#shes being stubborn about it for no damn reason

[hadesisqueer]

Okay, I'm going to tell you the full context of the particular protagonist of this post so you tell me if this guy is just rightfully complaining because he's sick or if he's being a whiny asshole. His wife is an old family acquaintance that told us this over dinner in Christmas.

Guy had a blocked nose and a headache. He started rightfully complaining about it and his wife asked if he wanted to go to the doctor. He said that no, and when his wife offered some medicine, he refused to take it, saying that "it's not that bad" and he just sat on the couch watching TV. Wife also felt unwell, with a blocked nose and a huge headache as well. So she took some medicine and went to bed to take a nap. Then, barely half an hour later, the husband called her from the living room. She asked what did he want. Guy told her that their kid made a mess trying to pour himself some juice and broke something and there was glass all over the floor. Wife got up from the bed, went downstairs and started cleaning the mess because the option was that or her 5yo son getting hurt while trying to clean it herself while the husband stayed on the couch. Then two minutes later the guy calls from the living room again saying he wanted some warm milk and honey. Wife told him where the milk and the honey were. He said that he didn't feel well and told her to bring it to him. Wife, who's also sick and busy cleaning at that very moment, asks him again "do you wanna go to the doctor?" and he refused. She asked if he wanted some medicine and he, really stubborn, said "no, it's not that bad". Then the wife already fed up tells him "well then if it's not that bad you can either warm your own milk or clean this up" and the guy started whining about how she wasn't being fair to him. So, yeah. The guy is just a whiny asshole when he's sick.

As to how many stubborn guys do I know that whine a lot and become jackasses when they're sick. Well I have a huge ass extended family so unfortunely many dudes. There's people like my cousin's boyfriend who starts absolutely coddling her or their daughter the moment they start feeling bad and there's some others who do really not do anything when their kids or wives feel sick, they just sit around and hope they don't get sick too, and if they do they do expect to get babied and even though when the wife was also feeling unwell he didn't do anything. Generation shift, those guys are all boomers.

A big change is that my dad isn't a jackass when he's sick; my sister is (diversity win: women can be assholes when they're sick too /j). However, when I'm sick, my mom is the one who takes care of me, and when she's sick I'm the one who takes care of her. When we're both unwell at the same time? Good luck. Dad works a lot and my sister is never home.

How many times have people disbelieved my suffering? Very often unfortunely. And mostly by guys, too. Cis men teachers who believed period cramps isn't enough reason for me not to be able to do P.E. that morning and forcing me to run anyway. Doctors who thought the reason I felt sick was my period without even checking anything and then it turned out I had the stomach flu. Me not even complaining about anything at all but looking off and being asked what's wrong and I say "migraine" or "my bad ankle hurts today" and this man whining saying that I always have something. You're damn right men deserve to complain if they're sick but there's a difference between complaining and like you very well said being a jackass, and that guy and many other guys I know are jackasses. And you're damn right I deserve being able to complain, too. I do and I don't care if people think I'm faking it. I'm just not a jackass.

Is there any creature weaker and that whines more in this world than an adult man who's mildly sick

[alvivaarts]

hope you dont mind the poke about your mermaid au, but i was wondering about carlos! does he tease jill (within reason), are they friends, whats his deal there? (art not required, genuinely want to know your thoughts)

I don't mind at ALL! I love mermaid asks!! (Also too late you're getting art, it was so cute I couldn't resist.) Jill is funny. Jill, being the matriarch of their little pod, is pretty damn stubborn and set in focusing on everyone else- especially with Leon being a dumbass and letting a human court him. She's a little unaware of the fact that both Chris and Carlos are courting her. Carlos, for his part, really does love to spend time with her! They'll spend time hanging out in tidepools, and he often follows her around. They are quite close, even if she's oblivious- he'll keep trying until she gets it!

[axolotlclown]

My pig drama

So my neighbors acquired a miniature pig. I am unsure how exactly they acquired this pig. I was told the pig would die otherwise if our neighbors did not take in this pig. Notably, we live in the suburbs. Not particularly wealthy suburbs. This pig does not have much space.

But the pig was fed and watered, so we didn't snitch. The pig was happy enough. They had a sort of shelter for her from the heat (it gets over 100⁰ regularly in the summer)(we also get tornadoes and hail and misery).

Anyway, my neighbors moved. They had been planning on moving for a few years and had been getting ready to move for over a year.

The mother in the house is a self-described "animal lover" and abandoned this fucking pig. They took the little shelter and left the pig. There's an extra fence panel leaning against the fence line that the pig has been sheltering in. I'm so pissed.

Anyway, my mom and I have been feeding and watering this pig. We're limited by the fence between our yards, so we've been feeding the pig apples, oranges, carrots, etc. We've been trying to find a home for this pig and have been unsuccessful.

Now, one day she did get out. Another neighbor saw her wandering the streets and called animal control. Animals over 200lbs are illegal in my city (which would include a pig). The city said they have two weeks to get rid of the pig or they will take her. That was three months ago.

Today was my breaking point. It was absolutely pissing rain. Wind gusts blowing in the streets, flood warnings, we probably got well over 10" of rain. It's still raining out there. The pig was trying to shelter under this shitty fence panel from the rain. I was out there feeding her, knowing that what I was feeding her wasn't enough. But we can't exactly throw pig feed over the fence and oranges are expensive. She's been losing weight. She just can't stay there.

So if somebody can take a pig or knows somebody that can take a pig (that does not live in the fucking suburbs. we're not doing this again), please let me know. Or if you have any tips about how I can find her a good home. Her name is Mavis. She's a miniature pig. I don't really have any good pictures of her because of the fence, but I can try. She's very sweet. She comes running when you call for her. I don't know how she does with other pigs, but my neighbors did have dogs (and mean dogs too)(actually those dogs were probably neglected too but that's for another time). She did well with the dogs, is the point.

I just don't get how someone can claim to love animals and then abandon them when they become inconvenient. They had plenty of time to find her a home. My mom has been thinking about just taking Mavis, but I don't think we can give her a much better life.

The husband comes over every now and then. I'm not really sure what he does with the house. I imagine he's getting it ready to sell, but it's been over a year and it's still a mess. He's not feeding her or filling her water bowl. I feel like I'm going fucking crazy.

[koalapastries-writes]

I'M ONE OF THE GUYS

formula one x trans!male!driver!reader

request: how the fia would react to to y/n as a driver (or any of the drivers) almost being arrested in a country where it's illegal to be trans/gay ... that being a whole thing and the driver almost being kicked out of the race that weekend but doesn't and as a big f u to all the transphobic people running the race, they win the race that weekend - @moonandstarshyuck

summary: who gets arrested and then wins a race in f1? you.

warnings: swearing, transphobia, very minor suggestive content, very minor mention of oscar x reader, mentions of the fia and liberty media being assholes

face claim: faceless but uses pictures of other drivers + includes old/inaccurate photos for the plot lol, reader's team is inconsistent

fia.official

liked by pierregasly, f1, and 37,381 others

fia.official Statement regarding the events that occurred this morning.

tagged f1, youruser

                comments

user1 he got arrested???

user2 right? like what for???

user3 guys it's qatar, it's probably because he's trans

user4 HE'S TRANS???

user5 @/user4 you didn't know? bro is NOT secret about it?

user6 what do you mean he's not doing the sprint?

user7 the fia when a trans driver is subject to bigoted harassment: let's punish the driver! liked by youruser

user8 lmao y/n liked he's pissed

user9 oh he's gonna EAT this weekend i just know it

youruser

liked by lancestroll, logansargeant, and 1,258,770 others

youruser landed in doha! oh yeah, and i got arrested :))))

                comments

user10 he's so unserious help 😭

alex_albon what's with the last slide???

youruser idk it felt like an appropriate reaction

user11 y/n gets arrested and makes it the whole grid's problem

user12 he's so real for that i fear

user13 oh i am thinking Thoughts about y/n in handcuffs

"what do you mean the fia want me to drop out of the race?" you exclaimed, staring at your manager in disbelief. "they're too chicken shit to kick me out so they want me to drop out? fuck no."

"y/n, consider it, it's for your own safety—"

"bullshit, it is! they don't like that i'm trans and this just gives them a reason to get rid of me," you argued.

your manager sighed. she was used to you and your ... stubborn nature. of course, she understood your frustration. it was far from fair for the sport officials to try to kick you out when you were the victim. but sometimes, just sometimes, she wished you'd pick your battles a little more.

"so that's a no, then?"

"damn fucking right it is," you said, already leaving to get ready for quali, which you were now very nearly late for because the fia hadn't allowed you to participate in free practice or the sprint. "i'm racing. if they want to stop me, they have to do it themself. i refuse to be a doormat."

you were a good racer and a good driver, regardless of the situation, but it was impossible to deny that you were fiercer when you were pissed off. everyone talked about charles and max and even fernando being track terrors. usually, you were calm and collected and mostly flew under the radar no matter how well you did.

but this race?

there was no radar. there was just you.

qualifying p7 after not knowing if you'd even be allowed to race half an hour prior. the whole race had been a mix of daring overtakes, aggressive but fair battles, and a few shitty strategy decisions from your team. after a late pit stop that very nearly cost you the race, you managed to overtake oscar for the win.

f1

liked by kimi.antonelli, sebastianvettel, and 1,781,926 others

f1 Y/N L/N WINS IN QATAR!!!

After a rocky weekend and numerous distractions, Y/N proves once again that he belongs on the top step of the podium!

#F1 #Formula1 #QatarGP

tagged youruser

                comments

user14 KING SHIT

user15 who gets arrested and then wins a grand prix

user16 Y/N L/N, everyone 👏

user17 he's insane

user18 user17 he's an icon is what he is liked by youruser

user19 "rocky weekend" HE GOT ARRESTED

user20 not f1 posting this like they didn't try to get y/n to drop out of the race-

youruser

liked by jensonbutton, francolapinto, and 2,938,567 others

youruser say it louder, optimus prime

                comments

mercedesamgf1 y/n please take this down - toto

youruser no ❤️

user21 DADDY CHILL HE'S ONE OF THE GUYS

youruser fia.official f1

user22 oh he's MESSY messy

user23 i mean i'd be pissed too. they tried to make him drop out of the race. liked by youruser, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and others

oscarpiastri mega drive mate 💪

youruser thank you for recreating the fourth slide and drowning me😑

oscarpiastri youruser you know you liked it

user24 youruser on a mission to turn the whole grid gay

user25 the random mika/michael pic he's just like us fr

maxverstappen1 usually i'd be mad about the second photo but i think i'll let you have it this week

youruser like you could stop me any other week

f1 admin is very sorry ...?

fia.official seconded 🙇‍♂️

user26 i don't even follow f1 but i might start watching because y/n is unfairly cool for a man who drivers fast cars in wonky circles

youruser vroom vroom

user27 HELP

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: first smau! hope you like it 🫶 partially inspired by the ve'ondre remix of it girl lol

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers + photos from pinterest!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[hyunsvngs]

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧 - baseball player bfb!kim seungmin x fem reader

wc: 14.2k

cw: enemies to lovers, very mean dom seungmin, mc makes out w chan in a friend way, mc is dramatic and a brat, seungmin is done w her shit but is very possessive, SMUT MDNI

synopsis: you love your best friend, you hate her baseball playing brother. he’s not been home for a few years during your summers back home, so you can’t wait for another amazing summer - until he returns home.

a/n: thank u all for being so excited abt this <3 sorry for the length. smut warnings under the cut!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: very mean dom seungmin (again), face slapping, borderline exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, heavy dirty talk, reader is a brat, breeding kink, reader is a painslut, begging

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When you were a mere three years old, you met your platonic soulmate in the form of Kim Sieun. She had the exact same humour as you, loved climbing on the monkey bars and she had a dog. It was your three best friend criterias fulfilled. When she first invited you to her house for a playdate, you were thrilled, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

You’ve been through everything together. Your first break-ups, your first hangovers, first parties, you name it - you’ve both been present for each other’s momentous events. You were pretty sure you’d both started your periods on the exact same day. She really was the other part of you, the second silver heart piece to your cheap friendship chain you’ve worn for years around your neck. 

The biggest heartbreak was when you moved away to attend university, and Sieun stayed to begin a full-time job immediately after graduation. You’d been separated after being by each other's side for so long, when everything had been so perfect for you two up until then, only miniscule, small-term problems. 

Well, perfect apart from one thing. 

Her brother. Kim Seungmin was the bane of your existence. Ever since he met you, two years older than both you and Sieun, he found it funny to ruffle your hair and make fun of how shy and timid you were. It’s something you’d brush off now, being the person you grew into - confident, loud, straight up stubborn as some might say. When you were younger, though, this cut deep. You’d had your first ever crush on him, and confided in Sieun about the matter, to which she’d giggled and fake-gagged as if she wouldn’t be overjoyed to have you in the family. You’d had your first ever crush on him, and he’d made fun of you for years after as if he knew. You cannot stand him now. Even being in the same room as the guy boiled your blood. 

It was one of the reasons why you got rid of that personality. That wasn’t you. You were shy and timid because you were only a kid, God damn it! You’d love to say it hadn’t affected you, but it had, and you and Seungmin had bickered ever since you gained enough confidence to fight back. It was actually something Sieun found very amusing, insisting that the two of you were fated soulmates. 

Still, as you stood in the airport waiting for Sieun’s arrival to pick you up, you felt blessed. Coming home for the summer was always exciting. You got to see old friends, who would almost always have parties, and another exciting part was that you’d be staying with Sieun for a solid three weeks of it. It was going to be the best summer ever. Your parents had decided to go away on holiday two days before your arrival back home, and you couldn’t have felt more satisfied with the development.

Oh, and - Kim Seungmin would not be there. No, while you were a student busting your ass to make ends meet, Seungmin had obtained a full baseball scholarship to university and went straight into pro baseball once he’d finished. Of course he did. You tried not to let it bother you anymore, that he was so fucking successful while being so smarmy. It wound you up beyond belief, so you just avoided thinking about the guy altogether. 

Clutching onto your suitcase handle, you almost vibrated with excitement when Sieun’s half-dead car pulled up. Honestly, she’d had the same car since you were seventeen, and it hadn’t been fully working then. It was even worse after a few years. She kept saying she’d get her dad to look at it, but she was always out and about doing god knows what in said half broken car. It was a death trap.

Immediately, you saw the car door swing open - and almost fall off completely - when her engine completely stopped. Sieun bustled out of the car to the loading area of the airport, her puppy eyes wide and her legs shaking. She was going to scream, or jump, or die. Maybe all three. You weren’t doing much better - your eyes brimmed with tears when you embraced Sieun in a death grip of a hug. 

“I- missed- you- God, can’t breathe-“ Sieun grunted, trying to push you off. You pulled away, still with teary eyes as you gazed up at her. She was taller than you, almost matching her brother’s height. The whole family was relatively tall. As soon as you both looked at eachother, Sieun was gripping you in a firm hug again, and it was your turn to get suffocated. 

Once you’d eventually stopped hugging each other and crying - it had been approximately five months since you saw each other last - Sieun loaded your suitcase into the car and all but pushed you into the passenger seat. You groaned as you kicked through multiple McDonald’s cups to try and get your feet flat on the floor. Sieun simply giggled, settling into the driver’s seat. 

She plugged in her seatbelt, starting to drive back to her family home. “So, how’s college been? Any cute guys?”

“Sieun, I called you every week, you know what’s happened,” you laughed, playing around with the settings on her car to try and get the radio on. Did it even have a radio?

“The radio’s broken.” Of course it is. Well, it couldn’t get any worse - you’d already failed the Bechdel test. 

You leaned back against the seat, fingers playing with the friendship necklace chain. You hummed, trying to think of something Sieun may not know. “Well, there was this one guy. Super my type. Stoic, a little bit bitchy, you know? Dark hair, and all that. But when we ended up sleeping together, there was no chemistry.”

Sieun groaned in sympathy. “You know, I hate that! You really like a guy, and then he doesn’t even know where the clit is. It really pisses me off. How’s classes though?”

Sieun normally didn’t ask this many questions straight off the bat, especially not ones she knew the answers to. She was distracting you, sweetening you up by acting like she was just so interested in you. Something was fishy, and it wasn’t the strange smell of her car. When you turned to look at her, her plump lips were pouted as usual, covered in lip gloss - but there was an unmistakable twitch to them. Her eyes were narrowed, staring at the road ahead of her. She was hiding something.

You blinked. She started humming along to a song on the radio. There was no song on. Said radio was broken. “Sieun. What gives?”

Sieun sighed, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel. “Okay! I didn’t know how to tell you. I know this was meant to be our super amazing summer, face masks and beaches and just general slaying, so I didn’t want to ruin it.”

You realised you were arriving onto her street, the big house always taking you by surprise. You wanted to focus on Sieun’s words, but you were instead distracted by the driveway. Sieun’s parents shared a car, and Sieun had her own car. 

There were two cars in the driveway. Sieun’s parents’ car, a silver tank of a thing that looked like it could get through a boulder. Then, a sleeker car, perhaps closer to a sports car - much cleaner, much more expensive… with a personalised licence plate. No. No.

“My brother’s home.”

You wanted to die. Gone were your slay summer plans - now you’d be perpetually arguing with your best friend’s annoying older brother. He did absolutely everything deliberately to piss you off. Taking way too long in the bathroom brushing his teeth while you needed to pee, disconnecting the games controller when you were finally about to finish a boss fight… just petty activities like that. 

Why now? Why had he chosen this summer to come home, when he’d been away for every other summer playing baseball or whatever he does? No. He didn’t deserve to be back right now. You shook your head at Sieun. “I’m not going to let him ruin our awesome summer.” 

Sieun spluttered out a laugh. “Okay, Seungmin’s not the devil. You two bicker like an old married couple, y’know. Maybe there’s-“

“Shut. It.”

You didn’t have the time or the patience to hear yet another ten minute long spiel about how Sieun and her parents strongly believed that you and Seungmin were fated soulmates. The little patience you had completely disappeared when a figure bounded up to the car window. You turned to stare through the glass. 

Kim Seungmin. Stood there, beaming at you with that dumb smile that he always had when he was ready to wind you the fuck up. You had thanked every single god that your window was still rolled up, maybe you could just hide until he got bored and left - until Sieun rolled the window down with an evil chuckle. 

Then, you looked at him - like, really looked at him. The chubby cheeks he’d once possessed had disappeared with age, now sporting some nice looking cheekbones and a sharp jawline. The braces were gone, pearly white teeth showing with his smile, and his hair. God, his hair. He’d dyed the front of his hair blonde, and it was just slightly parted in the middle to show his forehead. He cocked his head at you, eyes glinting with menacing delight at your appearance. Oh no.

“Welcome back, brat.”

The bane of your existence had gotten fucking hot.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It had just gotten worse. Once he’d pretended to have an ounce of chivalry by helping you take your suitcase inside, Seungmin had immediately reverted to the person he was the last time you saw him. Which was a while ago, by that point, since he’d always been too busy playing baseball games to make an appearance in your life for the past few years. You hadn’t really seen him since you went to university. It honestly made you feel relieved, but now you’d seen him - well, he was definitely better looking than he had been. That fact was only reinforced to you as you walked through their long hallway, taking in all the family pictures that had been up for so many years. You were even in a few of them, chubby cheeks and acne galore as you stood with your arm around Sieun. 

You’d stared at him all the way through dinner, in all honesty. After your second, adopted parents had greeted you and Sieun’s mother had cried upon seeing how much you’d grown - you hadn’t grown since you were thirteen, being on the shorter side of things - you’d all sat down to eat the hearty meal that she'd prepared. Seungmin sat in front of you in his assigned place, something you previously would’ve hated, but you could at least analyse him.

Yeah, something had changed. He was aesthetically pleasing, but you hadn’t forgotten his fucking behaviour. He was a menace. You shoved another forkful of the homemade lasagne in your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at the boy sitting in front of you. 

His eyes flickered to look at you, but you didn’t even think about looking away. His eyes were so dark. Stoic, almost, and he was like… okay, yeah, he looked like your ex-fling from college. That’s weird. It didn’t even stop you maybe bordering on finding Seungmin attractive, as much as it put you off of your lasagne to even think of the concept.

“Can you stop fucking staring at me?” Seungmin hissed, his fork clattering down to the plate with an eye watering noise. You huffed, reaching forward to stab him with your knife before Sieun yanked your hand back. 

“Who said I was staring at you? I’m eating my fucking food, you heathen, and everytime I look up your ugly face is right in front of me-”

“Oh, I missed this!” Sieun’s mother smiled, her eyes fond. “Let me just get a camera, and I can take a picture of you three.”

Later on, in Sieun’s room, you both sat with your legs laid up against the headboard and sheet masks on your face. The anger was still burning in your stomach, but you were trying not to let everything revolve around him, like it always did. 

“So, we’re going to watch Seungmin’s baseball game tomorrow. Mum and dad are super excited about it,” Sieun said, painting your nails where your hand laid on her stomach. You groaned, feet kicking against the wall with small thuds. Sieun’s hand paused with the tiny paint brush, turning to look at you through narrowed eyes. “You don’t think he… looks different? Everyone’s been saying that since he came home.”

“Looks different?” You snickered. “Still looks pretty fucking weird to me. Seriously, how are the two of you even related? You’re pretty, nice, funny, and he’s so fucking- ugh! I can’t even explain it, and he-”

Sieun snorted. “You think he’s hot.”

You gasped, pulling your hand away. The nail polish smeared all over your finger, which was decidedly the one you used to point menacingly towards your lifelong best friend. “I do not! He’s gotten taller, yeah. The hair’s… different, but that’s the only thing that’s changed. He’s still fucking annoying, even after getting his braces off, and-”

“And you’ve noticed all these things about him,” Sieun sighed, leaning up and readjusting her whole body to sit cross legged, facing you. She put the paintbrush back in the nail polish bottle. The sheet mask made her look a lot less friendly than she was trying to be. The Sheet Mask Murderer could be a good horror film, you pondered, as she stared at you. “Bestie, I’m not going to be upset if you have a crush on my brother, you know? I know he’s grown up in the past year, and so have you. Things could be different now, and… you could be part of the family, officially, I guess.”

You screwed up your face, shock painting your expression. The sheet mask got caught in the lines of your forehead. “You’re deranged, Sieun. You know that, right? Like, you’ve actually lost the plot this time.”

Sieun sighed, fingers reaching to peel the sheet mask off of her face. “I have always been deranged.”

“Well, yeah, there is that.”

She flopped back down next to you, dark hair splaying around her head like a halo. “We will still have the best summer. I promise you.”

“Okay, my conditions are that we have to go to a lot of cool parties, get amazingly drunk and maybe fuck one or two people. Deal?”

“Um, duh? Deal.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’d dreaded the baseball game all day. For starters, you were going to see baseball, something you had absolutely no clue about. Secondly, it was your literal enemy’s baseball game. It was also one of his pro games, and was taking place at a massive stadium where just about everyone seemed to know who Seungmin was and who his family was. You’d already had to witness Sieun posing with a peace sign for multiple selfies with fans once you’d all found your seats, and Sieun’s mother had already put an arm around you to show you exactly where Seungmin would be once the game started.

“He’ll be over there,” She pointed to a part of the field. You didn’t really care. You had no clue what baseball was or any of its rules - just that there were bats and they hit balls and ran. You decided that was all you needed to know. You weren’t going to do any research for it, not if it was him playing. 

You and Sieun had dressed up, too, because Sieun had thankfully found a beach party for you all to go to later. ‘All’ sadly included Seungmin and his gaggle of just as annoying friends. The only one you really got on with was Chan, who was mature and seemed to be ageing ten times quicker due to the stress the rest of the group caused him. You both kissed when you were drunk and had agreed you were just friends who liked to kiss, which was optimal for you, really. You had decided that you would dress up nicely in a borderline slutty white dress and sandals for the party, and you had makeup on. It was most definitely for the party, and not for any other reason.

When the game started, you thought you were going to have a heart attack and die. While Sieun and her family were cheering out Seungmin’s name, all you saw was that ass in tight, pinstripe trousers. He was grinning, waving over to your section - definitely not at you, he hated you and you were literally looking at him with the most shocked expression in that moment. He looked good. You decided it was okay to admit that mentally, because no one was ever going to hear you say it. His ass looked peachy and you wanted to bite into it like it was one, and maybe see what the front of his body looked like - all of it.

It all looked good, at least when he was wearing clothes. Broad shoulders pulled that jersey tight around them, and his hat was pulled low to almost obscure his dark eyes. When he rolled his neck, clicking it out with one broad hand before grabbing the ball, you knew your panties were wet. Soaking, actually, because he looked so broad and so tall and so fucking powerful on that pitch. You’d always had a thing for men who looked like they could fuck you like you were beneath them. The fleeting thought that Seungmin would definitely do just that caused your cheeks to blaze.

Obviously, his team won. Obviously he did, because then you had to stand there afterwards when his whole family hugged him and you just stood there kicking pebbles before wincing that it hurt your bare toes. Fuck sandals. Fuck Seungmin. 

Once he’d hugged Sieun, he turned to you, cheeks slightly pink from the exertion of the sport. You briefly thought about how baseball wasn’t even that tiring. One stripe of black paint on his cheek caught your eye when you looked at him. When Sieun elbowed your side, you looked up, arms folded across your chest. Seungmin blinked at you, hands in his pockets with a cocky smirk. You knew what he was waiting for. 

Mumbling, you spoke - “Congrats.”

“Say it properly, brat.”

“Fuck you, I don’t say what you want me to say!” You kicked a pebble at him successfully, smiling in accomplishment when it bounced off of his knee. He simply scowled, repeating what you said in a meh bleh, bleh bleh type of way. When you let your arms drop from your chest to strangle him to the floor Bart and Homer style, Sieun gripped you by the back of your bodycon dress and dragged you back to stand next to her. 

“Go get changed for the party, Seungie,” She said, keeping you in her hand like you were a rabid dog on a leash. “And you. You can’t just try to strangle my brother-”

“How did you even know I was going to strangle him?”

“Because, it’s not the first time!” Sieun shouted, stomping her feet like a child. She finally stopped holding onto you, huffing as she turned to look at you fully. Seungmin’s parents had left to get to the car, insisting on giving you all a lift to the beach where the party was held. Your parents would never. You’d lost count of how many times you had blisters from walking back from somewhere five miles away because your mother was engrossed in another show on television. Seungmin raised an eyebrow at the both of you. 

“I’m gonna go get changed.” He finally spoke, waving towards the direction of the locker room. You grimaced.

“Okay, and? I don’t care,” When you watched Seungmin walk away, eyes unable to tear away from that tight ass in those trousers, you could practically feel Sieun’s own eyes boring into your face. Finally turning to look at her, you saw a slight smile on her lips. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything, bestie.”

You stormed off to the car, in a foul mood now that you’d been caught by Sieun ogling her own brother. Just to make matters worse, you had been designated to shimmy into the middle seat of the back because you were the smallest, so you’d be sat in between the two siblings. Brilliant. Just ideal, really. Thankfully, Sieun’s parents had already put the air con on. The heat of the summer had been killing you in that packed baseball stadium. 

“So, what did you think of Seungmin?” Sieun’s dad asked you. He looked a lot like Seungmin actually, just an aged version with salt and pepper hair. You smiled politely, about to respond before Sieun cut you off.

“Dad, don’t. She’s already wound up.” You wanted to kiss Sieun. You could not discuss what had just happened, including the game. You’d spent the whole time drooling over the bane of your existence. When Seungmin finally got to the car, you side eyed him in order to see what he was wearing, and were more than pleased to see he was in a light grey t-shirt and baggy blue jeans. Good. Nothing tight. 

The beach party was packed when you arrived there. A lot of sweaty young adults smoking weed, drinking and perched around a campfire or dancing near the portable speaker playing music quietly. All you could think about was how much you deserve a drink after the day’s events, and you were quick to drag Sieun over to Chan when you spotted him. Dark curly hair hidden under a hat and a sleeveless black tank top. Unmistakably Chan, and also unmistakably someone who would donate alcohol to a good cause. 

He immediately looked up at you, his smile wide with dimples adorning his cheeks. You saw Seungmin flop down next to some other friends he had from the corner of your eye. Chan caught your attention though, handing you and Sieun a beer each. “Hello, you. Welcome back to the town.” 

“Channie!” You squealed, taking the beer from him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He subsequently pulled you onto his lap and Sieun giggled, sitting in the sand next to him. You’d always been close with Chan, and you wouldn’t be lying if you said you found him attractive. Those arms showing in the sleeveless top were definitely doing something for you that night, but you weren’t sure if it was the pent up aggression from earlier. You immediately pressed the beer to your lips at the thought, swigging down a lot of the liquid. 

Then, it just felt like the drinks kept coming. Over and over you were drinking beers that were handed to you by either Chan or Changbin, one of the others you were friendly with, and you found yourself becoming tipsy and slouching on Chan’s lap. The fire burned your eyes a bit when you stared into it, but you were still giggling, leaning your head back on Chan’s shoulder.

Seungmin glowered, turning to Sieun and speaking almost inaudibly. “Stop her drinking. She’s making a fool of herself, all over Chan like that.”

“They’re friends, you idiot. She’s not even drunk, they’re just always like that!” You didn’t have time to thank Sieun for defending you immediately against her own brother because Hyunjin was coming over to you with two small plastic shot glasses. One sniff of the liquid proved it was vodka, a fact you weren’t surprised about - Hyunjin loved to get utterly white-girl-wasted at any party. His smile was wide and eyes half-lidded already when he looked at you. 

“This is for you,” Hyunjin whispered. His fringe almost obscured his face as he handed a shot glass to you, and offered the other to Chan. Chan held out his hand, pushing it softly back to Hyunjin. Hyunjin literally just shrugged his shoulders, toasting your own shot before knocking his own back. He didn’t even make a face when taking shots, which was probably the fact about Hyunjin you were most jealous of - along with his ethereal beauty, obviously. You grimaced when the liquid hit your own taste buds, glugging it back thankfully. You couldn’t gag on Chan right now. 

The music filled your ears as the sun began to set. Someone had turned the speaker up just a bit louder, and Jisung had started to dance and embarrass himself. It was the usual behaviour. You saw Changbin chatting to some girls you and Sieun had gone to school with, and Sieun got up to go and join, leaving Seungmin chatting with the other boys on the other side of the bonfire. You sat quite happily on Chan’s lap, listening to him telling a story from work.

“I mean, it was insane. Hannie quite literally wrote this entire song in like, five minutes. We were all super drunk. I have no idea how he did it,” Chan said, hands flying everywhere in his story. You blinked at him for a moment, processing who Hannie was. Ah. Han Jisung. Hannie. The round-cheeked boy was still twerking across from you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m just a bit tipsy now,” You giggled, nuzzling into his cheek. Chan laughed at your level of clinginess, hand placed on your hip comfortingly. “Sorry, Channie.”

“That’s okay. Hey, remember a few years ago? You always wanted kisses from me and Changbin when you were drunk, heh,” Chan looked at you, eyes fond. When you finally looked into his eyes, it was like your brain caught up with what he was saying. Kisses? God, that’d be so good.

“Kisses. Oh my God,” You whispered, eyes wide. Chan threw his head back, hand over his face while he laughed this time. “Channie.”

Chan sighed, finally looking at you. “Yes? What is it?” He knew what it was. You surged forward, pressing a familiar friendly kiss to his plump lips. He raised his eyebrows in shock, pulling you back by his grip on your hips.

“I cannot kiss you right now. Seungmin is there, and he is looking at us.”

“Who cares about that guy? He’s an ass,” You mumbled, pressing your lips to Chan again. Chan sighed into the kiss, finally giving up and letting his lips brush against yours. You loved kissing Chan. It was always so fun, so familiar, just two friends making out when drunk. It was one of your favourite pastimes, to be honest. You were just getting into the kiss when you felt hands on your waist, scooping you up and throwing you over one broad shoulder. You heard Chan laugh while you were disoriented, trying to work out whose shoulder you were even on and why are you walking away from the beach party?! You were having so much fun! 

“What is goin’ on?!” You shrieked, legs flailing around. You were slurring at this point, and you even heard Sieun giggling over the music. Finally, you heard a sigh as the feet of the body you had been stolen by started to wade through the sand and onto the street.

“We are going home. That’s what’s fucking going on,” Seungmin. You grimaced, wriggling to try and get off of his shoulder, but the grip he had on your body was unbelievable. “Why the hell were you doing that?”

“Doing what? Kissing Chan? I always kiss Chan.”

“I don’t want you to do that anymore, okay?” You huffed at his words, resorting to slamming your fists on his back as he walked quickly down the street. He didn’t even flinch. “Are you listening to me, brat? I don’t want you doing that.”

“You are not my fucking dad, Kim Seungmin. You don’t decide who I kiss!” You sounded like a petulant child, whining and squirming around to be put down on your feet. Finally, Seungmin grabbed your hips with both hands, placing you down on the floor. Cars were speeding past you as you both stood on the pavement. You crossed your arms over your chest, vision slightly blurry from the intoxication and body covered in sand. Seungmin didn’t look to be doing any better, beige specks of sand in his dark hair and his grey t-shirt completely covered. He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head when looking at you.

“I may not decide who you kiss, but I’m gonna be mad if you do that again. Got it?” Seungmin was stoic, sharp as he spoke in a monotone voice towards you. You furrowed your eyebrows. What? Why did it matter? “He’s my friend.”

“Okay, and? I don’t care.” You repeated your words from earlier. Seungmin huffed, blowing a strand of blonde hair from his forehead. You looked at him. He looked at you. Then, he was turning around, walking down the road in the direction towards his house. You gasped, appalled that he’d leave you there on the side of the road like some kind of bag of trash. 

After a few long strides, you heard him groan faintly in the distance. He stopped dead still, turning around to you with a grimace. “Are you coming, or?”

You stood your ground. “Nope.”

“Fine, stay there and be killed by a raccoon or something, fucking brat. Or worse, an actual murderer. Wouldn’t that be scary? A murderer just killing you while you’re standing there in your sandals. Can’t even protect yourself, can’t throw your shoe at him like you do with me because what harm will sandals do-” Seungmin stopped talking when you ran at him, eyes wide as you wrapped your arm around his own. He huffed, trying to shake your arm off of his, but you held on tightly. Your bottom lip quivered. You were such a baby when it came to scary things like raccoons and murderers. 

“‘M scared now, Seungmin.” You whispered, leaning your head on his arm. You could practically sense Seungmin rolling his eyes as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close to his warm body. 

“Only five minutes now. Five minutes and we’ll be home, okay?” You nodded, trying to keep up with the strides of his long legs. 

In bed that night, laying in Sieun’s bed sans Sieun, you couldn’t help but wonder just what the fuck that was. Seungmin was almost nice for a moment. Sure, he’d had that weird freak out about you kissing Chan - that was strange - but then he’d not left you on the side of the road. A few years ago, he would have left you on the pavement and then proceeded to go get a car to run you over on said pavement. He had changed.

Kim Seungmin was hot. You’ll admit that, unfortunately. But now Kim Seungmin was hot and he had morals, too. 

That one would be hard to process.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The next morning, you were woken up by Sieun’s arm across your forehead and her soft snores in your ear. You briefly felt extremely guilty for making sure she hadn’t gotten home safe, but judging by her still sleeping, she’d left after you’d fallen asleep. You wanted to wake her, to ask her what the fuck her brother’s deal was, but you settled on heading downstairs to get some breakfast and calm your stomach. It felt like a bomb had gone off in there. 

You started to make your way downstairs to get breakfast, but you walked straight into Seungmin’s chest as soon as you left Sieun’s bedroom. He stood with a mug of coffee in his hands, blinking down at you like you were, in fact, a bomb that had just gone off in front of him. 

You stared up at him, eyes wide. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Move, brat.”

Oh. So he was just going to forget him being borderline nice ever happened? What a fucking- ugh! You scoffed, looking down at the coffee. 

“You know this isn’t your room right, dumbass? Take your coffee into your own room.” Seungmin rolled his eyes, barging past you to stand by the door.

“It’s for my sister, dumbass.” You wanted to ask where’s mine, then, but Seungmin would only laugh at you and move on with his life. It annoyed you beyond belief that Seungmin had actually been nice to you the night before and then continued to act like absolutely nothing happened. You wanted to positively kick him across the face like the Mortal Kombat games he used to unplug your controller on.

Still, you had hope for the summer. Two straight days of hell would not change your mind. You just had to get through today, a chill, relaxing day with Sieun where you both nursed slight hangovers and probably cried over making mistakes the night before. Then there was hope for some fun tomorrow. 

Tomorrow was the annual camping trip with your friend group. It only went on for one night, in the woods close to your actual home a few streets away, but it was something everyone looked forward to. Unfortunately, given that your friend group was also Seungmin’s friend group, and that he was back now, it meant he would be there. This was unlike the annual camping trips before, and you were dreading his presence. You just had to avoid him, and he wouldn’t stop you kissing your friends. He wouldn’t stop you having fun if you just acted like he wasn’t there. The thought made your blood boil. 

You hid in the bathroom until you heard Seungmin’s footsteps recede back into his bedroom, and then you emerged. Fuck breakfast. You needed a good heart-to-heart with your best friend. Stomping back into the bedroom, you were met with Sieun’s eyes still only half open, just about emerging from above the mug.

“Oh, hey,” Sieun mumbled. She blew the hot liquid in the cup and then took a sip, humming with satisfaction. You stood there, arms crossed across your chest and foot tapping with annoyance. Sieun looked at you. You looked at her, a frown on your lips. She sighed. “What’s he done now?”

“Well, what the fuck was last night, Sieun?!” You exclaimed, throwing your body down on the bed. Sieun snorted, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. “Sieun, he picked me up and took me from a party. What was that? And, and! On the way home, he was kind of being… nice?! Then, just now, this morning, he was being absolutely horrible again!”

“And this annoys you because…? You’re always horrible to each other, sweetie.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” You huffed, turning over to scream into a pink heart pillow on Sieun’s bed. “He’s coming tomorrow, too. Like, as if it could get any worse!”

Sieun hummed. You heard the mug clink onto the bedside table, probably to live next to another ten mugs for about three weeks. “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behaviour.”

You grumbled into the fabric. Then, as if you’d completely forgotten about it, a blurred memory came into your head. I don’t want you doing that anymore. He’d said that in confidence, stood there in front of you, all long legs and pouty lips forming the words. “He… he said he didn’t want me kissing Chan anymore.”

Sieun spluttered. “He- he what?! Why would he say that?”

You shrugged. “D’no. Weird though. It… it made me feel weird. Like, almost shy. I don’t know.”

“That’s because you have a big old crush on my brother. We’ll address that later, though, because it seems my brother may have a big old crush on you,” You lifted your head, blinking at her. The drink had gone to her head last night. She was now clinically insane, beyond deranged by the sounds of it. Her eyes were peering out of the window opposite her bed in deep contemplation. “I mean, it makes sense. You two do bicker like an old married couple, but maybe that’s your shtick.” 

“I do not have a big old crush on your brother. He does not have a big old crush on me. We are mortal enemies.”

“Mmhm, okay, honey. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, yeah?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn’t sleep a wink the night before the camping trip. Of course you didn’t. Your thoughts were riddled with stupid remarks and baseball uniforms and long legs looking amazing in said baseball uniforms. Eventually, you’d actually cried a bit, just wanting him to leave your mind. Then, you felt pathetic crying over a man. That disgusted you beyond belief.

It had you thinking that Sieun may have been onto something. Maybe you did have a stupid crush on her brother. Maybe it had never left, ever since you’d caught sight of his chubby cheeks and mop of dark hair when you were both little. You’d have to just overcome it. Arguing with him would probably help, and you did that everyday, so it’d be fine. Manageable, at least, so long as he kept his goddamn nose out of your business. You’d had stupid crushes on people before, and you knew this one could leave very easily and very quickly.

Unfortunately, due to the lack of sleep, you had been forced to smother your eye bags in concealer that was maybe a shade too light. Seungmin had commented on this when you and his sister loaded your stuff into his pristine car, grimacing at the sight of you.

“You look like a ghost, brat.” You had immediately tried to rub the concealer off with your fingers, and now it was just a smeared mess on your otherwise decent skin. Fuck that guy. Fuck Kim Seungmin. Fuck yourself, too, because why were you trying to adhere to what he said?

It had still been plaguing your mind when you laid next to the lake in the woods while everyone drank around you. You had taken your premixed cocktail in a can to the lake not too far from the lake, and were perched in your blue bikini trying to get somewhat of a tan. Your skin was only blazing with anger, not sun. All of a sudden, you heard some branches snapping, and opening your eyes served you with the face of your best friend.

“Truth or dare. C’mon, everyone’s playing.”

You were lugged back to the campsite, groaning with your can still in your hand. Chan perked up immediately at the sight of you, patting his lap in invitation. 

You went to walk over, smiling at his dimpled cheeks, but quickly turned to Seungmin. “Sorry, Channie, I should probably check if I’m allowed first.”

Everyone erupted in roars, even Chan, who dragged you by your waist onto his lap while still giggling. Seungmin practically glowered, eyes staring you down with the anger within him. 

“Let's start with you then, brat,” Seungmin said, motioning towards you with the hand wrapped around the neck of his beer. “Truth or dare?”

You pretended to think. You always chose the same thing. “Truth.”

“Boring!” Sieun screamed, her pink bikini strap slipping down her shoulder. Changbin used two fingers to push it back up into place. Always a gentleman. “Okay, what is the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”

Seungmin turned to Sieun, displeasure written all over his features. “It’s literally meant to be me asking the question.”

“I don’t care.” Sieun shrugged. She also knew what the biggest lie you’ve ever told is, judging by the smirk on her face when she turned back towards you.

You smacked your lips together. Okay. If he had a crush on you, it would be instantly severed in that moment, because you were about to wholeheartedly tell the truth. “Seungmin, I was the one who broke your PS4. I spilled coffee over it.”

“What?! You fucking brat!” Everyone screamed again, Chan howling with laughter at Seungmin’s exasperation. “Tell me that you aren’t serious. You told me that-“

“I told you that the dog peed on it?” You giggled. Seungmin nodded, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, no. It stank of coffee, so you’re kinda dumb for believing me in the first place.”

Seungmin huffed. His cheeks were red, breathing heavy. Oh, he was so mad. Good. You lived your life specifically to piss Kim Seungmin off.

“Okay, Seungmin. Truth or dare?” Changbin spoke up. He didn’t need to speak up, because his voice was like a foghorn already. Seungmin sighed again, turning to the shorter male. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Dahyun.” You turned to the girl in question. She was quite quiet, only speaking when spoken to, but you and Sieun had been friendly enough with her back in high school. She’d been close with Chan, though, and had kind of stuck with the group since. You thought she didn’t even like Seungmin either, but the way she perked up at the statement said otherwise. 

Seungmin, however, was still looking very pissed off. He put his beer bottle on the floor, sighing as he made his way over to Dahyun. You heard Jisung giggling, making lewd comments and noises in Minho’s ear, who just pushed him off with a sigh of fondness. All of a sudden, Seungmin’s lips were pressed to hers. You could see everything. Tongue and spit swapped between the two, and you found yourself turning to look at your drink instead. Awkward.

It made you feel awkward. More than that, though, it kind of made you feel weird. You weren’t sure of the emotion exactly, but you knew you wanted to leave instantly and never see Seungmin or Dahyun ever again. You also wanted to scream. Especially when you finally let yourself look up, when the cheers receded to murmurs and Seungmin had pulled away from Dahyun, looking straight at you. 

You locked eyes with him, blinking. Then, you saw fucking red.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You blurted, seeing Seungmin’s eyes widen at your outburst. Dahyun’s eyebrows raised, looking at you with fear. You turned to her with a timid smile. “Not you. Him. The bastard you kissed seems to think he can tell me what I can do, who I can kiss, yet he seems to be doing whatever he wants? Is this a joke, Kim Seungmin?”

Sieun laughed awkwardly from her position next to Changbin, rising up onto her feet. “Okay, perhaps this doesn’t need to happen right now-“

“No, let the brat speak to me how she wants. It’s not going to fucking end well, and she knows it,” Seungmin spoke, throwing his beer bottle down on the floor exasperatedly. He stood up, light blue baggy jeans looking slightly brown with the mud and an oversized jersey falling off of broad shoulders. You took in his appearance with nothing but an angered expression, cheeks burning with rage when you realised he still looked really fucking good with his hair dyed like that. Something about him shouting at you was turning you on, too, but you decided to address that at a later date. “I told you not to kiss Chan for a good reason.”

You scoffed. You could practically hear Chan’s hair turning to grey from stress behind you. “Oh, yeah? What reason is that? He’s my friend.”

“You should- you should only kiss people you like. People you’re interested in,” Seungmin was shouting now, finger pointing at you determinedly. You rolled your eyes, making him stomp his foot in the mud. 

“I guess that means that you like Dahyun then, huh?” You said, remembering to give Dahyun another smile. This really wasn’t against her. She was sweet, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. Kim Seungmin just grinds your fucking gears. 

You realised way too late that maybe you didn’t want to know the answer to the question that you’d so loudly shouted. 

Seungmin ran his hand through his hair, licking his lips. You tried to avoid staring at his mouth when he eventually retorted. “Maybe I do, brat. What’s it to you?” 

You blanched. It was nothing. It was nothing to you, really, but you definitely couldn’t back down now, even if you could sense the rest of your friendship group feeling slightly awkward in the wake of tension. You folded your arms over your chest, staring Seungmin down while you searched your brain earnestly for something that would hurt. 

“It’s nothing to me. I don’t give a fuck about you, Seungmin.”

Seungmin looked like he’d stopped breathing, staring at you with intensity in his eyes. You couldn’t quite work out what emotion they held, but you had a feeling that you may have gone a bit further than your normal bickering. It was only a matter of time, really, with you having a very short temper and all. 

As if it had never even happened, Seungmin rolled his neck and shrugged. He sat back down on the floor with a flurry of movement and with another shift, his arm was around Dahyun and he was pulling her close. She looked like she wanted to run very far away, but then Seungmin was handing her another beer and it was apparently fine. 

Changbin cleared his throat. “Okay, shall we continue?”

The rest of the night went with seemingly no hitches. Everyone drank, sang, danced, and the tents were slowly filling up with people retiring from the night, their skin still dewy with the water from the lake close by. You even managed to avoid getting riled up by the bastard sitting opposite you, so that was an achievement in itself. Eventually, you retired to the tent you, Sieun and Chan had been designated, limbs stiff from sitting down for so long.

Wiggling into your sleeping bag, you zipped up the fabric with your whole body inside like a cocoon. You could hear mumbling and giggles from the next tent over, but choosing to ignore it, you shifted over to face Chan. He was still awake, scrolling through his phone. You weren’t sure the guy ever fucking slept, in all honesty. Sieun snored behind you steadily, the sound of cicadas breaking up the noise of her heavy slumber. 

Chan blinked up at you, locking his phone when he saw you were still awake. The moonlight just about seeped through the walls of your temporary home for the night and you could see his features, sharp as always. He grinned at you, pulling you closer by your sleeping bag. “So.” 

“So,” you agreed, nuzzling into his bare shoulder. The summer heat was still present in the night, although mild, and he’d clearly chosen to not overheat with his chest bare. “This whole night was really weird, Channie. My life is really weird right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Chan hummed, fingers scratching on your scalp soothingly. “How long?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Chan simply looked at you earnestly, his lips in a tight smile. “How long… what?”

“How long since you’ve liked him?” Chan whispered, clearly registering the noise from the next tent over. You blanched, before realising that well - you could lie to Kim Sieun, Kim Seungmin and yourself, but you couldn’t lie to Bang Chan. He was too kind, too dear to you in a different sense to what Sieun was. 

“I dunno what it is, but I’m ignoring it,” you responded, even quieter than his whisper. “It’s weird. Makes me feel weird.”

Chan let out a silent laugh, chest shaking next to you. “Crushes tend to do that, babe. They make you feel all weird and fuzzy.”

“Kim Seungmin does not make me feel weird and fuzzy, Channie. I can’t stand him.”

“You can’t stand him because he makes you feel weird and fuzzy, and maybe it’s about time you realised that.”

You huffed, turning over to press your back against his chest, despite being separated by sleeping bags and extra fabric. Chan shuffled closer, pulling you in for a cuddle nonetheless. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, murmuring, “you can’t avoid him. I know you want to, but you can’t. He’s your best friend’s brother.”

Unfortunately, this was something you had already recognised. Staring at Sieun’s sleeping figure reminded you that yeah, he was your best friend’s brother, and while a relationship between you and him would never fuck anything up… well, an unrequited crush might. It would be too awkward. That’s why you swore you were going to ignore him. 

You had to go back to hating Kim Seungmin.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Fortunately, it was a lot easier than you’d anticipated. You’d managed to avoid him in his own home. You didn’t even see him in the hallways, sticking to showers late at night while he was always showering in the early morning, and you and Sieun had been eating out nearly every day to avoid family dinners. It almost felt rude, but with Seungmin, being rude was not possible. He was the epitome of rude.

Rude, brazen, and with zero morals. You’d almost forgotten that in the haze of him being nice once and looking pretty all the time. Sure, he was aesthetically pleasing, and maybe he was exactly your type. But you were never going to forget the history between you ever again, not if you put your mind to it. 

However, the concept of your own morals slipping to actually possibly like Seungmin had ruined your days since. You just couldn’t believe yourself! That’s Seungmin you were very nearly lusting over. Your mortal enemy, the bane of your existence. Who cared if he’d gotten hot?

Apparently, you did. As you stood in a party with Sieun dancing around carelessly, you were clutching your drink tight and thinking of your enemy. The drink limited your inhibitions, making you able to think more freely. Why did he look at you like that after kissing Dahyun? Why did he stop you kissing Chan? Why did- 

“Why are you still overthinking? We’re at a party!” Sieun hollered, the drink in her cup threatening to slosh over the edges with her dancing. You shook your head, putting on your best fake smile.

“I am having the bestest time,” You insisted, smiling and starting to do a little jig to the music. The house party, held at Changbin’s literal mansion, was slowly filling up. You and Sieun had retired to the kitchen to down a few drinks so that you felt less awkward and could start going feral with the rest of the party, but the more drinks you had, the more you got inside of your own head. This wasn’t like you. You were the party girl, the girl who everyone had awaited return to the town - you wanted to scream and stomp your feet like a child. 

“You’re totally not, honey,” Sieun mumbled, seeing the look in your eyes. You sighed, downing back the concoction in your cup. You’d worn another slutty dress to the party, done your makeup and hair and now it was all going to waste. “Are you sure you don’t wanna head back?”

You shrugged. “I mean, if you want to, we can.”

Sieun’s eyes widened. “Well, I was just- I was gonna call you an Uber, and get you home. I’m gonna stay, y’know, it’s Changbin’s house, and… yeah.”

And she wanted to make out with Changbin. She was so valid for that. You sighed again, looking around at the kitchen. The party was a bit too much for you right now in your utterly discombobulated headspace. Maybe you should go back, just chill for the night, sleep. It was probably for the best, or you’d ruin Sieun’s night too by being so awkward. 

“Ah. Yeah, okay, maybe it’s best if I go home,” You looked at Sieun, who was beginning to eye up Changbin. He was in a pretty intense game of beer pong with Jisung, and both parties were screaming their heads off. You didn’t want to stand between Sieun and her destiny, her fate. Sieun turned back to you, a glint in her eye. “Alright, would you call me an Uber? But um, maybe I should go to my house. Y’know, since-“

“He’s at practice,” She said, shaking her head. “Not home. Don’t worry, he won’t be home for a little while.”

You frowned, checking the time. It was 9pm. Did practice go on this late? You let yourself accept her statement anyway. You still had no clue what happened in baseball, or what happened in baseball practice nonetheless. It could go on until 3am for all you knew. Sieun pressed a few buttons on her cracked phone before she was grinning, sending you a thumbs up.

“All done. He- the driver, he’ll be here in five. Good?” You nodded, giving her a quick hug. “You need me to wait outside with you?”

“No, no,” You shook your head. You couldn’t ruin her night even more through your petty questioning of why, why, why. After giving Sieun a quick kiss on the cheek, you made sure she went straight over to Changbin and was safe before you left the house. It took you a solid five minutes to even try to wade through the bodies and you were thankful you were leaving -  you really didn’t have the headspace for that.

Standing outside, you rubbed your hands over your arms to try and gain some warmth. You’d never been great with cold, and although the summer nights weren’t as biting on your skin, it was still unpleasant when you didn’t have the body of a friend next to you. It was also your fault for wearing a strapless minidress that was about two seconds from falling down or riding up, or both. 

The car really only took five minutes. You were thankful for this, as Ubers were inherently unreliable and it was getting colder, and way too loud in the house behind you. Scurrying down the front steps, you didn’t look at the car until you were about a foot in front of it, looking up at the vehicle. 

The car was very familiar. You weren’t sure if the few drinks you’d consumed had made your eyesight go funny, but… no, that definitely was Sieun’s car. You could see inside the car, a lot cleaner than when she picked you up from the airport but still looking half broken. And… Oh God. She’d really done you dirty this time.

Seungmin was sitting in the driver’s seat, and he rolled the window down upon your arrival. “Are you getting in?” 

“No.” You blurted, arms crossed over your chest. “Why are you driving Sieun’s car?”

“Mine’s in for a service,” He responded, eyes racking over your figure. “You look freezing, brat. Get in.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to have to get out and grab you, am I?” He said, eyes narrowing at you. You blanched. He was kinda scary tonight. With a sigh, you made haste to the other side of the car, and heard him mumble “thought not”.

You buckled up your seatbelt when in the passenger seat, and tried to reach over to fiddle with the aircon. The car was cold, too, and you found yourself even more on edge now that you were sitting with Seungmin in a confined area. 

Fiddling with the aircon, you felt Seungmin bat your hand away. “It’s broken.” You turned to look at him, completely silent, and then you saw it. He was in his baseball uniform. Tight pinstripe trousers on those long legs and a loose jersey on his upper body, hair almost flattened from his hat. It still looked good, blonde streaks breaking up the dark mop of hair on his unfairly pretty face. 

“Hello?” He waved a hand over your face. “Are you deaf now, brat? It’s broken.”

“Yeah, sorry,” You mumbled, turning to face out the window. You sensed Seungmin tensing, before he sighed and started the engine to the car. The car started to speed away from Changbin’s house before you even recognised it, too holed up in your head. 

Seungmin sighed again when you were still silent, no noise circulating the small space of the car. “What’s wrong with you lately?”

You turned to him, blinking. “Huh?”

“I’m asking what’s wrong with you lately. I’ve barely seen you. You haven’t been bickering at me, haven’t tried to physically fight me lately. What’s going on?”

You screwed your face up in confusion. “You don’t even care, Seungmin, so why are you asking?”

“Of course I care,” Seungmin’s eyebrows furrowed. He was staring at the road, not looking at you even as your eyes raked over his body unashamedly. “I don’t completely hate you, brat. You just piss me off a lot of the time. So, what’s wrong?”

Gazing at the bulge in his trousers, you realised you needed to stop being so thirsty and reply. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Why did you say that? Why was that the thing that came out of your mouth?

“Funny, because you seem to always want to talk,” Seungmin snickered, one hand tight on the steering wheel. His other arm rested on the armrest, looking the epitome of comfort and relaxation while you felt like you were dying. His remark made you burn with anger. How dare he? You don’t even talk that much, really. “I mean, can’t really get you to stop talking, so-”

“Shut up!” You shrieked. “You wanna know what’s wrong? You. You’ve been pissing me off so much lately, Seungmin. First, it’s the baseball uniform. Like, do the trousers have to be that tight?! Then, you stop me kissing Chan, and make me like, reconsider our whole dynamic for a hot second. Oh, and then, you kiss Dahyun, and that just- that just made me feel all weird. I didn’t like it, I felt weird.”

It was silent for a beat. Another beat passed, and Seungmin was brushing his tongue over his teeth in silent thought. Then, he was pulling into a layby on the side of the quiet road you were driving down, and he unbuckled his seatbelt. The engine switched off and Seungmin turned to you, eyes gazing directly into yours.

“Feel weird how?” He questioned. You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

“How did it feel weird, brat? You felt confused, maybe a bit sick, awkward even? Upset?” All the emotions Seungmin was quick firing at you had you nodding. You had felt all of those things. Then, all of a sudden, Seungmin was lunging towards you and pressing his plump lips against yours. You gasped, hands going to his broad shoulders. When you felt the material of his baseball jersey, you realised you kind of didn’t want to pull away, and you brushed your lips against his in a response to his movement.

When a second passed, Seungmin’s tongue was pressing into your mouth with fervour, one large hand going to the back of your head to keep you in place. You whimpered into the kiss, your tongue dancing against his and your fingernails digging into his shoulders. When Seungmin eventually pulled away, you chased his lips subconsciously, pouting when he just stared at you. 

“How did that feel?”

“Seungmin-”

“How did that feel, brat? Fucking answer me,” His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, slick with spit from his filthy kiss. You moved to encase his thumb in your mouth, keeping eye contact as your tongue swirled around it. 

Letting his tongue drop out of your mouth, you undid your seatbelt, moving closer to the figure next to you. “Felt good.”

Seungmin hummed, hands moving to grab your hips. He effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, your core settled right on top of the bulge in his fucking baseball trousers. You squirmed, hands moving to brush his hair out of his face. It was a strangely intimate moment, your fingers in his hair. “It feels good because we like each other.”

“Mm, no. Not possible,” You insist. Seungmin’s lips turned up into a smile, his eyebrow raised. “We bicker all the time, and-”

“And you got just so pissed at me kissing Dahyun, just like I lost it over you kissing Chan. I saw you staring at my ass in my game, and in all honesty, I’m staring at your thighs in that dress right now.” 

You look down at your thighs. They were spread immodestly, plush flesh slung over Seungmin’s thinner legs. Your dress had ridden up with your movement, and your core was barely covered by a strip of black lace that you referred to as underwear. It could barely be considered as underwear. Turning your attention back to Seungmin, you saw him still staring at your thighs, a hungry look in his eyes. 

“But- we argue all the time. You boil my blood, to be honest,” You admit, feeling a bit sheepish sitting on top of him like that. Seungmin let out a small laugh, hands moving to brush up and down your thighs. The feeling of his warm hands on your bare skin made you sigh, inching closer for more touch. 

“You piss me off too. You piss me off so much, I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name and crying. Is that fucked up?” Seungmin spoke, licking his lips. His attention went up to your own lips, to which you were nervously biting your bottom one. “I liked you when you were shy and quiet and you barely spoke. When you became stubborn, and outspoken, I liked you even more. It made me want to fuck you into submission, brat.”

You could literally feel yourself getting wet. Fuck you into submission? Now that sounded fucking amazing. You weren’t surprised he had the exact same sexual interests as you. You were a brat through and through. It’s where the nickname came from, after all. 

“Fuck me then,” You kissed his lips chastely, feeling him groan deeply into your mouth. He entertained you for a few seconds, a filthy swap of spit and tongue before he was pulling away. Your chest heaved, fingers digging into his shoulders once again. “Fuck me. Please, I’ll beg! I don’t care, just-“

“Shut the fuck up, brat,” Seungmin admonished. Your mouth instantly clenched shut in reaction, toes curling in your shoes. He threw his head back, eyes shut as if he was trying to control himself. He was just as affected as you. After a moment passed, he looked back at you, eyes still just as dark. “I’m not fucking you in Sieun’s car. I’ll take you home and fuck you nice and full in my bed. Does that sound good?”

You found yourself nodding, and Seungmin let you reposition yourself back in the passenger seat. You had never felt more excited in your life. Except, when he tried to start the ignition with the key, the car spluttered a few times and then stopped altogether. You blinked at the car. Seungmin took in a sharp inhale of air. He tried to turn the key again, and the car rocked as if in protest, but didn’t start. It was dead.

“Okay, fuck me in the car then?” You questioned, turning to face Seungmin again. You saw him almost laugh, lips curling, before he was shaking his head at you. 

“I like you too much to treat you like that.”

“Seungmin, you treat me badly everyday. It’s our whole thing.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re my girl now. It’s different. We’re still going to bicker like mad, but I’m not having our first time be in a fucking car. Especially not one owned by my sister,” Seungmin sighed, long fingers reaching into his pocket. He clicked a few buttons before he landed on Chan’s contact. It didn’t even ring once before Chan picked up. “Hey, old man. So, we’re stuck in Sieun’s car, it’s finally died. No, I’m not with Sieun. Yes, I’m with her. Chan, can you stop asking questions and just come and save us?”

Your chest was still heaving when you heard rushed murmurs. His girl? He’d called you his girl, and surprisingly… you weren’t all that mad about it. He was sexy, and he was rude. But wasn’t that your type anyway? Taller than you, stoic, bitchy and could actually fuck you good. The last statement was something you had no doubt about, the way he’d effortlessly moved you onto his lap like that… you were squirming in your seat just thinking about it, clenching your thighs together. You didn’t even hear the click of the phone when Seungmin hung up, still focused on trying to get some friction on your core.

“Stop being a brat,” Seungmin demanded. You pouted, turning to him, to which he met your gaze with a steely glare. “I’m sure you can wait until we get home. Chan’s on his way.” How fucked up is it that even though he’s still being mean, he’s just making you like him more?

It wasn’t long before Chan’s sleek black car pulled up in front of Sieun’s. Luckily, you’d parked on a housing street where not many cars passed, so it’d be alright for Sieun’s car to stay there until the morning. Seungmin was instantly unbuckled and out of the car, baseball uniform tight on his legs as he walked over to your side. When you got out of the car, you expected him to walk away from the car straight away, but he had his arm around your waist tightly as if he was escorting you to the other vehicle. You even saw Chan’s confused expression in the driver’s seat. 

Chan only looked more confused when Seungmin followed you into the backseat and sat next to you, leaving no space. “Uhm, so. Back to yours then, Seungmin? We can sort the car tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin agreed, quiet as his warm hand went to rest on your thigh. Subconsciously, your legs spread to allow him access, and you heard him sigh next to you. Chan started the engine, speeding off down the road. He seemed on edge, turning the radio up loud. 

You stared at the rearview mirror, seeing Chan focusing on the expanse of road in front of him. With one of your boldest ever moves, you grabbed Seungmin’s hand, placing it on the front of your panties where you were soaking through the lace. Seungmin leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear. 

“You want me to finger you while he drives us home? That’s dirty, pup,” Seungmin murmurs. You let out a shaky breath, head rolling onto his shoulder. “Maybe I shouldn’t. You’re too desperate, I don’t think you’ve worked for it yet. Let’s make out a little, how’s that?”

You nod eagerly, fingers moving to grasp on his biceps. “Yeah- I need something, Seungmin. I think I’m going to die, you’re so hot in that fucking uniform, I-“

“You’re filth,” Seungmin groaned. “Fucking- c’mere.” His hand went to the back of your head, yanking your hair back before his lips were pressed against yours.

His tongue pressed his spit into your mouth in the most sexual kiss you’d ever had, and you let out a soft sigh at the feeling. His lips were so soft, so plump against yours and it weirdly just felt right - you liked him a little more when he was kissing you until you were breathless over when he would make fun of you. 

“Okay!” You’d forgotten Chan was even there until his hands clapped together. You both turned to look at him, your lips kiss-bitten and swollen. You were outside Seungmin’s house. When did you even get there? You blinked, staring at Chan. He gave you a wide smile. “I’m so glad you guys have worked things out, but I really don’t want my car soiled. Please go home.”

“Thanks for the lift, old man.” Seungmin was dragging you out of the car by your wrist, all the way up the driveway and into the house. Before you knew it, he was taking you up the stairs, too, and you were standing in front of his door.

Seungmin’s bedroom door. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d even been inside. It used to be littered with figurines and music paraphernalia, and you had no idea what it would look like now. When Seungmin pushed open the door, it looked a lot cleaner and less immature, pristine grey sheets tucked into the corners like a hotel room and only a few baseball items littered around. 

He turned to you, pressing a peck to your lips. “Are you sure you want to fuck me? I have to warn you beforehand, I can get a little…”

“Mean?” You giggle. Seungmin nods, a smile on his lips. “I like mean. I thought I made that obvious.” 

“And I like bratty girls who need to be hurt until they cry. Are you a little painslut, brat?” You nod at his words. You couldn’t think of anything better, molten hot need rushing through you at the mere idea. “Good. Get naked for me and lay on my bed.”

Scurrying over to his bed, you just couldn’t believe you were actually about to do this. You were about to fuck the guy who you absolutely hated a month ago. You would’ve never dreamed of this - but now, it had you thinking. All of the bickering, all of the pissing each other off - had you just been trying to wind each other up for a specific response? Had you been doing it to get his attention? The thought hurt your brain, but you knew one thing. You wanted to fuck Kim Seungmin so fucking bad, and fuck whatever happened afterwards.

The fabric of your dress dropped to the floor once you’d unzipped it, the fabric pooling at your feet. You kicked it away, leaving yourself braless with just underwear on. Seungmin’s eyes trailed down your body, humming when you settled back against his sheets. 

That’s all he did for a while. He just looked at you, taking your full appearance in with wandering, claiming eyes. You found yourself meeting his gaze when he looked at your face. His trousers were even tighter than before, a long, hard erection pressing against the fabric. Letting your palms wander up your tummy, a delicate, grazing touch that made you squirm, you landed on your chest and tugged on your nipples.

“Are you gonna fuck me now, Seungie?” The nickname dropped from your mouth before you could even process it. Seungmin scoffed, before he was pulling his jersey off with haste. It left him bare, exposing soft, milky planes of skin to your eyes. His body was lean yet toned, looking like the muscles would ripple under your fingers but feel so velvety at the same time. It was the perfect representation of his personality. 

He was on the bed quicker than you’d expected, lunging towards you like a primal animal stalking its prey. You gazed up at him when his movement landed him above you, your legs spread around his hips. All that was heard throughout the room were deep breaths when his bulge situated against you through your underwear, the puffs of air spanning across your skin where he leaned above you. 

“Should I fuck you?” He mumbled. You nodded slowly, letting your hips roll up against his. Seungmin licked his lips in response, hands going to pin your hips down. “Tell me what you like.”

You whimpered when his lips went to your neck, sucking on a spot underneath your jaw that felt so, so sensitive. “I like... Rough. Pain. I like it rough, I like being treated like I’m beneath you, but then- God, Seungie- you need to- I need to cum, when we fuck. Please?”

“Men don’t make you cum often, brat?” You shook your head, whining again when he sucked a hickey into your collarbone sharply. “That’s a pity. I bet you look so fucking beautiful when you cum, so desperate. I think I’ll let you cum.”

“Thank you,” You moaned lowly when he trailed his lips further down your body. His lips encaptured one of your nipples, a hard peak so sensitive to his loving tongue. The moonlight shone through his curtains, highlighting the new hairstyle he had and his button nose when he sucked on your breast. As if he’d been building up to it, Seungmin let his teeth bite into your nipple sharply, and you positively squeaked at the sensation. 

Letting your nipple pop out of his mouth, Seungmin grinned up at you. “Good?”

“More, more. Please, hurt me, please-”

“Hurt you?” He shifted again, looming over you in that dangerous, almost territorial way. “What if I slapped you? On your face. Would you like me to make that pretty face red?”

You gasped, eyes rolling back at the mere idea. He ground his bulge into you, waiting for your answer. “I- I love that, please, Seungmin, slap me. Oh my God, please, I think I’m gonna die-” 

You were cut off with a harsh smack to your cheek. Your head rolled, gasping in the aftermath of the pain. It should’ve put you off, it should’ve hurt too much, it should’ve made you question if he really liked you - but all you could think was again, please. That’s all you could say, too, begging him to slap you again. 

“Fucking filthy brat,” He grumbled, hand swinging again to slap you across the face. When your head tried to roll to the side again, he gripped your cheeks with his thumb and finger. You whined incoherently when he looked down at you, squishing your cheeks, until he was letting spit dribble into your mouth. “Mine.”

“Yours,” You nod, agreeing, and Seungmin groans at the sound of you saying it. You heard the rustling of fabrics, the moving of bedsheets and then his cockhead was positioned at your sopping wet hole, panties pulled to the side. You tried to buck your hips into it, trying to catch his cockhead and lure him inside, but his grip pushed you back down. 

“Tell me again. You’re mine, yeah? No more kissing Chan,” Seungmin rubbed the leaking tip against your hole, making you attempt not to squirm again. “No more arguing with anyone that isn’t me, brat. I’m your punching bag, yeah? You take all your anger out on me and I’ll fuck you nice and hard afterwards, hurt you the way you like. That’s what you’ve always done it for, right?”

Your brain was fuzzy. Yes, that’s what you’d always done it for. You had always done it to get a rise out of him, and now that you were being put in your place, it made you feel like you were running a hundred miles an hour through a sandstorm. 

“Yes, ‘m yours, Seungie, please, can I have it? Need it,” You whine, head thrown back against his soft pillows. Seungmin coos at you condescendingly. 

“Do you? But what about prep, brat? It’ll hurt otherwise, won’t it?” Despite his words, he’s pressing the head of his cock inside of you. The stretch was blinding, making your toes curl and hands dig into the pillows. 

“I- I want it to hurt.”

“Of course you do,” Seungmin sneers, before he’s pushing his whole cock inside you at once. It’s long, pressing against your cervix as he bottoms out and your eyebrows furrow, jaw dropping in a silent moan. “That pussy’s so wet, fuck. I turn you on that much?”

“It turns me on to argue with you, turns me on when you’re mean- fucking, Seungmin, please, move,” You were admitting something you hadn’t quite admitted to yourself just yet, but when Seungmin started to snap his hips against yours, your brain went clear of all thoughts. “Ah, oh my fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck- hnng-”

“‘S good? You’re taking me so well, pretty little brat, you want a reward?” You nodded at his words, but you weren’t braced for his hand smacking your cheek once again. You reeled, eyes feeling blurry as his hips picked up the pace. He was breathing heavily on your cheek, warm breath fanning over even warmer skin. “Was that good? You want more?”

“Please, Seungie, please, more, slap me again, harder,” He slapped your opposite cheek this time, a welcome relief from your reddened cheek. The problem was that when his hand collided with your skin, you felt yourself seize up and - oh. You were cumming. “Ah-”

“Fuck, are you cumming that quick? You’re so fucking filthy, pup,” Seungmin groaned, his cock still bullying into your hole. With his pace not slowing, you couldn’t ride out the orgasm properly, and it was just one constant blissful experience. Your eyes rolled back into your head, toes curling with pleasure. “Cumming from me slapping your pretty little face. Dirty fucking bitch.”

“Seungie- I can’t, I can’t take it, please slow down!” You were squealing at that point, fingers digging into the pillows. 

“I don’t think you want me to, do you?”

He was so right. You shook your head, whining out again when he pulled out. Your hole fluttered around nothing, clit still swollen with arousal. Your slick had dripped all the way down to his pristine sheets, tarnishing his once neat room. Seungmin was quick to spin you around, putting you on your tummy with your ass just slightly raised for him. 

Within a brief moment, he was pushing inside of you again. His cock was still wet with your arousal, and your back arched when he bottomed out inside of you for the second time. Seungmin gripped your hair, making your back permanently arched for him. His lips attached to your neck, blonde highlighted hair draping onto your skin. 

“‘S good, so good,” You babbled, trying to push your ass back onto him. Seungmin allowed it this time, his hand moving from your hair to your neck. He squeezed the sides expertly and you whimpered, hands moving to grab his wrist. 

“You like that, don’t you? I’m meant to be your enemy, you dirty bitch, and look at you,” He was chuckling mirthlessly, grinning when you kept babbling. “I guess you like my cock too much. Dumb fucking slut, all I have to do is fill you up and you’re nice and sweet for me.”

“B-Bet you wish you’d done it sooner,” You quip, which would’ve been much more impressive if you hadn’t stuttered it out. “Would’ve shut up for you and been a good girl a long time ago.”

Seungmin hummed. “I think I like you bitchy, brat.”

“I jus’ like you,” You slurred, feeling Seungmin’s pace slow. He’d resorted to a slow, deep grind that had you feeling every inch and every vein on his cock. You could hear him snickering in your ear, and he pressed a cute little kiss to your neck. His free hand went down to your clit, rubbing precise, firm circles against the swollen button.

“Think you can ride me, or are you too cock drunk?” Seungmin hummed. You shook your head rapidly.

“I- too much, can’t-”

“Alright, brat, let me fuck you some more then. I need to cum in this pussy, yeah?” Seungmin was laughing again, and all of a sudden, he’d let go of your neck. You were immediately face planted into the pillows and Seungmin gripped onto your ass, thrusting into you quicker this time. You whined, trying to push back onto him, but he smacked your asscheek in admonishment. Letting your hips shift slightly to allow your hand to meet your clit, you picked up where Seungmin left off with the tight circles. It made the pool of arousal in your tummy clench, and you vaguely realised you were going to cum again. 

“Seungie, please- I want cum, want cum, with me, please-”

“Want me to cum inside you, brat? While you cum around my cock? That’s dirty, pup,” His voice faltered when his hands gripped onto your asscheeks harder, spreading them to see where his cock was entering you over and over. You knew you were soaking, you could feel it - and the wet glide of his length inside of you felt fucking delectable. You recognised no one had fucked you like this before, letting you cum over and over on their cock like this while they held back their own orgasm, and it made your head dizzy. You’d have to come back to Seungmin for more, you thought, and you didn’t hate the thought at all. 

The bed rocking suddenly caught your attention, and you whimpered, trying to alert Seungmin of the noise. The last thing you needed was his parents hearing you get your back blown out by their son, who you claimed to hate. You reached back, trying to grab his arm, but he was groaning loudly, cockhead hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

“Seungie, ‘s too loud, the bed,” You managed to get out, drooling on his pillows. Seungmin let out a loud groan before he was pulling you back onto him, forcing you to fuck back onto his cock.

“And? I don’t care. Pussy’s so fucking good, gonna make me blow, shit,” Seungmin mumbled. “You ready for my cum, brat?”

“Yeah, want it, please, please Seungie, fill me up, breed me!”

“Breed you? You want me to breed this pussy, dirty pup?” He bit your neck sharply, making you keen. You nodded erratically at his words. You couldn’t think of anything better than him filling you up with his cum. “Cum with me. Flood my cock.”

His hand came down on your ass again, and as you felt his hips stall, an unfamiliar warmth filling up your pussy, you let go around him. Your pussy fluttered with delight - probably also confusion, because oh my God, you were cumming twice? With someone else?

It felt messy, juices gliding everywhere as he just rocked his hips a little to ride out your orgasms, and then you were left to fall flat on the bed. He pulled his softening cock out, sighing when your pussy oozed out his cum onto his sheets. He didn’t seem to care about his bed, much more entranced with the sight of your hole gaping after him. 

He’d fucked you so good your pussy was going to remember the shape of his cock forever. That was for sure.

You let yourself drift, brain going blurry until you felt a cloth wiping between your legs. It was cold, slightly wet as it rubbed over your swollen folds, and you whimpered, trying to shift away from the touch.

“Stay still, brat. ‘M just cleaning you up.” You nodded, face still buried in the sheets. It was then that Seungmin finally pulled your panties down, chucking them to the floor and pulling a pair of basketball shorts up your trembling legs. Were they… his? He’d put you in his clothes? Bizarre. You didn’t even react when he spun you over, pulling a baggy t-shirt over your upper body. He’d gotten fully dressed in a plaid pyjama set, baffling you. When had he done that?

You were moved again, positioned on a very firm chest and a bottle of water pressed to your raw lips. You glugged it down thankfully, blinking up at Seungmin. His hair was mussed, but pushed back with a cute Pochacco headband. Wow. He was actually cute. 

There was a beat of silence, then Seungmin spoke. His hand was tracing your scalp, running his fingernails over it. “I meant what I said. You’re my girl. I think you always have been.”

You scoffed. “Yours?! I’m not a possession, Seungmin-”

Seungmin kissed you softly, giggling when you still tried to yell. Had he always reacted this amused when you bitched at him? You realised that… yeah, he had. It really did entertain him. “You’re so cute when you have a go at me like that, you know? Such a brat.”

You twiddled your thumbs together when he pulled away from the kiss, staring at the bottoms of his plaid pyjamas shyly. “So… you wanna be like, together? Since you’re hot, and all.”

Seungmin chuckled again, pulling you closer to his chest. “As long as you never ever stop bitching at me.”

“I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

“I like you that way, brat.”

END. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

EPILOGUE

Sieun stared at you upon your arrival to breakfast. Her parents were preoccupied in the living room, and her eyes settled directly on your neck. You knew that your neck was littered with bite marks, hickies galore, but you’d tried your best to hide it.

��Listen, I’m so happy for you,” She began, hand clasped tightly around her mug. “I know I always ask you for details of sexual escapades, but I kind of don’t need to know about how good my brother is in bed.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” You nod, agreeing. “But he does know where the-“

“Stop!”

A mug of coffee is placed in your hands, made just the way you like it. The steaming liquid is a welcome warmth, as is the kiss that Seungmin presses to your cheek. You blush, staring up at him when he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Good morning, brat.”

[svtiddiess]

Curiosity Killed The Cat Gets You Laid?

Synopsis: It's Halloween night, and you're wandering through the woods you were always warned to stay far away from, searching for vampires. They say curiosity killed the cat, but no one mentioned it could also get you laid.

Pairing: vampire!Jeonghan x afab!reader x vampire!Wonwoo

Genre: suggestive, one shot, vampire! au, supernatural! au

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: blood, injuries, vampires, dry humping, lemme me know if I missed anything!

Note: Happy Halloween! This is my first attempt at a vampire fic so please be nice.

Thank you so much to Indi @wongyuseokie for the amazing banner! She ate for real.

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October 31st, Halloween, the one day you look forward to all year. In this small, sleepy town where nothing ever happens, Halloween is the rare time when everything feels alive. It's ironic, really, that a holiday meant to honour the dead and the supernatural is the only time the town truly comes to life.

Although plenty of celebrations and parties are happening around town, your mind is elsewhere: vampires. Rumours about the woods on the edge of town have been swirling for years. Some say it's home to secret gold mines; others claim there's a hidden graveyard for those who have sinned way beyond redemption, and many point to the string of murders that have occurred there. But what really grabs your attention is the rumour that vampires live there.

You've been told time and time again never to step foot into the woods, but hey, you can't stop curiosity now, can you? And that's why here you are on Halloween night, making your way through the woods you've been told to stay far away from. You chose tonight for this journey because Halloween is when vampires are supposedly most active—at least, that's what the internet said. You're really hoping it wasn't wrong.

The crunch of leaves and the distant hooting of owls greet you as you step into the woods. A chill runs down your spine as you take in your surroundings—the darkness wrapping around the trees gives the forest an eerie, foreboding feel. The shadows twist into strange shapes, making you glance over your shoulder and double-check your surroundings more often than usual.

You mentally curse yourself for not bringing a proper flashlight; your phone flashlight does the bare minimum to light the surroundings. After several minutes of walking, you stop in your tracks. You could swear you've passed this same tree four times already—or is it a different one? Damn, you might be lost.

'This might've been a stupid idea,' you think.

In too deep to back out now, you proceed to go further into the woods, a very bad idea, but your stubbornness overpowers your voice of reason a lot of the time. A sudden howl piercing through the sky stops you in your tracks. Wolves? No, that can't be. You must’ve misheard—it was probably just the wind, you tell yourself. But then, another howl echoes through the woods. Okay, wolves. Definitely wolves.

Quickening your pace, you decide to retrace your steps, hoping that will eventually lead you back to society. As you try to find your way out of the woods, you hear footsteps, multiple footsteps, heading toward you. Not wanting to risk a run-in with wolves, you take off running.

Unfortunately for you, you were never much of an athlete, so you end up tripping over a rock and falling, cutting your palm on the jagged ground. Cursing out loud, you pick yourself up and observe the cut; it was fairly deep, and blood continuously started to pour out of it, staining your hand. You frown and squeeze your hand, hoping to stop the blood from flowing.

Okay, now you definitely need to get out of the woods. If the wolves don’t get you, the inevitable infection from your wound will (though you’re being a bit dramatic). Frowning, you continue to head to where you think you came from.

Stumbling aimlessly through the eerie forest, you suddenly come upon a massive mansion. It looks like something straight out of the Victorian era, with towering spires, gothic architecture, and plenty of decay to match. Your small flashlight barely does it justice, making it hard to fully appreciate the mansion's haunting beauty.

Could this be it…? Remembering the whole reason you ventured into the woods, you head inside the mansion. You're determined to encounter at least one vampire tonight.

The heavy wooden doors groan as you push them open. You take a deep breath as you absorb the sight of the eerie mansion. Inside is a stark contrast to the exterior; it feels much more cohesive, with relatively recent furniture and a sense that the place isn’t falling apart.

The air stilled. It became quiet, too quiet. The only sound you can hear is the beating of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears. Gulping, you shakily make your way towards what you assume is the fireplace. It was dark, perfectly in line with the gothic theme that enveloped the entire building.

Above you hung a large portrait of two men, hauntingly beautiful, with pale, almost white skin and dark maroon eyes that seemed to pierce through you. Their jet-black hair framed their faces perfectly. They wore white blouses that you assume are from the Victorian era, adorned with very expensive jewellery. One man was slightly shorter than the other, but his looks would put any model to shame; his longer hair framed his face beautifully, making you think, "a fallen angel". The taller man had shorter hair and more sharper features, yet he appeared just as ethereal. His mesmerising eyes seemed to draw you in, almost as if they were sucking your soul. Another striking feature was their lips, a deep red, almost as rich as their eyes.

"Damn, if these guys are the vampires, then I wouldn't mind getting my blood sucked by them," you muse out loud.

"Oh really now?" A voice purred next to your ear. You whip your head around to see who it is, only to be greeted with nothing.

"W-Who was that?!" You shout, cursing under your breath as your voice comes out shakier than you'd like.

"I’m sure you already know who, bunny," a voice whispers from behind. You spin around, but there's only darkness.

"I-I know how to fight!" You yell, trying to sound confident.

"Ooh, a fighter. I like that," a deeper voice purrs, this time right next to you.

Suddenly, your phone is snatched from your hand, plunging you into complete darkness. Panicking, you throw punches into the air, hoping to hit something—anything—but you freeze when a hand catches your fist.

"She really is a fighter, Wonwoo," the first voice chuckles; even his laughter seems to have a surreal feel to it. You hear another low chuckle from behind, which you assume is Wonwoo.

Wonwoo then wraps his arms around your waist, plunges his nose into the crook of your neck, and takes a long whiff.

"You smell absolutely divine, doll," he moans; you can't help but shiver at his actions.

Suddenly, the room flickers to life with candlelight, making the already creepy mansion even more eerie. You can now see the man standing before you, and you gasp; it's the same man from the portrait, the one with the longer hair.

He gently uncurls your injured fist, running his tongue slowly along the wound, and lets out a moan. Your breath catches at the sight, and you can't help but shiver at his actions.

"She likes that, Jeonghan," chuckles Wonwoo. You blush at Wonwoo's words, embarrassed cause it's true.

"You want this just as bad, don't you, bunny?" Jeonghan purrs before licking another stripe up your palm, causing you to let out a soft whimper.

"Don't even try and deny it, doll; we can hear your heartbeat," whispers Wonwoo before licking the shell of your ear.

You gulp, your mouth dry as sandpaper, and your heartbeat thunders in your ears. Sure, you came into the woods hoping to encounter vampires, but now that they're standing right before you, you're unsure what to do. They're so alluring, their very presence making your head spin.

Wonwoo leans down, gently nipping at the skin of your neck, making your heart lurch. You can feel him smirk against your skin.

"It has been a while since we had a blood servant," he mumbles against your skin. Jeonghan hums, a small smirk painting his face.

"What do you say, bunny? Want to become our blood servant?" Jeonghan purrs.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, completely at a loss for words. Yes? No? If you say yes, are you doomed to serve them until death? If you say no, will they kill you on the spot? Your mind races, spinning with uncertainty. Maybe coming out here wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Looks like our little bunny is unsure," snickers Jeonghan.

"How about we give you a taste, then?" Wonwoo whispers before sinking his teeth into your neck.

You gasp and freeze, paralysed by the sudden sharp prick. You brace yourself for intense pain, but instead, you're flooded with overwhelming pleasure. It feels as though every nerve in your body is igniting, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you. Your arousal soaks your panties, and you can already feel it sticking to your skin. You've never experienced anything like this before—nothing even close. You close your eyes, savouring the sensation as your head spins. It feels like you're floating.

"I can smell your arousal from here, bunny. Does it feel good?" Smirks Jeonghan, you can only whimper in response.

"Barely drunk from you, and you're already dripping," Wonwoo chuckles against your neck.

He spins you around to face him, and you instinctively lick your lips as you take him in. Deep maroon eyes with a piercing gaze, skin so pale it's almost white, making his blood-stained lips stand out even more. He looks at you with a smirk.

He cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste your own blood—metallic and tangy. You melt into the kiss, already addicted to the way his lips feel against yours. Desperate for more, you press up against Wonwoo and start grinding against him. You can feel Wonwoo smirk into the kiss; Jeonghan chuckles at your actions.

"If you become our blood servant, I can guarantee you pleasure beyond what you've ever felt, bunny," hums Jeonghan.

Pulling away from the kiss, you turn toward Jeonghan; your mind clouded with thoughts of them and nothing else. Any sense of reason is long gone. Without a second thought, you agree—you'd say yes to anything at this point.

"Good choice, bunny," smirks Jeonghan before effortlessly carrying you. You gasp and wrap your arms and legs around him.

He sinks his teeth into your neck and starts drinking your blood. You let out a moan at the euphoric feeling washing over your body. Maybe it's because you're already lightheaded from the first time, but this feels ten times more intense. It's as if you've died and gone to heaven, but what's happening is far from heavenly.

Your whole body trembles, and you feel like you have just had an orgasm. You whine out Jeonghan's name as you feel him squeeze your ass. He detaches his lips from your neck and runs his tongue over the bite mark; you shiver at his actions.

Panting, you glance down at the vampire. His pupils are blown wide, lips stained with blood, and a smirk curling on his face. You catch a glimpse of his sharp canines as he watches you.

"We're lucky to have caught such a pretty blood servant," smirks Wonwoo, causing Jeonghan to chuckle.

"Let's take care of the aching between your thighs," hums Jeonghan. "I bet you want to be filled up with our cocks, right bunny?"

"I bet she can take both of us at once," chuckles Wonwoo, causing you to clench around nothing.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Jeonghan smirks before heading toward what you assume is their bedroom.

And that's how, on Halloween night, you became a blood servant—bound to serve the two vampires for the rest of your life.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @tomodachiii @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jennwonwoo

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[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. you dope, have a player ‘bout to choke, i was at a loss for words first time that we spoke.

CHAPTER ONE! pairing, paige bueckers x teammate!oc. notes, new ju series just dropped who clapped… i’m so excited for this so please let me know what you think and what you wanna see!!! it’ll feature a few different tropes (these bitches are complicated as hell) and i’ll be using different songs. this was also supposed to be out yesterday whoops. warnings, not much just some slight rivalry.

april, 2022

paige sat on the floor, her back pressed against azzi’s bed, eyes staring blankly at her phone screen. the dorm was packed to the brim, all of her teammates crammed into the room, waiting for the news to drop. she wasn’t sure why her palms felt clammy, or why her heart was hammering harder than it should be for a thursday night in late april… or she was completely sure and refused to come to terms with it.

we’re really doing this again, huh?

it had been weeks since the national championship loss, and yet the sting still hadn’t faded. south carolina. dawn staley’s generational ran gamecocks who got almost everything, including that damn sana caruso.

for years, their careers had paralleled each other, both rising basketball stars, always in the spotlight, always part of the same conversations. and yet, for reasons paige couldn’t quite figure out for the life of her, they had never crossed paths. sana was stubborn, that much she knew. paige remembered the day south carolina landed her—it had been all anyone could talk about. opinions flew in every direction: sana should’ve gone to stanford, to ucla, anywhere but there. paige couldn’t lie—part of her had wondered why uconn hadn’t even been in the mix, but it was now, and the blonde felt like she was reliving that evening in 2019 all over again.

wherever she ended up, it would be some news that would flip the script. impact their season, because sana was undoubtedly everywhere. the defensive mastermind, the one who didn’t care if she was 5’10 going up against post players towering over her. she locked them down, put up numbers, and somehow always found her way into the conversation, even when paige tried not to pay attention.

they were talked about like rivals, the head of every one of their matchups, but there had never been any real competition, at least not on the court. paige couldn’t remember a time they’d even properly interacted. but despite how much they were constantly compared, sana had made it painfully clear that paige might as well not exist in her world, and it was infuriating as hell.

“you think she’s really coming?” azzi asked, her voice soft and almost like she didn’t believe it herself as she cut through paige’s thoughts. no one did.

aaliyah, sprawled out on the floor, rolled her eyes. it’d been pushing 10 o’clock, and almost everyone had class in the morning. what had that been stopping, though? absolutely nothing. “if dorka doesn’t hurry up with the article, we’ll never know.”

“hey, be patient.” dorka threw her hand up, shooting her teammates some tight-lipped grin as she furiously scrolled through her phone. “they’re slow with these drops.”

“thats that uconn wifi,” aubrey mumbled, sending everyone into different variations of a laugh.

nika snorted. “nah, she’s right. it’s either that or we’ve got like, fifty million people trying to figure out where sana’s going.”

“bro, you know espn’s probably crashed by now,” aaliyah chipped in, leaning back on her elbows.

paige didn’t know why, but it bugged her that sana had never really acknowledged her—like, at all. not a comment, not a follow, not even a glance her way during games. paige wasn’t used to that. she wasn’t used to being ignored, and their minimal interactions only made the internet have more of a field day with that non-existent rivalry, and if sana weren’t to say anything, why would paige?

and now here they were, possibly about to be on the same team. paige had no clue how that was going to play out, but the thought of it made her stomach flip. it was like some cosmic joke.

“yo, i’m serious though,” aaliyah said, slowly rising from her spot on the floor. “how wild is this? if she really comes here, we’re stacked. that chip is ours this year.”

the blonde suddenly felt defensive. they didn’t need sana caruso to get that chip for them. “she’s not coming here,” paige blurted, half to herself, shaking her head. “no way.”

“why not?” azzi asked, narrowing her eyes. “i mean, all signs point here, right? unless i’m crazy.”

“yeah, but it’s sana,” paige replied as if it were the most obvious thing, running a hand through her hair. “she does what she wants, she’s the type to pick somewhere else just ‘cause everyone thinks she’s coming here.”

“you sound so stupid! and in denial,” nika snickered, throwing herself back into the couch. “just admit you want her on the team, paige.”

paige shot her a look, but couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “i don’t care what she does.” she pointed at her chest, sinking further into her spot. “she could go anywhere.”

“sure,” dorka added, inserting herself into the conversation. her eyes didn’t leave her screen as she continued to refresh her browser, almost like she didn’t have to. “because that’s exactly why you’ve been all up in your head about her this whole time.”

“hey, wait. don’t do that.” but it was too late, her teammates had already been throwing out their ‘ooh’s,’ like this were some kindergarten class. but the truth was, she couldn’t deny it. there was something about sana that had her all twisted up, more than she cared to admit. maybe it was the way she carried herself, like she didn’t need anyone’s approval, or the fact that she always seemed to be a step ahead. and it didn’t help that she was ridiculously pretty. like, stupidly pretty. the kind of pretty that got under paige’s skin and made her feel something, even when she tried to act like it was no big deal.

maybe that was what really irked her all these years.

“nah, for real, though,” paige said, trying to keep her cool, “she’s different. she’ll probably pull some wild move and end up at notre dame or something.”

“notre dame?” azzi shot her a confused look. “you’re reaching now.”

“i’m just saying!” paige replied through a laugh, although it was mainly just a gesture to defend herself. shrugging and throwing her hands up in surrender. “she doesn’t follow the crowd. everyone thinks she’s coming here because it makes sense, but you know sana—”

“you don’t know sana,” aubrey cut in with a laugh. “that’s the problem.”

“you sound really passionate about this, paige,” nika laughed out, always the one getting the biggest kick out of things like this. she was always in the mood to tease her twin.

paige opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped short, because aubrey wasn’t exactly wrong. she didn’t know sana, at least not personally. she’d known this version she made up of her in her head, the one that frustrated her to no end, the one she couldn’t ever figure out. and while she did that, sana, with her perfectly highlighted curls that framed her perfect face that always held that stupid fucking smirk probably hadn’t even thought twice about paige bueckers once in her damn life.

“you’ve definitely thought about this way too much,” azzi said, chuckling herself. “like, more than any of us.”

paige threw her head back, groaning. “why is this about me all of a sudden?”

“‘cause you’re acting like she’s been living in your head rent-free for years,” nika teased again, her next laugh coming out in a sputter. this entire thing had clearly been amusing someone.

“yeah, okay, whatever,” paige mumbled, crossing her arms.

“hey, don’t worry,” dorka said, eyes glued to her phone as she moved her hand to rest on paige’s thigh comfortably, consolingly. “you’ll have plenty of time to figure out what’s going on in that head of hers.”

paige raised a brow, lifting her head and turning to the other blonde. “what do you mean?”

dorka’s grin widened as she looked up, everyone’s attention turning back to her. “because she’s coming here. she’s ours, guys!”

for a second, the room went dead silent, the words hanging in the air like they needed time to settle in.

then, chaos.

sana caruso is a uconn husky, meaning paige bueckers could finally figure out what made the girl tick.

july, 2022

the gym was full—more than usual. everyone was there for the first day of summer workouts, even the players sitting out due to injuries. there was the familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor, and the faint trace of cleaning solution still lingering from the early morning scrubs. july in storrs was hot, too. the kind of heat that clung to your skin and didn’t let go, even inside the gym.

the team was standing around near the sidelines, waiting to start. geno had the new recruits huddled, running through some preseason talk, but all paige could think about was sana—standing a few feet away. they’d obviously been in the same room before, the same gym before, but today felt all too intimate. as it should, though. they were teammates now. hell, they’d be sharing the backcourt.

this would be the first time she’d see her up close—really up close—since everything went down. the transfer news, the headlines, the pics of sana decked out in uconn gear flooding her feed (a sight paige needed to mentally prepare for because damn, did she look good in white and navy blue). it had all felt surreal then, but now, it was about to be real real.

what’s she even thinking right now? paige wondered, feeling a slight pinch of annoyance. because as much as she wanted to believe this was just another day in the gym, it wasn’t. not for her.

when handshakes started, paige couldn’t even hear her own thoughts due to the loudness as everyone went through the routine of greeting the new faces. paige made her way through her teammates, exchanging quick daps and nods, her focus drifting back to sana more times than she’d like to admit.

the blonde was normally more noisy, doing everything in her power to get on with the people she’d be spending the season with. but right now, her interaction with sana would either confirm or deny every assumption she’s ever had, and that was quite frankly the only thing consuming her mind.

she could feel the intensity in her chest when it came time to shake sana’s hand. she stepped forward, hand extended, ready to make some kind of connection, but sana barely looked at her. it was quick, almost dismissive. no eye contact, no words exchanged. paige pulled her hand back, clenching her jaw as she watched her move into conversation with azzi, who seemed to earn a more genuine response than paige could get. a smile, and a giggle that could’ve been mistaken for music.

seriously?

the team broke off, moving toward the court. this’ll be a long practice.

they lined up, and as they went through the typical routine—light shooting drills, ball-handling, footwork—it became clear that sana wasn’t just good. she was a standout. and for someone who was only 5’10 in the basketball world, she carried herself like she could take on anyone, work with anyone, too, no matter the size or position.

“she got handles,” nika muttered under her breath. the comment was meant for the girls around her to catch and respond to, but paige just stood, eye squinted and arms crossed.

“handles? she got vision too,” ice brady, a freshman added, eyes wide as sana weaved through a defense drill, her speed and precision on full display. her ponytail swung perfectly on her head, lip tugged tightly between her teeth as she moved to make a layup. the ball went in, and ayanna moved to grab her rebound. the group cheered her on voluntarily, and paige only moved to turn her head as sana jogged past her to the back of the line, her demeanor as calm and collected as ever. and damn annoying.

the players gathered at the top of the key, forming a loose circle as they got ready to start a more structured scrimmage. paige found herself standing across from sana, their eyes meeting for the first time that morning, but the moment left as quick as it started. sana had her hands on her hips, listening intently to geno as if she didn’t already know what they’d be doing, because the blonde wasn’t supposed to have caught her looking.

“let’s run it!” geno’s voice snapped through the gym again, clapping his hands once, and the team split into two sides as directed, ready to play.

as the scrimmage began, paige tried to shake off the weird tension and focus, although it wasn’t really working. nothing had ever managed to get her off-game this bad. it was the escape, after all, so why did it feel like it would be causing her more problems now? she ran the court as a point guard, eyes scanning for plays, calling out switches, directing traffic. but every time the ball moved to sana, paige noticed the same thing—she’d find a way to dish it to someone else. anyone but her.

what the hell?

on a fast break, paige found herself wide open again, just outside the three-point line. she threw her hands up, calling for the pass. sana had the ball at the top of the key, and paige practically begged for some type of acknowledgment that she didn’t get. but instead of passing, sana faked it and lobbed it to aaliyah under the basket for an easy layup. paige didn’t even move. she just stood there, hands still raised, eyes burning into her ponytail.

“alright, switch it up!” geno called, and the team rotated.

the ball was in her hands now, and she dribbled down the court, eyes searching for a play, trying to shake off the irritation in her chest. the worst part was that no one seemed to notice, because sana had a way of singling the blonde out in a way that made her think she was fucking crazy. she passed to nika, and they rotated again, the pace of the scrimmage picking up.

it finally came to a head when they were working on a transition drill. paige had the ball, racing down the court, and sana was on the wing. paige pushed the tempo, looking for an outlet, but sana cut her off at the last second, forcing her to pull up and reset the play.

that was it. paige lost it.

“yo! if we’re gonna work the backcourt together, you’ve gotta work with me,” she snapped, her voice only turning a few rather concerned heads. she stopped dribbling, staring at sana, her breath coming out in heavy bursts.

sana finally turned to face her, full body and everything, their eyes locking for what felt like the first time all day.

she wasn’t angry, wasn’t startled by paige’s tone. she was calm like she always was, and the slight tilt of her head only pissed paige off more. she was looking right at her now, really looking, and all the playful cockiness that always held some undercurrent, yet always came so naturally to paige, was just gone.

damn.

she didn’t know why she was still standing there, seething, waiting for sana to say something after her outburst. and when she finally spoke, it wasn’t the apology or acknowledgment paige might have been expecting.

“you’re pressing,” sana said, her voice maddeningly casual. like there had been no heat from the beginning. “you’re rushing everything. it’s like you’re trying to do too much.”

paige blinked, caught off guard. rushing? she almost laughed. her jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the ball. she hated how calm sana was, how she managed to deliver criticism like she was just making an observation. “too much?” she shot back, stepping closer. “i’m just trying to get us moving, trying to get you involved. but it seems like you’re more interested in doing your own thing.” she hated that every time she tried to connect with sana on the court, it felt like she was hitting a wall.

but she also hated that she cared about it so much.

sana didn’t break, expression remaining composed, annoyingly unreadable with her short manicured nails digging into her hip. “you think running the floor means you’re the only one who gets to call the shots? that’s not how i play.”

paige blinked, trying to regain her footing, mentally and physically. “you’re not even trying to work with me!” her voice raised a bit as she addressed what had been bothering her before, causing a few heads to turn. the exchange didn’t look entirely friendly after all. “every time i’m open, you’re looking the other way.” she pointed to the court.

sana’s eyes narrowed slightly, some kind of look crossing her face—was it amusement? “it’s not personal, paige. it’s basketball.” it was the first time the blonde’s name left her mouth, first time she felt like an actual person to her, and it still didn’t feel good.

sana, on the other hand, was watching her closely, reading paige’s reaction like she was still deciding how much of this back-and-forth was worth it. she knew she was poking at her ego, but she also thought that ego could use a little deflating. everyone talked about her like she was the second coming of basketball itself, and while sana could respect her talent, the way everyone hung on her every move grated on her.

sana wasn’t jealous. not even a little bit. she wasn’t wired like that. but that didn’t mean she was going to be another cog in the well-oiled bueckers machine. she never liked to make things more complicated than they needed to be, and basketball? basketball was supposed to be simple. play smart, play efficient, make the right decisions. that’s why she was here. that’s why geno recruited her. she didn’t bring flash—she brought results. she played smooth, and if she wasn’t in charge, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone treat her like a sidekick. especially not paige bueckers.

she was willing to work with her, of course. sana was well aware of what her transfer meant, how good it would be for the both of them if people stopped pitting them against each other. but it didn’t mean she would warm up straight away. they’d make an unstoppable duo—if they could just figure out how to coexist.

“look, i’m just saying, you’re pushing too hard. sometimes it’s about playing smart, not playing fast.”

paige’s stomach churned at the implication. she wasn’t just some showboat out there. it felt like a direct shot to everything she stood for.

“you think i’m not playing smart?”

sana raised an eyebrow, her lips curling just slightly. “i think you’re playing like you’ve got something to prove.”

and that stopped paige cold. she’d proven enough. but the way sana was looking at her, cool and detached, like she could see right through her, made her feel small despite her taller figure. it wasn’t anger that sana was giving her—it was indifference. like she didn’t even care enough to be mad.

“run it again!” geno yelled, and they did.

paige inhaled sharply, chewing on her lip as she clutched the ball to her side, watching as sana jogged off, obeying orders immediately. she could feel the eyes of her teammates on her, especially nika, who was biting back a grin from the sidelines, one hundred percent sure her best friend just got schooled. dorka raised an eyebrow at her, silently urging her to keep her cool.

they lined up for the play again, the ball bouncing back into paige’s hands. she hated it, but sana’s words echoed in her head. pressing… rushing… trying too hard. as much as she didn’t want to admit it, maybe she was pressing. maybe she was letting this whole situation get to her in ways she shouldn’t.

when the whistle blew, paige instinctively took control again, charging down the court. but she couldn’t stop herself from hesitating for just a second, looking toward sana on the wing. without overthinking it, she passed the ball to her, her hands moving almost against her will.

sana caught it, knees bent and ready before driving to the basket. she didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. she just played, like she always did. the ball went in, and the play was perfect, but paige didn’t feel satisfied. if anything, she felt worse. it felt like they were already at odds, and the season hadn’t even started yet.

it had worked. but it was because she’d done what sana said. and if it wasn’t personal before, it definitely was now.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 1- Jello at Your Front Door

Summary: 15 years ago, a football and a boy four doors down makes your move to Florida a little more bearable. Now, you're not quite sure how to feel when you find out he's shown up back at home unannounced

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, Frankie has a nickname for reader)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, meeting Frankie for the first time, cute, awkward baby Frankie, a football throw Santi will never forgive you for

A/N: ... Hey.... How y'all doin'.... Remember when I said I was gonna start a different Frankie series months ago? I hope you humbly accept this as my official formal apology for not being able to get my shit together, as I present this offering to you instead 🙂 I started writing this 24 hours ago and I legitimately couldn't stop, so here we are??? I know this is a different style that what I normally write, but here's to trying new things (and hopefully finishing them). I hope you guys enjoy 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Next Chapter

You, Present

“Frankie’s home.” 

You weren’t really sure how to comprehend how the combination of those two words would be one of the worst sucker punches you’d taken to your gut in the better part of the last decade. 

As the sentence replayed over and over in your head, you could think of any other combination of two words that would have scared you less. 

“Hurricane’s coming.” 

“Bomb’s dropping.” 

“World‘s ending.” 

In a universe where things make sense, the response these would elicit from the average person would be reasonable, rational even. When you’ve been given a warning about the way two words have the potential to alter your reality, you can’t help but panic. 

But today, you’ve woken up in a universe where things don’t make sense. 

And what’s worse is, you didn’t even get a warning. 

The statement shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. When you’d seen his truck parked in the driveway four houses down, you knew it had to be him. Anyone else in the world would be caught dead driving the barley mobile piece of metal he’d been traveling in for the better part of 20 years. But Frankie Morales was not anyone else. He’d drive that damn car until the wheels fell out underneath him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten in a stubborn stare down with his 1989 maroon Chevrolet Silverado. You had a sneaking suspicion that today wouldn’t be your last. 

“Why is Fr- Why is he back?” 

You hadn’t intended for your tone to be so bitter, but the taste of Frankie’s name on the tip of your tongue left a taste in your mouth so sour, you wanted to recoil into yourself. 

“Why do you think?” It was clear your mother had no interest in playing into your game of cruel intentions, barely paying you any mind as she glanced out the window, unphased by the looming presence in the Morales’s driveway, “You should go say hello.” 

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of purposely ruining the rest of my day.” You don’t mean for your eyes to roll as far back into your head as they do, but you can’t help it. At this point it seems like an innate, programmed response. Simply the thought of Frankie Morales was enough to dampen your mood; an intentional confrontation was the last thing you needed. 

“You’re going to have to see him at some point, you know. Can’t hide from him the whole time he’s here.” 

Your mom hadn’t even given you the chance to rebuttal, disappearing from your bedroom to leave you to stew in your own resentment, because she knew as well as you that it was pointless to fight back. 

At some point, you’d have to face Frankie. Today, you’d stick to hiding. 

You, Summer of 1999, Age 11

26 total hours trapped in a U-Haul with your family and every item you’d ever owned was not the way you had planned to spend your last week of summer before starting middle school. You’d hoped that the nearly 3 day journey from Michigan to Florida would be long enough to help you cope with your distress. Unfortunately, you weren’t shocked that cramped quarters and unclear driving directions in the midst of uprooting your life wasn't doing much to lighten your mood. 

Your parents had promised you the move would be worth it. That starting a new life halfway across the country would be good for your family. You weren’t quite sure what positives Florida posed to you, but even at the ripe age of 11, it didn’t take a genius to realize that “starting over somewhere new” was code for “trying to keep your dad alive.” 

The doctors back home were thrilled to tell you about the new, potentially life saving treatment for his rapidly progressing colon cancer. You were thrilled too, until that new, life saving treatment meant moving 1,300 miles from home. 

Not once did you protest- keeping your dad a living, breathing part of your life was better than having to say goodbye to your best friends, but it still didn’t mean every mile you drove further and further south down I-75 was another grain of salt in your freshly open wound. 

Your parents had tried to incentivise you with all the joys that Florida would have to bring- warm, sunny weather, beaches, being a 3 hour drive away from Disney world, a bigger house, the list went on and on. And while you knew one day you’d find joy in the rewards you’d reap from your sacrifice, you had a feeling that day wouldn’t be coming any time soon. 

It took too many movers to count to finally get your new house to resemble what was supposed to be a home. There was something so unsettling about seeing your furniture reassembled into unfamiliar corners of a place you’d never been. Even the things that were supposed to feel familiar and comforting now felt distant and foreign, scrambled in the walls of your new residence like a child who had shaken up a box of their favorite toys and dumped them out on the ground, leaving behind a mess for someone else to clean up. 

The only solace you could seem to find in the wave of chaos that had washed over your life was the view outside your bedroom window. A quiet escape, perfectly positioned to watch the warm rays of sunset fade behind the rooftops, the night slowly shifting into shades of black and blue as your eyelids became heavy.

Each night as you drifted to sleep, you dreamt about the ways you could be saved from the lonely island you were trapped on. A sole survivor begging to be found. You tossed and turned in the sea of your twisted bedsheets, crying out that there would be someone, anyone who would risk their life to rescue yours. 

On the first two nights, the only response to your pleas was a deafening silence, an insult to injury that you were destined to spend the rest of your life on a godforsaken landmass no one would ever find. On the third night, your cries carried on the winds of the warm summer air, sneaking through the cracks of an open window four doors down. 

“You should go out there and play with those boys down the road! They look like they’re probably about your age!” 

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the two gangly figures racing up and down the street for the better part of the last hour, hoping they wouldn’t catch your passing glances through your living room window as you pretended to watch whatever episode of “Rocket Power” aired next on Nickelodeon. Perhaps the pair boys hadn’t noticed you watching them, but your dad had surely noticed the way you could have cared less about whatever was on the TV in front of you. 

“They’re playing football, I don’t really think they’d probably want me to play.” You huff under  your breath. 

“You’re good at football. Probably better than they are.” Your dad laughs like it’s meant to be funny, but you know he’s serious. He’ll never admit to you out loud he wished his only child would have been a boy, but you’ve never minded playing the role of the son he never had. 

And he’s not wrong. You definitely are a better throw than either of them. 

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that a girl’s asking to go play football with them.” The sigh that follows this is even more annoyed than the last, now too self aware at 11 years old to revert back to the days of approaching kids you’ve never met on the playground and asking to join in without needing to worry about the social repercussions of your actions. 

“Well, you can either pout and pretend to watch TV, or you could go try to make some friends. That’s up to you, Bud.” He smirks at the scrunch in your brow and flair in your nostrils, the same face he knows he makes when he’s been hit by the cold, hard truth he doesn’t like. 

You know he’s right. 

“Fine,” You grumble, reluctantly pushing yourself off the edge of the couch, “But if they’re dumb, I’m coming back home.” 

“Atta girl. Go easy on ‘em, Killer.” 

As you step outside, it feels like you’ve become some sort of jungle explorer, trying to approach a herd of wild animals in their element without startling them to the point of attack. You’d even brought a peace offering to ease the introductions, hoping that your own football would be an appreciated contribution to their game. 

As you make your way down the street, you’re not sure if you’re particularly good at sneaking up on the boys, they haven’t noticed your presence, or worse, they’re actively trying to ignore you in hopes that you’ll go away. 

“H-Hi.” You stammer, half attempting to wave at the back of their heads, nowhere near close to catching their attention. 

“Hello?” This time it’s a little louder, slowly taking a few steps closer, “Hi?” 

God, maybe it’s a fourth option you hadn’t considered and they’re both deaf. 

“Hey!” 

This one finally catches their attention, causing both boys to turn around cautiously, not sure whether they’re more shocked that someone’s interrupted whatever play they’re about to run, or that the person who’s interrupted them is you. 

All of three of you stand in silence for a moment, mind racing in curiosity as you take in the image of clumsy limbs and messy mats of hair stuck to sweaty foreheads. The one boy is shorter, thick, jet black curls sprouting from the top of his head and arms crossed over his chest with a scowl on his face that’s not quite mean, but most definitely not welcoming. 

The other, taller and lankier, a mop of dark brown hairs twisting at the nape of his neck, eyes soft as he glances back and forth between you and his friend. His demeanor is much different, almost nervous compared to the boy standing next to him, fits balled in the pockets of his shorts while the adam’s apple he still needs to grow into bobs in his throat. 

For as much as no one wants to draw in the silent standoff you’ve entered, you started this mess, so you might as well be the first one to fold. 

“H-hi. Sorry, I um, I didn’t wanna interrupt-” 

“I mean, you did.” The shorter boy mumbles, wincing as the nervous one slaps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Jesus, what was that for, asswad?!” 

“Let her talk!” He grunts, sneering at his friend before turning back to you, his face much kinder now than the expression he just gave to his friend. “Sorry. You can um, you can keep talking if you want. Sorry about him.” 

You try not to laugh at the exchange, but it’s hard not to smirk at the way the two have managed to put themselves on display in the thirty seconds you’ve spent talking to them. 

“It’s okay. I um- I just moved in down the street. That green house over there.” All of your eyes shift as you point behind you, signaling where your journey had begun a few moments ago, “I was uh- I was wondering if you guys wanted another person to play with? I- I brought my own football.” 

“Normally you only need one football to play football, duh. Do you even know how football works?” 

In an instant, your heart sinks to your gut, eyes dropping to the ground to watch your feet start to drag across the pavement, back to where you came. But before you can lift the sole of your sneaker from the cement, a voice stops you. 

“She obviously does or she wouldn’t ask, numbnuts! C’mon, Santi, don’t be a dick.” 

Although it’s not directed at you, it’s enough to bring your attention back to the kinder boy, no name yet, but quite positive it’s not also Santi (or asswad). The two of you lock eyes for a moment, a strange sort of calm running through you as his slight half smile reveals his brace covered teeth, looking at you in a way that makes you feel just a little less small. 

“Yeah, you can play with us. I’m Frankie, by the way.” 

Frankie. 

There’s something about his name that fits him so perfectly. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know from the way it rolls off your tongue that it just feels right. 

“Hi, Frankie. I’m Mackenzie.” 

Frankie’s hands are now out of his pockets, a line of defense dismantled after hearing your name. 

“Hello? Have we forgotten about me? There are three of us here, remember?” 

“This is Santi. Well, Santiago, but we all call him Santi.” The way Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend tells you everything you need to know about their friendship, giggling at the way he dramatically pouts as he introduces him. 

“Mackenzie? Isn’t that, like, a last name?” Santi asks, still not yet warmed up to the idea of you, but intrigued enough to ease how tightly his arms are crossed. 

“And? Isn’t Santiago the capital of Chile?” You sass, your mater-of-factness and quick wit making Frankie unintentionally snort. 

“Alright, touché, Christopher Columbus.” Santi mocks, acting tough to try and hide the pink blooming in his cheeks. 

“I like Mackenzie. I think it’s cool.” 

There’s something about the way he says it that you know he means it, wondering why the way hearing your name fall from his lips churns your stomach in a sensation you’d never felt before this moment. 

“Yeah, well, just so you know, Frankie is short for Francisco.” Santi interrupts, trying to find a way to get a jab back at either you or Frankie, at this point he doesn't really care which. 

“Well, last time I checked, there wasn’t a Francisco, Chile.” 

That one sends Frankie into full blown hysterics, boyish snickers taunting his friend, whose attempt to save his namesake has left him the butt of the joke. 

“Will the two of you clowns just shut up and throw the ball? If you’re gonna let her play, Frank, can we at least make sure she can throw?” Santi whines, using every ounce of prepubescent strength he has left to play into his unbothered facade. 

“You can use your ball if you want.” Frankie suggests, shrugging at his indifference to the ball held in your hand compared to the one held in yours. 

“No! If she’s playin’, she’s usin’ our ball!” Santi’s voice trails further away with each step back he takes, settling himself in the middle of the street a few feet down from where you and Frankie stood, not willing to take any more risks when it comes to you, even if it’s something as stupid as a football. 

“Fine by me.” You shrug, happily obliging to his request, Frankie giving you a silent nod of reassurance as he passes his football off to you. 

It’s only now you notice he’s nervous again, one hand back in his pocket as he wriggles his toes in the ends of his worn sneakers while you size up your toss, knowing he’s worried that Santi will never let him live it down if the ball can’t make it more than three feet in front of you. 

Neither of you would know it then, but the silent exchange you make with Frankie as you line up your throw would be the first of many unspoken promises you’d keep to him. What seemed like a simple task,  to prove worthy of his friendship by throwing a football, would turn out to be the most important promise you'll ever make to Fransisco Morales. 

You weren’t ever going to let him down. 

“You can go further back.” You shout, almost offended by the distance Santi had chosen to stand away from you. 

“If you can make it this far, I’ll be impressed.” 

“You promise you’ll go get it after I throw it past you?” 

“I promise, Joe Montana, throw the damn ball.” 

You shrug at Frankie, like he’s supposed to know what comes next. He’s too scared to question either of you, all he can do is let his eyes dart back and forth between you and Santi, knowing there’s no world where both of you can prove your point. What scares him more is that he trusts you more than his friend. 

You line your fingers up on the laces, gripping the leather like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. With a step forward, your arm hurls the ball, two of the three of you standing dumbfounded in the street as you watch it soar further and further past its intended target, spirling through the sky until it bounces off the cement with an acrobatic roll, three times the distances of where Santi had placed himself. 

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You just smile and shrug- it's the best “I told you so” you could give them. 

“Fine. She can stay.” 

To this day, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a compliment from Santi. 

“Nice work, Kenz.” 

Your stomach flips. You try to blame it on the adrenaline of it all, that there was no way a compliment so simple had you wiping your sweaty palms over the denim of your shorts, trying your best to erase any evidence that he was the reason your heart was racing out of your chest. 

Now it’s 15 years later, and as much as you hate him, you still can’t get that goofy, brace faced smile out of your mind. 

Frankie, Present 

There’s a reason he shows up at 1 A.M. Everyone’s asleep. If the world is asleep around him, he’s safe from having to deal with anyone, at least until morning. There’s a part of him that wishes he would have parked his truck down the street, tricking you into thinking that he wasn’t even there. 

It’s hard to justify when you’re the reason he’s back home in the first place. 

When he got the call from his mom, he knew he had to come. He didn't want to, but he knew he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t. 

“Hey, Mamá.” 

“Francisco, how quickly can you make it home?”  

“Mom, I told you, I’m not-” 

“It’s Doug. He’s in hospice.” 

“Fuck. How um- how much longer do they think he has?” 

“When I talked to Michelle, she said they were hoping for a few more weeks. But I’m not sure. He doesn’t look good, mi amor. If you want to say your goodbyes, now’s the time.” 

“O-okay. I can probably be home by tomorrow. Gonna be late though. Is uh- is she, um-” 

“She’s here. For about a week or so already. She keeps looking over at your empty spot in the driveway just like she did all those years you were away. Waiting for you, Francisco.” 

It’s the lump in his throat and ache in his chest that gets him home an hour and fifteen minutes faster than what his GPS said it would. He’s not sure what delusional part of his mind thinks that maybe you’ll be waiting for him when he pulls into the driveway. Maybe it’s the same delusional part of his mind that pictured you sitting there, cross legged on the concrete, staring up at the sky to count stars like sheep, waiting for him to come home all those years ago. 

He’s also not sure why it hurts so bad when he shows up and you’re not there. 

Frankie feels like he’s 16 again, sneaking into his own house in the wee hours of the night, digging the spare key out from under the doormat, attentive to the practiced pattern of how to avoid squeaks in the hinges as he turns the lock behind him, careful not to wake a single sleeping soul. He tiptoes over the 4th stair to the second floor and barely taps the 7th before he finds shelter in his room, successful from his journey. 

Every time he comes home, he can’t help but laugh at the fact his mother refuses to change anything about his bedroom. Everything is in the same place it was the day he left for the Air Force, down to the pile of unfinished homework from his Senior year of high school stacked on his desk. Each time he sees it, he’s never sure if the source of his laughter is nostalgia or irony. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

When he looks at the picture frames scattered across his nightstand, a 17 year old Frankie stares back at him, tall and gangly, arms too big for his own body, an awful haircut he begged his mom to let him get. It was the year he discovered how much he couldn’t live without a hat, simply out of necessity for the 6 months it took for his hair to grow back out. You were the first one to tell him how cute he looked in the one hat he already owned. He bought three more in the weeks to come. 

He wonders what the 17 year old in those pictures staring back at him would think of him now. If there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that high school him would have beat the shit out of him for the way things turned out, scrawny limbs and all. 

It seems like the military has taught him how to sleep anywhere besides his own home, keeping company with the shadows dancing on his ceiling in the moonlight, tossing and turning in the tattered sheets of the twin sized bed his mom promised she’d upgrade when he got big enough. To this day, he and his mom both know he was never begging her for a new bed because he had outgrown it, he just always wanted to make room for one more person. 

He clocks 3 and a half hours of sleep as good enough, creeping out of his house the same way he had come in, making the 5.4 mile trip to Benson Park to watch the sun rise. Frankie’s always hated running, it’s just as much of a surprise to him as it is to everyone else that he keeps doing it. It makes his knees hurt like shit and his lungs feel like they’re being strangled by rubber bands, a cruel cycle of self punishment he can’t seem to shake his addiction for. 

He’s sat on the same side of the bench underneath the ancient Blooming Dogwood since the first time he came here. He tried one time to sit on the other side. He’s superstitious enough to believe his one time fuck up has had a lasting effect. The bench is so hidden at the back of the park, he likes to think that the two of you are the only ones to have ever found it. No one else has ever burst through the bubble of secrets shared between the two of you there, leaving the wood grain to be stained with memories and moments that have shaped the both of you, good and bad. 

It’s the first place you ever told him about your dad. It’s the first place he ever told you about his. His dad was already nothing but memories by then. It makes him sick to his stomach that soon, that’s all you’ll have left, too. 

Frankie, Fall of 1999, Age 11

“How much longer do we have, Frankie? I feel like my legs are gonna fall off!” 

“Quit being such a baby, you’re fine!” 

“Next time we have to ride our bikes this far, I’m pulling an E.T. and riding in the front basket of your bike.” 

“Perfect, you look just like him.” 

“Frankie!” 

“Kidding, kidding!” 

Frankie’s never had a friend like you before. Sure, he’s got Santi, but it’s not quite the same. 

Santi took some easing into- five years ago, when Frankie moved onto Everett Street, he became a friend by force, not choice. Santi staked his claim on him, seeing Frankie as a gift sent straight from heaven, finally having another boy his age to play with after too many years of being sentenced to dress up and tea parties from his 3 older sisters. 

Santi was everything Frankie wasn’t- loud, assertive, the kind of friend who grabs you by the hand and drags you along with them whether you liked it or not. There’s times now, after a half a decade of friendship, that Frankie still questions the way Santi’s brain is wired, but Frankie’s too good of a friend to ever make a fuss about it. 

You, on the other hand, needed no easing into. From the moment he met you, watching you toss that football so far past Santi that he was convinced it would disappear on the other end of the street, Frankie had been mesmerized by you. 

There’s something about you that makes him feel a weird thump in his chest every time you’re together. Everything about you gives him comfort in a way he can’t describe, a safety he’s felt with very few other people in his life until now. 

There’s just something about you. He still hasn’t been able to quite pinpoint what it is. 

Whatever it may be, it’s enough to invite you on a bike ride to the back of Benson Park instead of Santi. 

“Do you even know where we are? I don’t think there’s any more park left past this point, Frankie.” You huff, slowing the wheels of your bike behind him as you come to the edge of a steep rolling hill, nothing left in front of you but acres of empty land and tall grass. 

“Yeah, I do. Maybe we just passed the trail on the way in. We’ll just- We can just find it on the way back.” 

He knows you know he’s fibbing, but he wants your trust that he won’t lead you astray more than he wants to tell the truth. 

“Okay. There’s a bench underneath that tree. Can we just sit for a little bit before my legs turn to jello?” 

You’re already halfway off your bike before he can respond. Even if he had said no, there’s no way he’d leave without you. 

“Fine. What flavor jello?” 

“Whatever flavor is your least favorite so you don’t eat my legs, Francisco. That’s just weird.” 

The two of you laugh, tossing your bikes to the ground as you bottoms find the wood of the bench you’d pointed out, you on the right side, Frankie on the left. 

“My mom only ever gets the red kind. I don’t even really like it that much. Don’t worry, you’re safe, Kenz.” 

“I don’t really like it either. But we have every flavor at my house ‘cause that’s like, all my dad eats.” 

Frankie starts to laugh like you’re playing a joke on him, trying to pretend your dad’s diet exists exclusively of artificially flavored gelatin, but your sudden silence and the way your voice drops to the ground right with your eyes tells him he’d better stop snickering. 

“Your dad only eats jello?” 

“Well not only, but a lot of it, I guess.” 

His face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and concern at your sadness. He’s never heard you this quiet before. 

“Um, w-why?” 

The silence is almost deafening. He’s not sure why he should be so concerned with asking about jello, but he’s too curious to let it go. He selfishly wants to know what about it makes you so upset, because he just as selfishly hopes there’s something he can do to make you feel better. 

“My dad has cancer. He’s really sick. He can’t really eat a lot, but jello’s the one thing he can keep down most of the time without, like, throwing up or whatever.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, like you’re worried someone else will hear and spill the rest of your secrets right along with this one. You say it like he’s the only one in the world you want to hear it. 

“I’m- I’m sorry. That sucks.” 

Frankie blames it on his instincts, the way his hand finds yours, outstretched on the bench. He touches you like he’s handling a baby bird who’s fallen out of its nest, delicate and careful, calculated, hoping you won’t try to fly away in fear. Instead, your hand welcomes his, scooting closer to the weight of his palm resting on top of it. He feels you give in as you let him carry you back to safety of the tree you’ve descended from. 

“It’s okay. That’s why we moved here. The doctors in Michigan said that there were even better doctors here who could maybe help make his cancer go away.” 

“And then maybe he won’t have to eat as much jello.” He takes a gamble with the joke, but it pays off with your surprised snort, “Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t be joking about it.” 

“I mean, it was, but it was funny. It’s okay, my dad jokes about it, too. He always says, one day, it’ll be funny, so might as well make that day today.” 

His heart warms as he watches a small smile return to your face. It heats the pink in his cheeks when he realizes he was the one who helped bring it back. 

“Your dad sounds nice.” 

“He is. Even though he doesn’t feel good a lot of the time, he still always tries to come to my soccer games and stuff. I know he can’t be like what he was before he was sick, but he tries to be. What about your dad?” 

Frankie prays you don’t notice the way his heart sinks like he noticed yours. He chews on the inside of his lip so hard, he thinks it may bleed. He wants to lie, but he knows that you’ll know. You always know. 

“Um, I don’t- I don’t really see my dad.” 

It’s you now who's grabbing his hand, offering him the same type of safety net he’d made for you. He’s barely known you two months. He’s known Santi for five years and all he knows is that his dad doesn’t live with him. Frankie didn’t want to tell him, he’s not sure he’d understand. There’s a strange sensation that swirls in his gut, because he wants to tell you. You’d laid the first brick in the foundation of trust between the two of you. The least he can do is help you keep building. 

“Oh. Why don’t you see him?” He sees you’re prying, but not in a way that hopes to expose him. He knows you’re prying because you want him to let you in, to get a peek at what's behind the curtain. It’s a locked door most people in his life will ever get access to, but he’ll let you have a spare set of keys. 

“I never really knew him. My mom said he left when I was a baby. She says she’s always been happy it’s just me and her. That it was easier to live with one less person than to live with someone who was mean.” 

“Your mom sounds like a wise lady.” 

He appreciates the fact humor was your first response, too, it makes the sting of ripping the stitches off a still-healing wound hurt just a little less. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda wish I had a dad, though, ya know?” 

“You can borrow my dad whenever you want. As long as you don’t mind super embarrassing, stupid jokes.” 

“Are they as bad as mine?” 

“No. They’re worse.” 

Neither of you would have minded staying just a little bit longer, but the bright reds and yellows of the setting October sky remind you both that the parents you’ve opened up about are expecting you back before night washes over the quaint suburbia of your town. The bike ride home is much quieter than the one there, but the simple silence seems to speak louder than anything he’d have to say. 

The next day, Frankie would raid the cabinets of his kitchen for every last packet of jello he could find and bring them all to your front door.

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@harryscherrysugar

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[arlowthenacho]

cherry wine

(carmen berzatto x reader)

summary: carmy has panic attack and calls for you.

warnings: cussing, fem presenting reader, kissing, intended lowercase, please let me know if i misses anything !

wc: 975

a/n: omg its finally done...part 2 to “that funny feeling” !! its a bit short but i dont have the patience for anything longer lmao. @unbearableblog ik you wanted to be tagged so here you go <3

its been a week.

a week since carmen invited you to his house. and the funny thing is, its happened again. more than again, actually.

within the seven days after he originally asked you to come over, you’ve been invited to come back about 5 more times, all for the same reason. being a little taste tester for carmy. telling him what needs salt and what’s too bland and what’s perfect and doesn’t need any more tinkering.

and what’s even funnier than the fact you’ve been in carmen berzatto’s kitchen at 11:00 pm for the better part of the week is the fact he hasn’t tried to get in your pants at all. not once.

all he’s done is…talk.

about you, about him, about his family, and about yours. and its been nice.

refreshing.

seeing this other side of him, this vulnerable side of him, has been almost eye-opening. everything you thought he was had been turned to dust and reborn with new perspective. carmen berzatto wasn’t just the guy who occasionally hooked up with you to let off some steam anymore.

he was soft, and gentle, and vulnerable, and sweet. sure, he had his faults. his stubbornness, his ceaseless need for perfection, and most of all, his pride, but the sweet balanced the sour.

your thoughts drift back to the show playing on the t.v briefly, when a buzzing in your back pocket stuns you out of focus.

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

can u comw over?

huh. carm never really misspelled words. whatever.

course! gimmie likeee 15 mins

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

please come quickly

shit. now you’re worried.

you hastily make your way towards your bedroom and throw on a hoodie and leggings, damn near sprinting to your car.

after turning on the ignition and pulling out of your garage, you’re right back where you were a week ago. only this time you wear a concerned frown.

“carmen?” you rap your knuckles against the door, your breaths coming short and shallow.

“its unlocked,” his voice is hardly his right now. its all television static and distance.

you burst through the door and frantically scan the room for any trace of carmy. after a couple seconds of searching, you see him curled into himself on the floor of his kitchen, hands in his hair.

your heart drops six feet deep as you sit next to him, taking his hands into yours.

“hey, carm. what’s the matter, hmm?” you spoke with a foreign gentleness, a tone that was never usually present between you and carm.

“i just—i cant…” he hyperventilates. “i can’t breathe,”

and within a second, your blood was lead and dropping your organs to hell.

“i cant—”

he can barely finish his sentence before being enveloped in your arms. the sinking in your gut was still present, but you ignored it. you both just sat on the floor, holding each other together.

after a while of holding carmen, his breathing had somewhat evened out. he releases the white-knuckling grip on your shoulders and lifts his head from your chest. you brush the stray hairs out of his eyes and smile softly.

"hi, baby,"

he takes a stuttering breath.

"hi."

"what happened, carm?" you whisper, not daring to break the silence you both have fallen into. carmen takes another deep breath before letting the words fall from his lips.

"its, uh. family stuff. my mom is fucking insane and it just..." he pauses, takes another breath, and continues. "during christmas one year, she went really crazy. and it gave me some lasting issues."

your heart ached for him in a way that you can't explain. he spoke a little more about his warped family dynamics before trailing off. he meets your eyes again, but with a look in his eyes that you can't quite place. you're rendered speechless for a second before finding the words to say to him.

"you're safe now, baby. you're safe now." you pick the both of you off the floor and towards the couch, still grasping carmen tightly.

another week passed since carmen had the panic attack.

that night, you stayed at his house for the first time. you're departure was abrupt and maybe a bit rude, but in your defense, you panicked. however, you have been over his apartment pretty frequently for one reason or another.

today, you've been invited over to cook.

its 12:34, which is a normal time for carmen to ask for you, when you start to get ready. you only throw on a bra, some socks, and more comfortable shorts before you get in your car and drive to carmen's.

your knuckles rap against his door twice before he opens it.

"hey, hi, come in," he rushes out, mindlessly taking your hand and dragging you inside.

"oh, alright then," you mumble, letting yourself be pulled into his space.

the kitchen smells like an array of spices and you look at the bottles that litter carmy's counter. rosemary, tumeric, paprika, chili flakes and more things that you can't pronounce are written on the glass.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when carmy picks you up by the waist and places you on a clean portion of the counter. you smile at him and swing your legs against the cabinets below.

"what do you have for me today, carm?" you tease.

"this."

he nearly lunges for you and attaches his lips to yours. he tastes hungry, like hes been starved of your lips for an eternity. you gasp an press back into his mouth with a matching passion. his hands find your waist and yours find his hair. a whirlwind of pulling and tugging sends you both into a frenzy before he parts away for air.

"this wasn't about the food, was it?" you breathe. he giggles, the sound akin to something angelic.

"no, it wasn't. it never was."

[star-har]

fading

it’s your birthday.

gojo’s been dreading it.

it had felt like carrying a heavy weight— a boulder that grows in size as the days passed by, until the calendar finally marked what he’s been fearing.

when he wakes up on your morning, he can’t get out of bed. doesn’t see a reason to.

it’s raining, loud and relentless. the drops patter against his windows, almost somber and melancholy and angry— as if the world itself is mourning your loss.

he doesn’t blame it. the world should be mourning, now that its one shining light and been burned out.

it’s late afternoon when he clambers from his bed, bounding to the kitchen to make his usual coffee; he used to make two. yours would be simple— coffee, milk and sugar. a complete contrast to his own, filled with syrups and chocolate and anything sweet his hands could find.

he would cringe in disgust as you sipped at it, wondering just how you drank yours such bitterly.

he only makes one cup now.

with the exception of the morning he’d woken up from a dream with you. he’d sauntered off to make your cup, assuming you were in the bathroom, and it was midday that it had dawned on him— you were only a dream.

your cat, mochi, is curled up on the couch, pawing aimlessly at where you usually loved to sit.

it’s the perfect view, you’d like to say as you scratched mochi’s belly, the sky looks beautiful from here.

she knows what day it is too. gojo had caught her waiting by the door as your birthday lingered nearer, waiting for your nonexistent arrival.

‘she’s not coming back, damn it,’ gojo would mutter as she pawed at the door. but the stubborn cat would return back to her post everyday without fail.

he decides to stand out on the balcony, despite the thundering rain. he’s remembering the way you’d hug his waist from behind and pepper kisses into his skin as you two watched the sun disappear, being replaced by the moon.

he grinds his teeth and throws his coffee on the floor, the glass shattering and scattering.

you’re everywhere— and it’s almost as if it’s amplified today. the one day gojo already feels like he shouldn’t be here. not without you by his side.

he curses and closes the balcony door, sweeping the glass so your cat won’t hurt herself. you’d kill him if she ever did.

he shrugs on his coat and leaves his flat after, stopping by a flower shop that you’d love to visit.

each, and every time, you’d pause by the pretty, pink lilies. with gentle fingers, you would caress their stems and sniff their fragrance— that beautiful smile always staining your mouth.

he sees them today. they’re beautiful, dainty. but the muted pink is replaced by a brighter one, full of life and colour and beauty.

as if they were a reincarnation of you. the love of his life given form again.

he picks them up with agile hands like you’d always do, making his way to the cashier.

the lady at the register seems surprised to see him there. “gojo, dear?” she says, thin lips pursing with a smile. “it’s been so long, sweetie.”

he hadn’t really had the courage to step into this shop when you passed last year— this has been his first time in a very long while.

“i’ve been busy, mrs. murphy.” he says the words softly but can hardly find it in himself to muster up a smile.

she seems to understand because she doesn’t pry and lets gojo leave with no more question. he’s grateful.

he places them in his car with the same gentleness you’d have, and reverses out of the parking lot.

your grave is a knife in his chest. a sharp stab that hurts and is recurring and painful because seeing it makes it so much more real than gojo thought it would.

as if all those months of reaching to your side of the bed to be met with cold emptiness hadn’t been because you were gone to use the washroom or to brew late night tea.

you were gone. you are gone. gojo can’t do anything about it.

he cries. he hasn’t cried since your funeral. he drops to your grave— polished with no rust because he’d paid monument care a hefty price to maintain your resting place. it only makes sense— for your grave to be as beautiful as you.

he places the flowers on the grass, tucking it into the mud so the wind doesn’t carry them away.

his tears mix with the rain, still thrumming down on him hard.

the rain continues as he spends hours there. wordless, quiet, staring with you as the sky turns pink and then dark blue.

he leaves before he can cry again and when he comes home, gojo pads off into your library. he hasn’t been there since you left him, but it’s a sudden urge— like he needs to feel you again in anyway he can.

mochi’s already there, scratching at the door, meows woeful.

he twists the door handle, and with a deep, shuddering breath, pushes in.

flowers. vanilla. love. your smell hugs him so tightly and gojo has never felt so warm. your embrace only tightens as he slips further into your library, fingers tracing shelves as mochi purrs after him, her paws scratching the wooden floorboards.

he stops by your window seat, heart breaking a little as he sees the book you’d been reading before you died. a classic— pride and prejudice.

he drops onto the seat and picks it up, mochi following in his wake. the fat, ginger cat curls up in his lap— he knows mochi is pretending. hoping he’ll give her the same feeling you used to.

in truth, no one can. your presence is one no one can replace nor match.

she meows in his lap, mourning. sad.

“I miss her too, mochi,” gojo says and pats the cat on its head.

the two sit there, long into the night, as gojo reads where you’d left off. you’d do this a lot, have mochi and gojo huddle around you as you read aloud to them.

he wishes he could remember how you sound. your voice had been a comforting melody to his ears, something that never failed to ease gojo’s pain away.

but as the days ticked by, his memory had grown to lose it.

had grown to lose nearly everything about you. your eyes, your smile, your singing. everything.

gojo cries again. he can’t help it. no matter how hard he grinds his teeth or how strong he fists his hands. he doesn’t try to stop the flooding, either. he needs this. needs a good cry to remember you and miss you.

only when mochi has gone to sleep in his lap and gojo reaches the final page to your story, closing his eyes, does he feel it.

a soft brush of wind.

the rain had stopped, being replaced by a humid and quiet night. odd for the wind to be out. but he feels it, nonetheless.

feels a breeze brush past his cheek, wisp through his hair and ruffle mochi’s fur.

he feels you. your warm embrace, your soft touch. and everything in gojo’s body calms. his thoughts quieten, his heart thrums steadily, his tears dry.

it’s you— he knows it. he’s never believed in an afterlife or anything alike it, but you could make him believe in everything and anything.

it’s you. your love, your touch, your kiss.

you engulf him with a hug that feels so natural and beautiful and gojo finds that this is peace. this is what he lives for— remnants of you and your love lingering in unexpected places and unforeseen ways.

you were always like that, in a sense. unpredictable and so, so peaceful.

gojo falls asleep soon, to the hum of your love and your whisper on the wind. and he finds it’s the best sleep he’s had in a while.

———

did I cry 10 times while writing this? yes. I hate angst. but oh how I loooooveee it.

I can never bring myself to right angst because I always end up making the ending a happy one but today I sat down and was like I need a good cry and I threw up this.

i hope it made u sad as much as it made me sad… <3

kisses and lots of love,

har xx

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

29 / 2.1k / soap soulmate au, part 6

...

Ghost looks up as Soap storms out of the weapons closet.

"Still herself, I take it?" Ghost asks.

"She's a stubborn pain in the ass is what she is."

As expected. Soap misses the dry amusement that crinkles the corners of Ghost's eyes very slightly. "Didn't talk, then," Ghost says.

Soap scowls. "Not a goddamn word we can use. She won't listen to reason. Thinks she can face down an army. Dense, irritating--"

"Strong-willed," Ghost says.

"To a damn fault. Canny see what I'm trying to do for her. I'm-- she's--" Soap can hardly articulate his frustration. He's got this sick feeling in his stomach like he's been kicked in the gut hard enough to make him hurl.

It's not just you being too stubborn to give up the intel. What happens when you’re freed? You’re not going to stick around. What if Graves snaps his fingers and you go right on back to him?

Soap lets out a rough sigh. "There's more than Graves keeping her from talking. I don't like it."

"You've got a plan?" Ghost guesses.

Soap nods. "Aye. I need to talk to Laswell--"

"Done." Ghost produces a beige folder and drops it into Soap's hands. "Had her look into it for you."

"I'll be damned." Soap flips through the pages in the folder. "Christ. Bloody thin file." He fans the pages inside like a flipbook as if checking for extra pages. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Not much there to dig up."

"Then she's gotta be missin' some--" Something catches Soap's eye as he skims through, and he pauses, lingering on a photo.

Hell's fuckin' bells.

"Think that'll help?" Ghost asks.

"I'd wager so."

"Good. You goin' back in?"

"Aye.” Soap folds the file into his jacket and gives Ghost a good-natured fist bump to the arm. Then he brushes past him, knocking into his shoulder.

Ghost grabs Soap’s arm again before he slips past. "We don't have much time. Price wants to move on Alejandro. Says if you can't get the intel, we go in blind. Rodolfo leads."

Soap sets his jaw. "How long?"

"Three hours. Tops." He claps a firm hand on Soap's shoulder and turns to leave. "Get some sleep."

…

A moment later, the metal grate door slides open. You straighten back up and steel yourself again.

There's something different about the way Soap carries himself this time. He's not wound as tightly. But the way his eyes settle on you is... odd. The shift in his expression puts you on edge.

He sits down across from you. "We've not got much time. If talking gets us nowhere, we'll try something else."

You lean back, mirroring his posture. "You gonna torture me?”

“That what you’re expecting?”

“Maybe. You ever tortured someone before?"

"Aye. Can't say I care for it, but I know how if that's what this takes." He examines you again with that sharp gaze. You don't feel like he's undressing you with his eyes anymore. It's more like he's searching for something. "Why ask? You want me to put my hands on ya?"

You ignore the mental image that imprints. "I want you to waste your time."

Soap smirks. "What I wouldn't give to let you waste my time. You, me, all this animosity between us... I've got a few negotiation techniques I'd very much like to try." He leans back into the chair, his hands folded in his lap with an easy grin. "But you're no' the type to break under pressure."

"Better men than you have tried."

"Tried torturing you?" His grin tightens just slightly. "Anyone I know? Names, locations?"

Your cheeks heat up again. At that, for some reason. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

He produces the thin file and tosses it onto the table between you.

You look down at the papers that slide out. They're grainy and covered in redactions as if printed and bound, pulled from the deep end of some filing cabinet, scanned, rescanned, and printed again. But you glimpse your name. Your real name--the one printed on Johnny's skin, too. Your chest twists and your stomach sinks.

Soap sees the change in you and leans forward, elbows wide. He opens the file and pushes it across the table. "I'll do anything to protect you, darlin'," he says. "But I need information."

The file is everything you don't want anyone to know. But what catches your eye is that photograph. "Who else has seen this?"

"Me and Laswell. Maybe Ghost if he was feelin' nosy. Does Graves know?"

You pull on your cuffs, wanting to reach for the pages and push them away. "Captain Graves said he'd make this disappear."

Soap leans back, broad palm sliding out to touch the edge of the pages, and his expression softens for a moment. "Some things you can’t make disappear."

You look at him, twisted up with pain and anger. "So, what, if I don't talk, you're threatening to expose all this? Is that it? It won't work," you add with false confidence. "Captain Graves knows everything."

"What I want to know," Soap says, voice quiet, "is what he did with it."

"What?"

Soap leans forward again. "Did he threaten you? Did he say he’d make this go away if you worked for him, hold it over your head?"

"No!” you snap. “After this happened, I couldn't-- I was discharged from the military. I couldn't find work. He reached out to me. Said he didn’t mind if I had… history. Then he offered to have it scrubbed if I wanted.” You stare down at the papers. “He never threatened me. He helped me."

Soap lets out a breath. He was prepared to deal with something a lot worse than that. Maybe he hoped for something worse. If Graves were blackmailing you, the solution would be easy. He'd give you protection, offer to have Laswell erase that file from existence instead, CIA-style. After all, if Graves got his claws into you and onto his payroll that way, why couldn't he? Probably got you dirt fucking cheap, too. Bastard.

Part of Soap wants to press that angle. He could tell you Graves never intended to deliver on his side of the deal. But the truth is that Graves would've had little control over this. Seeing the state of the file, Graves likely did what he could to have it redacted, sealed, destroyed--but someone over his head intervened. Shepherd, maybe. There'd be nothing Graves could do.

Soap wants you more than anything, but the pain in your eyes when you look at these documents tears him up inside. He can’t manipulate you that way. Even if he got you to himself in the end, he'd never forgive himself.

"That's... that's good. He protected you." Soap crosses his arms, squeezing his fist hard around the object inside, the one he pickpocketed off Ghost a few minutes ago. Much as he hates Graves, the man kept you safe. But that's his job now.

"I don't care who you tell," you snap, suddenly full of anger and spitting fire. The sight of those pages puts you on edge. You feel like a cornered animal. "I'm not telling you a goddamn thing. Do whatever you want to me. You're no better than--"

"Am no' blackmailin' ya." Soap's expression sours. So much venom in that mouth of yours. He runs his thumb over his tightened knuckles to suppress his own temper. He's amazed at how easy it is for you to get under his skin, how you push all these buttons when he's the one who's supposed to be pulling the strings.

But he realizes how this must seem. You act tough, but you're vulnerable, exposed, and he has every reason right now to drive the knife in and twist it hard. Maybe he should. Going into the Las Almas base blind means danger for his squadmates.

Christ, he’s tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Darlin’, I... I know now you've done things you're not proud of. But that doesn't change anything. Not to me, not to Ghost-- hell, none of us would bat an eye. You don’t need to protect yourself anymore. I need you to talk to me. We're out of time."

He thinks this is about you protecting yourself? You shake your head. "If you’re storming the Las Almas base, you're going up against Shadows. You're asking me to help you kill my own."

"If that matters to you, then tell me how to get to Alejandro without alerting the guards. Nobody has to get hurt."

You scoff, looking away. "There's no way to do that and you know it."

"We don't have to shoot them if they stand down first."

"That's not going to happen. They'll shoot you on sight. It'll be a bloodbath."

"Not for us."

You close your eyes. "I know. That's what I'm worried about."

Soap lets out a frustrated breath. "We're going in whether you talk or not. The blood's on our hands. Not yours."

You keep your gaze angled away, clearly not believing that. "I don't see why you care about security. I don't see why you need intel at all. This is what you're good at, right? This is what 141 does. You break in doors, you kill people."

Soap grips the edge of the table. "The only thing gettin' you out of here is information. I don't care what it is or if it's useful. Price wants intel."

"I don't have it." Your voice is flat and cold. Whatever you can do to make him understand you're not worth the effort.

He leans in and grabs your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. "Then lie to me."

"What?" You stare at him, feeling pinned under that intense gaze. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Might be," A small, sly, half-smile curves his lips. "I'm also desperate, runnin' out of time, and at the end of my rope after starin' at you this long, knowin' I can't have you." He runs his thumb along your cheek. "Maybe I'm bankin' on you losin' your mind before I do."

You swallow. "You'll be waiting awhile."

He smirks. His thumb moves from your cheek to your chin, fingers trailing down the side of your neck. "Do you think you're a good liar?"

Before you can answer, someone bangs on the metal door, rattling it. Price's voice echoes in from outside.

"Get some sleep, Soap," he calls. "We're briefing soon. Give it a rest. We’ll press her for more intel after we’ve got Alejandro back.”

Soap tenses at the sound of Price's voice. "Wasn't planning on sleepin'," he calls back.

"Wasn't a question," Price calls back. You hear him walk away.

Soap withdraws his hand, letting out a soft curse.

"Why would you give your own Captain false information?" you hiss. "You could lose your job. You could get court-martialed. Even if it worked, what if Shepherd finds out? He's still in your chain of command."

"Guess that's a risk I gotta take."

"Then what if I tell you something that gets your teammates hurt, huh?"

"Won't happen. I'll be in the front when things get risky."

"Then how do you expect me to-- if it means you're the one who's--" You huff, words failing you. "You're so goddamn thick."

"Am I? Because here I am, tryin' to make plans and get a read on you, and all you wanna do is piss me off and run your mouth. I'm learnin' a lot." He tilts his head. "In fact, it's startin' to sound like you're worried about me."

"Absolutely not."

"Could always tell me the truth. Extra insurance if you do. Maybe it’ll keep me alive."

"You don't need it," you snap.

"I think I do." He leans in, crossing his legs and folding his arms. "Got a bad feeling about this one. No Shadow worth their salt wouldn’t send us straight to hell if it meant finishing the job. Especially Graves."

You feel another pang of dread in your gut. He's right.

He watches you for another long moment. Neither of you speak.

Finally, he stands, sighing deeply as he goes to the door. "Alright."

"Are you coming back?" The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He pauses in the doorway. Then he turns back, staring at you like there's something he wants to say. He looks down at the stolen object still clutched in his hand--the key to your cuffs.

He opens the door, slipping through without another word.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / [part 6] / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[luveline]

Hello Jade! I have a request for hotch if that’s okay, I was thinking something like he’s dating sunshine!reader who goes to a police precinct with the team and the sheriff/deputy insults Hotch in front of her (maybe she’s not part of the BAU so he doesn’t realise she knows Hotch?) and she snaps and punches him/pushes him to the ground and afterwards she’s really quiet and refusing to tell anyone what happened cause she doesn’t want Hotch to hear that people were bad mouthing him. Everyone is confused cause she’s usually so bubbly and it’s disconcerting to see her so stern but she has to protect her man damnit 😤

(Ps I’m the anon who got confused about rules n you’re right I was looking under guidelines not requests 🤦🏼‍♀️ sorry!)

hi babe, thank you for your request! (and no worries at all, no sorry necessary!!)

—hotch is dumbfounded when you slap a deputy sheriff, but you have your heartfelt reasons. fem, 2k

You're not specifically BAU, but when Hotch calls, you answer. You don't look BAU either in your skirt with your blue laptop carry case; twice you're asked what you're doing in the precinct and if you need assistance, but eventually you get to the centre of the action upstairs, meandering through the detective's desks toward a conference room with a sticky-taped sign that says to knock before entering. 

"Hey, Spencer," you say, shouldering open the door. "They leave you behind?" 

Spencer turns away from his white board. "I'm more useful here right now. Did you bring the ethernet cable for Garcia?"

You put your laptop case on the table and pull out her desired cable. "Where is she?" It's hard-pressed for Penelope to be found anywhere away from her computer during case times. You must get twenty or more rejection emails a month from your fellow tech analysist. Sorry, working a case :'( 

"Bathroom. There's a kitchen if you need coffee. You have a badge?" 

You flash your visitor's badge at him. "Get you one?" 

"Four sugars. Thanks, L/N." 

You flash him a smile. The kitchen is back the way you came and to the right. It's nowhere near big enough for the workforce, three tables and one microwave next to a sink full of mugs. You smile at anyone who looks at you and beeline for a coffee pot. No one questions you. They must be used to outsiders invading their space this week. 

"Mean fucking guy." 

You tilt your head to the side, hand paused in their cup cabinet above the sink. You shouldn't be nosy, but they're not being very quiet, either.

"He has to be mean, I guess. That's a tight ship to run," says a second voice.

"I'd understand it if I thought they were getting somewhere. It's been four days, and between the string bean and his pushpin map and that tech girl who won't shut up? They're doomed. The boss is either too stubborn or too damn stupid to realise." 

You close the cabinet and turn around. 

"I fucking hate this shit. Ties in their suit jackets coming into our investigation and chasing the wrong leads. We could've had Miller in cuffs two days ago if Hotchner hadn't shut us down, two days ago! And now another kid is dead, and there's not a drop of remorse on him. He doesn't care about doing his job, he–" 

"He what?" you ask. Your heart is beating hard before you've so much as parted your lips, your hands trembling. You screw them into tight balls. 

"Excuse me?" 

Your opposition is a rough hewn man in a deputies badge, a cup of coffee held between two paws. He narrows thick salt and pepper brows at your question, his mouth screwed into a telling snarl. 

"You think Agent Hotchner doesn't care about his job? So why is he here? Why did he agree to take the case?" 

"Who the fuck are you?" 

You shake your head in annoyance and take the FBI badge from your little cross body bag. You toss it on the table, your beaming face looking up at him a juxtaposition to the glare you wear now. 

He stands up from his table. The lunch room hushes but the riot of precinct cacophony stays strong just outside of the door, a thrum that battles your roaring heart. You're so angry you can barely speak, and it'll only get worse. 

"I'm sorry you have to hear it from me, darling, I am, but your boss out there? Agent Hotchner?" The deputy scoffs. "He's a fool running blind. He turned away from the real issue here. He's a prideful, narcissistic idiot who's let the power of his paycheck get to his head, and as far as I'm concerned? So long as he stops us from arresting Jaden Miller? He's a murderer, too. The blood is on his hands." 

You know you're going to slap him from the moment he says 'murderer', but the knee to his crotch straight after is a surprise even to yourself. All you're thinking for one horrible white-hot moment is How can I hurt him? It's shameful, and you slam your knee up a second time anyhow. 

—

"You can tell me what happened now or later, but it's going to be much easier on you if you tell me now." 

Hotch hates this part. What he wouldn't give to have someone else here to reprimand you. He understands why Gideon left and he wouldn't want him back unwillingly, but Hotch thinks your nightly phone call may go over smoother tonight if it were Gideon standing in his place. Half the time Hotch finds he's uninterested in scolding you. It's why you stay firmly in your department and away from his bias in the BAU. He can't be optimal at his job while you're around. 

It's not limited to telling you off, of course. When you're near, he wants to act like it. He wants to take your hand, hold your arm, rub a palm between your shoulders. He wants to pull you into his lap, or pinch the soft lobe of your ear between his fingers to watch you shiver, blow warm air at the back of your neck to hear your laugh. This cold silence is his worst nightmare, but he can't cross the line. 

Well, he can't cross the line too much. 

In the privacy of a cordoned, borrowed office, Hotch can sit beside you. The blinds are closed, and his intimidation act wasn't getting him anywhere anyways. More flies with honey than vinegar. 

"I can't show favouritism here, do you understand? Especially when you're being physically violent against the deputy sheriff." Hotch watches the soft pillow of your bottom lip tremble in a private terror. "I know you wouldn't do this for no reason. I know. Give me a reason to take your side and I will." 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"Did he say something inappropriate?" 

You don't answer.

"Did he?" Hotch can feel the anger he's been pushing down start to rise. When a woman like you, happy-go-lucky, pretty, and always smiling, turns to violence, it's not hard to picture why. He knows full well the horrible things a man can say to a woman. "Please, trust me to take care of this." 

"Hotch, I really don't want to talk about this. You can reprimand me, send me home." 

"No. Tell me what he said." 

You glare at him. Hotch finds with a heart-skipping hurt that it's the first time he's been on the receiving end of your disdain. "No. I don't want to." 

"And I don't want to send you home." He knows how he looks, stony-eyed and furrowed brow. He has to try hard to relax into a more neutral expression. "I won't. Not when I know you'd never hurt someone." 

"Well, I did." 

"We all do things we don't mean to in anger." 

In the quiet, he can hear Emily asking loud questions about what happened, and her almost comedic gasp as someone informs her of the situation. Morgan couldn't find the words to tell Hotch over the phone what happened, just told him to hurry back, and it was doubly difficult to get the story out of Spencer, who'd been the one responsible for standing in your way. 

"He called her a bitch," Spencer told him. "I didn't want to hold her back after that." 

The sheriff deputy has a good hundred pounds on you, so no matter what he called you, Hotch is glad you were pulled away. 

Hearing that you'd been called a bitch set his nerves aflame. When Spencer explained that this was said by a man on his knees after a swift jab to the crotch, Hotch was more confused. 

He follows a whim. He's biassed for sure, but he knows you're the most beautiful woman in any room that you walk into. It doesn't shock him that a high-ranking authority figure would take advantage of his position to make a pass at you. 

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he says softly. "Whatever he said to you, I– I'm not supposed to support violence, but I understand if it got too much. Sexual harassment is unjustifiable, and I'll stand with you and your actions completely." 

"He didn't harass me, Aaron," you say, looking down at your knees. You're wearing dark stockings, pinching at the fabric distractedly. 

"Did he touch you?" 

"No, Aaron–" You sigh frustratedly. "I don't want to tell you what he said because it's not true." 

"He insulted you?" 

"He insulted you." You glance at him and then away. "I couldn't stand it." 

If there weren't cameras in the room he'd bundle you into his arms and kiss the slope of your cheek, because how is he supposed to handle this? You're hitting people when they talk bad about him now? 

Hotch doesn't need to ask to know it was bad. You're a well-meaning, well-adjusted person. You'd hardly hit somebody for calling Hotch a jerk. Something severe would've been said to have pushed you over the edge, but, to his detriment, Hotch has heard a thousand awful things about himself from a thousand different mouths, and he doesn't worry about what it was. 

"Alright. Listen to me carefully." Your shoulders stiffen. "I don't want you hurting people over me. I don't need you to defend me. I don't want you to fight my battles for me, and I certainly don't want you assaulting people on my behalf." 

Your lip again begins to tremble. "I'm sorry." 

"No. Don't be sorry." He covers your knee in his hand gently, ducking his head to meet your glassy eyes. He's gone about this the wrong way, upsetting you unnecessarily. He rushes to correct it. "I love that you want to defend me, I love that you did, and it isn't lost on me how much it means to have you at my side, but… You could have been seriously injured. Honey, picking on someone your own size is a double-sided coin. What if the deputy hit you back?" 

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt." 

He leans down more, imploring, desperate to be heard. "I'm afraid of you getting hurt. Me. I'm worried someone's going to hurt you when I'm not around." 

"He was saying all this stuff about you and it wasn't true–" 

"It's okay," he says, shaking his head slowly from one side to another. "It doesn't matter. I know what people like him think of me, and he's not in an easy position." He drops his voice to a murmur for your ears alone. "I'm not saying you should agree with him, I can't tell you that I like him much." 

You laugh weakly, the sound quickly melding to a sniffle. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I shouldn't have hit him. I don't know what came over me." 

"We get angry for the people we care about." 

He can't kiss you, really, not at work, but he can show you some heavy affection. It's a boundary crossed. Luckily, Hotch knows you won't report him. 

"Thank you for defending me. You can stay on the case if you promise not to do it again," he says, squeezing your smaller hand in his, drawing a lopsided heart with his thumb into the back of it. 

"I'll promise not to do it again if he promises to keep his stupid mouth closed," you mutter. 

"Is it wrong of me to like this version of you?" he says. 

You look him straight in the eye, your usual lightness restored, if dimmed just a touch. "I like all your versions, Agent Hotchner." 

"Good. Remind the version that's your boyfriend to treat you accordingly tonight. Okay?" 

You nod emphatically, both relieved and chastened. "Okay. Thanks, handsome." 

You look tired. Tonight, he'll kiss you like he means it, maybe a touch too rough but apparently you're a hard ass now who can handle it, and he'll hold you close even if he can't give you the attention you deserve until the case is done. He'll make sure you know how much he appreciates your protection, rub your back for hours just the way you like it while sleep fails. 

"You're welcome," he says. He has more to say but there's no more time to waste. There's still work to be done. 

It'll come easier with you at his side, he's sure. 

[theereina]

Let Me Talk

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.4K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, anxiety mentioned, childhood trauma mentioned, angst, heartbreak, fluff, a smidge of dirty talk

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels unless requested.🤨

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @theereina. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

It had been four months since I had seen Terry. There was little to no contact besides short phone conversations and quick texts. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him. It was the little things that made it hard to forget him. The way he always smelled of sandalwood and musk. The way he held my hand when I was anxious. The way his smile lit up a room. The way every shirt he owned molded to his body like a glove. Ugh, I gotta stop.

I wanted nothing more than for him to return home to me, but pride got in the way. Not only for him but for me, too. We were equally as stubborn and stuck in our ways, unyielding to the love we shared. Being right somehow mattered more to each of us— more than a good morning kiss, a massage after a long day, the vows of our marriage.

Letting pride hinder our judgment, I told Terry to leave and not come back. Truthfully, I didn't want him to, I was just angry and tired of fighting. So, when he left without a fight, it reminded me too much of my abandonment trauma. Watching him walk out that door tore me apart. I was once again a five-year-old girl watching her father leave for the last time, never to return. The power Terry held over me in that moment was only a fraction of the hurt I felt. It was like the world around me shattered. With him, Terry took both light and love while I fell further into darkness more and more each day.

In other words, Terry and I couldn't comprehend that we could both be right even with two different perspectives. The basis of the problem as trifling as it seemed was an ugly nuanced one. Unfortunately, Terry was raised by his parents while I had to survive mine. This understanding is what caused the biggest fight we had ever had. No matter how much I explained it, Terry couldn't understand why I did things the way I did.

For context, I have had no contact with my family since I left home after college. I didn't talk to my sisters, brother, stepfather, and definitely not my mother. Terry's nurturing and supportive upbringing made him less receptive to the dysfunction that came with mine. He couldn't fathom not speaking to his family, let alone his mother, for years. So, when he brought up the idea of me reconnecting with them, it was a shock. The first time he asked I reminded him that I had my reasons— he only knew some. The second time I admired his persistence but still declined the offer. However, after the fifth or sixth time, I was fed up. I wanted him to understand how much these people collectively hurt and drained me. After days of explaining and retelling the story, he responded with annoyance— calling me childish and bitter.

Damn right, I was! I had taken care of every single one of them for years. I had put my health on the back burner to ensure they were good. I had stretched myself thin to the point of almost being hospitalized for a mental breakdown. No one other than my mom came, but we all know her true reason for coming— to save face. Considering she never believed or accepted my mental health issues, she just complained the whole time I was in the waiting room. This is the type of stuff I dealt with from them. This lack of care, kindness, appreciation, and love is why I left as soon as I was financially stable enough.

Even after talking about this for days, the only thing I was left with was a heavy heart and teary eyes. The more Terry pressed; the more distant I became. I didn't want it to get this far or this bad, but he wouldn't let it go. His mind was already made up. To him, family is family, and we should forgive them no matter what. Unfortunately, that wasn't and would never be my reality.

Present Day

“Caramel cookie butter iced coffee and a regular hot coffee for… Fallon!” yelled the barista from behind the counter. “That's me,” I said, facing the small woman. “Here you go. Enjoy,” she said, smiling and pushing the drinks toward me. I checked the sticker on the regular coffee to see if they remembered the two sugars. I picked up both drinks and searched for an empty table in the back of the coffee shop. I knew this conversation would result in both of us or at least me ugly crying.

I slid into a booth in the far back corner of the shop, facing the door. I knew that if it became too overwhelming for me, seeing the door would provide a certain level of relief— an exit or escape if needed. Immediately upon sitting, I began to remember some of the memories I and Terry shared here. This quickly became our favorite spot. Plus, it was right down the street from our shared home. Terry would come here almost every Monday and Friday morning to pick up my current favorite drink order. He called it a treat to start the week and a reward for finishing.

This is also the place where we had our first conversation about marriage. I can almost remember Terry's face when I told him I never thought about being married— until I met him. I didn't believe anyone could love me, especially a man of Terry's caliber. I felt like damaged goods that would never be good enough for him or anyone else. So, I never planned for that milestone. Terry's presence in my life felt like a reassuring message from God that I was loved and deserved it— properly.

Oh, God! Not me already crying, and he hasn't even made it. I quickly used one of the napkins to dab my eyes. Taking deep breaths and relaxing my shoulders, I tried my hardest not to get lost in my thoughts. I knew that once I let myself be sucked into that abysmal cycle I would be trapped there before even a word was spoken between us.

I leaned back into the booth, watching the door. Terry wasn't late; I was just extremely early. I needed to prepare myself as much as possible before seeing him.

10 minutes later

ding ding

“Good morning! Welcome to the Coffee Cabin,” yelled the woman from behind the counter. “Hey, good morning,” said a familiar voice. I knew exactly who this was yet my heart refused to settle down. I didn't know how my mind and body would react to seeing him face-to-face for the first time in months. My hands were sweating profusely. How the fuck was I going to make it through this?

“Pumpkin?” Terry said, sitting across from me. “Uh,… Hi,” I said struggling to breathe. “Hey, mama. Look at me. Fallon!” Terry said, leaning over the table and lifting my chin. I looked up to see Terry glaring back at me. Those striking green eyes expressed his concern. His eyes spoke before his mouth could. There was no need to voice his worry.

“Terry, please,” I said, holding his hand. “Don't do that. Just tell me what's wrong,” he said pulling my hand to his lips. “This! What the hell are we doing right now? It's like we aren't even married. I don't…” I rambled. “Pumpkin,” Terry said, trying to stop me. “We aren't living…” I continued. “Pumpkin,” Terry said, gripping my hand. “I don't know what to do with myself half the time. It's…,” I said. “Pumpkin, enough! Stop!” he cried out. I could sense his frustration with my rambling. I hadn't stopped talking since he sat down. “Terry, I'm just trying…,” I said trying to continue. “No. Stop it! This isn't how this was supposed to go. Let…me…talk,” he grunted.

I pulled my hand away and placed it back into my lap. I dropped my head in embarrassment. I hadn't even made it one minute before making a fool of myself. “Listen, I love you. I know you are feeling anxious right now. We both have a lot to say, and that's okay. But before we can continue, I need you to relax, love. Okay?” he said, caressing my cheek. I shook my head, looking back up at him. “I'm sorry. This is hard,” I said. “I know, mama. I know,” he said, wiping away a single fallen tear.

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from my seat. “Terry, I…!” I said, trying to pull away from him. “Nah, come to me, Pumpkin,” he said while wrapping his arms around me. It was as if life itself had started again. Terry's embrace broke me in the gentlest way possible. His body swallowed mine, providing me with the comfort I had been craving for months. I missed this man and everything about him.

“I'm sorry. I…,” I said, sniffling into Terry's chest. “Shhh, stop apologizing. I don't need you to apologize. I need you to let me— let me love you, let me take care of you, let me come home,” he said, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. I had never felt so much relief in my life. A single kiss had just washed away all the pain and guilt I had carried for these last four months.

“I don't know what to say. I had all these… these… speeches planned in my head. Just for me to remember nothing,” I said leaning further into Terry. “That's fine. Let me talk, you just listen. Turn your brain off for a minute and relax. Aight?” he said, releasing me from his hold. His hands held onto the sides of my face. He was awaiting an answer, but words were escaping me. Too many thoughts were fighting to claim power over my tongue.

“Turn it off, lil’ mama. Okay? Sit back down for me,” he said, gesturing towards my seat. His hand waved back towards the booth as I slid back in. Terry sat back down in front of me. He reached for my hands and pulled them towards him. It's insane how something as simple as Terry holding my hands made me feel lighter and calmer. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “There you go. Thank you, Pumpkin,” he said while stroking the back of my hands.

“Listen to me, okay? I should have never pressed you so hard about what was going on. Your boundaries were clear. I can see that now and wish I could have seen that then. These last four months have been absolute hell in the most silent way possible. I let my perspective overshadow yours when this was your experience— your reality, not mine. I won't sit here and lie to you like I'll ever understand how you feel. I won't. However, as your husband, it was my job to console you…. and… and care for you. I failed you at that moment. I don't deserve your immediate forgiveness, and I will do whatever you ask to receive it. I… uh… I left you to deal with all those emotions alone when it was my fault that you had to relive it in the first place. I was forcing you to see things my way because I thought I knew what was best for you based on my… my experience. You didn't deserve that. You deserved so much more than I gave you at that moment, and for that, I'm sorry. Sorry for how I handled the situation entirely. From this day forward, I promise to be a better man to you— a better husband. You deserve the world, mama. I love you more than life itself. Please, forgive me. Please,” he pleaded.

By this point, I was sobbing. I didn't need to say a word. I jumped up from my seat and ran around to Terry's side. There was nothing I wanted more than him— all of him. I sat in his lap and held his face in my hands. “Of course, I forgive you. I love you, too. I don't know what to say. Fuck… just… just kiss me already, papa,” I said, looking into Terry's eyes. They were the softest they had been in a while.

Terry’s urge was just as strong as mine as he pulled me in to kiss him on the lips. But, I needed more; so I used my tongue to part his lips. Terry's mouth opened, and I could feel his energy shift. The desire in him ignited like a flame. The yearning was mutually shared. His hands roamed wildly as teeth met tongue. Neither one of us cared that we were in public. Sharing breath and body, we became one again. With passion burning in our bellies, Terry pulled away first. I looked at him to be met with a pained gaze filled with a desperate hunger for something else.

“Pumpkin, I think we should leave. Um… the thoughts that are… uhh, shit… Woman the things I want to do to you have no business being viewed by the public eye,” he said, catching his breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly with every word. “Yeah?” I asked, stroking his ear and swallowing hard. My breathing was equally just as harsh.

Terry's gaze lingered over my body. “Yeah, we need to leave. Now!” he said, guiding me with his hands on my hips. “Did you drive or walk?” he asked, making me face him. “Walked,” I answered softly. “Okay. I drove. Unfortunately for you, you gettin’ in a car with me, and I can't promise to keep my hands to myself. Honestly, we probably not makin’ it home,” he said while leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Oh, fuck… Don't say stuff like that,” I said, clenching my thighs together. “You wanted honesty, mama. Hell, we should put that extended cab to good use for once,” Terry said, his lip curling up into the most sinful smirk. “You're nasty,” I said, hitting him in the chest. “Yea, and? You love it!” he said, pulling me into another kiss.

Part 2 => 🗣

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[pumpkinbxtch]

Hi, I just saw that you said that Jason is a little possessive, so I was wondering can you do a request with Jason and reader in that scenario, where he is a little jealous and possessive boyfriend?

he wrote 'mine' on my upper thigh

— jason grace x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy, language, jealous jason

a/n: I live for this face of everyone, it makes me very irresistible, lol.

— Want to die? — Jason asked, his expression completely changed. As if his pale skin wasn't enough, the way his face turned into a deadly calmness gave them enough reason to doubt every decision they had made in the last two miserable years of their lives. When they felt a cold breeze run down their spine, confirmed they had definitely messed with the wrong guy. What Jason didn't know was that normal mortals didn't find it hard to play that game because, well, those threats were never as real as he was used to.

— It's just a woman, no big deal, buddy — maybe was the brown-haired guy said it in a disdainful tone, or maybe was the last word that made Jason's stomach churn, but he remembered he was still in public, so he tried not to incinerate them with a snap or at least not to keep gritting his teeth the way he was because he swore he was about to shatter them.

— Just a woman — he repeated the words, dragging each one with hatred and disgust. The guy with the red hair looked more nervous than his other friend, so he tried to make peace, but that was something Jason had already left behind as an alternative to that argument. He wouldn't forgive any disrespect to you, because you were his best friend, his girlfriend, the person he would die for without a second thought, and if they wanted to see him that way, then you weren't just a woman, you were his woman.

He glanced to make sure you weren't anywhere near the checkout and took a few steps toward the pair. The redhead was close to wetting his pants, but his friend still had that stubborn look, pretending to downplay the significant difference in height and muscle mass between them.

For a moment, Jason struggled with his morality, because it was stupid to fight with his clearly abnormal strength for something that was easy to ignore because they would never be able to lay a finger on you while he was alive. However, he couldn't help but notice the way their eyes had been roaming over your body or the way they looked at you while you smiled at him. It made his blood boil and awakened the most primitive part of his being causing his logical side to drown and disappear, almost like those days when he was with the wolves. Besides, if he thought about it, it wasn't just them, it was every damn man and woman who dared to smile at you in a way that suggested more than just kindness, especially if they were the ones making you laugh. That's when he always felt on the edge of losing control.

Jason could feel shame somewhere in his conscience for his behavior, but this was also too real to hide for a little longer. That moment alone with those idiots had only given him the golden opportunity to unleash those piled-up frustrations.

— Yeah, just a woman — it was stupid, the conversation didn't go beyond that, but the retort was enough for the air to smell metallic and their hair to stand on end warning of the electricity beginning to fill their surroundings. How bad would it be if two mortals were struck by lightning for earning the title of the biggest idiots of the month? The answer was obvious to Jason: very bad, useless, in fact. So he took a deep breath and watched their hair return to normal.

— She's mine — he said, starting to turn around to go help you, but he stopped when he heard the other mocking him.

— Who says? —Jason was fed up with the irreverence and turned back to them, his fingertips sparking again.

— Beat it —he said as he sent a small electric shock to both of them. Mild enough not to cause harm but enough to make them scream. His eyes literally sparkled, making them doubt what they were seeing, scaring them, and confirming that the Mist hadn't helped when he saw them run. He wondered if he had gone too far, if he had let himself be carried away too much by that part of him that didn't make him proud but that he knew was part of him. In the end, he decided he didn't care, remembering that someone had once told him he had to stop holding back. So, with that philosophy in mind, he decided to go look for you.

The picnic tables weren't as crowded as you expected, in fact, there was hardly anyone around you, and you wondered if it was because for a moment there was a hint of rain or because of the heavy aura that Jason had been carrying since you left the grocery store, and now that you thought about it, you considered that both reasons were possibly related.

— Jason Grace — you called him sweetly as you opened the picnic basket, and he immediately softened his frown and looked in your direction. He was struck by the gentle way the breeze swayed your hair, it was an almost imperceptible movement but it highlighted how beautiful you were. He knew why you were calling him by his full name, his behavior couldn't be more obvious, but those words echoed in his mind.

»Who says?«

He slid along the bench to get closer to you as he watched you set things on the table. He wrapped his hand around your waist, and although you smiled in that way that was like oxygen to him, it wasn't enough for him. So, taking you by the hips, he forced you to stand up.

— C'mon, let's eat, baby — you said giggling, and he sat you on that old wooden table while he returned to the bench.

He looked up at you with his blue eyes, and seeing you from that perspective that made you look majestic. he rejected the idea of letting anyone else be the person who hugged you or who was close enough to smell your sweet scent. The idea of someone else other than him being able to kiss your lips, which were so perfect and soft, drove him crazy, he couldn't handle it.

»Who says?«

With that thought, he started searching in your bag that was lying next to you, you never stopped him, but you wondered about that change in attitude because he seemed a little rougher and severe, his eyes were even a little darker, but you couldn't deny that he looked handsome, that you even liked it.

When Jason found what he wanted, he stood up supporting only his right knee on the bench as support and he enjoyed the way that velvet skirt rose, leaving your thighs in his view. Before leaning towards them, he searched your eyes for any kind of disapproval because for him, the most important thing was how you felt, and not finding anything like that, gave him enough confidence to continue.

He felt your muscles tense and tried to undo it by caressing your leg, but failing that, his lips kissed a bit above your knee, which made you swallow saliva, what the hell was he trying to do and why now? Jason was never too public, any major display of affection was always in a more intimate place. When he straightened up, in his hand you finally saw what he had taken from your bag: your eyeliner.

Dazed, you reached out to try to take it, but he quickly caught his hand with yours on the table and before you could do the same with the other, he placed the open eyeliner between his lips and trapped your other hand in the same way.

He raised his gaze above his glasses and slowly shook his head, sending a silent warning before leaning towards you again, exactly on your upper thigh. You felt the moisture of the pen on your skin and with a given precision, you started to see that he was writing, but it wasn't until he finished that you could barely read it. The air left your lungs when you deciphered it and you didn't understand how after doing that, he had sat back down with the same serene smile as always, his hands spreading the tablecloth for you to eat while he hummed a familiar song.

Had you missed something? It was definitely something new in him to behave openly in that way, but you didn't dislike it. After all, what it said there wasn't a lie.

— Do you have any objections? — His demanding question didn't match the sweet tone in which he had said it, and you got off the table to put both hands on his shoulders.

— No, sir — you confirmed with the same tone and kissed the line of his jaw before taking a seat beside him.

Jason continued to arrange things, he seemed peculiarly focused, so you took the opportunity to discreetly look down once more, but your skirt had covered the word. Slowly with your hand, you lifted the fabric until it was visible again:

"Mine"

You felt a warmth spread through your body and crossed your legs on purpose to make it visible. That action drew a smile on your boyfriend's face, and not long after, he kissed you. No, it wasn't a lie, but as you was his, he was yours.

[rie-092]

IDIOT

⟡﹒ ashioki oushi x nagi! reader

summary : oushi doesn't like you, period.

⊂ rei: i'm a sucker for this guy and i haven't seen fanfics about him >:/ i'm so close on making a ff about him, i swear. ⊃

everyone could see how much oushi hates your guts. but he swears, he has good reasons why the fuck he hates you so much. first, because you are annoying. second, because you are too lazy for his liking (he made the whole damn project on that one project when the two of you got assigned together as partners which is so unfair) and third, but not the least, you are itsuomi's younger sister.

whenever the two of you were together, it's either oushi was so pissed and dragging you around or yelling at you. or he practically gave up and accepted his fate and just seat next to you, blankly eating bread since there was no vacant seat in the cafeteria. and everyone really prefers the second one because they only have a peaceful time whenever the two of you aren't together or whenever you and oushi aren't fighting.

but it was different in the perspective of selected individuals. like yuki, who always notices the change of expression in oushi's face whenever he sees you. sure, he still has that resting bitch face but— yuki couldn't deny the fact that oushi's face always softens a little bit whenever he sees you. while on the other hand, your older brother, itsuomi knows how lazy you are and how much you hates interacting with humans. but it was different when you were with oushi.

he can see the change in your behaviour, he noticed how you smile more often than usual. or how your face brightens up whenever your eyes see oushi. or how much you were enjoying school because of oushi. both yuki, itsuomi and the others can see the fact that you and oushi like each other. but the two of you were way too stubborn to notice that fact and it was frustrating for them.

actually, despite claiming that you hate each other. the two of you often hang out with each other. arcades, movies, eating in your and oushi's favourite fast food chains, taking you out for shopping— just name it, because oushi was sure that he already visited or done it with you. while others exclaimed that it was date— you and oushi are dating. you and oushi was like 'wtf are you talking about? we're just bored and he/she happens to be free that day?'

i can see that the first one who realized their feeling was oushi. you see, this guy despite his grumpy attitude was very well aware of his surroundings and his own feelings. i can see how awkward he will be when he realises his feelings. but when he saw you being dense as hell — he was pissed. it was much easier when he fell in love with yuki, but it wasn't the same for you 'cause you were so stupid in oushi's eyes.

but seeing how you unconsciously showing your affections to him. like letting him rest his head on your shoulder, staying with him whenever he has problem, giving him small gifts (mainly handmade) was enough to convince oushi that you like him too. and he fucking loves it.

wanna hear how he confessed his feelings? oh, i'll tell ya. so, you got invited to a certain gathering with your seniors along with oushi and they started teasing you and oushi, asking things like ‘are you guys dating~?’ and you denied it. and boy, you made a wrong move because it only pissed oushi so much. and by the time that the gathering was finished, oushi grabbed that chance to confront you about it.

“what made you think that i don't want to date you?”

“what?”

“i'm pretty sure that your ears are working properly, (first name).”

“meanie.”

“and you're a big idiot.”

so, we all know the fact that he eas rejected by yuki. and that was the main reason why he was scared to fall in love again. but damn, you just came into his life— wrecking the damn wall that he built around his heart.

and now you're saying that it's impossible for the two of you to date because he hates you? what are you, and idiot? or you just hates using that damn pea-size brain of yours?

so while you were happily telling him the various reasons why he doesn't want to date you. he mumbled an apology which you didn't heard properly and before you could react— you already felt his lips on you. you blinked, surprised. while on the other hand, oushi smirked seeing the pink dust on your cheeks.

you were about to ask what was that for when oushi rested his forehead on yours, not even bothering to break the eye contact as he spoke with the most gentle tone that he can. saying the words that you didn't expected to hear from him outta all people in this universe.

oushi is a sweet guy, i swear. despite of being grumpy and short fused. he was more than willing to do anything for the girl that he like.

oh, by the way. expect a lot of cuddles, kisses and gifts from him once you agreed to become his girlfriend. don't worry, he will make sure that you won't regret agreeing to become his girlfriend because he is more than willing to give the whole world. also, expect that he will probably tutor you when you fail the exams. jeez, what an idiot— but you are his idiot.

“i like you, idiot. happy now?”

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 1:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Brief mention of blood. Canon violence.

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You couldn't even look at her.

That thought alone made you sick to your stomach. The fact that you couldn't bear to look at a woman simply because she was interested in the same man that you were, made you want to cry.

Am I really that shallow? You thought bitterly as you slammed the hydrospanner into the damaged component of the landing gear you’d been trying to dislodge.

I can’t believe I was so stupid! You jammed the point of the tool violently into a crack, trying to pry it out. Of course he’d go for her. She was prettier than you - funnier too.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Hunter is his own man. He likes someone else. Not a big deal.

Except for some reason, judging by the heavy ache in your chest, it was a big deal, no matter how much you tried to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine.

The landing gear piece was still stuck fast. You set down the hydrospanner and picked up the plasma cutter.

This better kriffing work or I’ll have Tech up my ass for a month about it. Not to mention having to tell Hunter that I broke the ship. Again.

You ran your fingers over the healing scar on your cheek and looked at the carbon scoring around the piece that stuck fast, fused in place by laser fire.

A smile made its way across your face as you remembered how it all happened. You were providing cover fire so they'd have time to escape - more exposed than you'd like to be, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle - until a stray shot hit the ship at just the right angle.

Hunter had tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the blast with his own body.

Despite the chaos around you, being in his arms felt safe.

“Don’t ever do that again!” It was meant to be an order but it felt different than any of the others he’d given over the past year. The way he’d taken your face into his hands, carefully examining the small, insignificant wound on your cheek. His face was unreadable but as you’d looked closer, his eyes were a whirlwind of relief that you hadn’t been hurt worse. There was something else there too - something that fed the hope hidden away in your core that your feelings toward him were reciprocated. He’d kept his hand on your arm as you stood up. They were strong, steady hands that kept you warm and stayed on your arm seconds longer than the moment demanded.

But then you’d found him in a closet with Phee’s sister only hours later at Cid’s parlour.

I’m so stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? What made me think I’d ever have a chance with a man like Hunter? You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting your guard down. For the first time since the beginning of the Clone Wars, you’d felt alive in a way that didn’t involve throwing yourself into violently dangerous situations. You felt at home with this band of misfit clones. You had finally allowed yourself to feel and acknowledge the emotions that came with it. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done that before. It was stupid and you would make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Finishing with the plasma cutter, you brought a wrench down hard with a loud clang. The piece barely moved an inch and you threw the tool down with a frustrated groan.

“You okay over there?” Phee poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised.

“I’m good!” You grinned, hoping the faux smile would keep her from asking anymore questions. “Just trying to get this stubborn kriffing piece out so Tech can replace it when he gets back.”

Phee chuckled as you glared at the offending part. She walked over to the side of the ship, looking up and down at the stripped landing gear.

“Damn… what’d you guys get into this time?”

It was your turn to chuckle, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling negativity.

“That is a very complicated story,” Tech answered for you as he rounded the corner, “However, I do not currently have the time to tell it. We have another mission from Cid and should be leaving as soon as we’ve made our repairs.”

Good, you thought. Another mission might be just what you needed to get out of your head and back into the groove of things. Back to normal.

Tech stopped next to Phee in front of the landing gear, surveying the mess of tools and ship components. He frowned. “Although, it seems as though that may take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He grabbed the hydrospanner from the ground by your feet and began prying at the piece you’d been working on. “I will fix this. You pick up the tools and get that carbon scoring off of those panels.”

Phee grinned as she began helping you scrape. “I love it when you get all bossy like that, Brown-Eyes.”

Tech’s cheeks darkened, the only indicator that he’d heard her at all.

You smirked. Tech and Phee were so different from each other. Her carefree sense of adventure and aptitude for playing fast and loose with the rules seemed opposite to Tech’s academic personality and rigid structure. But despite their differences, they seemed to bond over an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. They belonged together.

Like Hunter and I should be, you thought bitterly.

The silence that fell on the group as you worked was deafening. Every so often you caught Phee pausing to watch as Tech worked his magic with the repairs.

Tech remained oblivious, but found himself sending subtle glances towards her as she worked. Every glance felt like daggers through your chest. A reminder of what could have been yours.

“How’s it looking, Tech?” Hunter walked around the corner, setting a crate of explosives down for Wrecker to load onto the ship.

The knife you’d been using to scrape the panel suddenly felt heavy and clumsy in your hand. It slipped through your fingers as you frantically tried to catch it but failed as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

You gasped as a thin line of blood blossomed across your pointer finger and the palm of your hand.

“Kriff!” you grumbled under your breath. Hunter stepped forward quickly only to be intercepted by Phee who grabbed your injured hand, inspecting it.

“Eh, you’re fine,” she pulled a bacta patch from her pocket, quickly wrapping the injury as though she’d done it more than her fair share of times. “Be more careful with that next time,” she chided. You looked up expecting to see Hunter but he was gone.

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