up his cock with your entrance, the tip of him brushing through your folds, slick and warm. 

“Gonna tell you all the time, ‘kay?” He whispered and he ducked his head down to yours, kissing you soft and sweet, his breath heavy against your cheek as you widened your legs, spreading open for him. “Jesus, sweetheart, alright? You ready?”

You nodded, mumbling your agreement against Eddie’s lips because your brain was too fuzzy to work properly. He was solid against you, holding your legs around his hips, broad shoulders under your hands and he smelled like brown sugar and chocolate, like smoke and your laundry detergent. You tensed, just a little when he pushed in, blinking at him when he paused and swept a thumb over your cheek. 

“Babe?”

“S’just been a while,” you admitted. “Keep going? Please?”

This wasn’t the quickie you both needed to have for the situation but the doors stayed closed and there hadn’t been any headlights from the road bouncing along the diner walls in an age. The evening was fading into night fast, a late night hour that usually stayed dead, the diners neon signs lighting up the tiles and the empty parking lot and the only thing that made a noise was the radio. 

“I’ll go slow, I promise,” Eddie assured you and he held you close as he pushed in, your body giving way to him and you gasped at the stretch, the heavy pressure of him filling you up until you were biting down at his shoulder and trying not to groan too loud. “There you go, baby, that’s it, you good?”

Eddie was panting, the breath punched from him at the feeling of you tight around him, clenching down on his cock until he felt his vision go a little sparkly. You were too much, looking at him with those big, glassy eyes all while your cunt fluttered around him, lips parted, red and swollen because of him. 

“I’m good,” you whined, breathless. You squirmed, both of you moaning at the feeling and you nodded, hands fisting Eddie’s shirt. “You can move, it’s okay.”

“M’not gonna last long,” Eddie admitted, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he hooked his arms under your thighs and started to flex his hips. “It’s been a while for me too - fuck - and you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.”

It was a slow slide, in and out, in and out, Eddie’s hips meeting the cradle of yours, flush and warm and you were so wet, obscenely so, enough for the dirty sounds of the boy fucking you to fill the kitchen and suddenly gentle wasn’t what you needed anymore. A car drove past, lighting you both up in yellow-white light for just a second and the need to come now was too much. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you cried for him, eyes wet with all the emotion, all the pent up tension you’d held on to for today and longer. “Faster, go faster—”

You didn’t need to repeat yourself. Eddie moaned, eyes fluttering as he pushed you back just a little, readjusting his grip on you until he was taking more of your weight than the table was. One arm under your knee, keeping you open for him, the other palming at your ass and he picked up the pace tenfold, pumping his hips into yours until his cock was pushing into a spot that had you keening high for him. 

“That’s it? Yeah? Right there, pretty girl?” He cooed, dipping down to kiss you, moaning filthy into your mouth as you got wetter still, the slick sounds filling the kitchen. “Touch yourself baby, touch your clit for me, that’s a girl, fu-uck—”

If someone had to have walked in then, you were you both would have had to leave town, never mind the job. One of your legs hanging off the from the table, muscles lax, dress hitched up around your thighs, your other leg bent of Eddie’s arm and held open so he could fuck into you, your ass barely perched on the edge of the table. Tits spilling out the top of your bra, one shoulder exposed, Eddie’s teeth marks on your skin and the chef himself was whispering dirty, sweet things to you, kissing at your cheeks, your chin, the corner of your mouth, his curls wild and the muscles in his arms flexing every time he held you still and thrust his hips into yours. 

“I’m close,” you told him, eyes watering at the white hot pleasure of it, crying out when the hook in your tummy got tighter and tighter, your fingers swirling messily over your clit as Eddie watched and groaned, his skin slapping against yours. 

“Yeah?” He asked and his voice was wrecked, his gaze heavy lidded and dark. He was a pretty picture, pink cheeked and a damp forehead, his curls clinging there, bottom lip pressed between his teeth. “Want me to tell you again, hmm? Tell you that I’m yours? That I’m all fucking yours, sweetheart? ‘Cause god, I am, I really am.”

He punctuated each word with a thrust, groaning every time his cock slid into you a little deeper, coming back out glistening, soaked. His words did magical things to you, breath hitching and back arching as you came, forehead falling lax against Eddie’s cheek before he nosed at your jaw and trapped you in a kiss, his thrusts stuttering as your cunt clenched down on him again and again and again—

He pulled out, almost too close, pumping himself over your thigh, cum dripping onto your skin and Eddie groaned into your mouth, letting you swallow down his moans as you petted over his cheeks, his hair, coaxing him through it with soft sounds. 

When you both caught your breath, you were both messy, hair everywhere, uniform askew, sweat dotting your brows. But the bowl of cookie mix had fallen to the floor without you noticing, a sludge across the tiles along with a dropped bag of flour. The radio was still playing, there was a spatula and three whisks on the ground and the worktop you were sitting on had made a crack in the tiles behind you. 

You laughed first, a soft, breathy thing that Eddie joined in on, smothering his joy with a kiss to your cheek, a happy, smacking thing against your skin that made you feel warm all over. 

“Need’t clean you up,” Eddie murmured sweetly. “Then this place, Jesus.”

You hummed, too lazy, too relaxed to talk. So you let Eddie swipe at your thighs with a dish towel he then shoved at the bottom of the bin, grinning the whole time. You helped him sweep up the mess with shaky legs, mourning the loss of your cookies as he laughed, eyes brighter than they should’ve been for the late night hour. 

And when you were perched on your stool at his station, sharing a plate of fries, Eddie reached out to brush away a crumb from your lip and said:

“I guess I should’ve asked you, huh?” He squinted at you, cheeks flushed, a little embarrassed. “So, uh, not too sound like we’re in middle school or anything, but you wanna do this properly? Be my girlfriend? God, I sound like a dumba—”

You cut him off with a laugh, a happy, bright thing and nodded, stealing his insult with a kiss as you nodded, murmuring yes against his lips. 

[honey-milk126]

Dating the MHA characters (pt.1)

Includes: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Fumikage Tokoyami, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, Tenya Ida, Hanta Sero, Mashirao Ojiro, Yuga Aoyama.

A/n: Hope you enjoy.

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Izuku Midoriya (15)

1.Loves when you pet his hair.

2.Lets you out flowers in his hair.

3.Loves to cuddle while watching all might.

4.Hates when he has to leave you to train.

5.Lets you watch him train, if it's not super late.

6.Loves it when you make him food.

7. Takes notes on your quirk.

8.Loves to brush your hair, and paint your nails.

9.Will watch scary movies with you. (Even though he's scared)

10.Loves to pick you flowers

11.Loves to make you flower crowns

12.If you wanna go on a walk at night, he will go with you.

13.Hates when all might trains him on date night.

14. Loves to take pictures of you.

15.Nicknames for you: Baby, pumpkin, princess, babe, my love.

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Katsuki Bakugo (15)

1.Tries to not yell at you.

2.He will train with you. (He wants you to be able to protect yourself)

3.Will cuddle you.

4.Watches scary movies with you. (He protects you)

5.Threatens mineta if he touches you.

6.If you take medicine, he will remind you to take right on time. (He has it ready for you.)

7.Loves when you sleep on his chest.

8.Will do your nails and hair for you.

9.He plans date night every Saturday.

10.Will watch romance movies with you. ( he thinks they are cheesy)

11.Will get up past 8 to help you with anxiety. (If you have it)

12.Will comfort you if you have a nightmare.

13.Loves to play with your hair.

14.Gets you a locket.

15.Nicknames for you: teddy bear, baby, mine, love, my queen.

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Fumikage Tokoyami (15)

1.Dark shadow loves you

2.Loves to cuddle you.

3.Loves to take you out on picnics.

4.Loves to get you stuffed animals.

5.Will massage your back if it hurts.

6.Loves to pick you flowers.

7.Makes you flower crowns.

8.Makes your birthday so special.

9.He takes you out to eat, then gives you a stuffed bear, then you go star gazing and then he gives you a promise ring & a necklace.

10.He got you a stuffed animal that is a baby deer.

11.he buys you anything you want.

12.Will go camping with you. (If you like camping)

13.Loves to take pictures of you. (& your dates)

14.Loves to watch movies with you.

15.Nicknames for you: baby, my love, my birdy, my queen, sweetie.

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Denki Kaminari (15)

1. Loves to flirt with you.

2. Will charge your phone for you.(willingly)

3. Loves to cuddle you.

4. Gets embarrassed by short circuiting.

5. Let's you paint his nails.

6.Loves to match outfits with you.

7.Loves to play video games with you.

8. He tries to help you with homework.

9. Loves to watch movies with you. (All of them)

10. Loves to star gaze with you.

11. Buys you snacks.

12. Loves to get you flowers. (He does it randomly to)

13.Loves to watch YouTube with you.

14. Buys you stuffed animals.

15. Nicknames for you: baby, my love, my pumpkin, my queen.

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Eijiro Kirishima (15)

1. Let's you help dye his hair.

2. Loves to nibble you. (He just bites you)

3. Loves to cuddle.

4. Gets you random cards.

5. Loves to draw on your skin. (Little stars and hearts)

6.Takes you on Lazer tag dates.

7. Loves to take you to the movies.

8. Loves to go to the beach. (He builds sand castles with you)

9. Goes to look at puppies with you. (And cats at the animal shelter)

10. Loves to cook for you.

11. Loves to try new things.

12. Gets matching pajamas.

13. Has an album of pictures on his phone of you guys.

14. Loves late night walks.

15. Nicknames for you: pebble, love, my star, my love, babe.

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Shoto Todoroki (15)

1. On hot days he uses his ice to cool you off.

2. On cold days he uses his heat to warm you up.

3. Love to spend money on you. (It's his dads money)

4. Loves to watch movies with you.

5. Loves to watch the the sun set with you. (And sun rise)

6. Loves to cook for you.

7. Let's you try new foods.(if your super picky)

8. Loves to slow dance with you.

9. Let's you mess with his hair.

10. Loves to match.

11. Is okay with family dinners

12. His sister loves you. (So dose his mom)

13.His family pretty much loves you.

14. Goes on walks with you.

15. Nicknames for you: princess, love, my baby, babe, my queen.

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Tenya Ida (15)

1. Has a schedule for everything.

2. Loves to walk with you.

3. Trains with you.

4. Loves to go on dates, at the park.

5. Will watch movies with you

6. Will make you a schedule. (If you need it)

7. Helps you clean and cook.

8. Loves to try new foods.

9. Loves to get you new clothes.

10. Lectures the class if they are mean to you. (Mostly mineta)

11. Loves to protect you.

12. Tries to train you so you can walk by yourself. (If you need alone time)

13. Stays up when you go on a night walk. (If you went by yourself)

14. Loves to cuddle you, when you have had a back day.

15. Nicknames for you: My love, my queen, my hero, baby.

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Hanta Sero (15)

1. Has a ton of pictures of you.

2.Loves to cuddle

3. Hates when mineta is near you.

4. Will tape mineta's mouth shut. (For you)

5. Loves to get you flowers.

6. Loves the fast and furious movies. (Will watch them with you)

7. Will watch true crime documentaries with you

8.Gets you to try spicy food.

9. Loves to go on walks with you

10. Loves to look at the sun set

11. Loves to climb trees with you.

12. Tries to bake with you.

13. Loves when you lay on his chest to sleep.

14. Will read books with you.

15.Nicknames for you: Mi alma,Princesa, Media naranja, Mi amor. (Translation:my Soul,my princess, the other half, my love)

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Mashirao Ojiro (15)

1. Lets you play with his tail

2. Teaches you martial arts

3. Loves to cuddle

4. Walks around town with you

5. Loves to go out to eat.

6. Let's you do his hair.

7. Picks you flowers.

8. Has hit mineta because he tried to look up your skirt.

9. Loves to give you piggy back rides.

10. Loves to go to the petting zoo, with you.

11. Loves to sleep on your chest.

12. Loves to star gaze.

13. Loves to walk at night.

14. Has a locket with your picture in it.

15. Nicknames for you: baby, love, my star, babe, sweets.

-------------------------------------------------------

Yuga Aoyama (15)

1.Matches with you 100% of the time.

2. Hates late night walks. (He needs beauty sleep & so do you)

3. Will go on walks with you.

4. Will feed you cheese.

5. Hates stress and hates when you are stressed.

6. Loves when you guys cuddle.

7. Loves to snack on cheese.

8. Loves romance movies.

9. Brags about you to everyone.

10. Specifically brags to mineta on how he has a gf and he does not.

11. Loves picnic dates.

12. He let's you wear his hero costume

13. Loves to flirt with you.

14. Reads magazines with you.

15. Nicknames for you: my fabulous queen, . Y love, my star, my queen, my sweet heart.

-------------------------------------------------------

End, let me know if you want a pt. 2!

I do not own any gifs or characters, they belong to their rightful owner!

Hope you enjoyed!

See you in my next post! <3

[buckyalpine]

A little longer

HI MY BEAUTIFUL 🐚ANON!! I adore this so much, I adore YOU so much, as always, your requests are everything!! 

Warnings: So so much fluffy fluff, angst if you really squint till your eyes go cross-eyed and blurry

-

"It's been decades. Not even a couple years. Almost a century. You probably shoot dust. Or whatever your bionic ass reproduces with"

Bucky contemplated throwing his half finished milkshake at Sam's head while they both scarfed down burgers from a late night diner after a taxing mission. Sam was pestering Bucky yet again about his nonexistent social and lack of a love life, a topic he seemed to get high off of. 

“For fucks sake Sam-”

"You need to get out more man, at least start dating. You don't need a whole girlfriend but a few dates wouldn't kill you. Or maybe it would, since you're what, 106?"

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, his patience wearing thin. Dating wasn’t for him, not because he didn’t want to date but because he wasn’t sure who would even date him. He’d only just gotten comfortable talking to Sam though he’d never openly admit he actually enjoyed their conversations. He wasn’t exactly the most approachable, Peter had once told him he had a resting bitch face, whatever that meant. He wasn’t the most tech savvy unless it involved doing something illegal. He had a plethora of devices that could take down the US government at the push of a button he secrecy hoarded under his bed but God forbid someone ask him to pose for their Instagram story.  

Talking to a pretty girl was a completely different story. What would he even talk about? His time before the war involved a lot of nursing an injured or sick Steve back to health. After the war and his time in Hydra, he didn’t really have time for himself. He liked plums. The hobbit. He was thinking about getting a cat. Bucky internally groaned, maybe he’d find a girlfriend at the retirement home down the street; at least they’d have things in common. 

Sam cocked an eyebrow while Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. Usually he’d respond with a grumpy pout or complete silence but today his exhaustion had caught up with him. He debated on how to get Sam of his back, a dim, flickering, half broken bulb going off in his sleep deprived brain. 

"I already have a girlfriend Tweety bird"

The deafening silence that followed that statement made it clear both men were aware that was a lie. Sam snorted, shaking his head while they both finished they food, slapping a $50 on the counter before leaving. He looked at the super soldier, deciding not to press into the issue further for the night but he definitely wasn’t going to let it go that easily. 

5:30 AM

The buzz of his phone jolted him awake, the faint sound of the TV still playing in the background. Bucky felt around for his phone, tossing his sheet off, sitting up from his place on the floor seeing Sam’s caller ID light up the screen. 

“What are you doing next Saturday” Sam sounded unusually chipper, a hint of a smirk in his voice, a suspicious amount of enthusiasm for such an early hour. 

“Why” Bucky groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes, going back to lying down. 

“Were having a cookout over the weekend, you should come”

“You woke me up to tell me what could have been a text message?” Bucky asked incredulously, closing his eyes, ready to let sleep free him from such a ridiculous conversation. 

“Ooo, white panther knows how to text now” 

“White Wolf” Bucky grumbled, regretting every telling Sam the name he had been given in Wakanda. “I’ll come if you just let me go back to sleep” 

"Alright, but bring your girl too"

There it was. 

He could feel the shit eating grin Sam was giving him over the phone, eye brows wigging up and down, all his perfect teeth out. 

“Whatcha say Barnes?” 

Sleep had disappeared into thin air as Bucky shot up, mentally kicking himself for the nonsense he’d gotten himself into. He fiddled with the corner of his sheet, hoping to find an out. 

"I thought you only invited family" 

"Hey, anyone that you're allowing within 3 feet of your personal space might as well be considered family" Sam snorted, not believing a single word Bucky had said the night before. The conversation moved on to a different topic, easing some of Bucky’s nerves. A whole hour had passed and Bucky was sure he was in the clear until-  

“Back to the matter at hand, you bringing her or not?” 

“Why are you like this, does being Captain America always come with the caveat with also being a pain in my ass, I’m not going to-”

Bucky was about to refuse until a knock at the door pulled him away from the conversation, the scent of fresh pancakes wafting through the door. He pulled himself up, a smile tugging on his lips, knowing exactly who was on the other side, not needing to check as he untangled himself from the sheets. 

His sweet neighbor. 

Bucky wasn’t religious and he wasn’t a big believer in a higher power but there had to be something out there when people like you existed. Whenever Sam asked him why he stayed in the dingy little apartment that barely had windows and a closet for a bedroom, he’d insist it was because he preferred a small space and was still getting used to living a normal life so he wasn’t ready for another move just yet. 

The part he always left out was that his dingy apartment came with an absolute angle that lived next door. Kind hearted. Sweet. An absolute darling. You were one of the first people he’d interacted with when he moved in. All the nerves he had about living alone and growing accustomed to a regular life melted away the first day, when you came over with a plate of fresh cookies. 

He felt like a little boy whenever you were around, having the biggest crush on the prettiest girl on the playground, his mind going to mush whenever you smiled at him. But it wasn’t a crush. Nope. No....? No. He narrowed his eyes at himself before making his way to the door. 

“Buck? Did your tongue rust-” 

“I’ll uh-I’ll think about it” He mumbled before cutting the call, a bashful smile on his face as he unhooked the chain and swung the door open. “G’morning doll” 

“Good Morning” You grinned, handing Bucky the plate which he gratefully accepted, his stomach rumbling between the butterflies that fluttered in his tummy. “I heard you get in last night, didn’t think you’d have time to do a grocery run or cook anything” You handed him a bag of fruits and vegetables, two of those bags full of plums. His favorite. 

“You didn’t have to do all this” If his cheeks grew any warmer he would’ve sworn he was running a fever. And he didn’t get fevers. 

“You’re out saving the world, I think getting you a few groceries is the least I could do. So, how’s the new Captain?” You had never met Sam in person but hearing enough stories from Bucky told you all you needed to know. No one else was better suited to take on the shield than him. 

“A pain in my ass even if he means well” Bucky smiled shaking his head to himself. “He’s been pestering me to get out more...start dating” He mumbled the last part, wincing. He’d fought off aliens, gone to battle alongside a tree and a talking raccoon, survived being help captive by Hydra but being boyfriend material? His flirting game was as strong as pre serum Steve's right hook. 

“Well, handsome solider like you, shouldn’t be too hard to find you a date” You felt your own face heat up as soon as the words left your mouth but wasn’t like it was a secret. There was no way he would have had trouble in the dating department; aside from being one of the most beautiful people you’d laid your eyes on he was also the sweetest. Bucky was nothing but a gentleman and with a pure and soft heart and if you didn’t get your shit together and control the way he made you weak in the knees-

“Not the same ladies man I was in the 40′s doll” He chuckled, blue eyes sparkling at your compliment, “Either way, I got myself into a mess with that” He smiled sheepishly while you cocked your head, urging him to continue. 

“Well, I sort of lied to get him off my case” Bucky blushed, rubbing the back of his head, his the pink on his cheeks deepening at your cheeky smile. “I-I told him I already have a girlfriend but as you can see-” Bucky waved into his empty apartment that showed no signs of human life, “-it back fired immediately because he's invited my nonexistent girlfriend to a cookout this weekend. In Louisiana. With all his family. And friends”

Bucky let his head hit the wall with a dull thump, cursing himself for putting a foot in his mouth. Sure he could just come clean and say he lied. But that would mean admitting he lied and that was worse because then Sam would give him shit for that, plus try to get him out more and- 

“What if- what if I went with you?” Bucky’s head shot up, blinking in surprise at your words, wondering if he heard you correctly. “I could pretend to be your girlfriend for a day, get Cap off your case. Only if you’re comfortable with it though”

“Really? You’d do that?” You giggled at his lost puppy expression, his eyes lighting up when he realized you were being serious.

“Of course” You smiled sincerely,  “I’d be happy to! Just let me know what time to be ready at and I’ll be all yours” 

All his.  

The little boy in his was running around in circles, his heart beating too fast for the rest of his body to keep up. The thought of you being his girlfriend for a day was more than he could ever dream of. Of course it was only pretend and he’d wouldn’t dare push for more; not when you deserved the world. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to deal with Sam’s nagging. 

Problem solved. 

*****

This was a bad idea. 

A bad, bad idea. 

Bucky had gone through at least 4 outfits, debating between an array of Henley’s, before settling on a blue one when he remembered you complimented it because it was blue like his eyes. He picked up his razor and then immediately put it down when he remembered you once said you liked the scruff on him.  Even if this was just pretend, every single part of him was on edge as if this were a real date. As soon as his enhanced hearing picked up your soft footsteps padding down the hall, he was right by the door, nervously chewing his lip. 

Bucky blinked, his heart nearly giving way at 106 years old when he saw you make your way down the hall towards his apartment. You were in a flowery sundress, with a large cakebox in hand, your sweet perfume already making him dizzy. If Sam didn’t kill him for lying, the crush he had on you would be the next thing to take him out. 

"You-you look beautiful"  And sweet. And adorable. And delectable. 

An angel.

You looked like an angel. 

"Thank you, you look good too Sarge" You looked down at Bucky’s chest instead of meeting his eyes, unable to look at his pretty face. His adorable face. Handsome face. That dimple on his chin. Blue eyes. Pink lips. Fuck, you had such a big crush on him. 

It was going to be an interesting day. 

*****

Bucky parked the car at Sam’s place, which wasn’t too far from the lake where everyone had gathered. Part of him was almost sad they had made it on time; the car ride over with you ending faster than he’d liked.  

“He wasn’t kidding when he said he only invited family” Bucky snorted, seeing all of Sam’s relatives there along with his closest neighbors, many of whom he’d met before. He took the cakebox from you, slipping his hand into yours, smiling when you gave him a reassuring squeeze. You both made your way over, hand in hand, your heart skipping a beat each time someone greeted Bucky, every single person over joyed that he’d finally met someone to call his. 

He made his way over to the grill where Sam filliped a few burgers; the new Cap grinning when he saw you both. There was no missing the sparkle in his eyes when he looked down to your hand in Bucky’s, noting you were was holding his metal one, no longer covered by gloves. 

Interesting. 

“You’re lookin’ good” Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Bucky, loving the way the soldier rolled his eyes, trying to brush off the way his cheeks were dusted pink. 

“This is y/n, my girlfriend” Girlfriend. Bucky loved the way it rolled off his tongue with ease, not feeling an ounce of hesitance. The word previously feeling so foreign to him now felt so natural when he had you by his side. And holding your hand. And hearing your laugh. And-

Relax Bucky, it’s just for a day. 

“I’m Sam, and it’s very nice to meet you” He pulled you into a hug, still curiously eyeing Bucky, genuinely unable to figure out where he’d managed to find a sweetheart like you. 

“Thank you for the invite” you giggled as he gave you a light squeeze before letting you go, inspecting the cakebox Bucky handed to him. He grinned at the fresh strawberries that decorated the cake, shamelessly plucking one off and popping it into his mouth. “Strawberry shortcake. A little white wolf told me it was your favorite” 

“Well if the big bad wolf likes you then I like you cause he doesn’t like anybody. You must be special” Sam mused, a part of him wanting to be skeptical but there was nothing, absolutely nothing made up about the Bucky was looking at you. He gazed down at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars right in his room, an utterly lovesick puppy. You felt your cheeks heat up, burying your face into Bucky’s side while he chuckled, pulling you closer to him and pressing a kiss on top of your head. Damn right, she’s special. 

You both made your way over to mingle with the rest of the crowd, have no trouble at all playing the role of an utterly in love boyfriend and girlfriend. Bucky didn’t miss a single chance to press little kisses on your cheeks, every so often pecking your nose. His hand never left your waist, always holding you close to him, his face occasionally buried into the crook of your neck. 

You played your part almost better than he did, gushing over what a gentleman he always was to you, stayed tucked by his side, nuzzling under his chin, occasionally actually getting lost in his soft scent of laundry detergent, his cologne and something distinctly him. You made the elderly ladies giggle and blush each time Bucky did something adorable, proudly showing you off to everyone. 

He didn’t even let you eat without being the most perfect doting boyfriend. You’d both served your plates, finding a nice spot to sit under a shady tree; Bucky sat on the large lawn chair, secretly happy there was only one. You were about to walk off to get another when he tugged your wrist and pulling you back. 

“C’mere, I wont bite” Bucky grinned, surprised with himself as he pulled you onto his lap with ease. You let out a squeak, your nose bumping against his as you plopped onto him, lips nearly brushing his. 

“Smooth, Barnes. Remind me again, how you don’t have a girlfriend” You let out a breathless laugh, screaming to yourself on the inside that this was fake. He was playing the role perfectly, that was all. So fucking perfectly. 

Why was he so perfect. 

Bucky smirked, kissing your shoulder, letting you relax against his chest, wondering if you’d feel his heart hammering against his ribcage from how flustered he actually was. He easily maneuvered you so you sat comfortably across his thighs, his arm still securely around your waist. 

When was he ever this smooth. 

If anyone else was this close, he’s run for the hills, but now he was contemplating tossing you over his shoulder and running to Sam’s house, the guest bedroom was upstairs and two doors to the right-

“Well I’ll be damned, he really does have a girlfriend” Sam shook his head while Joaquin snorted, both men looking at you and Bucky with heart eyes while they sipping their beers from the docks. 

“You think they’re faking?” Joaquin nudged Sam’s shoulder, watching Bucky now fed you a piece of cake, still keeping you on his lap, sneakily kissing the cream from the corner off your lips between bites. You’d giggle every time, feeding him a strawberry, squealing when he’s playfully bite your fingers. 

“You can fake a lot of things but not the way he’d blushing and giggling like a toddler in a candy store” Bucky played with your fingers, intertwining them with his hand, his nose scrunching as he laughed at something you said. 

“It’s nice to see him like this” Joaquin had seen grumpy Bucky, grouchy Bucky, angry Bucky, scary Bucky, sleepy Bucky, just about every Bucky on the planet, but this? This was a first. Love struck Bucky. Charming Bucky. Happy Bucky. Simpy Bucky. Sappy Bucky. Giggly Bucky. Playful biting Bucky. Ready to get down on one knee if you’d let him, Bucky. 

“Steve always said he was a charmer, he wasn’t lying”

They couldn’t take their eyes off the way the corner of Bucky’s eyes crinkled each time he smiled or the way you’d instinctively lean into him when he spoke. He’d tuck your hair away from your face, his hands lingering on your cheek for a second longer, giving them a glimpse of the man from the 40′s before the war,  youthful and innocent, his heart full of hope, a smirk that would make his best girl swoon; the both of you in your own little world. 

“He looks happy”

Sam had seen people look happy before. They’d smile but their eyes would be empty. They’d laugh but their voices were hollow. They’d look like they were on top of the world while sitting at rock bottom. The way Bucky’s eyes sparkled, his boyish laugh, the way he’d nuzzle into you, trying to be closer to you than physically possible, was more than just looking happy. 

“He is happy”

Bucky had completely forgotten about pretending with you, lost in how perfectly you fit in his arms. You had taken up your role very seriously, telling him how utterly handsome he was, never missing moment to peck his scruffy cheek or card your fingers through his short soft locks. You intertwined you fingers with his vibrainium ones, busing your lips against his cool knuckles. 

At some point in the afternoon, he’d slipped his jacket off and wrapped you up with it as evening crept around the corner. Not a single person doubted the nature of your relationship; at least four of Sam’s uncles had told Bucky to propose soon. 

You don’t meet a girl who makes you this damn giggly just anywhere, Sergeant. Hold onto her. 

****

Just when he thought he couldn’t fall for you more, you had fallen asleep in his arms, contently snuggled up in his jacket as the sunset over the lake. Most of Sam’s family had gone back home, a few close relatives still hanging around the boat, sipping on coffee. Bucky couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your forehead; he could get used to this. Cuddling up with you after date nights. Hearing your laugh. The softness of your lips. The way your hand always found itself in his metal one without hesitation. 

Fuck he wished this was real. 

You stirred slightly, a content sigh slipping past your lips at the feel of his kiss. Nothing felt more comfy than being wrapped up by the super soldier, his solid arms holding you close. You didn’t want to wake up, wishing you could sleep forever if it meant you’d be this close to Bucky all the time. The day felt like a dream; the exact dreams you had when you thought about your sweet neighbor. How it’d be for him to call you yours. To Be his girl. To make him smile. To make him laugh. 

If only it wasn’t just for a day. 

“You have a nice nap, baby?” Bucky smirked as you blinked awake, stretching on his lap like a cat before snuggling against him again. “My pretty girl” 

“Why wouldn’t I when my boyfriend is the comfiest spot to sleep on?” You teased, bringing your hand up to toy with the chain of his dog tags. Bucky chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, kissing your nose. There was no one around you both, though neither of you seemed interesting in dropping the act just yet. 

“You fit perfectly here, doll” He grinned, blushing when he hesitantly pulled you a little closer, your arms moving to wrap around his shoulders, resting on the back of his neck. 

“I think I like it here” You sucked in a breath as he rested his forehead against yours, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. His nose gently bumped against yours, his warm breath tickling your lips. 

“Me too” He closed the gap between you both, pressing his lips to yours sweetly, savoring every bit of your softness. He couldn’t help but deepen the kiss as you parted your mouth letting his tongue lace with yours while your hand made its way through his hair, tugging on his short locks. Bucky let out a groan, letting his hands drop to your waist, kissing you for as long as he could until you both needed oxygen. 

“Maybe we can pretend for a little longer?” Bucky broke away, panting, his forehead still pressed against yours. You giggled between breaths, peppering kisses across his face. 

“Just a little longer?” 

“Maybe- maybe forever?” He looked at you with his classic puppy eyes, his heart bursting when you pulled him in for another kiss; forever. Forever sounded good. 

A few years later

“So, you finally gonna admit I made this happen?” Sam whispered while Bucky snorted, shaking his head. 

“Not gonna happen” 

“C’mon, I made this happen, I caused this” 

“You caused chaos” 

Sam scoffed in fake offence, taking a sleepy Becca from Bucky’s arms while the soldier went to go check on you. “Now when do I get to meet my second God child?”

“In a few hours” Bucky stretched before making his way back to your room, smiling at your resting form. He carefully laid down beside you, letting his hand splay across your tummy; in just a few more hours there would be a little Samuel Grant Barnes in the world. 

“We’re really good at pretending” You murmured, make Bucky chuckle, taking your hand in his and kissing the ring that sat on your finger. 

“Maybe just one more baby after this? Really convince them, Mrs. Barnes?”

*

“Uncle Sam, tell me a bedtime story?” Becca pouted, having been at the hospital for hours, giving Sam the exact same face Bucky gave you. Her little bottom lip jutting out, big (y/c/e) eyes blinking up at him. He grinned, settling her on his lap before he made a thinking face before asking what she’d want to hear. 

“What kinda story, Beccs, an animal story, a super cool falcon story or Captain America story or a flying Falcon Captain America story?” 

“The chaos daddy said you caused” She giggled while Sam nodded, taking a deep breath before starting. 

“It all started when your daddy said he had a girlfriend...”

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie​ @geeky-politics-46​ @lolawassad​ @almosttoopizza​ @a-poor-gryffindork​ @alternativeprincess​ @buckycallsmeaslut​ @kamaria-sweet-writes​ @charmedbysarge​ @xnorthstar3x​ @kryoee7​ @alina02​ @gh0stgurl​ @polishprincess999​ @jessybarnes​ @alltheficsiwant​ @chemtrails-club​ @eralen​ @perdidosbucky-yyo​ @clqrosmgc​  

[httpswritings]

@alexiaps94 has liked your profile — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Word count: around 648

Warnings: none

Summary: You and Alexia match on an exclusive dating app.

“@alexiaps94 has liked your profile”

That was first notification you saw when you first checked your phone in the morning, still half asleep.

Some days ago, you signed up on Like.ly, an app similar to Tinder but extremely exclusive. The app was directed to wealthy people and reputed celebrities. You had to e-mail the company and wait if they accepted you on the company. If you were, you had to go through an interview where they'll ask you all types of questions, as the company itself would look for some potential matches to get you started. They did not succeed to your liking. They matched you with all sort of celebrities, but nobody properly caught your eye. 

You weren't a football fan, but you knew who Alexia was because of the expectation she woke up when she won her second Ballon D'Or and when Spain won the World Cup, as the press talked non-stop about the different problems with the federation, especially about the incident during the final. 

You clicked on her profile. Her profile pic was a picture with her dog, Nala. She had more pictures uploaded; you could see her with her family, her friends, her team and by herself. You scrolled down to the “About Me” paragraph.

“Hi! My name is Alexia. I like playing football, spending time with my family and learning new things. 😃”

“Cute”, you thought. You hesitated about what your next move should be. You liked her profile but decided to not write her yet. 

“Hi. I saw your profile some days ago and you seem lovely. I'd love to hear from you”. You hated the way you wrote that text. “Y/N, you want to get to know her as a friend, maybe as something more, this is not a business meeting”, you said to yourself. Your text was fine, you were only overreacting. If you knew they way Alexia reacted to your text, you'd feel more than accomplished with yourself.

“Hi, Y/N. Thank you! You seem really lovely too. I'm seeing that you have four cats! Wow, that's some good company. I think a get along better with dogs because I've been around them my whole life, but the cat life sounds fun too. 😸”

You chuckled as you read her message. “She's indeed very lovely”, you thought. 

“Yeah, so damn crazy, but it's quite fun😸😹” You had never used those emojis. Weird. Adorable but weird.

As you kept talking during the week with Alexia, you got to know her better. She told you about the passing of her dog, Nala, and how bad that affected her. You told each other about your life: family, friends, place of work. She even taught you a little bit of football, and you were so entertained you couldn't quite believe it, as you never showed any interested in football except for some random matches of the men's world cup. You started to educate yourself in women's football.

“Can I call you?”, was the message you received from her on a Saturday night. You had spent the whole day rotting on your sofa and talking to Alexia until your eyes started to feel really heavy. As she called you, and you responded, you started to breath uncontrollably rapid but at the same time, you felt so comfortable listening to her. Alexia's voice was soft, and her laugh sounded so delicate, you felt butterflies in your stomach every time you made her laugh.

“It was nice talking to you, Ale, but we both need some rest, especially you. You have training tomorrow.”

“... I liked hearing you calling me Ale”

“I like hearing you, Ale.”

“God, are you always this flirty?”

“Not in person. I'll have to be a little bit tougher when I'll have you in front of me.”

“No, don't be. I'm pretty sure I'd love the timid version of you. I can't wait to see it.”

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 06: temptation's tangle

preview: ". . . “What’s the occasion?” “Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin. “What? You don’t trust me?” “Exactly, I don’t.” “Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” . ."

content warning: suggestive content, abandonment issues, hanma is a d!ck but what's new.

word count: 5,4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: yet another chapter woohoo!! this one's a bit exciting for me because we get to see new characters appearing in the reader's life. and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Saturdays were for resets. You didn’t like to go out that much during the weekends, so it was a hassle to reject your co-worker’s offer to go out for drinks the night after a long week of exhausting and intense work. You would much rather stay inside, go over your to-do list and look around your place to see which area needed the most cleaning. The kitchen was definitely a mess, but your room? Good lord. Your room looked as though a hurricane had passed and devoured it before spitting it out.

No matter how much you tried to be organized, you always found yourself with a mess on the floor, half of your makeup on your vanity and the other half in the bathroom along with a bunch of shoes lined up next to your entrance. You puff out some air as you stand in the middle of your room.

“I really need to get my shit together.” Have you said these words before? Absolutely. 

Will you probably say them again in two weeks? Oh, of course. 

But right now, you need a distraction from what happened two days ago–something that quiets down the voice that keeps nagging you to grab your phone and check if he sent a message, if something had changed. You recognized that you were being a walking contradiction–between promising yourself to be mad at him and loathing him only a week ago, to suddenly wishing he was in your bedroom, pinning you to your mattress and drilling his cock into you–yeah, you were a mess. 

It’s not like you didn’t have a vibrator, or hands! Your hands did an amazing job at fulfilling your needs, you knew where to touch yourself, how to stroke your pussy in a way that had your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. A sigh would then escape your lips, a needy one because nothing felt as amazing as a mindblowing orgasm after teasing yourself for so long. Your hips would then buck up, and your hand is rubbing very messily at your poor clit before you cum with a loud and long moan–

“Shuji–!” 

You snap out of it so fast, jolting up away from your bed and blinking at your reflection in the mirror.

What the fuck? 

A grown ass woman–one who gets action…not that often, but still enough to fulfill her needs, daydreaming about a man whom she slept with once? It doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does, you're too deep in denial to admit that the person you've been longing for is the same man who shaped parts of your teenage years, even if it was only for a short time.

The heavy sigh that leaves you is so loud that it bounces off the walls of your empty apartment. So vacant, but it reminds you how Hanma’s short yet dominating presence was enough to make it feel…less hollow. You hated how he filled the void that you had been long wanting to replace, whether it be by decorating your space with greenery or going on pottery dates with friends or even getting your cat more toys just to watch him run around the apartment–the loneliness was hard to swallow. You despised the feeling, it gripped you by the throat and forced you to remember the framed pictures sitting on the shelf above the TV. Friends, family, co-workers–you were made of pieces of them, each having given you a memory to cling onto and use it as a lifeline. 

What do you do when that lifeline is barely hanging by a thread?

Your eyes land on the singular picture that rests on your nightstand, and your frown deepens for a moment as realization hits you. The two people in this picture were supposed to stay with you for a long time, your protectors as they liked to call themselves. You purse your lips and inhale deeply. The bitter aftertaste sitting on your tongue is hard to wash down.

You were perfectly fine being shaped by bits of everyone you'd ever met, but weren’t your brothers meant to be there for life?

“Here, keep this on you all the time.” You stare at the shiny knife as your oldest brother places it on your nightstand, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and you’re forced to close your book.

“A knife?”

“Yeah, it’s for your safety.”

“Ran, why would I need to carry a knife with me?” 

“You never know,” you’re not sure if that’s meant to comfort you—probably not. 

Ran Haitani is very proud of the fact that he had adopted you. Technically, his parents did–but he hated them, and they abandoned you a long time ago, so it was he who adopted you. He remembers you being a tiny baby in your mother’s arms the day that she had picked you up from the adoption center, said something about how she was so excited for this new chapter of her life, and both Ran and Rindou were excited–over the moon to be welcoming a little sister. At 6 and 5 years old, they didn’t know what blood related meant– it never mattered to them in the first place even as they got older. You were a Haitani, their precious little sister, and that meant the whole world to them.

However, the bond grew a little bit stronger after your parents left. Your father was the first to abandon the family, you were 5, Ran was 10 and Rindou’s 9th birthday was approaching. You remember it being a cold day–it wasn’t gloomy outside or anything, but as you sat in the middle of the living room with your brothers by your side, the apartment felt a bit bigger, emptier. A child is fragile, anything can affect them if not dealt with properly–the absence of your father was the first time you had to experience your ‘big feelings’ as Ran liked to describe them. You don’t know what holding back tears is, so you cry as you hug your knees to your chest and let Rindou soothe your back with a gentle hand. It’s a small gesture, but enough to anchor your stuttering breaths. 

“It’s okay,” Rindou says as you sniffle. When you look at him, you see that his eyes are glossed over with something–tears. He blinks them away as soon as he catches you staring at him. “It’s not like we need him, right?”

“Of course not,” Ran speaks confidently, standing over you and Rindou with a superhero-like stance. “As long as you’ve got me, nothing will happen to you!”

“And me!” Upon seeing his older brother act like a superhero, Rindou quickly jumps up and stands next to him. It’s adorable, it gives you hope–your little child body, so overwhelmed with emotion and having to deal with the abandonment of a parent temporarily distracted by the two boys standing in front of you.

“I’m Sailor Uranus,” Ran extends one arm outward with his fingers splayed, while his other arm is bent at his side. He shares a look with Rindou, trying to mask his wobbling lips. Rindou averts his gaze, cheeks set ablaze with overwhelming emotion. Sadness, embarrassment mixed with determination to make you, his little sister, feel better even for a few moments. 

“And I’m Sailor Neptune!” Rindou extends his arm forward, with his other hand pointing slightly upward towards you. Your heart swells with emotion, and you bring your arm to your face to wipe your tears.

“I..I’m Sailor Moon!” You join in weakly, and for a moment—(just a small one), everything seems okay. You have your brothers with you, recreating your favorite characters’ pose and trying to cheer you up. Just for a split second, you’re distracted from the ache that invades your heart and spreads all over your chest. 

But distractions are bad. Like a bandage on a leaking dam, offering a false sense of control while the real flood builds behind them. 

You had always looked up to your mother. It’s natural for a child to have an innocent fascination with one particular parent—after your father left, your mother had become everything to you. Now that you look back at it, it was definitely fear of being separated from her. Losing her so unexpectedly like you did with your father. You would sit in the living room waiting for her to come back from work, whilst Ran and Rindou were outside playing and didn’t necessarily mind the absence of their mother. They were older after all, and perhaps were able to see her for who she truly was earlier than you did. 

“She’s not going to come back on time,” Ran announces from behind you. You don’t move, still looking out of the window and waiting for her silhouette to appear. “You have to eat.”

“No,” you don’t mean for your voice to crack, but alas you’re a child and you cannot control your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and the hurt you’re feeling from your mother’s repetitive tardiness is very apparent. “I’m not hungry.”

As if to mock you, your stomach growls the moment you say it. And Ran sighs behind you before approaching you. 

“No–” you push him away when he wraps his hand around your arm. “I won’t eat–!”

“Rindou hasn’t eaten all day,” Ran’s voice is stern. It momentarily distracts you from your stubbornness and your bottom lip starts wobbling. “He doesn’t want to eat without you—so please,” his voice is now barely above a whisper and your eyes meet his own lavender ones. The sob you choke out is raw, painful–you can’t hold it back any longer and you fall forward, attaching yourself onto your older brother. The taller boy holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back as he heaves out a sigh.

No child deserves to go through this. 

A few months later, you get accustomed to seeing your mother less often. By the age of 10, Ran and Rindou had managed to make a name for themselves around the area–the rulers of Roppongi. You choose to ignore the events that led them in juvenile detention, you don’t necessarily associate that with great memories but life feels… simple. 

Whilst Ran brings the food and takes care of anything money related, Rindou is the one who is in tune with your emotional needs. He holds you in his arms when you are sad and caresses your head when you’re upset after a particularly nasty fight with Ran. Rindou reminds you of the importance of the rules that they had given you when they started ruling Roppongi, that the way you dress is very important as a Haitani—their little sister. 

You carried that with you through adulthood.

The walls of your apartment have heard you cry for them, felt your sobs and longing. It’s strange how your apartment only knows of their existence through pictures, like ghosts they've never seen in person. Like hearing the echo of laughter in an empty room—faint and distant, yet it lingers, reminding you of the voices that once filled your childhood. 

You are filled with sadness and melancholy and longing—you feel ready to burst like a heavy rain cloud but somehow, you find the strength to hold it all in whilst darkening everything beneath you. Whilst the past few years have been one of the most important ones in your life, you can't deny that with every person you encountered, the shell guarding your heart grew tougher. Like armor forged over time. 

It’s useless to grieve the past, you can’t let it distract you from the task at hand, so you grab your vacuum cleaner and get to work.

Hopefully you’re done before sunset.

–

Ding dong

The digital clock on your microwave flashes 8:12PM in red, bold colors. You did your usual cleaning, showered and dried your hair, planned an outfit for Monday and were checking on some work you needed to do before the week starts. Who would visit you at this time of the day?

None of your co-workers had texted you all day, and you were hoping that they weren’t here to try to convince you to go out. Saying no to them the first time was hard as it is. 

“Shoooo,” you tell your cat as he races you to the front door. “Go away, you can’t get out,” you mumble to your fur companion as you place him on his cat tree and watch as he digs his claws into the plush fabric before running away to your room. 

Ding–ding ding ding!

“Coming! I’m coming,” you rush to unlock the door, forgetting to check through the peephole. As you open it, you get a whiff of a familiar perfume and a tall figure is standing a little too close to you.

“Wha–”

“I got dinner.” 

Of course it would be him. 

He stands before you in all his glory. Brand new suit, messy hair (he must’ve had a long day) and shoes that definitely looked less shinier than usual. You try not to stare too hard at his body, fight the carnal urge that tells you to keep your eyes a little longer on his thighs and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“Exactly, I don’t.”

“Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” you yank him inside your apartment and Hanma almost lets out a giggle at how flustered you looked. “You need to stop saying shit like that in my hallway.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“People could hear you,” you shoot him a glare as you walk away from him. Hanma doesn’t miss the chance of checking out your ass in your tight booty shorts. He licks his lips and follows right behind you, plastic bags rustling as he places the food on the kitchen counter.

“What did you get anyway?” You ask as you sit back on the kitchen table, nose shoved deep in your laptop as you continue your work. You’re far too focused on the words in front of you to notice that Hanma had quieted down and was now fully staring at you–taking the sight of you and placing it at the forefront of his mind. 

Despite having seen you naked before, Shuji thinks that you look the most attractive like this. Like the adult women that you matured into. He can’t remember the last time he saw you this concentrated—(was it when he snuck into your room as teenagers? He found you sitting at your desk, nose buried in your homework that you didn’t even notice him opening your window after he had climbed your fire escape). He can’t say he doesn’t like it. The smallest details stood out to the same man who claims to be nonchalant about everything else–the slight pout and frown to your lips, eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting across the screen, pausing briefly to take in each and every word. You wear glasses now. 

(And glasses look good on you, they make your nose look cute).

 A sigh escapes your lips and as you inhale, you finally catch his stare. Intense like a spotlight, analyzing your every move and pinning you in place. 

For obvious reasons, you feel tense under the weight of his golden eyes fixed on you. Exposed, stripped of any secrets you hadn’t even dared to write down in your diary. Hanma’s eyes had the effect of unraveling every guarded truth, as if his intense gaze alone could coax confessions from the deepest corners of your soul. 

Like how you touch yourself to the thought of him.

You avert your gaze towards the bag, growing uncomfortable with the suffocating silence.

“So?”

“Ramen.” You almost deadpan at the man. It’s fascinating how he can shift the tension in the room just by spilling out a few words. 

“You bought ramen??”

“Am I not allowed to?” He pushes himself off of the kitchen counter and starts walking towards you.

“When you said I got dinner, I thought you meant a meal,” you take off your glasses and place them on the table before staring at the bag tiredly. “That’s an unhealthy meal, Hanma.”

“That’s what I get for dinner, usually.”

“You’ve got money.”

“Your point?”

“Go to restaurants??” you say in disbelief and Hanma shrugs his shoulders as he stands next to you, enjoying the obvious height difference. One that reminds him of how big his hands looked on your thighs that night. 

“Tooooo much work,” he drags out his words before stretching his arms over his head. The action elicits a yawn out of his lips and you scoff before grabbing the bag and emptying its content on the table. “Besides, what’s so bad about having instant ramen?”

“It’s unhealthy,” you reply flatly, reaching for the electric kettle. You fill it up with water before pressing the ‘on’ button, the action coming to you so quickly and naturally that it makes Hanma raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, you turned it on a little too fast for someone who thinks instant ramen is unhealthy,” 

“Because this is my kitchen?” The reply you give is laced with sarcasm, absolutely done with whatever he has to say and all Hanma does is just stand back and grin. How fun. 

“Right, of course,” you avert your gaze the moment Hanma’s fingers wrap around his tie, loosening it to allow himself to breathe a little–feel comfortable in an apartment that has already welcomed him twice already. Does he remember the layout? Not exactly. However, his brain is able to trace the map from your kitchen to your bedroom like a professional cartographer. The detail was etched in their mind, like a name carved into stone. 

So he makes himself comfortable, he walks past you and into the living room and you watch as he sits on your couch and stares around your decorated space. 

“Is that a cat tree?” he points at the item sitting near the window. 

“Mmmh,” you hum in response, pouring water into the instant ramen cups. “Why?”

“ ‘s just that I’ve never seen your cat,” he looks around, trying to figure out where your fur companion might be. “But I see signs of that fucker everywhere.”

“Don’t call my cat a fucker.” You almost hiss and it catches Hanma off guard. Not that it was the first time you ever spoke to him in that tone, but you must be very attached to your cat. 

“Whew,” he whistles as he raises his arms in the air.. “My bad. Didn’t know you were that kind of person.” 

Your eye twitches. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pause on your way to the living room, the cups of ramen were starting to burn your hands but you could care less. 

“Y’know, getting all defensive over an animal?”

“You mean have empathy and emotional connection?” 

“Emotional connection with a cat?” Hanma braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. His side profile comes into view, but he quickly turns to face you and he sees the way you were slowly losing your patience. “That shit is for people who are lonely.”

It is eerily silent after that. For a good five seconds, Hanma doesn’t seem to understand why you give no reply nor do you make a move. He looks away, pats his pocket to find his phone and turns to look at you. You are still glued to your spot. 

You hope he doesn't hear the sound of your heart breaking, or notice the way your body instantly deflates. 

“It must be.” Your reply is devoid of any emotion. You look away from Hanma’s intense gaze, suddenly growing uncomfortable under all of the attention he was giving you. As you take a seat on the couch (while maintaining a good distance between you and the tall man), you push Hanma’s cup towards him. 

“Here.”

“Thank you.” 

Hanma doesn’t feel comfortable with the silence. It bothers him that he doesn’t. 

You try not to pay attention to him, but it turns out that it’s a hard task given how huge the man is. He spreads his legs on your couch, leaving you almost no space, so you have to nudge his thigh with your knee. 

“Move, you’re taking up too much space.” You’re still avoiding his gaze, and Hanma’s finger twitches as he reaches for his ramen cup. 

“I’m a tall man, doll.”

“Don’t care, you’re sitting on my couch.” You say it with a hint of childishness, your tone laced with annoyance.

Hanma chooses to let it slide and slightly closes his legs, allowing you more space on your small couch. However, your behavior still doesn’t sit right with him. You're not truly aware of your surroundings, even though it may seem like you are—one moment you’re holding your chopsticks, the next you’re looking for the remote control. Hanma watches as you jab at the noodles with your chopsticks, seemingly unfazed by the steam rising from the cup.

“It’s hot.” 

Be careful.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your chopsticks falling on the surface of your coffee table. Your eyes are pricking with tears, and you fan your mouth whilst internally cursing yourself for not paying attention.

“Told you it’s hot,” he sounds unbothered—perhaps a little bored, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back despite the urge to get away from him—from his touch. His rough hand holds your jaw like a rag doll and you force yourself to open your eyes. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened. 

In that moment, you realize there's no space left between the two of you. Any distance you tried to maintain with the tall man has vanished, and you let it happen—you let yourself forget why you're mad at him, giving your mind a break from the constant tension around him.

Everything quiets down, you instantly find yourself lost in the same gaze you had been trying long and hard to avoid. You feel hot—you are sure Hanma’s body feels like a furnace against your skin. However, like two flames flickering inches apart, you both burn with the same heat but never quite touch in a way that would have you melting like a candle. 

It’s a continuous tug of war inside your brain as you hold his gaze, your pulse quickening with each subconscious attempt at moving closer to him—even by an inch. Technically, the two of you were now fuckbuddies, two friends who fuck when the other is free or one is feeling like it. There were no strings attached, no responsibilities, no—

“Ya hungry?” Hanma’s voice is a few octaves deeper. You feel a chill run down your spine before making a poor attempt at shaking your head whilst he’s still holding your jaw. 

You feel a pair of lips against yours, and you take it as a response to what you had told him. 

Hanma’s kisses are rough—he pushes his entire body on top of yours as he kisses you, trapping you beneath him. 

You’re glad the cushions beneath you are soft, because the way he pins you down is anything but.

Dominating and playful, he moves his lips against yours in such a dizzying manner that you have to tap his shoulder to ask him for air. But even when he pulls away from your lips to allow you oxygen, his lips land on another patch of skin—your cheek, your jaw, his teeth nibble at your earlobe and he can feel his cock throb when you buck up your hips. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

He presses his forehead against yours and you grow annoyed. Frustration washes over you as you realize you crave more of him, even though you know you shouldn't allow the man so close or invade your personal space. Yet, here you are, yielding beneath him. His kisses are like a wildfire in your veins—once it ignites, it spreads uncontrollably, and no matter how dangerous, you can’t help but feed the flames. 

And feed the flames, you do.

Hanma has never seen you so eager, so needy—sure he’s fucked you before, he’s nestled his cock so deep within the snug walls of your pussy but this–

This was different. 

You’re craving him—his lips against yours like a lifeline. Not once has he seen your body move so desperately against his own whilst your clothes are still on. It makes the muscles of his face twitch.

Smirking, he grabs the back of your thigh and pushes it up to your chest before leaning down—face dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t say anything, eyes scanning your expression—the twitch to your lips, the slight furrow to your eyebrows and the sigh that escapes through your nose from how needy you are. You throw your head back against the couch, nudging Hanma’s butt with your free foot. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Am I?” His tone, his words—they make the butterflies in your stomach erupt like wildfire. You can only afford to whine in response, clearly struggling to take his teasing. He is so dominant— to the point where submitting to him was the only choice you had. As you lie beneath him, Hanma is like a cat playing with a string, effortlessly toying with your patience and leaving you both frustrated and horny. 

Incredibly horny. 

“Shuji,” you reach your hands towards his face, holding it and brushing your thumbs against his cheeks. You brush your nose against his, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so softly—so gently that it makes him chuckle. 

“You’re gentle with it,” he breathes hotly against your lips, digging his fingers into your skin to show you how rough he likes it. You’re about to push him off of you, straddle his lap and show him that you can be rough with it. It feels like a treat you’re craving, it’s attached to a string and Hanma keeps pulling it away from you every time you’re about to have it—

A loud moan escapes your lips when he’s back on you so suddenly, not giving you enough time to breathe or ground yourself. Gripping his shoulders, Hanma enjoys the feeling of your nails digging into his skin—it ignites his body on fire and heightens his senses. The tall man grows more aware of your body temperature, of the vanilla body lotion you had freshly applied onto your skin or how you seem to be letting your nails grow longer—he’s locked in. 

“Oh doll,” he breathes out against your lips as he pulls away. You’re about to moan in response, rile him up further until he’s snatching your clothes off your skin and dig his cock deep into your insides–

“Fuck!” Hanma shouts–no, he screams out of nowhere and is pushing his body off of you. “What the fuck?!”

“What–what?! What’s wrong?” you’re confused, a little startled as you push yourself up with your elbows. 

“Motherfucker–” you hear hissing from the end of the couch, and you look behind Hanma to find your cat sinking his claws into his back. “Let go of me!”

“Calm down!” you try to separate the two, get your cat off the couch and Hanma to stop reaching for the back of his blouse.

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when this little fucker–I will fucking–”

“I said calm down.” you repeat sternly. Your hands reach for your cat’s paws, although he hisses at you, you still understand that it’s a normal reaction for him. Standing up, you grab your fur companion who tries to wriggle out of your hold and he comes face to face with a furious Hanma. 

Your cat hisses again.

“The fuck is his problem?”

“He’s not used to strangers,” you caress your pet’s head, sensing that he’s on high alert. “Let alone men.” 

“Your cat hates men?” 

Your face twists. “My cat isn’t a misandrist.” You roll your eyes at him. “He just… doesn’t appreciate men.” 

“Fancy fucking word–” 

“Anyway, I’m taking him to his room.”

“This fucker has a room?”

“Technically it’s my office.” 

Hanma watches as you walk away with the fur companion who meows very loudly, making his dislike towards the man very clear. He hears you try to shush the pet, promise it good food and treats as long as he behaves and if Hanma didn’t know any better, he would think you were crazy.

Maybe you were. He would never show that much patience towards an animal. 

But now he is able to process what has happened. Assessing the situation, the realization that he got cockblocked by a damn cat hits him like a truck and he sits there, dumbfounded and half offended. 

Cockblocked by a fucking cat. 

You walk back into the living room, looking a bit embarrassed and Hanma takes it that you had come to the same conclusion as him. You stand next to the couch, awkward and stiff and your hands are fiddling with the fabric of your shorts before you open your mouth.

“I-”

“Don’t even.” 

Hearing his bored tone, you deflate and sigh before plopping next to him on the couch. You were now drier than the Sahara and he didn’t seem interested in rearranging your insides as he was a few moments ago. 

Well, you still have your food to finish. 

“Want me to heat up your food again?” 

“Mmm, sure.” 

—

Hanma plans to leave as soon as he’s done eating. It’s almost hilarious the way he grabs his jacket the moment he slurps the final noodle into his mouth and you don’t have it in you to ask him where he’s going. 

After all, it wasn’t part of your agreement. Despite the fact that you didn’t even fuck properly tonight, you still knew that his business wasn’t yours to know and his presence was always going to be temporary. 

“The elevator’s working by the way,” you are throwing the cups of Ramen in the trash when you suddenly speak up and Hanma has to pause his movements. 

“They fixed it?”

“After paying a huge sum of money, yeah they did.”

“That’s good.”

“Mmmhm.” Cold and distant, this is how you want to present yourself to the same man who has no problem taking your heart in his hands and shattering it into small pieces. 

“Next time I come over, I hope that fucker doesn’t dig his nails into my ass next.” Next time.

“I’ll make sure we fuck on my bed then.” You say playfully, bringing the glass of water to your lips and Hanma watches as you maintain eye contact the whole time. 

“Oh yeah? Already planning the next time we gonna fuck?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You were good. I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t want it again.”

Hanma chuckles, offering his signature smirk with a tilt to his head. “Good? Not great, or fucking amazing?”

“Good.” You put emphasis on the word, but the tall man notices how you avoid his eyes and it’s an indirect confession. 

“Sounds like you want me to change your mind.” Squeezing your thighs at the sound of his deep voice, you almost moan in relief when you see him start to take off his jacket.

Fucking finally. 

“Maybe I do.”

—

The November cold was unbearable. The man shivers inside his own car and his hand reaches towards the heater to turn it on. He doesn’t understand why he is here, it was too late for him to be parked under a residential building and he sure hopes he doesn’t look suspicious with the way he keeps checking for the door. 

“Come on, come on…” 

Almost on cue, the door opens and a tall figure walks out. Hair messed up, clothes half adjusted and a cigarette hanging off his lips. It was none other than Hanma Shuji. The man watches as the criminal checks his phone for a good ten seconds before blowing out smoke, his chest stutters a bit as he scoffs and he shoves the device into his pocket before walking towards his car. 

Hanma doesn’t seem to notice the unknown car and the mysterious man is grateful for that. He wants to avoid problems. 

However, how was he going to explain his sudden visit at 11:30PM? 

He shouldn’t…or perhaps he should. 

When you open the door, your eyes are heavy with sleep and the man can’t help but stare at the love bites littering your neck. 

“Hey, missed me?”

Your eyes widen and you instinctively open the door wider. 

“Chifuyu.”

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[lucysarah-c]

Levi's horrible flirting skills part 9! Spoiler 👀👀

Who wants a spoiler? I do...

Indecipherable groans echoed through the room, merging with the sound of the alarm. Reluctantly sitting up, still in uniform, the bed covers crumpled under the weight as the person rose.

Perhaps it was easier to abandon it after only an hour or two of sleep before having to get up again. A long night and a long day ahead. From the window, the light was already sneaking in subtly as the sun began to rise earlier. Pushing the door open, the bustling place was a harsh welcome so early.

“Morning…” The greeting was said without much emotion.

“Morning, Y/N!” one of the girls replied as she prepared breakfast in the small kitchen while another girl, a redhead, sat at the round dining table, which also served as a living room.

Each of them was getting ready for the day ahead. Y/N easily began to prepare herself something to eat, trying not to disturb the girl who was already using the kitchen, while the redhead curled her eyelashes while sipping tea. With a loud sigh, Y/N took a seat and had a simple toast.

“How was yesterday?” the redhead asked.

“Good… all the babies were healthy.”

“I was talking about the date.”

“Yeah, how did that go?” The other girl, with light brown hair and golden eyes, sat down too.

Y/N simply shrugged, putting on face cream as she passed down the tea. “Good, I guess…” she replied, almost disinterested, but as she slowly woke up, she got a cheeky grin. “He’s taking me to the official party.”

The other two girls gasped excitedly as if they were the ones invited. “But that’s Saturday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Better! You promised me we’d go to Edward’s party on Friday,” the brunette added.

“Don’t forget girls’ night on Wednesday,” the redhead chimed in. “And we promised Charlie to help her choose something for the hospital event next week on Tuesday.”

“I know, I know,” Y/N replied calmly. “I’m aware.”

“Ugh, but I thought we were all going to the downtown party together. There will be happy hour for all the drinks!” The brunette pouted slightly. “But I guess you and your all-mighty new guy have better plans than us.”

Y/N chuckled, biting her lower lip as the other two girls joked with each other. “So? That’s all?”

Y/N grimaced uneasily, softly humming, almost disinterested. “He was very… nice and cute, well-behaved.”

“Are you describing humanity’s strongest or a dog?”

It made her snort with laughter. “Minnie!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth as she laughed.

“He’s not that talkative,” she tried to justify. “Or… perhaps he’s shy, stoic…” she clicked her tongue. “I don’t know.”

There was a soft hum of uncertainty filling the silence, but it was overpowered by one of the cats demanding food. “Going, going,” one of the girls said as she got up and rushed to the cat's demands.

“I just… hope that maybe around his friends, he’ll get a bit more confident,” Y/N said, raising her hands in the air as if pushing her last hope onto the idea.

“Maybe,” the brunette tried to support the idea, resting her head on her hand. “You said he’s nice…”

“He is! He’s very nice…” she said, as if it were a consolation prize, letting the words drag out as if the idea didn’t fully satisfy her. “It’s just that I like my man with a bit more spice… a bit less vanilla.”