#sorry this is late i pulled it off the queue last minute to look at sega saturns on ebay

[project-sekai-facts]

One of Nene's main hobbies is playing video games, and the illustration of her bedroom reveals that she owns several consoles. Among these consoles are:

A PlayStation 4 Pro

A PlayStation 3 Super Slim

An Xbox 360 Pro

An Xbox One

An Xbox (with a modified color palette)

A Model One Japanese Sega Saturn (with a modified color palette)

A Japanese Mega Drive 2 (with a modified color palette)

She also owns a gaming PC. There also seem to be two Nintendo Switch Lites on the floor next to her TV, and a PlayStation Portable on her desk.

She also has two amiibo-like figures on her table, plus two more on her headboard, as seen in her untrained To Get Closer to the Canary 3* card (one of which appears to be an Animal Crossing-like character).

[saythenametotheworld]

You’re Not Sorry | l.jn (18+)

Being with Jeno was a whirlwind of dizzying highs and crushing lows, each moment burning brighter—and darker—than the last. Even with someone new, someone infinitely better, why does it always feel like every road leads back to him?

one | two | THREE | four | five

Genre: fwb to lovers, college au, smut Pairing: Lee Jeno x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), frustrating (lol sorry) Notes: 24k words. Part 2 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. This took too long. Sorry. Changed the premise halfway because that's just how it is, things change and it's okay. lmao. Song prompt was You're Not Sorry by Taylor Swift. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist:  You're Not Sorry by Taylor Swift, The Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift, toxic till the end by ROSÉ 

“You used to shine so bright, but I watched all of it fade.”

It was a beautiful sunny day when you first saw Lee Jeno. First day of uni, there were two queues in front of the freshmen registration booth, and he was standing in line opposite you. It was the sound of laughter from his loud group of friends that made people glance over instinctively, and you were no exception. You found yourself staring at him in particular—captivated by the way his crinkled eyes lit up his face, his cheeks lifting as he laughed. The weather made everything bright, but his smile somehow made the day feel more radiant. Warmth spread through you, a little thrill that felt almost embarrassing. 

When he caught you looking, your breath hitched. Instead of looking away like a normal person might, you stared right at him with widened eyes. You thought he’d find you weird for staring, but he just grinned wider—as if he’d just caught a fish on a line. Then he winked.

Your face heated instantly, and you turned away, suddenly finding your registration form interesting. But it was too late. The image of his smile, playful and radiant, burned itself into your memory.

You didn’t know him—hadn’t even heard his voice yet over the chatter of the crowd—but at that moment, you knew you liked him already.

You ran into him again at your first college party. The room was packed, music pulsing loud enough to make your chest vibrate, and bodies pressed together in a blur of laughter, sweat, and alcohol. You were just getting comfortable, a drink in your hand and your new friends—and housemates—Karina and Giselle by your side, when you spotted him across the room.

“His name is Jeno!” Karina told you when you asked if they knew him. “We went to high school together.”

“Lucky you,” you muttered absentmindedly, their words fading out with the rest of the world as your eyes focused solely on Jeno. 

He looked even better under the dim, colorful lights. His hair was perfectly tousled, his smile radiant and handsome as he laughed at something his friend said. The way his arms crossed over his chest made you stare at his muscles, wondering if they were as strong as they looked.

“Girl,” Giselle prompted, pulling you out of your musings.

“Yeah?” you asked, momentarily caught off-guard and embarrassed about being caught staring at Jeno.

Giselle narrowed her eyes playfully at you. “Do you like that guy?”

“Was I obvious?” you quipped, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Glaringly obvious,” Giselle replied, rolling her eyes and chuckling. “I’m gonna go this way. Will you be fine on your own?”

“Yeah. Where did Karina go?” you asked, realizing Karina was missing from your circle.

“Someone called her over. Probably her friends.” She tapped her red cup against yours. “See you later?”

“Later,” you replied.

You watched Giselle walk away and disappear into the crowd. And when you glanced back to where Jeno was, you were surprised to see him staring at you. In the few minutes that you took your eyes off him, his friends had disappeared. He was still leaning against the wall, nursing a drink with his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, but you masked it with a slight tilt of your head and a sweet smile. You raised your cup in the air as a greeting. Jeno smiled back, pushing himself off the wall and making his way over—all confident and charming.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in just close enough to be heard over the music. His voice was warm and casual, and you were already hooked.

“Hi,” you replied, smiling back.

“Is it okay if I start by asking ‘what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a crazy party like this?’” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

You chuckled lightly, genuinely amused. “Yeah, well, can I say ‘I’m just here for the drinks?’”

“Good answer,” he said, shrugging. You both laughed for a bit, before he asked again. “But seriously. I’d love to know what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a party like this?”

You shifted a little closer, enjoying the warmth of his words. “Maybe I’m here to see if I can find someone interesting to talk to,” you replied, your voice soft, playful.

His gaze flicked to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again, a teasing glint in them. “Well, you’re in luck,” he said, voice lowering slightly, “because I’m the most interesting guy in this room.”

You hummed approvingly, smiling. “Confidence is a good look on you,” you teased, though the compliment felt oddly sincere as you met his gaze.

He was flirty from the start, throwing compliments and sly jokes that made you giggle. He leaned in closer as the night went on, his hand occasionally brushing your arm or resting lightly on your back. Normally, you might have found this too forward, but it was Jeno. He was hot, and you were tipsy enough to let it slide.

You didn’t even realize how quickly time passed until you found yourselves upstairs, away from the crowd, in a quiet corridor. His lips were on yours, hot and urgent, and your heart raced in your chest. Kissing Jeno was everything you imagined it would be, and more. It was surreal, and you couldn’t tell if you were heady because of all the booze you’d drank all night or because of the sensation of his lips against yours.

The door behind you slammed open, the sound like a gunshot that made you flinch. You turned just in time to see a girl storming toward you, her eyes blazing with fury. She grabbed your arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull you aside—and then, without hesitation, her hand landed on Jeno’s cheek.

The slap landed with a crack that echoed in the quiet hallway. Jeno’s head snapped to the side, but he didn’t move at all—smirking like he’d been expecting it.

“Asshole,” she spat, her voice shaking with rage. Then she turned to you, her expression softening for a brief moment. “Piece of advice? Don’t get played like I did. Stay away from this jerk.”

You barely managed a nod before she walked off, her heels clicking against the tile. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud and erratic, and you were acutely aware of Jeno beside you.

He didn’t seem fazed at all. Slowly, he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, his grin stretching lazily across his face. “Well,” he drawled, as if nothing had happened. “Should we pick up where we left off?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Before you could respond—or even decide if you wanted to—Karina appeared at the end of the hall. Her sharp eyes darted between you and Jeno, her lips pressing into a thin line as she called your name.

“Jaemin’s looking for you,” she said, concern evident in her voice. “Let’s go.”

You didn’t argue. You let her grab your arm and steer you back downstairs, but your mind was spinning in a thousand different directions.

That night should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve taken the girl’s warning seriously. You should’ve let the slap—and Jeno’s shameless reaction—be the sign you needed to stay far away. But you didn’t. Instead, that moment cemented him in your head. His cocky grin, his calm defiance—it stuck, and you couldn’t shake it. 

From then on, you admired him from afar. The casual nods in the hallway, the fleeting smiles at parties, the way his laughter echoed like a siren call—they all fed your growing infatuation. Jeno didn’t make any effort to talk to you again after that night, like the whole thing had been nothing but a passing blip in his evening. Over time, through mutual friends, you learned more about him, and the picture of the nice, charming guy you’d imagined turned out to be false. Jeno was the apathetic type, and he was unapologetically a fuck boy.

But somehow, that didn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat every time his eyes met yours.

Sophomore Year, 20XX

When you returned from Spring Break in Aruba, you were forced to leave the cozy apartment you shared with Giselle and Karina. The building has been sold and will soon be transformed into a shiny new commercial office space. It was bittersweet packing up the memories, but you didn’t have time to dwell. The hunt for a new place led you to a small flat in a student-friendly area—convenient, affordable, and as you’d later learn, situated right next door to Donghyuck and Mark.

At first, living next to them seemed harmless. Mark was polite and friendly, always flashing you a bright smile when you passed each other in the hallway. Donghyuck, on the other hand, was a different story. Loud, shameless, and constantly trying to flirt with you. It didn’t take long for you to discover his habit of bringing random girls into their unit and you also discovered how thin the walls between units were.

The first night you heard it, you thought it was your imagination. You buried your head under your pillow, praying it would stop. You endured the next few times, but by the fourth time, you marched to their door, fuming. Donghyuck answered with a smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe like he’d been expecting you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted, dragging out the words while his eyes shamelessly roved you from head to toe—stopping at your breast.

You tugged your cardigan over your chest. “Can you please keep it down?”

He tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Keep what down?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you snapped, your cheeks heating despite yourself.

His grin widened. “Oh, that. Sorry about that, princess. I didn’t realize you could hear everything.” His tone was all mock innocence, and you could feel the heat rising in your face.

“Oh, shut up, Lee Donghyuck. For all I know, you’re doing it on purpose to annoy me,” you huffed, rolling your eyes and looking away.

Donghyuck leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Are you upset because you wish it was you in here with me?”

You blinked at him, stunned for a second before the irritation surged back. “Unbelievable.” You turned on your heel and marched back to your flat, his laughter echoing in the hallway behind you.

After that, you quickly learned that confronting Donghyuck was a waste of time. He seemed to take pleasure in riling you up, always twisting your words or throwing out some teasing remark that left you flustered and annoyed.

Eventually, you figured out his pattern—Donghyuck’s escapades only happened when Mark was out. You memorized the days Mark would go out to his part-time job, and those were the nights you made yourself scarce. Giselle’s place became your refuge. She didn’t ask too many questions, just handed you a pillow and let you crash on her couch.

“Why don’t you just report him to the landlord?” Giselle asked one time.

“I tried, but no other tenant complained about it so he said he couldn’t do anything,” you sighed, grimacing in annoyance. “I should probably just pray that Donghyuck would find a quieter hobby.”

So you became a regular guest at Giselle’s apartment. On one particularly rainy day, while in the elevator on your way to Giselle’s, you ran into Jeno. He had a cut above his eyebrows, his lip was split and there was dried blood at the corner of his mouth. His clothes were rumpled and he was looking worse for wear.

“Jeno?” you blurted out, your voice laced with concern.

He looked up at you and grinned, the same lazy, confident grin you’d seen so many times before, only now it was tinged with exhaustion. “Hey,” he said, his voice slightly slurred.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” you asked, stepping aside as he boarded the elevator.

He shrugged, brushing off your concern. “I’m fine. Just—” Before he could finish, his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.

Panic surged through you. You crouched down, shaking his shoulder. “Jeno! Jeno! Hey, open your eyes! Stay with me!”

When he didn’t respond right away, you grabbed your phone, your fingers trembling as you began dialing for help. But before you could hit the call button, his hand shot up to stop you. He grabbed your phone and put it away.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “Just need... sleep.”

You leaned in closer, and that’s when you caught the unmistakable smell of alcohol on his breath. “Are you drunk?”

He groaned softly, then suddenly pulled you closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “Here. Smell for yourself.”

You wrinkled your nose as you steadied him, confirming your suspicion. “Eugh,” you muttered.

Jeno chuckled, the sound low and raspy. “Seventh floor, unit 702.”

“What?”

“My passcode is 0-4-2-3,” he added, slurring slightly as he fought the urge to sleep. “Please get me inside.”

You reached his floor and unit, your steps hesitant but determined. You could’ve left him there, sprawled on his couch, but the sight of his bruises nagged at you. It felt wrong to walk away, especially when you knew you could help.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” you asked, already scanning the room for it.

He gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. You went in, rummaging through drawers until you found it tucked under the sink. When you returned, you sat beside him, your hands steady but your chest tight.

“Sit up,” you said gently, patting his shoulder to guide him. He did, though the effort was slow. “This is going to sting,” you warned, your voice softer than you intended.

“Be gentle with me,” he teased with eyes half-lidded but still playful.

You smirked but didn’t respond, focusing on cleaning the dried blood from his lip, then carefully dabbing at the cut above his eyebrow. You winced when he winced, and you shushed him gently when he made any complaints. When you were done, you offered him a bottle of water you grabbed from his fridge.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking the water you handed while shrugging off his flannel jacket.

“Where do you keep your shirts?” you asked, noticing that his t-shirt was damp with sweat.

Before you knew it, you were rummaging through his drawers for something clean. When you pulled off his shirt, you met his gaze only to find him watching you with that lazy, crooked smile. “Are you taking advantage of a drunk and helpless guy?”

“In your dreams,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite the heat rushing to your face.

“My dreams?” he repeated, his voice softening. His head tilted back against the couch, his eyes fluttering close. “Yeah, well... you do visit my dreams sometimes.”

You froze for just a second, unsure if he was serious or if the alcohol was talking, but before you could figure it out, his eyes were closed and his breathing evened out. He was asleep.

You stood to leave, but as you looked down at him, curled up on the couch, you found yourself lingering. He looked pitiful and somewhat cute curling up to fit on the couch. You could already imagine the body aches it would give him in the morning. Sighing, you gently tapped his shoulder. “You should move to your bed.”

Jeno groaned, half-opening his eyes. “Fine, doc,” he sighed, slowly sitting up and rubbing his face. He staggered to his feet and you followed, resisting the urge to offer support as he wobbled slightly while making his way to his bedroom.

You waited as he settled in, his expression softening when he finally relaxed. But as you turned to leave, you heard his voice calling your name.

“You’re leaving already?”

You stopped, glancing back. “Jeno—”

“Stay,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Stay for a bit.”

You hesitated. “My friend is expecting me.”

“Is it urgent?”

“Not really,” you admitted, a little sheepish. “I’m just sleeping over like usual.”

“If it isn’t urgent, can’t you just stay? I’m a patient, you know.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “Don’t you need to make sure I’ll be fine?”

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “If you’re gonna manipulate me, at least try harder.”

Jeno smirked lazily, his eyelids heavy. “I’ll practice next time. For now, just stay… please.”

You couldn’t resist. You sat down on the edge of the bed, but Jeno motioned for you to lie down beside him and you did. The bed dipped slightly as you settled in, the proximity making your pulse quicken.

For a few moments, neither of you moved. You stared at the ceiling, the quiet filling the space between you. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, wondering if he was really asleep. 

“Jeno?” you whispered, but he didn’t respond. Thinking you’d spoken too softly, you tried a little louder. “Jeno?”

His eyes fluttered open, and he smirked faintly. “I won’t be able to sleep if you keep calling me like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why are you still awake?”

“Because it’s you,” he said, the teasing tone still there but softer. “I’m waiting for you to stop talking.”

“I was quiet the whole time, what are you talking about?” you defended, smirking. 

He didn’t say anything, and then silence stretched between you both, the kind that’s neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. You were feeling a little self-conscious, most probably because of the fact that you hadn’t seen each other for a while, let alone interacted closely since freshman year. Save for the occasional nods and half-smiles you’d thrown at each other every now and then, you never had an actual conversation with him since that party.

“What happened to you?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

He sighed, turning toward you. “Just a scuffle with some guys at the party. Nothing serious.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t cuckold some guy and get caught, right?”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Is that what you think of me?”

You shrugged. “I was just joking. Why? Do you care what I think of you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rolled closer to you, locking his gaze with yours. Then, without warning, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“Jeno,” you muttered, but you didn’t pull away. “I’m going to report you for sexual harassment.”

He smiled lazily. “If you hate it that much, you’re free to go.”

But you didn’t move. There was something comforting about the calmness of the way he held you. For once, you didn’t want to overthink it. So, you stayed, letting the warmth seep into you, feeling the peace you didn’t know you needed.

The next thing you knew was waking up alone in bed. On the nightstand, the digital clock displayed time in bright red numbers: 09:10 pm. You slowly pushed yourself up, looking around the dimly lit room until your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door. You could hear the faint sound of what you assumed was video games from the TV. Jeno must be playing a game outside.

You felt your cheeks heat up, remembering how you fell asleep in his arms and lost track of time. Squeezing your cheeks together to clear your mind, rose to your feet and padded across the room. Then slowly, you opened the bedroom door wider, peeking at the gap to see what Jeno was doing.

He looked much better than he did earlier and his damp hair told you he had just taken a shower.

“You’re up,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the screen but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“And so are you,” you replied, clearing your throat as you stepped out. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Only now did you get a proper look of his apartment. It was bigger than your studio unit—a one bedroom apartment with a living room and a proper kitchen. The lack of decorations spoke volumes about Jeno’s personality. He had only a few necessary furniture and a TV. The cream-colored walls gave it a bright ambience though.

“I’d feel bad if I did,” said Jeno, his forehead creasing ever so slightly as he focused on his game.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” he chimed, finally sparing you a quick glance before his attention returned to the screen. “Thanks to you.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on the TV. The game was unfamiliar, full of explosions and rapid movements, but Jeno looked completely at ease as he played. “Well, then, I should go,” you said, reaching for your bag on the couch.

“Already?” He glanced at you longer this time, his brow lifting. “I ordered food for two because you probably haven’t had dinner yet. Don’t you wanna stay for that?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Giselle was probably expecting you, even if you hadn’t explicitly said you were coming. Wednesdays and Fridays were your usual nights there.

“It’s Chinese,” Jeno added, his tone light but persuasive. “I can’t finish it by myself.”

You shrugged. “Alright, then,” you said, dropping your bag back onto the couch.

Jeno’s grin was boyish, turning his attention back on the TV. You settled onto the couch beside him, pulling out your phone to send a quick text to Giselle. You told her you’d be late and to have dinner without you. Her reply came almost immediately.

My Gigi: good bcs i already ate lol

You watched Jeno’s thumbs skillfully navigate his controller, the vivid graphics on the screen doing little to distract you from the silence hanging between you. After a while, you decided to make conversation. “So, uh... what game is this?” you asked.

Jeno glanced at you briefly, then back at the TV. “It’s a shooter game. You pick a team, complete missions, and shoot the opponents from the other team. First team to find the treasure wins the game.”

“Oh,” you said, leaning back a little. “Sounds… fun.”

“Not into games?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

“Not these kinds,” you admitted, watching the screen flash with explosions and fast-paced action.

He explained a few mechanics, but it flew over your head. You nodded occasionally, throwing in a hum or two for good measure. Still, your lack of interest must have been obvious because Jeno eventually chuckled and said, “Want me to turn it off? We can watch Netflix or something.”

You shook your head quickly. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Quietly, you sat there for a few more minutes, scrolling absently through your phone as he focused on the game. An explosion flashed on the screen, followed by a groan from Jeno when the words Game Over appeared. He set the controller down with a sigh, leaning back on the couch.

“You know,” you said, clearing your throat, “this feels… awkward. Was it always this awkward between us?”

Jeno chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t know. You and I never really got the chance to properly get to know each other.”

You forced a smile, though the memory of your first meeting burned vividly in your mind. “You’re right.”

His lips quirked into a teasing smile. “Probably because you were so quick to escape last time.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending not to follow. “Escape?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone light, but his gaze sharp. “Scared I’d play with your feelings like that girl at the party said I would?”

Your chest tightened at the mention of the party, but you quickly feigned confusion. “You still remember that?”

“You don’t?” he countered, his grin widening. “You really are something else. Broke a guy’s heart and forgot all about it. You’re hurting my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes, playing along. “Oh, please. Like someone like you could ever get their heart broken.”

“Hey, I’m being serious,” Jeno said in mock offense. “One moment, we’re vibing, and the next, you run away like I had the plague or something. If that doesn’t bruise a guy’s ego, I don’t know what does.”

“Poor baby,” you teased, smirking. “Did it hurt your pride?”

“Obviously,” he shot back, grinning. “My confidence hasn’t recovered since.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, recalling all the times you’d seen him get chummy with random girls since that party. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls inflate your ego since then.”

Jeno shrugged. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you broke my heart.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “It was your heart or mine, Jeno. I wasn’t gonna risk mine.”

“Right, but did you really have to run away like that? You didn’t even say goodbye,” he replied pouting.

“You’re distorting the truth. I didn’t run, my friend was looking for me.”

“Excuses,” he huffed, smirking. “Just say you stopped liking me. I understand. Some people are fickle and that’s totally fine.”

His words struck a nerve, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “I didn’t stop liking you, okay? Even after what she told me. But you didn’t come looking for me, so what was I supposed to do?”

You were quiet for a while, shocked at your own admission. Jeno’s gaze didn’t change—no surprise, no annoyance, no anything. He just sat there, staring at you with an unreadable glint in his eyes. As the air grew thick, your heart gradually quickened, spreading a familiar nervousness throughout your body—the kind that told you something was gonna happen.

Before you could even process the rush of emotions, Jeno closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. His lips found yours, and the kiss was intense—deep, urgent—the kind that left you lightheaded and excited. His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the growing tension, the undeniable need for more.

Your heart raced as his hands roamed to your hips, tugging with purpose, inviting you to move. With one swift motion, you straddled his hips, holding his face so you could kiss him properly. But it turned out that Jeno wasn’t one to yield control. He grabbed the back of your head, tilting it at an angle that allowed him to easily trail his kisses down to your jaw and neck.

You let him ravage your skin, loving the sensations his lips were sending through your body while grinding against his hard-on to give him something in return. You were ready for whatever came next. Everything about this felt like the moment you’d been waiting for.

But just as you thought you’d both lost yourself completely in the kiss, the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the heated atmosphere, and you froze for a second, eyes wide with frustration. Jeno pulled back just enough to glance toward the door, not even masking the annoyance in his expression.

“Who’s that?” you asked, your voice low. Jeno turned to you, smirking as he pushed your hair behind your shoulder. He kissed you again, slowly and deliciously.

“Ignore it,” he murmured against your lips, his hands never leaving your body as he guided your hips against his crotch, seeking more friction. The kiss deepened again, and for a moment, you thought you might be able to forget the world outside that door.

But the bell rang again, persistent, annoying. Neither of you moved to answer, yet the sound continued, filling the silence between heated breaths. Finally, Jeno groaned in frustration, pulling away reluctantly.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, standing up from the couch and raking a hand through his messy hair.

You sighed, frustrated, leaning back on the couch and trying to control the rising heat in your body. He disappeared out the door, and you stared at the empty space, trying to calm your breath, frustrated but also amused by the timing. Of course, it would be now that someone would show up.

You didn’t think anything like this would happen, to be honest. But in retrospect, you should have known it was possible the moment you stepped into the apartment of a notorious playboy like Lee Jeno. You don’t hate it—no. You were just surprised at the turn of events.

The door opened again, and Jeno returned with a bag of takeout and a sheepish grin. He set it down the coffee table, gawking at you for a second before motioning to it. 

“Is now a perfect time for dinner?” he quipped, his tone light despite the heat still lingering between you.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between the food and him. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you asked, your voice low, teasing.

Jeno smirked, stepping toward you with a confident grin. “You’re right, it’s a stupid question,” he said. Without another word, he scooped you up in his arms, effortlessly lifting you as though you weighed nothing. “I have my meal right here,” he added, his lips finding your neck as he carried you toward his bedroom.

The door to his room clicked shut behind you, and in that moment, nothing else in the world existed but the two of you.

“Hi,” Giselle greeted as soon as she opened the door, her gaze sweeping over you. “You did say you’d be late, but I didn’t know you meant super late.”

You took a deep breath, hesitating before stepping inside. Giselle tilted her head, her curiosity intensifying. “What happened? Donghyuck forgot to bone last night and gave you a peaceful Wednesday for once?”

“No,” you replied with a small laugh, brushing past her into the cozy apartment.

Giselle followed closely, refusing to drop the subject. “Then where were you? And what’s got you so flustered?”

You sank onto her velvet sofa, pressing your palms against your flushed cheeks. “If I tell you, are you gonna judge me?”

“Never,” she said, grinning mischievously.

Right, Giselle was never judgmental toward you. You raised an eyebrow. “I figured you wouldn’t. Karina probably would though.”

Giselle rolled her eyes, plopping down next to you. “Karina judges everything and everyone. Come on, spill.”

You groaned, covering your face again, the memory of last night flashing vividly in your mind. “I hooked up with Lee Jeno,” you said in one breath,

Giselle gasped dramatically. “No way!” she squealed, smacking your arm. “Are you serious?”

Before you could respond, a voice cut through the excitement, cold and sharp. “No fucking way.”

Your head whipped around to see Karina standing in the doorway, arms crossed with an expression of disbelief and disapproval. You chuckled nervously. “Kat. I didn’t know you were here too!”

“Tell me you’re joking,” Karina demanded, walking toward the sofa. She stood in front of you with her hands on her hips. “I knew you had a crush on him, but I didn’t think you’d actually pursue it.”

You exhaled, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your chest. “It just… happened. It wasn’t something I planned.”

Karina sat down across from you, her expression hardening. “Do you even know what you’re doing? Jeno’s bad news. He’s got a reputation, you know that, right?”

Giselle chimed in, leaning back with an easy shrug. “Oh, come on, Kat. They hooked up once.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her voice skeptical. “Yeah, and you think she’s not gonna go gaga over him in the next few days? She’s like the biggest loser for Lee Jeno. We all know that.”

“Wow. I’m literally sitting right here,” you mumbled, sheepish. “And I’m not the biggest loser for him. I like him, that’s it. I didn’t chase after him or begged him to notice me. That’s what losers do.”

“Not the point,” Karina chided. “Jeno can’t stick to one girl for more than a week. You’ve seen it too.”

You frowned, gripping a cushion. “I know. I know. But like…” You shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt to… you know, see where this goes, right?” You glanced at Giselle, seeking affirmation.

“You’re absolutely right,” said Giselle.

Karina sighed, her expression softening just slightly. “Look, I get it. He’s hot, he’s charming, and he’s probably really fun to be around. And since you’re already in this situation, just don’t get too attached to him, okay?”

“She’s not wrong,” Giselle said to you, her tone gentler. “Jeno’s got his charms, but just keep your guard up, alright?”

You nodded slowly, taking in their words. “I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Karina said, standing up. “Because I really don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ later.”

Giselle nudged her, grinning playfully. “You would love to though, wouldn’t you?”

You giggled at Karina, who just rolled her eyes.

To say you started dating Jeno then would be a stretch. You weren’t dating, just hooking up. After the first time, Jeno asked for your number, adding in a request that you don’t ignore his messages. As if you would ever do that.

You didn’t text each other much, except at night, and it made sense given the nature of your relationship. Late-night texts turned into spontaneous meetups, the kind where you’d walk around the block and he’d invite you to his apartment with a lame excuse like, “Just wanted to hang out with you.” 

You’d barely make it past the doorway before his lips found yours, hands guiding you backward until the door slammed shut. Those moments were a blur of heat and urgency, your laughter muffled between kisses as he lifted you onto the counter or pressed you against the wall.

Mornings at his place became your new favorite thing. You’d wake up wrapped in his arms, his messy hair brushing your cheek as he mumbled something incoherent about breakfast. Sometimes you’d actually get up and cook together—well, more like you cooked while he stood behind you with his arms around your waist, insisting it was a ‘team effort’.

You didn’t go on dates—not that you were expecting to, but you did movie nights on his couch, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders as you both bickered over what to watch. Only for the movie to become a mere background noise to your vigorous activities.

A handful of times, you’d gone on random drives to nowhere, the city lights flashing by while he reached over to rest a hand on your thigh. And of course, the nights often ended with him pulling you close and whispering, “Stay over.”

Sometimes, you’d talk about parties and agree to meet each other at the venue. But you never went together, and it was alright with you. You were content with seeing him there, exchanging glances and cues, having small talk, and eventually ditching the party altogether to go back to his apartment.

“You sure you can wait till we get back to my apartment?” he asked as you were both heading out of a particularly rowdy party.

“Yeah.”

“We could just go upstairs. I’m sure there’s a vacant room somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes. “And fight with other couples over a room? No thanks. Besides,” you paused, just as you reached his car. You leaned on the car door, placed a hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. “I think I developed a little phobia of making out with you at parties. Who knows which one of your girls would pop out of nowhere and land a sharp blow on your pretty face?”

Jeno chuckled slowly, leaning closer to plant a quick peck on your lips. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

You shook your head, smiling sweetly. “Never,” you said, pulling him into another kiss. Before it could deepen, you pushed him back. “Let’s go.”

He wasn’t just physical, though. He’d surprise you with snacks when you said you were too tired to cook or stay up with you during late-night study sessions, teasing you for your elaborate and colorful notes, saying you spent more time on them than actually studying. One time he insisted on cooking ramen for you at 2 a.m., standing shirtless in his tiny kitchen with bedhead and sleepy eyes, stirring the pot with one hand while holding you against the counter with the other. 

“Are you a pervert? Stop staring,” he teased when he caught you looking.

“I’m not staring,” you said, your eyes sweeping over his toned abdomen and arms. “I’m admiring.”

“Haven’t you had enough of it?” he asked and you replied with a shake of your head and a grin.

He just scoffed, albeit proudly. He then served the noodles and offered you the first bite after blowing on it. “Taste it first,” he said, as though he’d spent hours preparing it instead of ripping open a packet five minutes ago.

“Girl, is he like…” Giselle began, hesitating. Her brows knit together in mild concern. “...in love with you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “No. I don’t think so,” you replied quickly, the idea too far-fetched to entertain. “What made you say that?”

Giselle shrugged, tilting her head. “Honestly, I thought you guys were just hooking up. But you go on drives, cook together, take care of each other, all that stuff. It’s a bit too domestic and sweet.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, your tone defensive without meaning to be.

“No, but fuck buddies don’t do that,” Karina cut in. She leaned back on her hands, smirking.

Giselle nodded, adding, “Yeah. Usually they just meet, hook up, and then go their separate ways.”

You scowled. “Really?”

“How do you not know that?” Giselle asked, bewildered, her eyes wide with genuine confusion.

You shrugged, crossing your arms. “How was I supposed to know that? It’s not like I was given some kind of fuck buddy manual.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Giselle laughed, shaking her head. “How long has this been going on already? I just know you broke his One Week Fling record.”

You grinned sheepishly, feeling both pride and coyness. “It’s been two months now.”

“Oh my god!” Giselle squealed, hitting your arm. “You go girl! Reform that man!”

You chuckled. “I don’t think I’m capable of doing that.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Karina said, nodding toward the distance. You followed her gaze and spotted Jeno heading your way, a takeout cup holder in hand. He greeted you with a quick peck on the cheek before offering a polite smile to your friends.

“Here,” he said, handing the drinks to you. You immediately recognized the logo of the coffee shop he’d taken you to once, where you’d spent an afternoon sharing stories over caramel lattes.

“Oh my god! Thank you!” you exclaimed, genuinely touched. “Please tell me you didn’t drive all the way there just to get these.”

Jeno shrugged, playing it off casually. “I was passing by this morning, so I figured I’d grab some since we haven’t been there in a while.”

“But it’s far… aw,” you said, your voice softening as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Share it with your friends,” he said, giving you a small grin as he straightened up. “Gotta go.”

You waved him off, watching as he jogged toward the main building. The warmth in your chest lingered until you turned back and found Giselle and Karina staring at you—Giselle with an amused smirk, Karina with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. He’s definitely in love with you,” Giselle said, breaking the silence.

Karina groaned, crossing her arms. “Don’t start, Gigi. You’re going to give her false hopes.”

“What? You saw it too!” Giselle countered, motioning toward where Jeno had just been. “That’s boyfriend energy. I don’t make the rules.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating. “He was just being nice. It’s not that deep.”

Giselle tilted her head. “Driving halfway across the city for coffee isn’t just ‘nice.’ That’s ‘I-like-you-a-lot’ behavior.”

You squealed, covering your flushed face with your hands. “Oh my god, stop!”

Your relationship with Jeno could be described as quiet affection. He wasn’t big on words, but his actions were loud enough—bringing you coffee when you had an early lecture, texting you random pictures that reminded him of you, and holding you close each chance he got. Still, there were no labels, no discussions about what you were. He’d never call you his girlfriend, but he’d kiss you like you were the only one who mattered, and hold your hand like it was second nature. It was confusing, but you told yourself it was enough.

Then there was Jeno’s jealousy. You never talked about it, and he never admitted it, but you didn’t need him to; the signs were obvious to you. When a guy from your literature class offered to walk you to the library, Jeno appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding an arm around your shoulders and smoothly steering the conversation away. At parties, he often left you to have fun with your friends, only to whisk you away the moment some guy approached you to try flirting with you. Even Jaemin, your close friend of almost ten years, didn’t escape Jeno’s radar. He once stopped by your apartment while you were with Jeno. Though Jaemin was his usual friendly self, Jeno stayed uncharacteristically quiet until Jaemin left. 

Later, you reassured him with a laugh, “Jaemin and I have been friends since we were kids. He doesn’t see me that way, trust me.”

“Hmm? It’s fine. You don’t have to explain yourself. I don’t think that,” he had replied, but the way he refused to look you in the eyes while he said that was evidence enough of his lie. After that, Jeno seemed to be more at ease with Jaemin. He was surprisingly chill around him, even cracking jokes with him on the super rare occasions when you’d see them together.

But the one person Jeno couldn’t tolerate was Donghyuck.

Donghyuck was in several of your classes, and he had always—without fail—tried to sweep you off of your feet. From the moment you met him freshman year, he had been relentlessly hitting on you, though you always brushed him off. You knew he wasn’t serious; it was just his way of getting under your skin. Jeno, however, didn’t see it that way.

The first time was subtle—his jaw tightening as he watched Donghyuck lean in during a group conversation at a party. The second time, it was harder to ignore—the way Jeno placed his hand on your lower back possessively, his thumb grazing your skin as if to remind you who you came with.

It wasn’t just one incident with Donghyuck; it was a series of moments that began to grate on Jeno. At a party, Donghyuck had leaned against the wall beside you, his tone dripping with playful confidence as he asked, “Why do you keep running away from me? I’m starting to take it personally.”

You had laughed it off, casually pushing him away with a grin. “Because you’re the worst.”

Another time, in the cafeteria, Jeno had walked in to find Donghyuck sitting far too close, gesturing animatedly as he talked about some inside joke. You had rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed, but the sight still made Jeno’s stomach tighten.

Outside your apartment one evening, Donghyuck’s voice carried up from the sidewalk. “You know, if you ever get tired of the broody one—”

“Not gonna happen,” you cut him off with a glare, making it clear you weren’t amused.

Jeno had seen it all, these little moments that didn’t mean much to you but added up for him. He knew you weren’t encouraging Donghyuck, but it didn’t make it any easier to ignore.

Then, there were the smaller instances—the way Donghyuck lingered at your table in the cafeteria, cracking jokes that made everyone else laugh except you. Or how he seemed to magically appear whenever you walked out of class, always quick with a flirtatious comment.

The tipping point came one afternoon after class. You had just stepped out of the lecture hall when Donghyuck slung an arm around your shoulders, his usual grin plastered across his face. “You know,” he began, his tone dripping with mockery, “you should really stop playing hard to get. It’s getting embarrassing.”

“Get off me,” you retorted, rolling your eyes as you shrugged off his arm. “When are you gonna give this up?”

“Never,” Donghyuck shot back, leaning closer, his grin widening. “You secretly love the attention, don’t you?”

Before you could respond, a familiar hand reached out, pulling you gently but decisively away from Donghyuck. Jeno stepped in, his calm yet firm demeanor instantly changing the air. “Can’t take a hint, can you?” he asked calmly, but the sharpness of his gaze pierced Donghyuck.

Donghyuck raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unwavering. “Relax, lover boy. It’s all in good fun. No need to get so worked up,” he chuckled and then stuck his tongue in his cheek.

But Jeno wasn’t amused. His only response was to place a steady hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the parking lot without another word. You glanced up at him as you walked, his jaw clenched and his gaze fixed ahead.

The car ride back to his place was tense, the silence stretching out uncomfortably. When you arrived, you expected him to drop it, to shrug it off like he always did. As soon as the door closed, and you’d seated yourself on his couch, Jeno turned to face you. “Why don’t you just tell him you’re not interested?” he asked, his frustration barely contained.

You blinked at him, surprised by his directness. “I do. Every single time.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jeno said, stepping closer. “Why don’t you tell him—and every other guy—that you’re not available?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “Because I can’t,” you said softly.

“Why not?”

Your gaze dropped to the floor. “Because I can’t say I’m taken when I’m not. I can’t claim you like that because I don’t know if you want to be claimed.”

Jeno’s expression softened, but his voice was still firm when he asked, “You think I’d want to see other girls?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted quickly, finally looking up at him. “We’ve never talked about it, and I didn’t want to assume.”

Jeno exhaled, his frustration melting into something gentler. He sat on the couch next to you. “I haven’t been seeing anyone else. Not since… this.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you saw the same flicker of realization cross his face.

“Have you?” he asked, his voice quiet now.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I haven’t even thought about it.”

Jeno smiled as he pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you with a satisfied hum. He cupped your cheek and pulled you into a kiss. It was soft at first, but as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened. It grew more urgent, more intense, as if something inside both of you had finally snapped into place. The heat between you intensified, and every soft touch seemed to ignite something inside you.

He pulled away, just enough to breathe, the tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear.  “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I was starting to think I’d have to fight Donghyuck for you.”

You let out a laugh, heart still beating wildly from the kiss. “Who do you think would win?”

“Me,” he replied without hesitation, his grin returning. “Easily.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, your heart fluttering at how easily he could lighten the moment. Jeno’s expression softened as he looked into your eyes, his smile fading into something more earnest. 

His next words were quiet, sincere. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You paused, your heart racing again as you processed everything—the kiss, the shift between you two, this question. He was asking in a way that felt as if he wasn’t sure if you’d say yes. Shouldn’t he know by now that you had been his ever since the first time he brought you into his apartment?

Still, you were glad that he asked. You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips. “Yes.”

Jeno let out a relieved breath, the tension leaving his body. He kissed you again, but this time it was slow, and sure. Jeno’s hands were gentle, almost reverent as he cupped your face. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, everything else disappeared—no Donghyuck, no uncertainty, no nothing, just the quiet rush of the feeling building between you two.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you gasping for air, the world still spinning around the edges of the bubble you had created.

“I want you,” Jeno murmured, his voice rough but steady.

He’d never said it like that before. You met his gaze, searching his eyes for any trace of doubt. Instead, you saw something raw, something real—desire, affection, and certainty.

You cupped his cheek in return, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “For fuck’s sake, Lee Jeno. I’m already yours.”

Jeno shifted, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and carefully tugging it over your head. There was no rush, no urgency. This wasn’t a hasty decision—it was a choice, something deeper than just physical desire. As he undressed you slowly, each piece of clothing falling away, so did the walls between you, and you felt more exposed than ever.

When he gently laid you back on the couch, his lips trailing down your neck, a soft shiver ran through you, making your heart flutter in anticipation. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a quiet devotion, and you couldn’t help but give in completely.

The late afternoon light poured softly through the window of Jeno’s bedroom. You were lying on the bed beside him, watching as his eyes remained glued to his phone. His expression was one of intense concentration—the furrow of his brows, his lips slightly pursed as he stared at whatever was on the screen.

You tilted your head, studying his face as if you hadn’t already memorized it by heart. He looked so handsome when he was focused, so effortlessly captivating. It made your heart skip a beat. But still, what’s so interesting about that video?

You peered at his screen and found that he was watching a replay of some football game. You let out a dramatic groan and fell back onto the bed, feeling frustrated. Jeno glanced sideways at you, but only briefly.

You then squeezed yourself in his arms, resting your chin on his abdomen and drumming your fingers on his chest to get his attention. Jeno shifted to accommodate you, but his eyes never left the screen. With a sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the tiny mole under his eye. When he didn’t react, you kissed it again—this time with a little more insistence. And again. And again, until you heard him exhale, finally peeling his eyes away from his screen.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low and amused as he set his phone aside and pulled you closer.

You grinned, poking the beauty mark with your index finger. “I heard about a legend that says your mole is the spot where your soulmate liked kissing you in your past life.”

Jeno’s lips twitched upward as he hummed in response. “Was it you? The soulmate who kept kissing me there and gave me this mole,” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Was it you?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you moved to sit up. “Probably not. But do you believe it?”

Jeno shrugged casually, shifting onto his side so he was face-to-face with you. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you back toward him. “Not really. I was raised Catholic.”

“Ah, so no past lives?” you asked, laying back on the bed.

He nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I’m religious or anything.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “If someone like you is religious, then I must be a saint.”

Without missing a beat, Jeno squeezed your butt cheek, making you yelp in surprise. “You think I’m promiscuous?”

“Aren’t you?” you shot back, laughing as you tried to squirm away, but he gave your ass another playful slap. “Stop that!” you laughed, swatting his hand away.

Jeno’s grin only widened as he leaned in, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He caressed your jaw, and then tilted your chin so he could kiss you. “I’m feeling promiscuous right now.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes again. “And I’m feeling sleepy. Go back to watching your football game or something,” you replied, turning on your other side.

Jeno tugged you back in his arms, finding the spot on your waist where you were the most ticklish. The sound of your giggles and laughter echoed through the entire apartment as the sun continued its descent and its light filtered through the curtains to paint the room in beautiful hues of yellow and gold.

Your days with Jeno began to blur into a routine, one you fell into so easily it felt as though you’d been together for years instead of weeks. Every morning, he’d pull into your driveway, flashing that lazy, boyish smile as you hopped into his car. The drive to campus was often filled with shared playlists and laughter, your fingers intertwined with his on the gearshift.

Lunches weren’t planned but always felt inevitable. You’d wait for each other outside lecture halls, silently deciding that you’d eat together. Some days, it was quick meals at the campus cafeteria, sharing fries and teasing each other over bad food choices. Other days, you’d escape to the backseat of his car, balancing takeout boxes while rain tapped lightly on the windows. 

Then there were the drives. With no destination in mind, he’d take the wheel, and you’d go wherever the roads stretched out before you. Sometimes, you’d stumble upon a charming little café with mismatched furniture and the aroma of freshly baked pastries. Other times, you’d park by the lake, sharing stories, making out in the backseat, and just letting the hours pass in each other’s company. Those unplanned moments became your dates, spontaneous and perfect in their own imperfect ways.

It was in the little things, too, the intimacy shared in moments outside the bedroom. The way his hand always found the small of your back when you walked into a room. How he’d absently twirl a strand of your hair while you talked. The way he’d kiss your forehead before he left, even if you were half-asleep and wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

But Jeno wasn’t perfect, and neither was the relationship. He had no idea how to be a boyfriend, and it showed in ways that left you reeling in frustration and anger.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” you’d demand, voice trembling with frustration after waiting hours for a reply.

“Relax. I was busy,” he’d say casually, as if that excused everything. “It’s not like I’m glued to my phone all day.”

And every time he was late—ten, fifteen minutes, sometimes an hour—you’d bite back your irritation until it boiled over.

“Do you even care?” you’d shout during one argument, the sound of your voice echoing in his car. “If you cared, you’d be on time!”

“At least I showed up, didn’t I?” he’d counter, his jaw tight with defensiveness. “And the event hadn’t even started when I arrived.”

“It’s not just today, Jeno. This happens all the time!” you’d insist, your palm flying to your forehead at how frustrating it was to argue with him.

The fights were loud, dramatic, and exhausting. The worst ones were after university events or  parties when you were ready to leave, but he wasn’t.

“You could’ve driven me home,” you snapped one night, pacing in his room while he sat on the edge of his bed. “Is that really too much to ask?”

“You were safe, weren’t you?” he argued, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “What’s the big deal?” He didn’t understand. He never did.

And yet, every fight seemed to pull you closer rather than push you apart. When the anger subsided, his apologies came in whispers and kisses that left you breathless. You’d find yourselves tangled in each other’s arms. It was always the same. His hands would find yours, his lips pressing apologies into your skin until the frustration melted away, replaced by a fire you couldn’t resist—a pull so magnetic that all protests seemed to fail. Maybe the way he liked you—imperfect, messy, but consuming—was the only way he knew how. And there was an odd beauty to it, something that kept you drawn to him. Love, probably. A love so consuming it left no room for doubt—only the certainty that, for better or worse, you were his, and he was yours.

Things didn’t get better. The passionate moments still came, leaving you breathless and feeling adored. Jeno still kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, whispering sweet nothings in the soft light of his bedroom, or laughing with you as you raced each other up the stairs. The spontaneous road trip dates still happened. Those moments made you believe that all the fighting and misunderstandings were just temporary. That it was necessary for the two of you to eventually navigate each other’s flaws, become better people, and finally find harmony.

But it didn’t happen.

You tried to be more understanding, biting back your irritation when he forgot to text you goodnight or when he turned up late without so much as an excuse. You tried to take a step back, to not overanalyze every little thing he did or didn’t do. But no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t seem to find the right wavelength to match his.

It was like you were speaking two different languages, your love trapped in a tug-of-war between passion and frustration.

“I don’t get it,” you confessed to your friends one day, staring into your latte. “I’ve tried talking to him about it. I’ve tried being more understanding. But it’s like we’re stuck on repeat. I can’t figure out why we can’t just… fix this.”

Giselle offered a sympathetic smile, always the lenient one. “Relationships take time. He’s not going to change overnight. If you really like him, you have to be patient.”

Karina wasn’t as forgiving. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, her expression firm. “Patience is one thing, but you can’t let him keep walking all over you. If he really cared, he’d be putting in the effort to meet you halfway.”

Jaemin, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up and tilted his head thoughtfully. “You two should probably sit down and talk properly,” he said simply. “You said so yourself, you only talked about all these issues when you’re fighting.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Giselle exclaimed, as if she just had a light bulb moment. “You need to talk about this calmly, not when you’re both emotional and angry.”

You sighed, massaging your temple because just the thought of bringing it up was already enough to anger you. Jaemin patted your back.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he said with a teasing tone, though you could tell he was worried. “Men are much simpler than you think. Just tell him what you want.”

That night, after hours of rehearsing the conversation in your head, you finally worked up the courage to call Jeno over. He arrived in his usual casual way, hoodie slung over his head and that boyish, simply disarming smile that always made your stomach flutter.

“Hi,” he greeted, pulling you by the waist and kissing your lips. You kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck out of habit.

“Dinner?” you asked when you pulled away, foreheads pressed together.

“Done. How about you?”

Your heart sank. You were sure you told him you wanted to eat dinner together when you asked him to come over. Still, you hid your disappointment behind a smile and a lie. “I had dinner with the girls earlier.”

“Good. We can go straight to business,” he quipped, cupping your face and kissing you again.

It didn’t take long for him to deepen the kiss, shoving his tongue expertly in your mouth as his hand slipped under your shirt. Warmth spread through you but you pushed him away before it could fully consume you.

“I actually want to talk to you about something first,” you said briskly, biting your lip as you studied his surprised expression.

Then he shrugged, nonchalant as ever. “Alright then,” he chimed, hugging you from behind as you led him to your bed.

He sat on the bed, resting his back on the headboard as he cradled you in his arms. You curled up on his lap, playing with his fingers as you wondered how to bring it up. The practice was totally useless since you couldn’t even open your mouth at all.

After a few minutes of silence, Jeno tightened his embrace and nuzzled his nose against the side of your head, kissing your ear. “Is this about yesterday?”

Yesterday, when you tried to confront him but couldn’t even get a word in because he put on his headphones before you could open your mouth—as if he hadn’t just kept you waiting for forty minutes outside your favorite café.

“No,” you replied, clasping his hands tightly to keep yours from shaking. “It’s about a lot of things, Jeno. Including yesterday.”

He said nothing, and you couldn’t even see his expression because he was behind you. You took a deep breath. “I just want us to talk about our issues properly and fix them,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

“We do talk about it.”

“No, we don’t. We fight about it. That’s different,” you sighed, leaning back against him and reaching for his face. “I thought we’d get better over time, but nothing has changed. We still fight about the same things. We can’t keep doing that.”

Jeno chuckled behind you, as if he was amused. “Well, maybe you should stop making a big deal out of everything.”

That made something snap inside of you. Luckily, you caught yourself before you could lash out. You blinked rapidly, steadying your raging heartbeat and calming the anger that had suddenly engulfed you.

“Jeno do you—” you stopped, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You turned to face him, gouging the meaning of his words by studying his expression. “Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

“I do understand,” he replied, his tone defensive. “We can talk without fighting, you know? We fight over everything, even the little things. You always blow things out of proportion.”

“I blow things out of proportion?” you echoed, feeling the anger rise higher up your chest. As calmly as you could, you said, “Every time I try to tell you how I feel, it turns into a fight because you act like it’s nothing. And you’d say you’re tired of fighting but you don’t do anything to fix things. You’re still late, you still don’t text back, and you don’t even try to understand why these things matter.”

“Baby—”

You cut him off, still keeping your anger at bay. “You call it little things but these are big things to me, Jeno. And it adds up until there’s a whole mountain of these big things and I’m too small to keep it inside. Do you think I’m arguing with you just because I like picking a fight? No. I’m telling you what I need from you, and you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing.”

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to brush you off. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t think relationships were too much… work…” His voice faltered, as though he regretted saying it.

But he already said it, and the damage has been done. “Too much work?” you repeated, your voice quieter now. “You think I’m too much work?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, panic evident in his eyes.

You stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is too much work. But isn’t that how relationships should be? Isn’t it natural for two people in love to have expectations of each other?”

Jeno stood too, reaching for your hand but you stepped back. He sighed out your name, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I think you should go,” you told him, looking away. “We need a break, Jeno,” you added, your voice cracking but resolute.

“A break? Seriously?” His expression shifted into disbelief and frustration.

“Yes, Jeno, seriously!” you belted, unable to hold it in anymore. Your eyes began to sting, tears threatening to fall as emotions overwhelmed you. “I can’t keep feeling like I’m asking for too much just because I want you to care as much as I do.”

He exhaled sharply, placing his hands on his waist as he stared at you with a rigid, unreadable expression. “You think breaking up is gonna magically solve this?”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth. This was not how you imagined this conversation would go, but now that it was happening, you couldn’t take it back. Not that you want to. “But it’s gonna rid me of you, at least. I need to figure out if this is even worth it anymore. And maybe you should, too.”

He stood there, looking like he wanted to argue, but no words came. After a moment, he nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

And just like that, he walked out the door.

The first three days of your breakup was the worst. You never left your apartment, you didn’t move an inch in bed, you stared at your phone all day, waiting for him to call but ignoring the messages from your friends. As long as you could endure it, you didn’t touch any food, too lazy to move and too heartbroken to think of anything or anyone.

It wasn’t until Jaemin came banging on your door that you finally inhaled air from outside your apartment.

“Eugh,” Jaemin grimaced as soon as he saw you, covering his nose. “You stink.”

You scowled, offended, but you lifted the collar of your shirt and brought it to your nose. You did stink. You asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Karina said they couldn’t reach you,” he replied, handing you a bag of takeout from your favorite fastfood chain. “They asked me to check in on you and see if you’re still alive.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, taking the bag and rummaging through it. You grabbed the burger inside and unwrapped it hastily.

Jaemin sighed, shaking his head as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just look at yourself. Did you like him that much? Did he say he’d take you back if you starve yourself like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” you scoffed, walking back inside your apartment. Jaemin followed, closing the door behind him. “I dumped him. I should be the one taking him back, not the other way around.”

“Really now?” he sniggered, picking up a few pieces of clutter on the floor. “It looks to me like you’re the one waiting for him to reach out.”

That hurt your pride a little, but you were too tired to even argue. You sat on your couch, placing the takeout bag on the coffee table as you glared at your friend. “Just tell me what you want from me and then leave.”

Jaemin placed your cluttered items back to their original places before turning to you. “Go take a bath. It’s Monday. You have classes.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything, you just bit onto your burger and looked away. 

“And it’s Karina’s birthday. Did you forget?”

You froze mid-bite, the burger hanging limply in your hand as guilt twisted in your stomach. Karina’s birthday. You hadn’t forgotten entirely—it had nagged at the back of your mind—but in the haze of your heartbreak, you hadn’t done anything about it.

You set the burger down and mumbled, “I didn’t forget.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Oh, really? So you’ve got her gift ready, then?”

Your silence said it all. Jaemin groaned and threw his hands up dramatically. “Unbelievable. She’s gonna kill you if you show up empty-handed, you know that, right?”

“I wasn’t planning to go,” you said quietly, sinking further into the couch. The thought of dressing up, putting on a smile, and pretending everything was fine felt impossible. Plus the guilt of forgetting something so important was beginning to gnaw at you.

Jaemin stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope. You’re coming. You’re not ditching her because of some guy. Stand up.”

“I can’t,” you protested weakly.

“Yes, you can,” he retorted, grabbing the burger from your hand and tossing it back into the bag. He pulled you up and guided you toward the bathroom door. “You’re going to take a shower, put on something decent, and we’re going. I’ll drive you to the mall to get her a gift.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Jaemin—”

“No excuses, love,” he interrupted, opening the bathroom door and pushing you inside. “You’re not gonna let your friend down just because your love life sucks right now.”

You wanted to argue, but he was right. Karina had always been the one person who never let you down. You owed her this, at the very least.

“Fine,” you muttered, dragging your feet further into the bathroom. As you shut the bathroom door behind you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe stepping outside your bubble of misery, even just for one night, was exactly what you needed.

Karina’s birthday dinner was simple and warm. The pasta restaurant was your go-to place for special occasions, the kind of place where the ambiance felt like home, and the food was always reliable. Karina, seated at the head of the table, looked radiant, her cheeks flushed with happiness as she opened her first gift—a sleek fountain pen from Jaemin.

“I figured you’d need it for all your artsy journaling,” he quipped, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

Karina laughed, twirling the pen in her fingers. “It’s perfect. Now I can write about how annoying you are in style.”

Giselle leaned forward, her chin propped on her hand. “Or you can write about how I’m clearly the best friend you’d ever had.” She passed over a small wrapped box. “It’s from me. Open it.”

Karina obliged, peeling away the paper to reveal a dainty silver wristwatch from a designer brand. “Oh my god! I love it,” Karina said, her voice soft, as she turned the wristwatch over in her hands.

Ningning chimed in next, presenting her gift dramatically. “Mine’s practical but fabulous.” She handed over a beautifully wrapped package that turned out to be a designer planner. “For your future plans and daily journaling.”

Karina was swooning and before she could say anything, Jaemin cut in. “You’re into planners now too?”

“What do you mean? I have always used planners,” Karina replied, scoffing.

Jaemin nodded, glancing at Giselle. “I see you contracted Giselle’s weird addiction with planners and schedules.”

Giselle hit Jaemin with the back of her hand. “It’s called being organized. Try it and maybe your life would be less messy.”

When it was your turn to give Karina her gift, you pulled out a framed print of a watercolor painting you’d found at the mall earlier. It was of a serene sunset over water—Karina’s favorite motif.

“For your room,” you said as you handed it to her. “It’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

Karina’s smile grew wide as she unwrapped it. “This is gorgeous.” She reached over to squeeze your hand. “Thank you. I’m so glad you came.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Over plates of creamy carbonara, pesto linguine, and margherita pizza. You didn’t expect to feel this good, this normal, but here you were, laughing along with Giselle’s witty banter and Ningning’s sarcastic comments. Jeno’s name didn’t come up once—not in passing conversation, not in anyone’s concerned glances. It was as though your heartbreak had been tucked away in a box for the evening, and the world had returned to how it used to be. You let yourself enjoy it, basking in the warmth of your friends and the comfort of being with people who knew you inside and out.

“This carbonara is amazing,” Ningning said, her eyes wide as she twirled her fork. “Worth the trip, honestly. I’d come back just for this.”

“You came back for me,” Karina teased, raising her wine glass with a smirk. “Admit it.”

“Fine,” Ningning laughed, clinking her glass against Karina’s. “Happy birthday, babe. Another year hotter, just not hotter than me.”

As the evening wound down, the server brought out a small birthday cake topped with a small candle. Karina made a wish, blowing out the flame as everyone clapped. You caught yourself wishing, too—not for anything extravagant, just for this sense of normalcy to last a little longer.

After a few rounds of toasts, the group paid the bill and wandered out into the cool night air. Jaemin ushered everyone into his car for the ride home. The drive was loud and chaotic, filled with over the top renditions of pop songs blasting from the radio. Giselle insisted on sitting in the middle of the back seat, demanding that everyone join her in singing, while Ningning occasionally threw out sarcastic remarks about your lack of rhythm.

When Jaemin finally pulled up to your apartment complex, Giselle leaned out the window, waving her hand at you. “Class tomorrow, okay? Don’t skip.”

“Yes, ma’am!” You waved back. “I’ll be there!”

The goodbyes were loud and warm, your friends’ laughter ringing out as Jaemin’s car disappeared down the street. The quiet that followed was jarring. Sighing, you climbed the stairs to your floor, the warmth of the evening still clinging to you like a comforting jacket. But as you turned the corner, the sight at your door stopped you in your tracks.

There was a man slumped against your doorframe, his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms tucked inside the pocket of his hoodie. His head was tipped back against the wooden door, with his hoodie covering half his face.

“Jeno?” you called out hesitantly, your voice breaking the silence.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, but then they locked onto yours. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. He looked tired, disheveled, possibly tipsy. You wondered if it was because he was drunk that he’d fallen asleep at your door, or was it because he was waiting too long. What if it was both?

Your chest tightened with frustration and longing. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the door for support. He took a step toward you and rested his head on your shoulder, staying there for a moment, sighing as if relieved just to be near you.

“I needed to see you,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. Everything in you wanted to ask him why, but the words wouldn’t come. And at that moment, it felt like nothing was really over—not yet at least.

It had been only three days since the last time Jeno was at your flat, but you hadn’t realized how empty those three days were until now.

You lay on your side, facing each other. The space between you was small but it felt like a mile. Jeno’s eyes were steady, almost searching, as though he was trying to gauge the thoughts swimming in your head. His fingers idly twirled the ends of your hair, a familiar gesture that once made you feel at home but now left you teetering on the edge of something fragile and painful.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

Your chest tightened. “You’re drunk,” you said, forcing your words to come out steady.

He gave you a faint, tired smile. “A little,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I missed you more when I was sober.”

The tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill, your throat tightening as you swallowed them down. “Why are you here, Jeno?”

“To see you.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, soft and tentative. “And to apologize.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

“For being a bad boyfriend,” he said, his words quiet but heavy, as though they carried the weight of something he couldn’t yet say out loud.

“Go to sleep, Jeno,” you murmured, your voice quieter now, laced with exhaustion more than anger. Without waiting for a response, you turned your back to him, facing the opposite side of the bed.

You felt the mattress shift behind you. His arm slid under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you into him until your back was flush against his chest. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. The way he held you, firm but gentle, told you everything he couldn’t.

Then again, maybe it was just your wishful thinking deluding you into believing that there was something there when really, there wasn’t.

Your body stiffened for a moment, your mind caught in a whirlwind of push and pull—of reasons to let go and reasons to stay. But eventually, you exhaled, sinking into the familiarity of him. It was easier than fighting the storm in your head. For now, you’d just ignore it.

His breath was soft and steady against the back of your neck, and soon enough, the rhythm lulled you to sleep. When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the sunlight spilling through the curtains. The second thing was the steady rise and fall of Jeno’s chest against your back, his arms still wrapped securely around you.

You stayed like that for a while, and neither of you was in any hurry to move. It felt normal like any other lazy morning you’d spent together. Eventually, Jeno stirred, his voice still husky with sleep as he asked, “Are you awake?” 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your throat dry. You didn’t turn to face him. “Why are you still here?”

“Did I overstay my welcome already?” he quipped, his tone light, though his arms tightened ever so slightly around you.

You didn’t answer. The words felt too complicated to untangle so early in the morning. Instead, you reached for your phone on the bedside table, scrolling aimlessly through nothing. Jeno’s chin came to rest on your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said flatly, locking your phone again.

He hummed. “Look at me then.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He huffed, tightening his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong? Woke up on the wrong side of bed?”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “More like woke up with the wrong guy in bed.”

“Oh?” he asked, amused. “Who were you hoping to wake up with this morning?”

“Not you, obviously.”

“Alright, fine. I’m leaving,” he said, sighing. But he didn’t leave, instead, he grabbed your phone, tossed it aside and pulled you back on the bed with him.

For a moment, it was quiet again, but not uncomfortable. He kissed your forehead. “So… did you have fun at Karina’s thing?”

“It was fine,” you said, staring at the ceiling. “Everyone was there. Jaemin was annoying, Giselle was—well, Giselle. Ningning came too.”

“Must have been fun,” he scoffed. “They still hate me?”

“They never hated you, Jeno. They simply didn’t like you.”

“Comforting,” he said dryly.

“Well, you don’t exactly make an effort to try to be friendly with them.” Not to mention, your friends disliked how Jeno often stressed you out with how terrible he was at being a proper boyfriend, but you didn’t want to tell him that.

“I’m friends with Jaemin,” he countered, the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to ignore.

“You’re friends in-game. That doesn’t count,” you huffed, sitting up. “If you wanna be liked by them—no. Actually, if you wanna be a proper part of my life, you should at least try to get along with my friends.”

Jeno propped himself up on his elbow, flashing a mischievous grin at you. “Are you saying you want to try again with me?”

There are about a dozen—no, a hundred—ways he could try to win you back. This wasn’t one of them. If only he’d try to talk about this like an adult, like he was serious about this, but this is Jeno. What were you even expecting from someone like him?

“Go home, Jeno,” you huffed, stepping down from the bed.

Jeno followed after you, trapping you in his embrace once more. You squirmed against his hold, trying to shake him off, but he only pulled you closer, burying his face on the crook of your neck. Then he let out a sigh and the playfulness that laced his tone just now seemed to dissipate in the air. It was as if everything—the break, the distance, the issues you never talked about—had finally caught up to him and was weighing him down just as much as it did you. You wanted to believe that was true.

“Please,” he whispered, so softly it was almost swallowed by the silence. His voice cracked slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry. Just… please. Don’t make me leave. I want to stay here… with you.”

Your heart twisted, caught between the instinct to push him away and the aching pull of his sincerity. But you didn’t move. Instead, you exhaled shakily, your voice barely audible. “Jeno…”

But before you could finish, he added, “I love you.”

“What?” Your voice cracked, the disbelief hitting you harder than you expected. You stepped back sharply, pressing your palms against his chest to create space. “How can you say that?”

Jeno met your gaze and there was no mistaking the anguish on his face. “It’s true.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “What do you mean it’s true?” you asked, your voice sharp. “You don’t just get to say that, Jeno. You don’t get to show up here, after everything, and tell me you love me like it’ll fix things.”

He flinched at the edge in your tone, but he didn’t back down. “But I do,” he said quietly, almost desperately. “I love you.”

You shook your head, the heat rising in your chest. “Do you even know what that means? Or is this just another one of your ways to make me take you back? Say it and I’ll forgive you, is that it?”

“No!” Jeno’s voice rose, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t even know how to defend himself. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You can start by explaining,” you shot back, your voice trembling. “Why now? Why couldn’t you say it before? Why wait until we’re—”

“I don’t know! Damn it!” Jeno cut you off, his voice breaking. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the emotion in his words spilling out in raw, uneven waves. “I just know I missed you so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Every second, every stupid little thing reminded me of you, and I didn’t know what to do. I just know I missed you. So fucking much I was losing my mind.”

His confession hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from your lungs. You felt like you were drowning, your own anger and hurt mingling with the unmistakable ache of wanting him too.

“Jeno…” you started, but the words died in your throat as he stepped closer. His eyes burned with frustration and longing, and before you could say anything else, his hands cupped your face.

“I know I messed up,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I know I don’t deserve this, but I—”

And then he kissed you. It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was fiery and unrestrained, driven by everything he couldn’t say and everything you couldn’t bring yourself to admit. His lips pressed against yours with a desperation that stole the air from your lungs. His hands even trembled slightly as they tangled in your hair.

For a moment, you froze, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. But then your restraints failed you. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as though that could make sense of the chaos swirling between you.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly nothing else mattered—no words, no explanations. Just the heat of his mouth on yours, the way his hands traced over your skin as if trying to memorize you all over again. 

Jeno backed you against the edge of the bed, his lips never leaving yours as his hands slid down to your waist. The emotions—anger, longing, love—pushed you both past the point of no return. When your back hit the mattress, he hovered over you, his forehead pressed against yours as you both caught your breath.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice strained but gentle. “If you don’t want this, just say the word.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled him down into another kiss, letting the storm of emotions take over. Words would only complicate things. For now, you needed this—you needed him.

“I love you,” he rasped in your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. His fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress, tugging it over your head in one motion.

He tossed your dress aside, and it landed somewhere across the room. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, and intense, taking you in as if committing every detail to memory. As if he needed to—you were sure he’d memorized every part of you by now.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you met his gaze boldly, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, lingering over the firm muscles and supple skin. You kissed his shoulder and collarbone, savoring how he tensed under your touch.

Jeno leaned to meet your lips, his weight pressing against you deliciously, and you arched into him, gasping as his lips found the hollow of your throat. His hands roamed your body, exploring the length of your skin until he reached your core. He knew exactly what to do—knew exactly how you liked being touched down there. And the expert motions of his fingers made you delirious with desire, your nails dragging across his back and leaving faint red trails.

“Jeno…” you moaned into his ear, holding on to him for dear life as you bucked your hips forward to meet the movements of his fingers.

You missed his touch—every caress seemed to awaken a bolder side of you, more feral, and more desperate. When his lips found yours again, you tugged him forward, moulding your lips together in a fervent kiss. 

“I’ve missed you, babe,” he breathed, caressing your cheek. “I was so lost without you.”

He planted a quick kiss on your lips before sitting up to discard his shirt and unbuckled his jeans. He then hovered over you, gaze so enrapturing, you genuinely thought you’d spiral into a climax if he kept at it.

I should stop this, you thought to yourself. Before it consumes me entirely.

But it was genuinely so hard to make rational decisions when his hand was on your bosom, squeezing with just the perfect amount of force while his teeth grazed your other nipple delightfully. And as he tugged his jeans off his waist and his manhood sprang free from the confines of his underwear, your rationality fell apart. It shouldn’t be a surprise. You had never been good at listening to reason in the first place.

Soon, the room was filled with the lewd sound of your moans and skin slamming against skin. You clung onto him, rocking to meet his hips. He was thrusting and kissing you at the same time, trailing kisses on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone and your breasts. And when a particularly hard push made you whimper in both pain and pleasure, Jeno shushed you gently, reminding you that the walls were thinner in this apartment complex.

“Is it good, baby?” he asked, licking your earlobe after.

You shivered delightfully. “More. More, Jeno. Please.”

He let out a feral grunt. “Fuuuck.”

He pulled back, tugged you by the waist, and hoisted you up so you were on all fours—all in a matter of seconds. Then without warning, he shoved himself back inside you, making you let out a sweet little cry. He then rammed into you, relentlessly, fingers wrapped around the back of your neck as he pressed your cheek on the mattress. You muffled your own moans by burying your face on the sheets, your head spiraling with intense pleasure.

Soon, you felt your body twitching with the tease of release, eyes blurring with tears caused by overstimulation. Then in no time, waves of euphoria tore through you, stealing all the strength from your limbs. Jeno didn’t stop, chasing his own high until you heard that familiar grunt, the sudden emptiness when he pulled out, followed by hot stuff spurting on the skin of your back.

You both collapsed on the bed, out of breath, mildly weakened, but both basking on a delightful high. Jeno rolled over on his side, smiling when he met your gaze.

“Did you like that?” he asked, his smile turning smug.

You scoffed, refusing to admit it. “Meh. It was okay,” you said flatly, making him laugh.

His laugh was soft, the kind that vibrated through you, and when he kissed the side of your head, it was sweet. Sweet enough to distract you from realizing that you had just walked into a new phase in your relationship with Jeno. You didn’t know at the time, but it was a phase that would leave you reeling in both bliss and misery.

The first few days with Jeno back in your life felt like a dream. He texted back almost immediately, sometimes with silly jokes or memes or selfies he took of himself. For once, he made plans himself instead of leaving it to you. He still wasn’t the most punctual, but you noticed the effort, and it was enough.

More than that, it was the little things—the thoughtful way he’d text ‘I love you’ unprompted, or the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking. It felt like he was finally trying, and for a while, you allowed yourself to hope. But then, the cracks never failed to show themselves.

At first, it was small things. A delayed reply here, a forgotten promise there. You told yourself it was nothing, that he was busy. He had mentioned working on a big school project, and you didn’t want to seem clingy.

But the doubts crept in. One night, as you sat beside him, his phone buzzed incessantly. He sighed and picked it up, muttering something about it being distracting. Over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the screen—messages, mostly from girls.

You tried to play it cool, but the knot in your stomach tightened as you noticed just how many there were. Though he never replied, the sight of all those names made your chest ache.

“Why are they even messaging you?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady.

“I don’t know. Probably because I’m not at the party,” Jeno replied as he glanced at you09, his expression softening as he set his phone down. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t even know half of these people. You’re the only one I need,” he chimed, snuggling closer against you as the movie played on.

The next day, his social media accounts went private. He mentioned it casually, saying he didn’t want random people messaging him anymore. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel better.

For a little while, things were good again. Then, you heard about the girl from his class. She’d been hitting on him, according to one of your friends. When you brought it up, Jeno waved it off like it was nothing.

“Don’t worry about her,” he had said, brushing his hand over yours. “She knows I’m with you.”

But the doubts didn’t go away. Especially not when he started responding to your texts less frequently. You told yourself he was just busy, but your heart whispered otherwise. One afternoon, frustrated and restless, you found yourself walking past his building. You weren’t even sure why you were there, but as you glanced toward an empty classroom, you saw Jeno.

He was sitting at a table with a few other people, his head bent over some notes. Beside him was the girl your friend had mentioned, leaning in a little too close, her laughter ringing out loud enough for you to hear even from where you stood.

The sight stopped you in your tracks for a whole minute. You took out your phone and snapped a photo before walking away, hoping no one noticed you. By the time he met you that evening, your thoughts were a storm you couldn’t contain.

“So, you’re working on your project?” you started, your tone sharper than you intended.

Jeno blinked, taken aback. “Yeah, why?”

“With her?” you asked, showing the photo you took of them.

He froze for a moment, then sighed. “It’s a group project. I can’t control who’s in the group or where they sit.”

“Right,” you said, crossing your arms. “And you couldn’t text me back because you were too busy sitting next to her?”

“Come on, babe, it’s not like that,” he said, his voice rising slightly in frustration. “Let’s not fight about this.”

“It’s just exhausting. It feels like I’m always the one waiting, Jeno! Waiting for you to text back, waiting for you to choose me over—whatever this is.”

“Choose you?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “I’m here, aren’t I? I barely even talk to any other girl who isn’t you. What more do you want from me?”

“I want to stop feeling like this!” you burst out, your voice trembling. “Like I’m always second-guessing where I stand with you.”

“You’re not second-guessing me. You’re doubting me because you can’t seem to stop looking for reasons to.”

“That’s not what this is, Jeno,” you said, but your voice wavered.

“It is,” he said firmly, his eyes hardening. “You don’t trust me, and that’s not my problem.”

His words cut deeper than you’d expected. For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure if you were hurt or furious—or both. “Fine,” you said finally, your voice cold. “Since this is a ‘me’ problem, maybe we should stop this. Maybe you’re right—I’m the problem, and this isn’t going to work.”

His eyes widened, his expression faltering. For a moment, you thought he might reach out or say something to stop you. But he didn’t.

“I don’t wanna see you again, Jeno.”

You turned and walked away, your steps quick and determined, your heart breaking a little more with each one. Behind you, Jeno stayed rooted to the spot, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his gaze fixed on the ground.

You didn’t look back.

A few days later, you found yourself back on campus, trying not to think about Jeno. It wasn’t easy. Everywhere you went, it felt like something reminded you of him—the bench where you’d shared lunch, the library corner where he once dozed off while you studied, even the vending machine he’d kicked to get you a stuck drink.

You were heading to class when a snippet of conversation stopped you in your tracks.

“Jeno? Oh god, don’t even get me started with that guy,” a girl said, her voice carrying in the quiet hallway.

Curiosity piqued, you slowed your steps, pretending to check your phone as you listened. You recognized Belle, the subject of your last argument with Jeno which eventually led to the break up—though you had to admit she wasn’t the main reason for it, just a catalyst.

“I took that class just so I could try getting close with him. I don’t know if he’s tactless or just truly indifferent, but I’m sick of it,” she continued.

“Are you serious?” her friend asked, incredulous. “Girl, that’s insane. I didn’t think you’d go that far for a guy. And he had a girlfriend too.”

“I knew that. I didn’t think they were serious. He’s never been tied down by a relationship before, you know?” Belle sighed, pouting. “And then I heard they broke up. I thought maybe I’d have a chance, but... he kind of shot me down. Said he wasn’t interested and that I should find someone else to bother. He was kinda rude about it too.”

Her friend chimed in, “That’s rough. What if they were serious and he’s just not over her yet?”

Belle shrugged. “Who cares? I’m over that guy. Although I did notice he seemed a bit down these days. If that’s true, then she’s one lucky girl. Making a loyal boyfriend out of Jeno and all that.”

The ache in your chest tightened. You already knew deep inside you that Jeno didn’t deserve the blame. And hearing this now just confirmed that the pieces didn’t fit the narrative you’d convinced yourself of. You turned and walked away before you could hear any more.

In his own way, the only way he knew how, Jeno was trying to make things work with you. Looking back now, you might have overreacted, though you still tried to justify it to yourself—to tell yourself that your feelings were valid and he should have done a better job of reassuring you.

Still, the doubt gnawed at you until later that evening when you found yourself in Giselle’s apartment. She had a way of prying things out of you, and it didn’t take long before you were spilling the whole story.

“So, you broke up with him because he wasn’t responding to your texts and because of that girl?” Giselle asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, feeling a bit ridiculous now that you said it out loud. “It wasn’t just that. It’s… everything. I keep feeling like I’m not enough for him, like he’s always got one foot out the door.”

Giselle frowned, setting down her mug. “Look, your feelings are valid. You deserve to feel secure in a relationship. But… don’t you think you might’ve been a little impulsive this time?”

“Impulsive?” you echoed, defensive.

“I’m just saying, did Jeno actually do anything to deserve your suspicion?” she asked gently. “From what you told me, Jeno didn’t do anything wrong. He can’t help it if girls still try to hit on him, and it sounds like he’s been making an effort to shut them down. Setting his socials to private? That’s huge for someone like him.”

You stayed silent, biting your lip.

“And from what I’ve seen, he’s head over heels for you. Maybe it’s time to give him the benefit of the doubt,” she added. “Look, you already know Jeno’s always had a reputation, even before you two started dating. He’s that guy—aloof but fun, hot and charismatic, all the girls want him. But now that he’s with you, it’s like no one else got the memo. That’s not his fault, though. And honestly, I think he’s trying. Maybe you should talk to him instead of assuming the worst.”

Her words lingered with you long after you left her apartment. Swallowing your pride, you found yourself standing outside Jeno’s unit. Your heart raced as you texted him, your fingers hesitating over the keyboard before finally pressing send.

You: Can we talk?

His reply came quicker than you expected.

Jeno: Are you outside? You: How did you know? Jeno: I was hoping you were. Jeno: Wait, you are?

The door in front of you swung open, revealing a wide-eyed, slightly disheveled Jeno. His eyes lit up briefly, the corner of his lips twitching with a faint smile before he masked it with a casual shrug. You waved awkwardly, your embarrassment battling the small rush of relief at seeing him after several days apart.

Jeno cleared his throat, straightened up, and crossed his arms as he leaned lazily against the doorframe. You couldn’t help smirking at his obvious attempt to appear unbothered.

That made him raise an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Oh,” you fumbled, swallowing hard. “I, um… Can I come in?”

“No.”

“What?” You blinked, genuinely caught off guard.

“No, you can’t.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” you shot back, trying to steady your voice despite the growing irritation. You stood there for a second, looking down at your shoes. You didn’t wanna waste any time, but the words wouldn’t come out of your lips.

“If there’s nothing else, then—” Jeno began, moving to close the door, but you darted forward, grabbing the doorknob to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, the words tumbling out faster than you’d intended. You looked up at him, your heart pounding. “I think I might’ve overreacted. About… everything.”

Jeno’s expression didn’t soften immediately. His brows were slightly furrowed, his hand still on the door. “Oh, you think?” he said, his tone neutral.

“No, I mean, I know I did. I just… I get in my own head sometimes,” you admitted, stepping back. “I start overthinking things, and I end up pushing you away when what I really want is to pull you closer.”

He let out a soft sigh, stepping closer. “You think I don’t overthink too? I feel like I’m screwing up every time I see the disappointment in your face. Even if you tried to hide it.”

You looked at him, surprised.

“I know I’m not the best at this—at us,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t know what to tell you, except that I want you and I love you. And everyone else are just… potatoes.”

You chuckled before you could even stop yourself. Jeno simply gawked at you, as if he had no idea what was so funny. For a while, neither of you said anything, just standing there face to face—you with a smile on your face and him with a pout. Then, finally, you spoke. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

Jeno didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, as though afraid you’d slip away again. “I’m sorry too. I should do better.”

“Yeah, you should,” you quipped, wrapping your arms around him and closing your eyes to bask in the warmth you’d grown so fond of.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair. “So damn much.”

You hummed, eyes fluttering open. “Can I come in now?” you quipped, making Jeno pull away with a grin. Without a word, he pulled you inside, finding your lips in the dimly lit apartment and kicking the door behind him.

And just like that, the cycle repeated.

You got back together. For a while, things were good. Sweet texts, stolen kisses, quiet nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms. But eventually, something would come up—another fight, another misunderstanding—and you’d break up again. Then you’d find yourselves back here, trying to piece things together, neither of you quite willing to let go.

“It’s bad. You were never the patient type, but with him? You’ve got the patience of a saint,” Karina remarked, shaking her head after yet another breakup. “I don’t even know if I should be proud of you or worried.”

“How many times has it been this month?” Jaemin asked, his eyes fixed on his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Karina shot him a look. “Excuse me, Jaemin. In case you didn’t notice, you’re not part of this conversation. We know for a fact that you’re playing a game with Jeno right now, Traitor.”

Jaemin smirked, barely glancing up. “We’re only buddies in-game. I know where my loyalties lie.”

You rolled your eyes at their banter, though you could feel the weight of Karina’s words sinking in. They weren’t wrong. It was bad.

Still, you and Jeno persisted. Despite everything, there were moments when you felt like the luckiest person alive. The way he’d send you voice messages of a song stuck in his head just because it reminded him of you, or how he’d show up with your favorite snacks after a long day, made your heart flutter. Those little things kept you going.

But then there were the other moments. The times when he’d brush off something that mattered to you, his inconsistency leaving you feeling unsteady. He drove you crazy in all the ways someone could—sometimes in the best way, but often in the worst.

The breaking point came when you almost failed a class. You’d spent the entire week crying over yet another breakup with Jeno, replaying every fight, every unresolved argument, until the deadline for your paper had come and gone. When you logged into the portal and saw the glaring red INCOMPLETE notification, it felt like the universe was screaming at you to wake up.

Karina wasn’t subtle when she confronted you about it. “You’re throwing your future away over a guy,” she said, her voice sharp, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “A guy who clearly doesn’t have his shit together either.”

Giselle chimed in, softer but no less firm. “We get it. You love him, and he loves you, but this? This has to stop, hon. He’s obviously bad for you.”

You wanted to argue, to defend Jeno, but the truth was staring back at you. You couldn’t deny it anymore: you’d been neglecting yourself, stretching yourself thin, just to hold onto something that was already slipping through your fingers.

Luckily, you were given a makeup project to salvage your grade. You spent hours on it, giving it your best, reminding yourself that you may have done averagely ever since you started college, but you’d never had a failed grade before. The paper was submitted, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of pride. But you knew that wasn’t enough. This wasn’t just about school anymore. It was about you.

And so, you made the decision to let Jeno go. It wasn’t easy—it never was—but it was necessary. It was what you needed. For the first time in months, you chose yourself. The day you broke up with him was quieter than you expected. No shouting, no grand gestures, just two people staring at each other, knowing it was over.

“I wish it could’ve worked,” Jeno said, his voice low.

“Me too,” you replied, your heart aching as you turned away.

He didn’t chase after you—not that he ever did each time you broke up. That was disappointing, but also clarifying. If he wasn’t willing to fight for this, then why were you fighting so hard?

When you told your friends, Giselle nearly cried, while Karina popped open a bottle of champagne as if you’d just announced your graduation.

“Nine months!” Karina exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock disbelief. “Nine whole months!”

Jaemin raised a finger, grinning mischievously. “Eleven if we count the hooking-up phase.”

“Wow, that’s almost a year,” Karina sneered, turning to you. “You really must have been insane.”

Giselle snorted, nudging Karina with her elbow. “Come on, she wasn't insane—just a little too crazy in love.”

“To a brighter future and fewer sleepless nights,” Jaemin declared, raising his glass dramatically before handing you one.

“Not just fewer,” Karina added, leaning closer with a grin. “None. You deserve to sleep like a queen, babe.”

Their laughter and cheers filled the room. You took a sip of the champagne, its fizz tickling your nose. For a moment, you let yourself bask in the comfort of their joy, the love they poured into lifting your spirits.

Jaemin raised his glass again with a smirk. “And for surviving our second year of college in one piece. Barely.”

You all laughed. “Hear! Hear!”

Even with the bubbly warmth of their company, the ache lingered quietly in your chest, a reminder of everything you’d let go. Letting go wasn’t the same as forgetting. It never was.

Still, as the cheap champagne bubbled on your tongue and your friends’ laughter rang in your ears, you felt something shift. It wasn’t healing, not yet, but it was a start. And that was enough for now.

When you walked down the halls of NCIT in the first semester of your third year, you were overcome with the oddest sense of unfamiliarity. The chatter and bustle were all the same, yet it felt distant, like watching an old memory play out from the sidelines. The walls, the quad, the staircases—everything looked the same from when you last saw them, but unfamiliar. It was like stepping back into a life you’d left behind a long time ago.

But then, as you turned a corner, the reason for this weird unease became clear. There he was—Lee Jeno, leaning against the staircase with his friends. He hadn’t changed at all. Then again, it had only been six weeks since you saw him last.

A voice from behind you cut through your thoughts. “Yo, Jeno!”

Jeno’s head turned at the call, and his eyes met yours. For a split second, neither of you moved. But just as quickly, you looked away and turned in the opposite direction. You didn’t wait to see if he reacted, your feet carrying you toward your classroom hastily.

Time is a strange thing. Sometimes it rushes past, stealing days and months before you even notice. Other times, it drags slowly, each minute stretching endlessly as if it wanted you to feel and experience every passing second. People say time moves faster when you’re happy, slower when you’re not. With Jeno, it felt like both.

You hadn’t realized how much time you’d spent with him until it was over. Eleven months. Almost a year. It felt like a lifetime and a moment all at once.

“Eleven months. I really was out of my mind,” you muttered to yourself as you sank into your seat. Shaking your head, you lightly smacked your own cheek, hoping to jolt yourself out of the spiral. As you did, you caught sight of the guy sitting next to you, watching your antics. You blinked, embarrassed but mostly surprised. “Renjun?”

“Hi,” he greeted, flashing a smile that you remembered all too well—sweet, beautiful, angelic. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you agreed, chuckling awkwardly. “How have you been?”

“Good,” he said, shrugging. “Same as always.”

You leaned closer, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Still out there unintentionally breaking hearts?”

Renjun’s laugh was awkward, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Uh, no. Not that I know of.”

“Oh, good. That’s great then,” you chuckled, turning your attention in front. There was a pause, one that was more awkward than expected. You turned back to him and said, “Not a good subject to bring up after not seeing each other for a long time, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” he replied, chuckling, this time genuinely. “It’s good to see you again, though.”

“I know. It’s good to see you too,” you echoed, smiling at him just as the professor walked into the hall. Your conversation ended, replaced by occasional glances and small smiles. After class, Renjun caught up with you outside, falling into step beside you.

“Where are you headed?” he asked casually.

“The cafeteria,” you replied. “Meeting my friends. You?”

“Same. I heard they’re serving pasta today,” he said, his voice light.

You didn’t say anything for a while and just wondered why you were having this conversation. But when Renjun kept walking with you without saying anything, it suddenly clicked. “Do you wanna… join us?” you asked.

His face lit up, the sheepish smile returning. “Are you sure? You’re with your friends…”

You waved your hand dismissively. “It’s alright. I’m sure they’d love to see you. It’s been a while for them, too.”

His smile grew. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

As expected, your friends were thrilled to see Renjun again. He was the center of attention the whole time during lunch, with them asking why they didn’t see him at all year. Giselle said they had a class together though, so it was just you and your other friends. And when that was over, you all went your own ways but Renjun didn’t forget to wish you a good day.

The next day, you ran into him again as you left your morning class. He was leaning against the wall near the door, scrolling through his phone, and looked up when he saw you. His familiar smile lit up his face. “Hi, where are you headed?”

“I’m going to the library,” you replied, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I need to do some reading for an assignment.”

Renjun seemed skeptical. “Willingly?”

“What does that mean?” you asked, chuckling.

“Nothing. Just…” He didn’t finish, just shrugged and grinned knowingly.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver. “Hey, I still go there sometimes. Just because I’m not glued to it like in freshman year doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to read.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, nodding toward the hallway. “Alright, let’s go, bookworm.”

The walk to the library felt oddly nostalgic, like slipping into an old routine. You had easy conversations, talking about your summer break, your professors, and everything in between. It wasn’t until you were both settled at a table in the far corner of the library that it hit you how much you’d missed this—just sitting and talking with Renjun.

“I forgot how nice and quiet this place is,” you said, looking around at the tall shelves and the quiet students scattered throughout the room.

“Did you seriously not come here at all last semester?” he teased, propping his chin on his hand.  “You practically lived here back then.”

“I might have. Maybe once, I’m not sure,” you murmured. “It shames me to say this now, but I only hung out here back then because of you. I was never a library person from the start.”

Renjun smiled. “I see. That’s a relief, then. I sometimes wonder if you stopped coming here because of what happened back then.”

You shook your head, grimacing sheepishly. The library had been your shared space, a sanctuary from the chaos of campus life. It was also where you’d spent countless hours pretending to study while sneaking glances at him, your freshman crush growing stronger with every thoughtful smile he sent your way. But that was a long time ago. So much had changed since then. 

Still, as the afternoon wore on, the ease between you remained. You left the library with a faint smile, thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to drop by more often.

t started small: an invitation to grab lunch in the cafeteria after class. Then coffee at your favorite café the following week. And before you knew it, you were spending more time with Renjun.

One afternoon, as you walked across the quad with him and Giselle, Renjun gestured toward the fountain in the center. “Got time before your next class?” he asked casually. “We could sit for a bit.”

You nodded without hesitation this time. The sunlit quad, the quiet murmur of students passing by—it was your favorite time to hang around the quad. 

As you made your way to the fountain, Giselle discreetly nudged your elbow, turning your attention briefly to a group gathered under the shade of a tree by the library. Jeno was there with a few other students, talking and laughing together. He looked happy, normal. The sight lingered in your mind, but it didn’t stop your feet from moving forward.

Renjun glanced at you as you reached the fountain. “Here okay?” he asked, gesturing to a sunny spot on the stone ledge.

You smiled and sat down. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

He settled beside you, resting his elbows on his knees, and the conversation picked up where it had left off. Renjun had a way of drawing people in through conversations of substance—the kind that made you want to keep talking to him. He listened intently, not just waiting for his turn to speak but genuinely engaging, even when your opinions clashed. He laughed in all the right places, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and when you stumbled over your words, he didn’t interrupt—just waited, his expression patient and encouraging.

After that day, spending time with Renjun became part of your routine. Sometimes it was lunch in the cafeteria with Giselle and Jaemin, Renjun effortlessly fitting in with your friends as though he’d never left. Other times, it was just the two of you, wandering the library aisles or lingering in the campus café over iced lattes and pastries.

He had a knack for noticing the little things. Once, he brought you an extra pen during a study session because he remembered you’d mentioned running out of ink. Another time, when you’d complained about skipping lunch to meet a deadline, he’d shown up with a neatly packed sandwich and insisted you eat while he proofread your work.

Despite all this, you didn’t think much of it. Romance was the last thing on your mind—you were still quietly dealing with your own tangled feelings, and getting involved with someone new seemed far too complicated. That is until Renjun brought it up.

You were sitting under a tree near the quad, sipping iced coffees he’d insisted on treating you to.

“This is nice,” he said, leaning back against the trunk. “It’s like freshman year all over again.”

You chuckled in a self-deprecating way. “Yeah, except it’s less embarrassing and delusional.”

Renjun chuckled, shaking his head. “It wasn’t embarrassing back then.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at your own expense. “Forget it. We’re way past that now.”

“I missed hanging out with you, you know,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “You were my favorite study buddy.”

The words caught you off guard. You laughed, a little uncertain. “Wow, didn’t know you were this sentimental, Renjun.”

“I’m serious,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I’ve missed having you around. And now that we’re spending time together again... I think I like you.”

You blinked, your smile faltering. “What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, his gaze steady. “Romantically, I mean.”

The memory of freshman year came rushing back—his soft rejection, your embarrassment, the way you’d quietly drifted apart afterward.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you or anything—it’s too soon for that,” he added quickly. “But I know I like you. If that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll understand. Just tell me now, and we’ll stay how we are. No pressure.”

You hesitated, studying him. Renjun had always been kind, always thoughtful. You should’ve been wary, but something in his voice, in the way he looked at you, made you hesitate.

“I’m not sure,” you finally admitted. “If I like you that way.”

Renjun nodded, as if he’d expected that. “Can I try?” he asked. “To see if there’s something here?”

“I’m not really in the right headspace for something like this right now.”

He shrugged. “If it’s alright with you, I can wait. I wasn’t really thinking about rushing things. I just thought I should let you know.”

You stared at him, weighing the possibilities.  It was funny to think how over a year ago, you’d been in this exact position—but on the other side of the conversation. Back then, it had been you confessing your feelings, your heart on the line. Now, as you looked at Renjun, his soft eyes warm yet expectant, you realized this was how he looked at someone he liked. You didn’t know he could get any cuter than he already was.

It was strange how much had changed since then. But maybe that was the point—you weren’t the same person anymore, and neither was he.

“Alright,” you said, your lips curving into a tentative smile. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Renjun’s face lit up, his smile so genuine it made your heart ache a little. And just like that, the two of you began again—not as the people you were back then, but as the people you were now.

And just like that, things changed. Subtly at first—a shift so gradual you almost didn’t notice it. But Renjun’s efforts were unmistakable.

He didn’t just invite you to hang out anymore; he planned outings carefully. One weekend, he suggested a trip to the city’s botanical garden. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant, but the way he lit up as he explained how the seasonal blooms were at their peak made it hard to say no. Walking alongside him through the rows of beautiful flowers, you found yourself smiling more than you expected.

On a rare free weekend, he suggested visiting a nearby art café you hadn’t heard of. “They host live acoustic sets,” he explained as you settled into a cozy nook. The atmosphere was intimate, the music soothing, and Renjun seemed entirely at ease, sipping his coffee and asking your opinion on a mural hanging near the stage.

Sometimes the dates were simpler. A shared umbrella as the two of you made your way to a nearby ramen shop during a surprise downpour. A quiet evening in the music room, where he played the piano while you hummed along to a melody you vaguely recognized. And the night he showed up at your door with a small box of your favorite cake, claiming he was ‘just in the neighborhood.’

When you mentioned your stress over upcoming exams, he showed up with two steaming cups of tea and a promise to help quiz you. “Let’s keep it efficient,” he had said with a light but focused tone. He set up a study session so structured it felt more like a strategy meeting. You were whining half the time, but his calm encouragement made you feel strangely at ease.

Each moment with Renjun felt thoughtful, deliberate, as though he’d carefully considered how to make you feel seen and cared for. He had always been nice, always considerate. But now, there was an added purpose to it—an effort to win you over that didn’t go unnoticed.

And though romance wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, you couldn’t help but notice how much you enjoyed the moments he created. With him, there was no pressure, no expectations. It was easy to enjoy his company for what it was: a quiet comfort, a welcome distraction from everything else.

One day, while you were at the café with your friends, Renjun handed you a pair of tickets to the Fine Arts Department’s exhibit. “I thought it’d be nice to go together again this year,” he said, handing you the stub with a sheepish grin.

Jaemin, seated across from you, immediately perked up. “Oh-ho,” he drawled, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face as he leaned forward. “I see. Someone has taken my responsibility of providing tickets for her every year.”

“What?” Renjun blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. “You used to—?”

Jaemin interrupted with a quick pat on Renjun’s back, his grin widening. “You’re doing great. Keep at it.”

Giselle laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t mind him. He’s just stirring the pot, as usual.”

At the exhibit, the group stayed close as you explored the gallery, admiring the work on display. Renjun, however, never strayed far from your side. Your friends were there to support Jaemin, whose entries were finally being showcased, and he looked proud but uncharacteristically modest as you wandered from piece to piece.

The pieces were captivating, and you found yourself genuinely moved, especially upon seeing that Jaemin had a solo shot of you on display as one of his entries—a 16x20 photograph of yourself displayed on one of the walls. Taken at your favorite spot on the campus quadrangle, the image captured you sitting on the grass, your head tilted back toward the sunlight, eyes closed with a radiant, unguarded smile on your face.

You gasped quietly, covering your mouth. “Na Jaemin,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, “Is this why you asked me not to sue you for portrait rights last week?”

Jaemin’s grin spread slowly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. “You already promised. No take backsies.”

“Yeah, well, I’m suing,” Giselle cut in as she and Karina squinted at the next photo. “There is no solo shot of me.”

“Right?” Karina chimed in, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “This is the one photo where we’re in the frame, but you can barely see us because the building takes up three-quarters of it.”

Jaemin threw up his hands dramatically. “I was going for an artistic composition!”

“Artistic?!” Giselle shot back, mock-offended. “So, what, the building is more photogenic than us?”

Karina nodded solemnly, tapping her chin. “I’m starting to think he’s a fake friend.”

Jaemin groaned, looking to you for backup, but you only laughed. Watching him try to explain himself while your girl friends continued their lighthearted attack was too entertaining to interrupt.

Eventually, you turned to Renjun, who had stepped back slightly from the group, quietly observing. He was staring at your photo, his expression unreadable at first, but as you stepped closer, you caught the small, soft smile tugging at his lips.

“He’s really good,” Renjun said finally, his voice quiet but sincere. “The composition, the light—it’s simple, but it feels… honest. I can see why he saw fit to include this.”

You smiled, glancing at the photo. “He’s had plenty of practice taking pictures of me. I used to give him hell if he captured me at a bad angle.”

Renjun chuckled warmly. “That sounds just like you.”

For a while, neither of you said anything. Renjun’s gaze lingered on the photograph, the golden flicker of the lights overhead casted a soft almost whimsical glow over his features. He looked surreally beautiful, like a painting come to life. For a brief moment, you wondered how things would have turned out if your timing with him had been different. Then, as quickly as the thought came, you brushed it aside and returned to the present. 

Renjun’s presence in your life now should be enough, you reminded yourself. He was thoughtful, steady, and sincere. Yet, no matter how much you tried to bury it, the shadow of your days with Jeno lingered in the back of your mind—a part of you that still missed the spontaneity and chaos Jeno had once brought into your life. You knew deep down that while your dates with Renjun were pleasant and lovely, you missed the spontaneous road trips you’d gone to with Jeno.

“We should move on,” you prompted, tugging his elbow. “I’m starting to think you’re a simp.”

He chuckled sheepishly. “A simp is too much.”

You continued wandering through the gallery, trading comments with Renjun and admiring the art. At some point, you’d lost track of your friends, but Renjun didn’t seem to mind. In fact, without the group’s chatter, he’d become more talkative and more forward.

And while he was occupied eyeing a particularly intriguing painting, you felt a strange pull to glance back toward the other side of the hall where your photo was hanging. Turning, your gaze landed on the figure standing in front of your photo. His stance was relaxed, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, head tilted slightly as though he were studying every detail of the image.

Jeno.

There was no mistaking it. You’d recognize that silhouette anywhere—the broad shoulders, the way his weight shifted casually from one foot to the other. Seeing him there, staring at your photograph for so long, stirred something in you—hurt, frustration, and longing. 

What was he doing? Why was he staring at your face so openly like that? And what did it mean?

Then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Jeno turned slowly, meeting your gaze from across the hall. Time seemed to pause. He didn’t look away, and neither did you. From this distance, you couldn’t decipher the emotions in his expression—was it longing? Anger? Regret? You told yourself it didn’t matter, but deep down, you hoped there was something in those eyes.

Before you could dwell on it though, Renjun called your name, making you glance over your shoulder. “Should we check out the sculptures next?” he asked, his tone light as he gestured toward another section of the gallery.

You tore your eyes away from Jeno and turned to Renjun. His gentle smile and the steady warmth in his gaze felt like a lifeline, pulling you back to solid ground. Forcing a smile of your own, you nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And just like that, you left Jeno behind, walking forward beside someone who offered you peace, even as a storm still brewed somewhere deep inside your heart.

It was a lazy afternoon at Giselle’s apartment. The three of you were sprawled on her couch, a half-empty bowl of popcorn on the table as the latest episode of your favorite show played in the background. But as usual, the conversation veered off topic, and soon you were talking about Renjun.

“Renjun’s a total sweetheart,” Karina said, her voice laced with admiration. “I mean, the way he looks at you? You’d have to be blind not to notice.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

Giselle, lounging against the armrest, threw a popcorn kernel into her mouth. “He’s sweet, no doubt. But…” She hesitated, as if weighing her words. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“I’m not jumping into anything,” you replied, your tone firm but not defensive. “I know I’m not ready for a relationship. I just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m enjoying spending time with him. That’s all.”

Karina exchanged a look with Giselle, but neither pressed further. “Just don’t let anyone rush you,” Giselle finally said, her voice softer now. “Not even yourself.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in thanks. “I won’t.”

When the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and you had plans early the next morning. Rising from the couch, you grabbed your bag.

“I got to go,” you said, stretching. “My laundry needs ironing.”

“Or you could just run it in the dryer again and take it out as soon as it’s done,” Giselle suggested as you headed for the door. “No wrinkles, no need for ironing. It will save you some time.”

“You know what, I might do just that,” you beamed, giving them quick little hugs and pecks before leaving.

The ride down the elevator was uneventful at first. You leaned against the mirrored wall, scrolling through your phone, half-distracted by a string of unread notifications. Then, with a soft chime, the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open.

You froze as soon as you looked up.

Standing on the other side was Jeno. His hair was tousled, and he had the same familiar slouch you’d seen a hundred times before. For a moment, he seemed just as startled as you, his hand hovering over the elevator button like he hadn’t expected to see you either.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The door stayed open for what felt like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds before it began to close again. Still, neither of you made a move to stop it.

The moment broke as the elevator resumed its descent, and you let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart was pounding, the remnants of that brief, silent encounter lingering like static in the air.

When you stepped out of the building, the cool evening breeze hit your face, but it didn’t calm the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. You decided, then and there, that you wouldn’t visit Giselle’s apartment as often anymore. You weren’t ready to face Jeno—not like that, not when you couldn’t even trust yourself to stay unaffected by a mere elevator ride. For now, avoidance seemed like the safest option.

The next day, you met Renjun again for a study session. The library was unusually quiet, even for a weekday. Your usual spot by the large arched window felt more secluded than ever, sunlight spilling through the glass and illuminating the table where you and Renjun sat. He had just excused himself to browse the shelves for a book, leaving you to jot down notes in peaceful solitude.

Or so you thought.

“Boo.”

You nearly jumped out of your seat, twisting around to see Donghyuck grinning at you from the leather armchair behind your table. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d just woken up.

“Donghyuck?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the disturbance. “What are you even doing here?”

He stretched lazily, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “Mark kicked me out.”

Your lips twitched into a smirk. “If that’s true, I’m baking him cookies to celebrate.”

“Ah, so brutal.” He slid into the seat across from you. “So, this is your life now? Hanging out with Nerdy McBlond every day?”

“Mind your own business,” you muttered, turning a page in your notebook.

But Donghyuck was nothing if not persistent. He leaned forward, lowering his voice deviously. “You know, I kinda miss the old you. The one who used to make out with Jeno in parking lots. Now that was entertainment.”

Your pen froze mid-sentence. Slowly, you looked up, grimacing in disbelief and annoyance. “Are you serious right now? You’re such a pervert.”

Donghyuck clutched his chest, feigning offence. “Excuse me? You’re the ones who did it in the open. Why should I be called a pervert for enjoying a free show?” He leaned back on the chair, smirking. “Too bad you didn’t do it in your apartment, though. I would have loved to hear how you’d sound like when you getting—”

You kicked his leg under the table before he could finish, making him groan in pain, the sound prompting the attention of other students in the quiet library. You gave them apologetic smiles before turning back to Donghyuck and glaring at him.

In a low but agitated voice, you said, “Go away.”

Donghyuck didn’t move, lounging comfortably in his seat as his gaze flicked to something—or someone—behind you. You turned to see Renjun approaching, a thick book tucked under his arm, his curious eyes shifting between you and Donghyuck.

“Who’s your friend?” Renjun asked as he sat.

“Oh, he’s not my—” you paused, catching yourself. You exhaled. “Donghyuck. He’s a neighbor, and a pain.”

“Ah,” Renjun said, his tone neutral but his expression unimpressed.

“Can you fight?” Donghyuck asked abruptly, his smirk returning.

Renjun blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Never mind,” Donghyuck said, standing up with exaggerated flair. “I’ll leave you two to your thrilling world of books and productivity. Try not to bore each other to death.”

“Finally,” you huffed, shaking your head.

Donghyuck paused beside you, leaning down to whisper, “I’ll bet the last 20 bucks in my pocket that he’s vanilla as hell.”

You felt your cheeks flare, and without thinking, you picked up a book from your desk and hit Donghyuck’s arm with it. He left laughing, much to the librarian’s annoyance. 

Renjun chuckled softly, shaking his head as he settled back into his seat. “Is he always like that?”

“Worse,” you muttered, trying to focus on your notes again.

But Donghyuck's words about Jeno stayed with you, uninvited and unwelcome, scratching at the back of your mind. No matter how much you tried to brush it off, the mention of Jeno left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You hesitated at the entrance to Giselle’s apartment building, staring up at the familiar structure. You’d promised to drop by and help her with a last-minute project, but being here filled you with dread. He was somewhere inside, just a few floors away. Jeno. You told yourself the odds of running into him were slim, but the memory of that elevator encounter still clung to you, sharp and intrusive.

Still, you had no choice. Taking a deep breath, you stepped through the doors.

The visit went smoothly. You kept yourself busy, helping Giselle as best as you can. Your worries were momentarily forgotten until it was time to leave. Fortunately, you didn’t run into him and left the building uneventfully. But as you walked down the street, heading home, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You glanced at the screen, frowning at the unknown number before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um… is this Jeno’s girlfriend?” a male voice asked hesitantly.

You stiffened, your grip tightening on the phone. “No. It’s not.” You swallowed hard. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh,” the guy said, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t know. It’s just… Jeno’s really sick, and we don’t know what to do. He keeps saying he’s fine, but he’s burning up. We thought maybe you could—”

“Call an ambulance,” you interrupted firmly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I mean, it doesn’t seem that serious,” he stammered. “But he’s—”

You hung up, cutting him off. Shoving your phone into your pocket, you walked faster, forcing yourself not to look back.

But the farther you got, the heavier the knot in your stomach grew. You shouldn’t care. It wasn’t your problem anymore. Still, your mind betrayed you, replaying the image of Jeno sick and alone. Before you realized it, your fingers were already flying across your screen, calling back the unknown number. The dial tone grated through your eyes, making you grow restless with every beat.

“Where are you?” you asked as soon as the guy picked up. He told you they had just pulled up to Jeno’s apartment and without hesitation, your feet quickly changed direction, carrying you to him.

The door to his apartment creaked open as you stepped inside, and the scent that welcomed you was painfully familiar—woodsy with a faint hint of his cologne. You saw him slumped on the couch, pale and sweating, his head resting against the armrest. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Jeno,” you called softly, crouching beside him. His eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on you.

“Baby…” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “Babe, is that you?”

“Don’t talk,” you murmured, your throat tight.

You spent the next hour taking care of him—dragging him into his bedroom, changing his sweat-soaked shirt, cooling his fever, coaxing him to drink water, and forcing him to rest. When he finally drifted off, you sank into the living room chair, staring at the familiar space. 

Everything looked exactly as it had the last time you were here. The blanket draped over the couch, the framed photo of you and him that you’d placed on the shelf—it all sent a bittersweet pang on your chest. You didn’t realize that in your time together, you’d made a cozy home of what used to be an empty and lifeless apartment.

The ache in your chest grew unbearable, so you decided to distract yourself. You thought about cooking something for him, but his fridge was nearly empty save for a few bottles of water, some beer cans, and what could possibly be a week-old pizza. So you stepped out to buy groceries, telling yourself it was just to make sure he had something to eat when he woke up.

By the time you returned, he was still sound asleep. You quietly worked in the small kitchen, making soup that filled the apartment with its comforting aroma. You were ladling it into a bowl when you felt a presence behind you.

Turning, you found Jeno leaning against the wall, watching you with a faint smile. His hair was disheveled, and he looked exhausted, but his eyes held that familiar warmth that made your knees weak.

“You’re awake,” you said sharply, masking the turmoil inside you. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he replied, his voice low.

You turned back to the stove, focusing on the task at hand. “I made soup and picked up some bread. Eat something,” you told him, keeping your tone neutral.

Before you could step away, you felt his arms wrap around you from behind. His head dropped onto your shoulder, his breath warm against the crook of your neck.

You sighed, exasperated. “Jeno, don’t do this.”

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his words cutting through your defenses.

Your hands gripped the counter as tears pricked your eyes. A quiet sob escaped before you could stop it, and you hated yourself for it—for still feeling so much.

And due to some hideous twist of fate—or simply your penchant for making bad decisions, the wall you’d put up between the two of you collapsed. His touch was too familiar, and his presence was too intoxicating. One moment you were telling yourself to leave, and the next, you were tangled with him in his bed, lost in the remnants of what you once had, and drowning in a storm you should have stayed far away from.

You and Jeno got back together, but it wasn’t the storybook reunion you’d secretly hoped for. Instead, it came with guilt, secrecy, and a gnawing sense of uncertainty that refused to leave your mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell your friends—how could you, after all they’d seen you go through all this time? Giselle had warned you to take your time, and Karina had all but sworn off Jeno for you. Telling them would mean confessing that you’d ignored every lesson you’d learned.

When you told Renjun you couldn’t return his feelings, he accepted it with a grace that only deepened your guilt. His words were sincere—he wished you happiness and hoped you’d be treated the way you deserved. Obviously, he means well, but as the saying goes, “you deserve what you tolerate.” Renjun had no idea what you’d been tolerating all this time.

Now you were starting to think you deserved it—every careless word, every moment of neglect. You tolerated it, didn’t you? And in doing so, hadn’t you silently agreed to it all?

At first, you convinced yourself it was different this time. Jeno was softer, more attentive. He held you close as if he feared you’d slip away again. You allowed yourself to believe he’d changed, that maybe love really was enough to fix things. But cracks began to show again, the same cracks that broke you apart before.

He was still Jeno—charming, but inconsistent. Passionate, but detached. He’d say all the right things but leave promises half-kept. When you tried to address your doubts, he’d dismiss them, brushing you off with half-assed words of assurance, a grin, or a kiss.

“Why are we even doing this if you don’t care?” you’d asked one evening, your voice trembling with frustration.

“I do care,” he’d said, pulling you into his arms. “You just overthink things sometimes.”

And just like that, the fight was over before it began.

It became a pattern. Every time you gathered the courage to end it, Jeno found a way to pull you back in. He wouldn’t let you go, his touch silencing your protests, his whispered apologies dulling your resolve. It was intoxicating and suffocating all at once.

One night, after yet another argument swept under the rug, you lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling. His arm draped lazily over your waist, and his soft breathing filled your ears. You realized then that nothing had changed. You were still walking on eggshells, still carrying the burden of a love that wasn’t enough.

The next morning, you woke up with a decision. It was time to confront your demons, time to let go for good. No more excuses. No more clinging to the remnants of a love that felt more like a habit than a home.

You walked into the conversation knowing it would hurt, but you also knew staying would hurt more.

“Let’s stop this. I’m done,” you told Jeno, your voice trembling but firm.

He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. It was so typically Jeno—calm, almost indifferent. You could almost see the thought bubble hovering above his head that reads: “Here we go again.”

“I’m serious, Jeno,” you said again, more forcefully this time. “I can’t do this anymore.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his lips curling into a half-smile that only fueled your frustration. “You’re always serious, but you never mean it,” he said, his tone infuriatingly casual.

Your stomach churned at his dismissal, but you held your ground. You had almost snapped, but you caught yourself and prevented what would have been a long and tiresome argument. “Well, I mean it this time,” you replied with a weary smile.

Jeno pushed off the counter, stepping closer to you. His eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the boy you’d fallen for, the boy who had once made you feel like you were the center of his world. He reached to cup your cheek, his gaze not leaving yours.

“I love you,” he said quietly,  as if the words alone could erase the pain, the fights, the endless cycle of promises and disappointments.

Your heart wavered at his admission, that same heart that had been broken and patched up too many times to count. It would have been so easy to fall for those words again, to let them soothe you like they always had. But this time, they weren’t enough. You stepped away from him.

“I thought you did too,” you replied bitterly.

Jeno reached for you, his hand hesitating in midair, but you took another step back before he could touch you. You thought you’d cry, that this would be an emotional conversation. But strangely enough, your eyes were dry despite the heaviness in your heart.

Jeno didn’t say anything, just stared at you as if he had no idea what was going on. You grabbed your bag on the couch and turned toward the door. With each step, your chest grew heavier, but you didn’t look back. Yes, you’d done this dozens of times before. Yes, you still went back in his arms each time. But you’d swore this would be the last time—that there will be no going back after this one.

By the time you reached Giselle’s apartment, you were barely composed, each breath making you more nauseous. You were on the verge of throwing up, as if it was the only way to release every sob you had swallowed. You raised a trembling hand and knocked on the door, the sound of your knuckles hitting wood echoed in the deserted hallway. A moment later, the door opened, and there stood Giselle, her expression shifting from surprise to concern in an instant.

“Hey, are you okay?” she began and the moment her worried eyes met yours, the fragile composure you were holding on to fell apart.

A sob escaped before you could stop it, and then another, until you were standing there, shaking and crying like the broken mess you were.

“Hey, hey,” Giselle said softly, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You clung to her, tears soaking her shoulder as she gently guided you inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and the world outside faded away. For a long moment, you just let yourself cry, the heartbreak and exhaustion spilling out in uneven gasps.

Giselle didn’t ask questions or demand explanations. She simply held you tighter, and her presence was comforting enough. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

As your sobs subsided, you pulled back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Giselle handed you a tissue, her gaze warm and understanding. Despite the ache still lodged in your chest, there was a small, fragile sense of relief.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t fighting to hold something together anymore. You weren’t clinging to the hope that things would change, or to the version of Jeno you’d loved so desperately. You did it. You had finally, truly this time, chosen yourself.

To: LJN You don’t have to call anymore. I won’t pick up the phone. -xx

[fin]

[lgbtsana]

ELECTRIC TOUCH

– WINTER ONESHOT

PERM TAG LIST: @run2seob

GENRE: y/n breakup, fated meeting, fated lovers, soulmates, strangers to lovers, nextdoor neighbors.

your boyfriend broke up with you two months ago. he had found another woman, and took the apartment you had been paying for. though, you were able to get the apartment back after showing the bills to the landlord, you still felt hurt.

just when all felt lost, you got a new nextdoor neighbor.

slowly waking up and looking at the time, you realize you're, yet again, late for work. you quickly got out of bed and got ready.

while the day seemed nice, birds chirping, clear blue sky, perfect weather. you were hurting, making the day seem terrible.

ever since the breakup, you haven't felt like yourself. everything seemed horrible and you didn't like that. you tried many methods to cheer you up, such as, hanging out with friends, going to karaoke. nothing seemed to work.

you tried going on a blind date, but he just wasn't your type, but you also didn't want to have the guy as a rebound.

suddenly, you heard driving outside your window. there was a moving truck, making you remember that you have a new neighbor as of today.

“i should probably go greet them..” you mumbled, thinking of a last minute gift to bring to them. “ah! the cookies!” the night before you made cookies, chocolate chunk.

grabbed a tupperware container, you placed four cookies inside.

you opened your apartment door and stuck your head out, checking to see if anyone had come up yet. noticing no one, you walked out and then noticed a blonde female in the corner of your eye.

“you must be my neighbor,” the female shyly spoke, “i've been excited to move in, so hello.” she waved with a gentle smile. your eyes locked on hers, the tense air lifting.

you felt your heart leap as soon as you saw her, she was breathtaking. you couldn't help but blush slightly within her presence.

“yes, hi. i am your neighbor.” you whispered, feeling nervous around her. she was just so beautiful, you felt like a peasant in her presence.

“huh? sorry, i didn't hear you..”

“ah! i'm your neighbor, nice to meet you...?” you were able to speak a full sentence, yet your voice shook nervously. “i’m y/n, seo y/n, you are?”

“ah! kim minjeong! nice to meet you.” minjeong held out her hand, waiting for you to shake it.

gladly taking her small, gloved, hand, you shook her hand, nodding as if acknowledging her name. you found it odd she had her hands gloves, but you brushed it off.

“so we’ll be next door neighbors from now on huh?” she smiled, “at least my new neighbor is nice!” she laughed slightly, before she turned on her heel. “i need to unpack, talk later?” she stuck a note in your jean pocket before leaving.

pulling the note out of your pocket, without touching you, her door shut. you opened it to see her phone number on it, you couldn't help but giggle.

you put her number in your phone, sending a text, just letting her know your number.

a few hours later, you received a text back and you both chatted over the phone. a conversation that was fun, something that you hadn't had in a while. for the first time in a while, you were smiling. her little jokes or puns made you laugh, after your breakup, it was hard to laugh because of the pain of it.

yet, minjeong was somehow able to make you laugh. it was nice.

the next day, you were taking out your trash and noticed minjeong. her hands still gloved, yet you just didn't mind it. maybe it was something with her health, you didn't mind either way.

“oh hey!” you exclaimed excitedly, your voice louder than it had been in a while. visibly surprised, she turned to you with a smile.

“taking out your trash?” she came over to you, placing her gloved hand on your shoulder. answering her question with a nod, she giggled at you, “your little reactions are so cute!”

you felt your heart flutter, your face flushing at the sudden compliment.

as if on queue, her phone pinged. “i gotta go, my boss is calling me. talk later?” she asked, waiting for your response, “of course.”

minjeong smiled at your answer and left. skipping away happily, which you couldn't help but laugh to yourself.

the compliments didn't stop after that, left and right, a compliment came your way from minjeong. and, everytime, you went speechless with a red face.

she couldn't help but find anything you did adorable. the feelings between the both of you continued to grow.

one day, she invited you over to her place. of course, you accepted, your crush on her still growing.

“you called?” you teased, giggling. “indeed i did, princess!” her nickname for you slipping off her tongue easily.

“i thought i told you to stop calling me that, minjeong~” you whined, not hating the nickname.

“you did, but it suits you!” minjeong pouted, “the nickname stays, princess.” she stuck her tongue out.

feeling defeated you sighed, knowing you wouldn't win, “fine, fine.”

for the first time, you noticed her gloves off. she noticed your surprised look, and asked, “what?”

you took her hand in yours and looked at it, “no gloves...”

until, you felt an electric shock? visibly looking in pain, she pulled her hand away. her gloves getting put back on her hands.

“are you okay? i'm so sorry!” she apologized, concerned yet her voice trembled.

“i'm fine, are you okay?” you asked her, noticing her trembling.

you rested a hand on her shoulder, before petting her back, telling her to calm down and that you're okay.

her gloved hand touched your cheek and she kissed you gently.

taken aback, you didn't react at first. “i- i'm so sorry..” she whispered when she pulled away, seeing the shock on your face.

before she could run away, you placed your lips back on hers. both of your lips moving in sync, hungry for each other. minjeong took a chance to advance and pinched your skin, making you open your mouth. her tongue dancing with your own, your one hand gripped on the sleeve of her shirt. the other on the back of her neck, holding her soft hair.

the heavy breathing from the two became elaborate, you both feeling hot and almost devouring one another.

minjeong became to grin into the kiss, moving her hand down to the rim of your shorts.

minjeong was the first to pull away, both of you breathing heavily. the tension in the room evident.

“wow..” she whispered, still close enough to kiss again. your eyes stared into hers, still hungry for more.

placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, “another time~” she winked, grabbing your hand.

“i have something to tell you.” the sentence made your face drop, “oh.” you whispered.

“oh! that's not what i mean, princess.” she reassured, “you know that shock you got earlier?”

you nodded, remembering the moment, “well, my mom called it a soulmate shock, though i am not completely sure what it means, i just know it means we are fated lovers?” she shrugged, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

you couldn't help but smile, your face lighting up with joy. “so, does that mean we date?”

minjeong pulled you in for a cuddle, “or more, you never know~”

NOTE: i really hope you enjoyed! that was my first time writing a makeout scene so i hope it was good! give me feedback on how i can improve in the future.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Pull the Trigger IX (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello! A bit late, sorry! I just got home🥲 I’ll try to post the next chapter as soon as I can🫶🏼

Warnings: mild smut👀 mentions of past abuse, mentions of alcohol, anxiety... 

Words: 4412

Read on AO3

Fic masterlist 

Alfred had cancelled on you. Apparently, he had missed an important date with Elsewith and he had gotten a last minute reservation on a very expensive place to apologise. You understood, but couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment when you saw his text. Thora was out with Hvitserk again. Since they had formalised their relationship it was almost like they spent even more time together than before. She had insisted on staying with you, but you practically forced her to go, feeling too guilty for having ruined her big night some days ago.

Almost a week had passed, and you had hoped you could talk to Alfred about what Ivar had said to you. You hadn’t had the chance to do it earlier, as the last time you saw him you had spent hours crying because of Erik. You had never seen Alfred so angry at someone, and while it was comforting, you still were overthinking Ivar’s words.

But then again, he didn’t contact you anymore. He wasn’t in class that week, and he was nowhere to be found on campus. You had his number and could have easily texted him, but then again you didn’t know what to say.

Because you weren’t sure of what he had said.

He was at Valhalla. You knew it because Ingrid had texted you, telling you she had seen him inside when she had entered, and you had tried to convince yourself you didn’t care, but a part of you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You had gone through Ubbe’s posts on social media until you found him at the background of one of his videos. Sigurd had also posted things but as the brothers couldn’t stand each other you didn’t bother to look for Ivar in his videos. Thora had told you they’d head to Valhalla around midnight, so you kept glancing at the clock, knowing that Hvitserk was the one that would post the pictures of Ivar, given they were the closest ones. 

You just wanted to see him, to see he was okay, because even if you had tried your best not to acknowledge it, you missed him. You would be forever mad for not remembering most part of that night, when you had slept in his bed and he had taken care of you. The simple thought made you feel something strange that was both worrying and comforting at the same time.

Taking a deep breath, you got up from the couch and entered the bathroom for a quick shower. The horrible movie you were watching was forgotten as you entered your room, immediately opening your wardrobe to try and find something to wear. After almost crying a few times, you decided on a black velvet dress. It was short and had cleavage, not quite what you’d usually wear for a night out, but Valhalla wasn’t a normal club and it was very far from your usual trusted bar, so you put on some thighs and your favourite tall boots that Thora had gifted you last Christmas because of how many times you’d ask her for hers. 

After frowning at your own reflection for a good ten minutes before moving back to the bathroom to wash your face and put some makeup on. Half an hour later you were ready, picking up your phone, wallet and keys and quickly turned off the TV and the lights, leaving your flat before you could change your mind.

Calling an Uber was way more than your bank account could afford, so you took the bus and walked towards the club, hoping Ivar would still be there when you managed to get in. It was cold, and the slow queue didn’t help. You checked your phone a few times until you realised the battery was very low. Thora had messaged you, asking if everything was okay, you replied quickly, telling her you were fine and debating whether you should tell her you were at the club or not.

But just when you were going to do so, the doorman called you. The rest of the queue looked at you up and down, some of them with annoyance and even hatred, but you didn’t say a word as the doorman lifted the rope, letting you in.

Flashbacks of the first time you stepped into that club made you take a deep breath as you left your coat on the wardrobe next to the door and thanked the girl that took it with a tense smile. You didn't even know what you were doing there, you didn’t know what you would say to Ivar if you could talk to him. You made your way to the VIP zone, your heart racing when you saw Whitehair. Wherever he was, Ivar was never too far away.

Your eyes finally found him. He was standing, leaning on his crutch and with a drink on his other hand. But you stopped walking towards him when you saw who he was talking to.

It was a woman, a tall, beautiful woman with brown hair. You could only see her back, but your mouth dried when you saw her curves, hugged by a beautiful red dress. You were sure she was stunning, and Ivar was so close to her, talking to her…

You felt like throwing up, suddenly you were the idiot that had come all the way to Valhalla to talk to him after not hearing from him in days. Thinking he liked you.

Looking around, feeling the tears fill your eyes, you took a deep breath. Should you get a drink or just go home?.

When you looked back towards Ivar, you found his eyes. He looked surprised to see you there, and you could see his lips saying your name, but you turned around and left for the toilets, unable to face him at that moment. Then you heard him calling you a bit louder, but you were already entering the women’s toilet and ignored him. Great, now he knew you were there. That was even more humiliating.

There were two girls inside the bathroom, talking cheerfully as they retouched their makeup, who looked at you as soon as you barged in, clearing your throat. They looked at you up and down, frowning, but you didn’t even look at them, running your hand through your hair and taking another deep breath.

Your relief didn’t last, as someone else entered the bathroom and startled the girls.

“You” Ivar pointed at them “Out”

They didn’t say a word. Instead, they grabbed their things and left quickly, barely glancing at you as they closed the door behind them.

“This is the girls’ bathroom” you said, looking anywhere but at him.

“I don’t care, toilets don’t have a gender” he replied, annoyed.

“Someone could enter…”

“Whitehair is outside” he interrupted you, shrugging “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t even know” you muttered, turning back to the mirror to try and fix your makeup “I guess I wanted to talk to you”

“Did anything happen?” he frowned in confusion “Did Erik…?”

“No, don’t say his name” you sighed “No, not everything is about him, I just wanted to talk to you because you said things the last time I saw you that I… Have been thinking about it, but I don’t know what to think and it’s killing me, but then I come here and I see you with someone else and I realise I’m an idiot and you probably didn’t mean what I thought you meant and now I really want to be alone…”

“Wait, wait, slow down” he frowned, interrupting you “Someone else?”

“Yes, the girl you were talking to, I just… I misunderstood what you told me the other day, it’s my fault, now if you excuse me…”

“Wait, let me talk” he grabbed your arm as soon as you tried to walk towards the door “That girl you saw me talk to is my sister”

You felt as if someone just threw a bucket with ice and water all over you.

“Your… Sister?”

“Yes, well, my half sister, Gyda” he shrugged “She’s my dad’s daughter but her mother is Lagertha, she’s Björn’s sister, she lives in Hedeby with her mother but she came to Kattegat to visit us”

“I…” you groaned again, closing your eyes. If you thought nothing could be more humiliating than thinking Ivar was with someone else when you came to see him, you were wrong “Sorry, I… Never saw your sister before”

“Were you jealous?”

Flustered, you looked away again. Ivar had a smirk on his lips and his cocky expression only made you want to hit him really hard.

“No” you scoffed “I’m just… I didn’t want to interrupt you”

“Well, you did interrupt me with your dramatic escape and making me chase you” he chuckled “I’m not complaining, though”

Rolling your eyes, you finally looked at him, realising you couldn’t escape now and had to tell him exactly what you had come to tell him.

“The other day…” you sighed “You said you cared about me”

He hummed, nodding his head and almost pouting. His eyes were widened and you had to force yourself to stop looking into them.

“I’m not sure I understand what you meant by that”

Ivar sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand.

“You are dense sometimes, did you know that?”

You gasped, offended.

“And you are rude” you replied, scoffing.

“I was going to kiss you” he ignored you “And you still don't understand what I meant?”

You were left speechless. It was true that you had thought about it, but there was a part of you that insisted that it couldn’t be true. That you weren’t the kind of girl Ivar Lothbrok would like.

“I didn’t know if I had imagined it or not, I just…”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted you again, and you blinked a couple of times “Now, so you stop talking”

“Okay, you are very rude, and if this is your way of flirting let me tell you it won’t…”

You didn’t get to finish that sentence, because Ivar leant in to press his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise, but closed your eyes as soon as he deepened the kiss, his free hand landed on your waist, and you let yourself relax between his body and the sink behind you. His lips were warm, and tasted a bit like alcohol and cigarettes, but they were sweet and softer than you had imagined. Because you had imagined it. Even though no one of your daydreams was nearly as good as the actual kiss. You almost felt like you had never been kissed before, and his scent felt almost intoxicating when you breathed into it.

Ivar hummed against your lips, making you sigh at the sound. You weren’t sure of when exactly you started to like Ivar that much but you felt unable to kiss anyone else after that kiss, especially when he broke it, moving away just a few centimetres just to chuckle and give you a small peck before you could even open your eyes.

His blue eyes were the first thing you saw when you finally opened yours, and you could feel the heat underneath your skin and hear your accelerated heartbeat. You wondered, embarrassed, if he could also notice.

“Sorry, I just have wanted to do that for a long time” he said, tilting his head with his smirk back on his lips. You cleared your throat.

“That was also very rude of you”

“It was also very rude of you to interrupt my conversation with my sister” he shrugged “We’re even”

“I didn’t interrupt it, I…”

“You did, by running away after getting my attention, jealous” he leant in again to whisper against your ear. You didn’t know if he put that with many other girls, but it was definitely working because you almost moaned “And wearing this”

His free hand, which he had leant on the sink to support his weight, tugged at your dress, making you look down.

“I had to wear it because otherwise I wouldn’t have entered your elitist, corrupted club”

He laughed then, shaking his head.

“The doorman knows who you are, you would get in even if you were wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants”

“Well, I decided not to risk it” you shrugged, trying not to overthink his words -because if you did you would probably start hyperventilating.

Ivar smiled again. Obviously he had drunk, being way more relaxed than you had ever seen him. Was that the real Ivar?

“I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me” you bit your lip “I thought you hated me”

“I beat up a guy that drugged you, Y/N”

“Yes, but that’s just your mob boss complex”

“I’m going to ignore that”

“But you called me a bitch” you crossed your arms, forcing him to move slightly backwards “And you said my life was worthless”

Ivar sighed, nodding and closing his eyes.

“You really got on my last nerve, but you’re lucky, others ended up dead for less”

You rolled your eyes, an amused smile on your lips.

“Stop doing that, I don’t believe you, you act like you’re all dangerous, cruel and heartless but there you were taking care of me when I couldn’t even walk, you’re just a normal guy”

Ivar shrugged, but he didn’t look bothered by your comment. In some way, you could see why so many people were afraid of him, he could be intimidating. But he had just asked for permission to kiss you and then had interrupted you with a kiss… He couldn’t be that bad.

“That’s the point” he licked his lips, shrugging again “I’m not meant to be dangerous to you”

“I’m serious”

“About what?”

“You act like that but then you come to my house to bring me my clothes and see if I’m okay, and then you start yelling and almost kiss me but then don’t talk to me for days…”

“Isn’t it obvious, Y/N?”

You knew it was obvious, but at the same time it was too obvious to be real. Everything seemed more of a fantasy you had built inside your head in which Ivar Lothbrok liked you even before you talked to each other for the first time. And for some reason that thought didn’t bother you, quite the contrary, it made you fluster and smile like an idiot.

“No, I want you to say it” you took a deep breath “Loud and clear, no indirects”

Ivar looked taken aback, almost like no one had ever asked him to talk about his feelings before. Looking around, he stepped back, suddenly nervous. He felt his mouth drying and a strange feeling in his stomach. He was nervous. Him, who had killed people in cold blood, who dealt with terrifying people that doubled his age and experience, who had had guns pointed at him and his brothers and that was used to deal with people that wanted him dead was a nervous wreck in front of a girl that asked him to talk about his feelings for her.

Well, it wasn’t just a girl, it was you.

Ivar still remembered the first time he had seen you. Sitting next to Alfred, you were frowning down at your notes and comparing them with his while he laughed. Then he had seen you many times around campus, you were all the time with Thora or Alfred, but whenever you were alone he never dared to approach you. Until one day Hvitserk saw him looking at you, and Ivar had made him look at your friend. She’s cute, Hvitserk had said, but his smirk had told him he had liked her.

And then he only had to wait. Ivar hoped you’d never heard about the fifty kroner he gave to that girl that sat next to him to go up and seat next to Alfred. Just to have you close, as he knew it was the only time you’d be close to him.

He was glad to see he had been wrong for the first time in his life.

“I…” he cleared his throat, his heart was beating so hard against his chest that he was afraid of you hearing it, and also of having a heart attack “I care for you”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Is that all I’m getting? After you barging into my house to yell how you tricked your brother into dating my best friend because you couldn’t talk to me”

Ivar couldn’t believe you had memorised his exact words.

“I didn’t barge, you invited me in”

“That’s not the point”

Ivar took a deep breath, and when his blue eyes looked right into yours again you almost groaned out loud.

“I like you, Y/N” he said. It was the first time you saw him being somewhat vulnerable. His cheeks were reddened, he kept biting his lower lip softly, looking everywhere but at you, his head down. Almost like a teenager waiting for a scolding.

You couldn’t help your lips curving softly with a smile. You also felt flustered. Hell, your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear anything over it. Ivar gulped, suddenly watching you carefully. Please, don’t laugh, don’t make fun of me.

He didn’t like to feel vulnerable or open, he didn’t want anyone knowing he liked you, not even you, because it was the only effective weapon that could really hurt him.

“So you’re not heartless after all”

It was a mere whisper, but he heard you perfectly fine, even if he didn’t reply. What was he supposed to say? That you couldn’t tell anyone? That it was fine if you didn’t feel the same?. He skipped all of that during his teenage years and had no idea of how he was supposed to react.

But he didn’t need to. Suddenly you approached him, making him freeze and grab his crutch tighter than ever. He’d swear he heard it crack, but he didn’t really care because you grabbed his neck and pulled him down as you got on your tiptoes, kissing him.

It was almost like your warm lips melted him. Literally. Ivar couldn’t recall a moment in which he had felt so hot. He leant against the closest wall he had, letting the crutch fall to the floor just to touch you with both hands. You glanced at the thrown crutch quickly, but his lips against your jaw and travelling down your neck distracted you. He was intoxicating, warm, his scent made you dizzy and the way he was kissing you… His lips captured your upper lip, and he kissed you with urgency, passion and need, almost like he’d die if he stopped.

You weren’t complaining, though. His hands had found their way to your ass, but they kept touching you everywhere, leaving a warm, tickly path behind. You jumped and gasped when his fingers brushed against the bare skin of your legs, and Ivar seemed to find that amusing. His hand was warm when he finally touched your thigh, and you felt a familiar wave travel down your lower belly and sex. You only broke the kiss to catch air for a couple of seconds before kissing him again. This time your hands travelled down his neck and shoulders, letting yourself touch his chest, hard and muscular from carrying his own weight for his whole life. Just when your hand reached his belt and his was already under your dress getting closer and closer, someone knocked on the door, startling you.

Then you realised you were about to have sex with Ivar Lothbrok in a public bathroom. Your last week self would have been very scandalised.

Stepping away, you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. Your lips were reddened and swollen and you were thankful for not having worn lipstick. Your eyes were teary and your makeup was a bit ruined, but you only smudged it a bit with your fingers and hoped everyone would be too drunk and it would be too dark to notice.

Ivar reached for his crutch, raising his voice to let Whitehair know he was fine. You wondered whether you should help and reach his crutch for him, but he managed just fine, knowing exactly which movements he needed to do. When he was standing again, he looked at you. His expression was softer. You couldn’t remember the expression he had when he had taken care of you, but you liked to think it was the same one.

“Ubbe is probably freaking out because I left” he shrugged “Do you want a drink?”

“I… Think I should go home” you cleared your throat “It’s late”

Ivar raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take you home later”

You didn’t even try to argue, because you knew you’d stay. For some reason, you wanted to spend a bit more time with that new Ivar you were discovering. The one that didn’t act like a pretentious asshole.

His soft expression disappeared as soon as he opened the door. Whitehair looked at him and then at you, frowning and clenching his jaw. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him, making Ivar clear his throat and grab your arm quickly. The people queuing at the door didn’t say anything, but looked at you up and down and you instantly knew all of Kattegat would know you had been locked in a toilet with Ivar Lothbrok by morning.

You did smirk at Whitehair when you finally stepped in the VIP zone as he stayed at the entrance with a frown in his already harsh face. You could feel some people staring and just when you were thinking about texting both Thora and Ingrid to let them know you were there, someone practically tackled you, making you yelp and almost fall to the floor. Thora squealed in excitement and you could tell she had already had a few drinks when she looked at you, her cheeks reddened and a stupidly wide smile on her lips.

“You’re here!” she jumped next to you. Ivar glared at her, rolling his eyes, but Hvitserk asked him something and his attention diverted soon enough “Where were you? Ubbe told us you were here but that you disappeared suddenly… I was worried! Do you want a drink? Ingrid is here too!”

“Wow” you chuckled, grabbing her shoulders to keep her in place “Sorry, I had to go to the toilet… I found him on my way back and he told me you were here”

“Him being Ivar” she giggled, almost like it was a joke you didn’t get “Okay, a drink?”

You nodded, if you had to deal with the entire Lothbrok clan and drunk Thora you might as well get even.

You didn’t get a second to breathe, as soon as Thora left to grab you a drink, someone else approached.

She was even more stunning up close. Gyda had a beautiful, long hair that seemed to be brown but was darkened by the lowlights of the club. She wore a beautiful and probably very expensive red dress that you’d swear you had seen on some runway on YouTube. When the lights illuminated her face you could distinguish greenish eyes, more similar to Hvitserk than to Ivar’s, but you couldn’t tell the exact colour.

She shot you a big smile. She was older, older than you and Ivar, maybe in her thirties already, but she could have been twenty-five and you wouldn’t have been surprised. You only realised you were staring with your mouth agape until she spoke.

“Hello, you must be Y/N” she grabbed your hand enthusiastically “I’m Gyda, I’m Ivar’s sister… Half-sister” she chuckled “It’s great to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you these days! Mostly from the boys teasing Ivar, but they were only good things, don’t worry”

You wondered what good things the Lothbrok brothers had to say about you, but decided to ignore it and smiled back at her shyly.

“Hi” you nodded “Yes, I’m Y/N, it’s great to meet you too”

“Wow, you’re really pretty” she looked almost excited, her eyes scanning you up and down, then she giggled “Ivar already said it, but I don’t trust his taste very often so I’m surprised, but you’re beautiful, I love your dress!”

“Why, thank you” you chuckled nervously, feeling mortified as her smile widened even more.

“Hvitserk told me you’re giving my littlest brother a hard time… Whatever you’re doing, he probably deserves it so you have my full support!”

“Okay, Gyda, that’s enough, thank you so much” an annoyed Ivar appeared beside you, glaring at his sister. She winked at you, amused, before turning around and leaving. You turned to Ivar with a frown.

“What are you telling your family about me?” you narrowed your eyes, Ivar rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Only your terrible taste in men and your inability to pay attention in class”

You scoffed, but your lips curved in a smile.

“Someone is calling you” he pointed at the bar, where Thora tried to grab your attention to point at the drink on her hand. Hvitserk looked more in love than ever next to her.

“I better go before she drinks it” you grimaced.

“Okay”

A moment of silence. Ivar looked at you with his soft expression that had disappeared as soon as you had left the toilet, but before you could act on your instincts and kiss him again, he turned around, going back to the couch where Ubbe was sitting talking to some people you didn’t know.

“Ivar” you reached to grab his hand before he could get too far, and the both of you froze almost instantly, realising what you had done. When he turned to look at you he had a surprised look on his face, which you were sure mirrored your own “Um… Thank you”

You didn’t specify why but he already knew. He nodded slowly as you let his hand go, hurrying to the bar where Thora waited for you. Ivar let himself fall on the couch next to his brother, looking around to make sure no one had seen that. Then he looked down, hoping the darkness would hide the stupid smile he had on his face.

Because it had been the first time you had called him by his name.

___________________________________

Tags:  @istorkyou  @barnes-lothbrok  @naaladareia  @youbloodymadgenius @southernbe  @yummycastiel @nothingtolosebutweight @noway4u @cdauni @heavenly1927 @ivarhoegh @biancathecool @helleiaiwritting @marvelsangels @ironynoticony @kenyadakblalock @mymindfuckery @alexa4040​ @tessakate @ivarlover​ @vannabanana1995​ @darksoulgemx @mynameisiliana​

I hope I didn’t forget anyone💔 thank you so much for reading🫶🏼

Ps. I will try and reply to all the comments this time!

[royaltysuite]

Dance Of Passion (A Dance Central Story)

Dance Of Passion (A Dance Central Story Series)

Synopsis: This series is an old one from my account on Quotev. It’s been about 2 years since I ever updated the series or even made any corrections to it. But, I decided to bring it over to this blog to hopefully revive the fandom even just a tiny bit and bring some more light to it. Anyways, onto the summary.

Summary: In the heart of Brooklyn, New York, dance is everything. Well, everything to normal people. Y/n, on the other hand, is not normal. Cursed with the ability to see and dispel negative entities on others, she chooses to not interact with anyone that’s not her family. However, when her brother and his group of friends go missing for half a year, she has no choice but to battle her way to the top, reunite with old friends and find out what really happened to her brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No One's pov                Today was a beautiful day to be outside for everyone. Well, not everyone. "Ugh, come on, I swear on everything that I believe in, this level is gonna be the death of me." Said Y/n, frustration in the tone of her voice. "Still stuck on the level?" A young boy shouted from the kitchen.

          "Yep. I’ve been stuck on this level for the last hour and it’s making me want to rage-quit." Y/n replied, annoyance on her face. "Well, how about you take a break? I made your favorite." Said the boy with a big smile on his face."That might be what I need. Thanks, Jason." “No problem, sis.”  And with that end of that conversation, both siblings ate in silence.

            Meanwhile, their older brother was at practice as usual. "Hey, Mo, what time did you say you had to get home? It’s getting pretty late." A teen asked his crew partner. The guy in question, Mo, perked up at the statement and quickly checked his phone. The bright screen flashed the time, 10:50 p.m., and he just knew he wouldn’t make it home in time. "Shit, they’re definitely gonna kill me this time." Mo exclaimed, panic spread across his face. “Yo, I’ll see you at school!” He shouted at his friend, halfway out the door when his friend responded with a quick ‘ok!’.

            He quickly grabbed his stuff, put it in his bag,and sprinted to the train station to go home. After a 30 minute train ride and two mile sprint, Mo had finally reached the door to his house. As if on queue, the door swung open harshly to reveal Y/n and Jason, the former seething with unbridled rage. Mo let off a shaky smile of nervousness, slowly slinking his way to the door. His actions made both of the younger siblings move out of the way so that Mo could enter the house.

            As soon as that door closed behind them, that’s when chaos erupted."Where have you been for the past three hours?!" Yelled Y/n, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "I was at practice like normal." Mo replied, moving to sit on the couch.”Even though your curfew was at 9?! You know you can't just stay out that long, you also have to keep up your good grades. I'm also worried about you and your safety. What if you had gotten robbed or hell, even attacked and we didn't know? This is Brooklyn, after all." Y/n said. "Who would take care of us then?" Jason asked, worried about his older brother. Hearing the break in his younger brother’s voice, it pulled a string in his chest. His eyes moved to his sister and despite the initial anger she had, he could see in her eyes that she had been scared and worried about him.

          He then got up off the couch and leant down in front of his siblings. "Hey, don't give me that look, guys. I'm sorry for being late and I promise I’ll let you know if I’m coming home late next time." Mo said, laughing nervously. This brought small tears to the younger siblings' eyes and they swarmed in a tight hug. Mo hugged them back and kept apologizing until they all fell asleep on the couch.The Next MorningMo's Pov             The next morning rolled around and I was woken up to the delicious smell of blueberry chocolate pancakes coming from the kitchen.'Y/n must be up then.’ I thought to myself, sitting up and letting out a big yawn, stretching my arms out before hopping up off the couch. Walking into the kitchen, I saw Y/n standing in front of the stove in her school uniform. "I know you’re there, Mo." She chimed, not even turning around to see me. "Aww, I wanted to scare you, but you ruined it." I said, pouting. "Well, I can't be scared so easily. Anyways, go wake up Jason and tell him to come eat." She said, putting two pancakes on each plate for all three of us. " Sure.” I replied, going to turn around but stopped. “Hey, are you okay ?" I asked Y/n, a bit curious by the look on her face. She stopped what she was doing and turned around to face me. 

    "What do you mean?" She asked, a strained smile on her face. "Well, you seem quieter than your normal self, so tell me what's going on." I said, crossing my arms. "Nothing is wrong, I'm just tired. That’s all." "Ok. If anything is bothering you, you can tell me." I said, before going upstairs to wake up Jason. Once I reached the top stairs, I saw Jason exiting his room in his uniform. "Hey, man, I was just coming to wake you up. Let's go and eat breakfast." I said, catching Jason's attention. "Huh, oh, sure." He murmured quietly. I was a bit concerned at the response, but I just shrugged it off and followed him down the stairs. When Jason and I reached the end of the stairs, we saw Y/n finishing her breakfast at the table. "Hey guys, hurry up and eat, we have to go to school in twenty minutes and Mo, once you're done eating breakfast, go put your uniform on." Y/n said, finishing the last bite of her meal. Both Jason and I nodded then sat down and started to eat.

            Placing her dishes in the sink, Y/n went to the living room where her school bag was and checked to see if she had everything. As soon as she saw that everything was in order, she zipped up her bag and went back to the kitchen. She then looked at us as if she was rushing for us to finish our breakfast.

            Luckily we were done to the last bite, so we finished rather quickly and washed our plates. I went upstairs to change into my uniform. Once I was done changing, I put on my shoes and went downstairs. "Hurry up, Mo. We're going to be late." Y/n yelled from downstairs

              "Ok, ok. Now I'm ready." I said, finishing the knot on my shoe. We then left the house to see that a car was parked outside the house. "Hey, Mo, come on." Said a boy around Y/n's age. "Sure, see you two at home." I said, kissing Y/n on her forehead and ruffling Jason's hair.

          They didn't like those gestures and pulled away and started walking to school. I gave one last look towards them before getting in the car with the others. " Hey, Mo, who were those guys?" Said the boy from before. "Those were my younger siblings. Let's just go Glitch. " And with that, we pulled out of the driveway and down the street.

~~~

Y/n's pov            After last night, Jason and I had decided to forgive Mo for missing curfew. Though, it didn’t mean that I was happy about it. We began making our way to school after Mo left with his group of friends in their car. The walk to school wasn’t too long and as soon as we reached the gates, Jason and I parted ways. Him, going to his classes, and me, heading to the commons area where I meet up with my own group of friends. We had hung out for a bit, catching up on the latest in our lives before the bell rang for us to get to class. It felt like deja vu - like the first day of school all over again only this time, we’re all saying good-bye to each other. An hour into the school day, the bell rang once more signaling that it was lunch time. 

              Walking around the school building, my phone's notification ring went off alerting me that I had a text. I pulled my phone from my pocket to see that the message was from Mo.   'Meet me in the courtyard in front of school, there's some people I want you to meet. - From Mo'. I quickly replied with 'sure' and headed towards the courtyard.

        Once I was in the courtyard, I scanned the area looking for my brother to see him near the fountain with some people. I started to head over there when I heard my name being called. Looking around for the person calling me, I saw my best friend, Julianna, waving her arms to get my attention. Running towards her, I had forgotten what I was previously doing and Mo had noticed that.Mo's Pov               After I had sent Y/n the text asking her to meet up in the courtyard, I put my phone in my hoodie pocket and waited. As I waited for her to show up, I turned back to the conversation Aubrey and Bodie were having. The conversation lasted for about five minutes when I saw Y/n walking over, more like running since the courtyard is really huge. Though, she went up to someone else before she even saw me. Laughing to myself, I continued to wait until the conversation was over. Though, the conversation didn’t last long before I felt a force knock me forward. However, I didn’t catch my balance in time and fell to the ground.

            “Dammit, Mo, you were supposed to catch me. Not let me fall to the ground.” Y/n groaned in pain. "You okay though?" I asked her,  standing up before checking to see if she had any injuries. "Yeah, I'm fine." She said, brushing herself off and rising to her feet. I then nodded and led her over to the group. "Guys, I want you to meet my sister, Y/n. Y'all saw her this morning." I said to the guys. "Hi, it's nice to meet you all." Y/n said, a smile spread across her face. " Aww, she's so cute, isn't she?" Said Aubrey.

              "Yeah, how old are you?" Asked Emilia, "I'm 17, so I'm just a year or two younger than you guys except the guy with green dye in his hair." Y/n explained. Aubrey and Emilia looked surprised and turned to me for confirmation. I nodded to them. “I could’ve sworn you were younger than that.” “Anyways, This is Emilia, Bodie, Aubrey, Angel, Taye, Lil’ T and Glitch.” I explained, pointing to them as I said their names.  "Why is she so short?" Glitch asked. An irk mark appeared on Y/n's forehead as she started to get angry. "Dude, you shouldn't have said that." I said, going to hold Y/n back before she blew up. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY? I'M NOT SHORT, WE'RE TECHNICALLY THE SAME HEIGHT YOU ASSHOLE! LET ME AT HIM, HE DESERVES A GOOD PUNCH IN THE FUCKING DICK!!!!!!!!" Y/n yelled while struggling to get out of my grip. Everyone looked at us in shock while Glitch got scared and hid behind Bodie.

            "Wow, she's feisty." Said Angel. Once Y/n was calm, I let her go as she huffed in anger. "Now that she's met you guys, we have to go get our little brother and head home." I said. Everyone mumbled out an ‘okay’ before Y/n spoke up. "Would you guys like to eat dinner with us?" Y/n asked. "Sure." Everyone agreed. "That sounds great! What time should we swing by?" Asked Aubrey. "Around 7:30 if that's okay with you guys." Y/n replied with a small, gummy smile. Everyone looked at each other and nodded at each other, agreeing with the time arrangement.

          "Great, so meet us at our house at the agreed time." I said. “You can also bring something if you want, but it doesn’t really matter.”  Everyone nodded before turning to leave and go about their business. After setting up plans to meet up, I turned to see Y/n walking away. "Hey, where are you going?" I asked, running up to her. "I'm going to go meet up with Jason. After that, we’re going to the store to shop for dinner." She replied. 

              After everything was said and done, Y/n left and I went back to my group, who were standing by my car. "So, that's your little sister then. I have to say, she's pretty feisty." Aubrey said with a little smirk. "Yeah, anyways, I'm gonna go and head home. See y'all later." I said, getting in my car. "See ya." All of them said. After that, I drove off back to my house.

[jadequeen88]

As someone who has worked many different service industry jobs, I obviously have lots of thots about line cook! Eddie. Let me elaborate:

Eddie is the one cook who keeps all the other younger hooligans in line. Did they make a rude comment about your skirt riding up while you’re picking up a drink someone spilled? Spatula to the back of the head. They need to learn to treat these hard-working girls with some respect. One of them wolf whistles? Eddie pinches their ear, looks at you apologetically, and says, “Sorry, sweetheart. This one here is barely housebroken. Doesn’t know how to act around pretty ladies.”

He’s also definitely the one all the servers have a crush on. He’s the topic of many smoke break discussions. You didn’t even smoke until you worked there, just wanting an excuse to bat your lashes and bum cigarettes off him. One night, he grinned as he took a long drag and let the smoke curl out, saying he was smoking his last one, but you could have a hit off it if you wanted. Instead of taking it from him, you wrapped your lips around the filter as he was still holding it. Watching his pupils widen and seeing him lick his lips in response was a big payoff for such a risky move. 

The other servers start getting jealous of your special treatment, but Eddie really doesn’t give a fuck, and as long as your boss is happy with your work, you’re fine with it too. Sometimes he moves your ticket to the front of the queue if it’s a really busy night and the other girls have been giving you a hard time. You shake your head in weak protest, but Eddie just says, “I gotta give my favorite girl the red carpet treatment every now and then, don’t I? You work so hard, darlin’. I gotta do my part to help you keep those bastards out there happy. Keeps that tip money coming in for ya’.” He gives you a wink as he twirls his spatula and gets to work, leaving you a blushing mess. 

Up to this point, you thought it was just Eddie being a flirt because you were the new girl, but the night you see him with one of the particularly annoying cooks pinned against the wall by his throat for calling you a “dumb bitch”, you start to suspect your crush might not be as one-sided as you’d originally thought. Afterward, he walked up to you and asked if you were okay. The gentle caress he placed against your cheek made your lashes flutter before you could stop yourself. “Y-yeah, Eddie. Thanks.” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, and he graced you with the lopsided smile you loved before pulling away to say, “No one talks about my favorite girl that way.” You were in a daze the rest of your shift. 

A couple of nights after that interaction, you stay late to wrap all the silverware and cut all the lemons. You knew the other servers left those time-consuming tasks for you as a punishment, but you refused to neglect to do them and put the opening shift in a bind. Even if it was fucked up of them to do that to you in the first place. You realized after a few minutes that someone else was there deep cleaning the grill. You nearly dropped a whole container of freshly cut lemons when you heard whoever it was singing along to one of your favorite songs you’d been silently head-banging along to as you worked. 

The soulful delivery of this mystery man’s singing had you weak in the knees, and it only got worse when you peeked around the corner to see that big voice coming out of Eddie’s mouth. His eyes were closed, bandana-clad head thrown back, as he scraped the grease off the grill and sang his heart out. He must have sensed you standing there, because he turned towards you and jumped a little, those pretty chocolate orbs widening. It was kind of adorable. 

“Shit, sweetheart! Didn’t know I had company, or I’d have kept my wailing to a minimum!” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. How dare he have the nerve to look embarrassed when all you could think about was getting on your knees and under that apron after hearing his voice?

“Eddie, that was…” your voice cracked a little. You cleared your throat and continued. “That was amazing. I love that song, by the way. Not many people here listen to them. You do it justice.”

He turned red and couldn’t meet your eyes, a rare way for the bold man to behave. You liked this side of him. “I do okay, I guess, but I’m better on guitar than vocals.” It seemed to dawn on him that you revealed that you had a similar taste in music then because he perked up and met your gaze again. “Wait, you listen to this kind of stuff?” You nodded and grinned at his sudden switch in tone. “Damn, I didn’t know you could get any more badass!” You laughed at that. “You know,” he continued and cleared his throat. “I’m in a band. We do okay. Decent crowds. We play Tuesday and Friday nights down at the Hideout.”

That’s how you end up at a dive bar the following Friday night, front row cheering Eddie on as he shreds on stage. Afterward, he grabs you up into a sweaty hug, spinning you around. “That’s the best I’ve ever played, baby.” Your heart fluttered. He hasn’t used that pet name before… “You gotta come to every show now and be my good luck charm!” You giggled and agreed. Like you’d ever turn down that offer. 

The flirting amps up at work after that. Eddie yelling out, “There she is! Light of my life, goddess incarnate! How’s your day going, sweetness?” from behind the grill becomes a daily thing. “‘M doing fine, Eddie. How about you?” You always answer. You know what he’s going to say before his mouth even opens, but it gives you butterflies every time. “Million times better now I’ve seen you! Now go out there, kick-ass, and get those tips!”

Things come to a head one night when you’re dealing with a table of Hawkin’s “elite,” the rich boys that thought being born on the right side of the tracks made them special. It didn’t help that their table was in view of Eddie’s workstation. He had a front-row seat to the show, watching them flirt with you, and you have to put up with it, having to smile through it. When the loudest one slipped you his phone number, Eddie couldn’t take it. You heard a clatter and saw a flash of dark curls exit through the back. “What’s going on?” You asked one of the other guys. They all shrugged and looked at each other, just as lost as you were. 

You walk out back and see Eddie leaning against the rough brick wall lighting his second cigarette. He jolts upright when he sees it’s you. “Oh, hey sweetheart. Need to bum one?” He holds the carton towards you, and you can’t help but notice his sad eyes. 

“No, Eds. Can I just have a drag off yours?” 

“Course darlin’,” he mumbles around his cigarette before holding it out to you. He just expects you to let him hold it for you by now. It doesn’t mean it makes his chest ache with want any less, though. 

“What’s the matter, Eds?” You ask sweetly. It embarrasses him that he’s so weak for you. 

“Nothin' to worry about. Promise.” He tries to smile, but he knows you can see right through him. 

You had a feeling it had to do with the asshole trying to give you his number earlier, but you’re still a little nervous to address it and get rejected. So you take a deep breath, brace yourself, and ask, “Was it because that guy gave me his number?”

Eddie couldn’t meet your eyes, “Am I that obvious, sweetheart?” he sighed and looked up to the star-speckled sky overhead, “Some days, I wanna come clean so you’ll reject me already. Put myself outta this misery. But I always chicken out,” he turned to you with misty eyes, “I'm a coward, you know? I’d rather have little pieces of you than nothing at all.”

He barely finished his speech before your hands found his stubbled cheeks, and your mouth was on his. Eddie tasted how you’d imagined he would, the cigarette you shared and cherry chapstick. His eyes closed and he sighed sweetly. It was pure heaven. You pulled away and he smiled bigger than you’d ever seen.

“You silly man,” you whispered, nudging his nose with yours, “All you had to do was ask me out and I’d have said yes.”

“All this time?!” he said, eyes bulging and voice going high.

“Yes! All this time,” you responded. Now it was his turn to initiate a kiss, this one more consuming than the last, his tongue barely swiping your bottom lip. You whined under his touch, making him turn desperate.

“Baby, we gotta revisit this in a couple of hours. Just so I know that I'm not hallucinating.”

“You got it, Eds,” you bit your lip and pulled away from him to go back inside to finish your shift. Before the door closed behind you, you could hear Eddie whooping and cheering in celebration. Needless to say, as soon as you were both clocked out that night, you never kept your hands off each other again.

NOTE: Thanks to everyone on the discord server for fueling this madness. I’d love to revisit this and write an actual fic with smutty goodness. So everyone, let me know what you think!!

@trashmouth-richie @munson-blurbs @pinkrelish @eddiemunsonsmum @courtingchaos @corroded-hellfire @chestylarouxx

[hope-for-the-best-98]

Study Session #4 (Eddie Munson X Reader)

Previous Part Masterlist Spotify Playlist

Summary: Eddie takes you out for your birthday.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mature readers only (18+).Shitty friends. Smoking. Future chapters will have smut. No use of y/n.

A/N: So sorry this took so long. Life got busy, had a birthday, went to Comic Con, then proceeded to catch Covid... But hey, I met Jospeh Quinn and he is fucking gorgeous and lovely???? Who gave him the right?

You have your plan. Lie to your parents, say you’re still going out with Stacey and Amanda. They’ll be none the wiser. You’ll tell the girls that your grandparents are in town to surprise you for your birthday, and you had no idea about their intentions. They can’t exactly argue about seeing family over friends. You wouldn’t say you’re a bad liar, far from it, but maybe it’s the thrill of lying to see a guy. A guy that you have fallen head over heels for in a matter of weeks. 

There’s clothes all over your floor. You’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to find an outfit that your brain can decide on. And don’t even get started on the hair mishap that you started at 4am. You can’t get the stench of hairspray out of your nose. After a few more fails, you finally decide on an outfit, a pair of stonewashed jeans, an old Bowie shirt with your trusty denim jacket. 

You can already smell the pancakes as you open your bedroom door, waltzing downstairs to the sight of your mum laying out the table. Your sister’s in her usual spot, scraping her burnt looking pancakes across her plate. You can barely hear the radio playing in the kitchen over the sound of your dad cooking.

“Morning.”

Your mum looks over at you, grinning. “Morning birthday girl. You look very done up for school.”

“Can’t a girl look nice on her birthday?” You smile, kissing her cheek.

She quickly turns her head and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Come and sit before Kimberly eats your plate” You hear the teasing tone in your mums voice and you take a closer look at your sisters plate, seeing the pancakes practically swimming in runny egg. 

 “You father attempted to make scrambled eggs, but um, they’re more like a soup.”

“They still taste fine!” You hear your dad yell through the door. 

Your mum shakes her head as she pours you a drink. “They really don’t.” She whispers. 

 “Well thanks. You didn’t have to do all of this. I have to leave soon.”

“Well, your dad’s doing a late shift at the hospital tonight, so it’s just us girls tonight. He thought his birthday present to you should be food poisoning.”

“Oh, I’m out with Stacey and Amanda tonight, remember? We’ve got that dinner, plus this surprise thing they planned that could run late.”

“We can do something tomorrow night then. Are they picking you up before school today?”

You nod. “Amanda is. Said she’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

“Do you think she’ll mind if Kimberly goes with you guys this morning? Cindy’s mum called and said she’s sick. I can pick her up after school, it’s just getting there.”

You sideway glance between the both. There goes your idea of lying to both parties confidently. “Um, yeah sure. Don’t see it being a problem.”

“Good.” She kisses the top of your head and places a small gift bag in front of you. “I know that we agreed on just money this year, but you know, I can’t resist. Plus your sister helped me pick it.”

You raise an eyebrow as you look over at Kimberly. “Well… Thanks.”

Right on queue, your dad walks in through the kitchen door, plates in both hands. “I remember that going smoother last time.”

“It’s because I made them, hun. All you did was wash the dishes” Your mum says sweetly as he sets the plates down. “I think this might be the last time I ever ask you to make me eggs though.”

“Well, lucky I’m a doctor and not a chef.” Your dad kisses the top of your head. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” 

“Thanks dad.” You smile, taking off the tissue paper and reaching into the bag. Your eyes widen as you pull out a blue Walkman, the same one you were eyeing up weeks ago in a store window while with Kimberly. 

“You remembered?” You ask, grinning over at her. 

She shrugs, taking a small bite out of her pancake. “You were practically drooling over it.”

You walk around the table, wrapping your arms around her and squeezing tightly. “Aren’t you a great little sister.” You coo.

She groans loudly but doesn’t push you away. “Don’t be gross.”

You kiss her forehead loudly. “Thank you though. Even got the colour right.”

“There’s a couple of cassettes inside there, too. We thought you could use it when you’re doing all that walking in Chicago.” Your mum wiggles her eyebrows. 

“Mum, I haven’t even finished the school year yet.” You laugh.

“Oh c’mon, you get your smarts from me.”

Your dad looks at her, eyebrow raised. “And me?”

She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee. “Yes and obviously you too.”

“C’mon, sit.” Your dad says. “Before your slightly overdone pancakes go cold.”

You grin, sitting back down in your chair and taking a sip of your drink. You grab your fork and take a bite out of your pancake, chewing slowly. They definitely don’t taste as good as your mums. And do you taste salt?

“So?” Your dad leans forward. “Good right?”

“Hmm.” You mumble, nodding. “Good.”

You’re saved by the honk of a car horn outside. “Must be Amanda!” You chirp up, abandoning your food.

“What about breakfast?”

“Yeah it was great.” You say quickly.

“But maybe let mum do it next time?” Kimberly adds, grabbing her bag. “Nothing personal, dad.”

Your mum doesn’t even cover up her laughter as she kisses you and Kimberly on the forehead. “I’ll put your present in your room, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun tonight.”

You hug her tightly and catch up with Kimberly. You wrap your arm around her, pulling her close as the front door shuts behind you. “I need you to help cover for me.”

“What? Why?”

“Doesn’t matter. Pretend our grandparents are here for my birthday so I can’t go out with them tonight.” You wave over at the car, forcing a smile.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business. Just help me out here.”

“Well, a lie like that is gonna cost twenty bucks.” She grins. 

You roll your eyes. Always the negotiator. “More like five bucks.”

“Twenty bucks.”

“Ten bucks and I’ll do the garbage for the next two weeks.” You sigh, holding out your pinky to her. 

She beams up at you, wrapping her pinky around yours tightly. “Deal.”

You step away from her as you reach the car. “Hey guys. Is it okay if Kim comes with us?”

“Yeah sure I guess. Hey Kimberly.” Amanda waves as you both get in the car.

She’s barely driven the car down the street before Kim speaks.

“Our grandparents are over today.” She blurts out. “We uh… Haven’t seen them in a long time.”

You give her a side glance. “Yeah, so uh… I’ve gotta cancel our plans later guys. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Stacey groans.

You see Amanda looking at you in the rearview mirror. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m really sorry. But you guys still go, the table’s booked and everything.”

“We can see if the guys are free.” Stacey pipes up, looking at Amanda. 

You see Amanda turn to her, eyebrows raised, almost like the same thought popped into both of their heads. You try not to feel hurt at how quickly they make their own plans. You’re the one cancelling them, even lying to them to meet a guy behind their back. But, you know, deep down the friendship is starting to feel one-sided, and since hanging with Eddie you realise how blatantly obvious it has always been. Any guilt you are feeling for ditching them seems to fade quickly.

You lean in close to Kimberly and whisper in her ear. “That totally wasn’t ten dollar acting.”

“Well it worked didn’t it?”

-

You barely see Eddie throughout the day, even when you’re both in Mr Walters class, he doesn’t look in your direction. Maybe it was the fact Stacey and Amanda were glued to your sides, trying to make you feel somewhat special on your birthday. Maybe he didn’t want the hassle of them starting unnecessary drama in the middle of the hallway like last week. They hadn’t mentioned it since, and you wanted to keep it that way. 

At the end of the day, after saying your goodbyes to Stacey and Amanda, you make your way to the library and find Eddie already sitting at your table. He’s hunched over in his seat, twirling his pen in his hand as he stares at a piece of paper. 

You approach him slowly, hoping not to startle him. “Hi?”

He looks at you quickly and sits up. “Hi.  I’ve uh… Nearly finished it. Did some work over the weekend.”

You sit down beside him and pick up his paper, smiling gently at the scribbles of skulls and bats he left himself in the margins. “Want me to have a look?”

He rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “You’re the tutor.”

You sit back in your chair, staring to read over his paper. You hope you hide your shock as you read through the pages because it’s actually… Good? You couldn’t even say the person that wrote that first paper you read those couple weeks ago was capable of writing the one in your hand. He really tried and put in the work over the weekend for you. 

But there seems to be a level of uncertainty between you both. He hasn’t mentioned what nearly happened at the bar the other night, the almost kiss in the alley behind the bar. Surely he would have mentioned it straight away instead of talking about the paper? You were so close, lips practically touching before Gareth caught you like a pair of horny teenagers, which wasn’t really that far from the truth. 

But as you sit beside Eddie, helping him with his paper, your heart begins to sink. Maybe he was a little drunk, or the adrenaline was pumping from performing on stage, and the kiss was just a spur of the moment thing. But he dedicated a song to you, surely that’s got to count for something? Now maybe you’re just overthinking things.

You flinch back as a hand moves in front of your face. “Earth to tutor?”

Eddie’s staring at you, eyebrows raised at you questionably. 

“Sorry.” You give him a quick smile. “Zoned out a little. So, um, the evidence is good, and so are your points. You just need to write up your closing paragraph. We get that done and it should pass as gradable.” You try to joke, but you can tell Eddie sees right through it as he looks at you. But he doesn’t say anything and simply nods his head.

You lean your head in your hand, admiring him as he starts to write. You watch as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and it makes you wonder if this is what he looks like when he’s writing his music, or learning how to play a new song. A piece of his hair falls against his cheek, and you have to resist the urge to reach out and tuck it behind his ear.

Oh God, what is happening to you?

You look away quickly, pulling your textbook closer as you pretend to read it. You drum your pen against the page as you try and think of something to say to him. Anything. Why did this suddenly become so difficult? You glance over at him and notice he’s watching you tap your pen against the book. You didn’t realise how loud you had gotten.

“Sorry.” You hold your pen tighter. “That must be distracting.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “So what big plans did you cancel tonight for little ol’ me?”

“It was just a birthday dinner thing.” You shrug. “Nothing big.”

“Whose birthday?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you stare at him. “Well uh… Mine I guess.”

He sits up, eyes wide. “Wait… It’s your birthday? Today? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Eddie. We’ve gotta get your paper done.”

He scoffs, snatching the pen out of your hand and closing your textbook. “Yeah… I don’t think so.” 

“What are you doing?”

“You think I’m going to let you celebrate your birthday in this shit hole library?” He stands up, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. “Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t…” You trail off as you feel his thumb run across the top of your hand. “I just want to hang out with you.”

You know the second it leaves your mouth it sounds pathetic, and it makes you physically wince. “I know that it seems stupid-“

“Hey,” Eddie grips your chin gently with his other hand, “you think I want you to help me write some boring paper? I thought I made my intentions pretty clear the other night, Angel Face. You’re really more than some tutor to me.” 

“O-oh.” 

When did your mouth get so dry?

“You just didn’t bring up what nearly happened the other night and I thought you regretted it.”

“Trust me, I still really wanna kiss you. It’s just… Just not in the school library. So, where should we go?”

-

You’re not sure why you picked Palace Arcade, one of the busiest places to be after school, but you haven’t been in so long. You used to go a lot with your family when you were younger. But they expected you had grown up too much to enjoy it anymore, and it wasn’t exactly an ideal hang out spot for you, Stacey and Amanda. 

It’s loud, bustling with people as you head inside. Kids are running from one arcade machine to the other, screaming and cheering as they get a new high score on their favourite machines. 

“You want something to drink?” Eddie asks loud enough for you to hear him over the crowd. 

You smile up at him. “Strawberry slurpee?” 

You feel his fingers graze against yours, almost testing the waters. You bite your lip, reaching down and interlocking your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “After you, Munson.” 

He leads you over to the counter, grabbing one of the workers attention to order your drink. He leans his back against the top and holds your hand tighter. “So you were supposed to hang out with your friends tonight?”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t exactly call them friends right now. Feels like everything is a popularity contest, not like any of it will matter after we graduate. It’s exhausting.”

“I guess they wouldn’t like the fact we’re hanging out, huh?”

“Honestly? No. But I don’t care what they think. Not anymore. I like being around you, Eddie. I feel like I can actually be me and not that superficial version of myself that I created to fit in.”

He grips your hand tighter, his thumb leaving goosebumps as it runs across your skin. 

“Since you started tutoring me, you never treated me like I was a bit of shit under your shoe. You’ve never looked down on me. You were never like them, and I wish I knew that sooner.” He holds your hand to his chest. “Because I would’ve loved to hang out with you, the smartest girl in class who’s letting me teach her D&D. Who comes and watches my band. Who actually makes me want to work hard at school for the first time in my life.” 

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “It sounds stupid.”

“No. No it-“

“Strawberry slurpee.” The worker says as they put the drink down between you and Eddie.

He hands you the drink with a smile. “One strawberry slurpee for the birthday girl.”

“Thanks.” You smile, taking a sip. 

“Good?”

“Are you kidding me? I lived on these as a kid.” You laugh, holding the cup to his mouth. 

He grins as he takes the straw between his lips and takes a sip. “Damn, that is good.”

“Strawberry flavour is the best.”

“I dunno, cherry is pretty good.” 

You squint your eyes at him. “Take that back, Munson.” 

He laughs, throwing his arm across your shoulders and turning you. “So what do you want to start with? Galaga? Street Fighter?”

“Pacman?” You smile up at him. “I’m pretty good at it.”

“Show me your skills, Angel Face.”

No matter how many times he says it, it still makes your stomach do a backflip. 

You walk over to a free Pacman machine and Eddie puts in the money. 

“You don’t have to pay for everything.”

“Are you kidding? It’s your birthday. Now,” Eddie takes the drink from your hand and has another sip. “Let’s see if we can get you on the board.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m beating ‘MADMAX’, that’s for sure.” You laugh, pressing start. 

You grab onto the joystick, biting your lip as you try to keep your attention on the game. But suddenly Eddie’s rests his chin on your shoulder as he watches you play. You try to focus, you really try, but you feel Eddie’s cheek press into yours and your hand falters on the joystick. 

“I thought you said you were good at this.” He laughs, standing closer behind you.

“Maybe something’s distracting me.”

“Something, huh?” He places his hands either side of the machine, caging you in, and you instinctively lean back into him.

“Or someone.”

You carry on playing the game, somehow successfully completing the first stage. You smile as Eddie holds the drink towards your lips and you take a sip gratefully. After a few more attempts at the next level, you feel him start to fidget behind you and take in a deep breath.

“So is… This technically the fourth date? Or are we counting this as the first?”

“It’s a date?” You tease, looking at him over your shoulder. 

He smiles gently. “It kinda feels like one to me.” 

You pause the game, turning slowly to face him. “Yeah… I guess it does feel like a date.”

“And uh… Gareth’s not here, so no interruptions.”

“That’s also very true.”

 The atmosphere around you seems to shift, just like it had that night at the bar. The noise from the crowd and arcade machines seem to quieten down, and all you can focus on is him. How the lights reflect in his brown doe eyes. How he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. 

You have no idea how someone you only truly met a couple weeks ago can suddenly mean so much to you. But he’s been all you can think about, taking up your every waking thought. Before him you were so unsure about yourself, about your grades, friends, boys. 

But your feelings for Eddie? You have never been so sure about something in your life.

He cups your jaw, his thumb running across your bottom lip slowly. “Can I kiss-“

You don’t give him the chance to ask as you lean up and press your lips against his. You grip the front of his shirt, a silent plea for him not to pull away from you, because you never want to stop.  A warmth fills you as he kisses you back, his soft lips gliding against yours. His other arm slowly starts to wrap around the small of your back and you gasp into his mouth, reaching back to grip his wrist as the condensation from the slurpee sinks through your clothes. 

“Shit.” His voice sounds hoarse as he pulls away. “Sorry, let me just…” 

He takes a step back quickly and almost practically throws the slurpee onto the nearest empty table. He turns back to you and a grin slowly forms on his face. He reaches for you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Now… Where were we?”

You grab his other hand, guiding it to wrap around the small of your back. “Something like thi-.” 

He doesn’t allow you to finish as he kisses you desperately, his hand slowly moving from your cheek to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. The taste of cheap cigarettes and strawberry slurpee on his lips makes your head spin, and now you couldn’t imagine your life without it. The kiss turns demanding, his body curving into yours as you press back into the arcade machine. You reluctantly pull away from him, gripping onto the front of his shirt to steady yourself. 

“We should probably keep this PG.” You say breathlessly.

He furrows his brows, his chest moving rapidly as he looks around and spots a group of middle school kids watching from a machine a few feet away. “Well, I guess they can learn a thing or two.”

“Oh my God.” You laugh, pressing your head against his chest as you regain your breath.

He wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You say quickly, looking up at him. “That was…”

“Yeah.” He grins, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since the bar, and uh, probably before then too.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your fingertips buzzing as they reach up and grip the collar on his jacket. “I’m so happy Ms O’Donnell and Principal Higgins made me tutor you.”

 He chuckles, leaning back to press his lips to your forehead. “So am I, Angel Face.”

You let out a laugh as Eddie kisses your cheek, and then your nose, and then your chin, slowly gliding his lips down to your neck. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, biting your lip. “What happened to keeping it PG?”

“I think they’re ready for a little R-rated action.”

You tilt your neck to the side and you freeze as you see a familiar-looking blonde looking at herself in a compact mirror, and a guy in a Hawkins Varsity jacket beside her.

“Oh shit!”

Eddie pulls back quickly, frowning as he looks at your face. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I think I just saw Stacey and Kyle by the counter. We were suppose to hang out, but I said I was with my grandparents tonight.”

“Okay, uh…” Eddie looks around the arcade quickly. “Think Munson.”

“What-“ You gasp quietly as he pulls you to the other row of machines, walking down them slowly. 

“We should be-“

You both freeze as you see Stacey come into sight, her eyes looking up at Kyle as they walk towards you. Eddie wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into a Photo Booth that is beside you. He falls back onto the stool as you shut the curtain. You both stare at each other silently and a smile forms on Eddie’s face. He reaches into his pocket, taking out a dollar and putting it into the machine. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?”

“We’ve gotta blend in. Now c’mere.”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap as a bright flash fills the space. 

“C’mon, what’s the next pose?”

You know you barely have time to think, so you turn your head and cup his cheek as you press your lips against his gently until the next flash. You stare at him and a grin breaks out onto both of your faces at the next picture. For the last one, you wrap your arm around his shoulders, resting your head on top of his and smiling at the camera as the last photo is taken. 

You cup his jaw in your hand, angling his head up to look at you. There’s silence for a moment, and a boyish grin breaks out on his face.

“Happy birthday, Angel Face.”

Well, if this doesn’t feel like you’ve been pulled into a romcom. Not that you’re complaining. 

He kisses you quickly before poking his head out from in between the curtains. “I think the coast is clear.” He leans back inside and looks at you. “Ready to get out of here?” 

He extends his hand out back to you, and you entwine your fingers with his. “Let’s go.”

Eddie reaches for the front of the machine and grabs the photostrip, shoving it into his leather jacket. He looks around a last time before leaving the booth, griping your hand tightly as he walks towards the exit. 

-

He’s barely put the van into park before he’s diving towards you, pressing his lips against yours as he holds your face in his hands. You can’t even feel the cold contrast of his rings against your burning cheeks as he tilts your head back, deepening the kiss. He’s certainly more confident now that you’re both hidden away in the van, away from prying eyes, and you’re definitely not complaining. 

After a few moments he pulls away, bumping his nose against yours with a grin. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You say breathlessly.

“So, um… We should do some studying after school tomorrow, right? Finish that really important paper for Miss Millers class?”

You nod your head slowly, staring down at his lips. “Yeah, that… That sounds good.”

He places his hand on your thigh hesitantly, almost like you might push it away, and it makes you want to laugh. Like Eddie freakin’ Munson wasn’t just kissing the air out of your lungs seconds ago.  “Maybe some other things too?”

You put your hand on top of his and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Other things sound fun too.”

 “Sweet, so if you bring your D&D notes we can finish up on your character.” He says cooly, sitting back in his seat.

You stare at him dumbly. “Oh, um… Yeah sure.”

Eddie fails to suppress his laugh as he leans back in close. “Are you kidding? Hottest girl at school makes the moves on me and you expect me to be able to focus on anything else ever again?”

You bite your lip, shaking your head as you turn to look out of the windshield. “Shut up.” 

He grips your chin gently, forcing you to look back and meet his gaze. “Never.”

You both lean in at the same time, and his hand winds around to cup the back of your neck as your lips touch. There’s nothing urgent or desperate in the way Eddie holds you close, just a gentle press of his lips against yours, but even that still leaves you breathless and wanting more. 

He breaks away first and sighs as he moves his hand to caress your cheek. “I should probably be a gentlemen and let you go home, huh?”

You whine, leaning into his touch. “Eddie Munson being the responsible adult? Maybe you have corrupted me.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He grins, reaching into his pocket for the photostrip and placing it into yours. “I hope you had a good birthday at least.”

“The best.” You promise. “Thank you for making it a memorable one.”

You don’t miss the playful smirk on his face as he kisses your forehead. “Go inside before I pull you into the back of his van.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a threat to me, Munson.” You grin, undoing your seatbelt. “But I guess you’re right.”

He grabs your hand, pulling you in closer to steal another kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel Face.”

“Bye Eddie.” You smile, getting out of the van and into the cold January air. 

You walk towards your house, resisting the urge to look back at him until you reach your front door. His head is hanging out of his window, a lit cigarette in his mouth already as he waves you off. You give him a mock salute before heading inside. 

The house is quiet, like you expected it to be. Your dad is probably still doing his rounds at the hospital, and your mum and Kimberly should be fast asleep. You lock the door behind you and creep upstairs slowly, heading for your room.

“Who was that?”

You jump at the voice and turn to see your sister’s head poking out of her bedroom door. “Kimberly!” You hiss. “Why are you still up?”

“You were out with a guy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “What’s his name?”

“None of your business. Go to bed.”

“I’m sure mum is gonna love to hear that you lied about meeting with your friends.” She grins, opening her door wider.

“You’ve already conned me out of ten dollars, Kim. Don’t push it.” 

“I’m just curious!”

You sigh, grabbing her hand and pulling her into your room. You point at the bed and reach into your jacket pocket. “Sit.”

She sits at the bottom, crossing her legs and looking at you expectedly. “Well?”

You hesitantly hand her the photostrip and she squints as she looks at the photos. “Is that..” She gasps loudly, looking up at you. “Is that you kissing Eddie Munson!?”

You cover her mouth, glaring at her. “Do you have to yell?”

She pushes your hand away and looks back down at the photostrip. “How did- why?”

“I’ve been tutoring him.” You say defensively. “And it just… Happened. He’s really not what people think he’s like.”

“They call him a freak.”

“And those people are assholes, okay?”

She puts her hands up defensively. “Okay okay.” 

You sit down beside her. “He’s a really nice guy, and I think you’ll like him. He plays the guitar and sings in his own band.” You bump your arm into hers playfully. “And he likes nerdy stuff like you.”

“I’m not nerdy.”

“I dunno, religiously reading Lord of the Rings seems pretty nerdy to me.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” You smile, “but this stays between us, for now at least. Promise?”

You hold out your pinky finger in front of her, and she reluctantly wraps her own around yours before shoving the photostrip into your hand.“Fine, but warn me next time before showing me photos of his tongue going down your throat.”

“Oh my God.” You laugh, pushing her off your bed. “Go to sleep.”

“Oh Eddie.” She mocks, twirling a piece of hair around her finger as she walks to your door. “Strum me like your guitar.”

You grab a pillow from the top of your bed and launch it in her direction, hitting the door as she closes it behind her. “That little…”

You exhale loudly, laying back on your bed and staring up at the ceiling. You feel needy in the fact that you already miss him. You still feel the tingle on your lips, the ghost of his fingers on your cheek and thigh. You press your nose to your jacket and the smell of stale cigarettes and cheap cologne fills your senses, and it makes your head all fuzzy. 

You hold up the photostrip, smiling as you run a finger across each photo. You don’t remember the last time you looked this happy. You don’t remember the last time you felt this happy. But the evidence is there, in black and white, staring back at you as Eddie Munson. You hold the photostrip to your chest, grinning at the thought of seeing him tomorrow. 

[221bshrlocked]

Fever in my Eyes

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 8.5K (yeesh)

Warnings: Smut and Angst, my two faves. Blindfold. Breeding Kink!!! Things are consensual from both sides but since this is a sex pollen fic, some of you might consider it as non/con so please proceed with caution.

Summary: Felucia was not an ideal planet to track a quarry on and you find yourself in a sticky situation when you lose sight of the Mandalorian for a moment. An unexpected standoff between Mando and the bounty leads to you escaping back to the Razor Crest, unaware of the pollen which seeped into your nostrils and past your skin. What will the bounty hunter do once he realizes what you’re asking of him? And more importantly, is it worth risking whatever relationship he has with you?

A/N: As always, I am shit with summaries. It’s a sex pollen fic yall. I apologize if my smut isn’t as good as it used to be, I am trying. Also, please please please let me know how I did in the comments. This is only my second ever Star Wars fic and I was very reluctant to post it but Pedro Pascal made me do it because I cannot stop thinking of the man so here it is. Seriously, tell me how I did and what I can do to better my writing. There will be more Din Djarin fics to come :) Enjoy. And this is not beta’d!

This was not an ideal situation, but it never was. At least not ever since you took the ‘glorified babysitter’ position offered so graciously to you months ago. A short snort made its way past your lips as you walked through the greenery and recalled how you came into caring for the child currently biting and playing with your necklace. You looked down and smiled at him, not bothering to stop him from chewing down on the colorful jewels because you knew for a fact that if Mando heard you criticizing him over something so trivial, he might scold him and make him pout. Maker, the little womp rat made it so hard to be angry with him, let alone attempt to teach him some proper manners. 

So busy playing with the Child, you didn’t notice when the bounty hunter suddenly came to a halt ahead of you. You walked right into his back and stumbled backwards, apologizing immediately when he turned around and tilted his visor to the side. You’ve grown to learn what each tild meant and at the moment, he was definitely a tad bit annoyed with you. 

“S-sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Smiling awkwardly at the man in front of you, you waited until he turned around before narrowing your eyes at the kid currently giggling at your mistake. It was amazing how often he did that, almost as if he knew he was purposely getting you in trouble for his own entertainment. 

“So you never actually told me why this bounty was so important,” your eyes searched your surroundings and marveled at the lush reaching all the way to the top of the strange trees, barely noticing the way the Mandalorian’s shoulders tensed before continuing to walk towards the edge of the forest. If there even was an edge to this jungle. Maker, this was such a weird planet, it smelled weird, it was too hot and too wet, and you sensed there was something strange with all the exotic plants beneath your feet.

When he didn’t respond, you slowly put the Child down and reached inside your satchel for a drink. As soon as the kid noticed the satchel, he waddled back to you and pulled on your cloak until you brought out his favorite blue biscuits. 

“All I’m saying is, this bounty is weird. Who hides all the way out here anyways? I mean I have never heard of this place-”

“You’ve said that about the last four quarries.” You didn’t expect him to respond and eyed him cautiously, looking between him and the kid who continued to eat his snacks and understood absolutely nothing of what you were saying. A shiver ran down your spine when you noticed the way he put the tracking fob back in his pocket before slowly reaching for the blaster pistol. Reflexes instantly kicking in, you hurried to the Child and snatched him off the ground, shushing his little coos and preparing for the worst case scenario which was always, somehow, what transpired.

Silence filled the humid air and you tried to read the bounty hunter’s body language, knowing very well he was not one to say anything unless it was perhaps a little too late for you. His visor dragged through the dried prints on the grass and before you knew it, he was taking off towards the edge of the purple and pink plants. As you followed him, you felt your throat dry much quicker than usual. Thinking it was just the extreme weather of Felucia, you decided it was best to slow down and wait until the Mandalorian caught the bounty before following his path. He’d even told you once to not follow him if you ever saw him running off because that usually meant he was close to the quarry and wouldn’t need your aid. It was a little insulting in the beginning but you were caught during a shoot-out one too many times and understood he was only trying to look out for you and the kid. 

But not even a full minute passed before you heard a sudden blast sound off from the trees above you and before you could figure out what was happening, a heavy weight landed on top of you, and you watched in horror as the kid flew out of your hand into a nearby puddle. 

Trying your hardest to grab the blaster on your hip, you cried out in pain when you felt talons digging into your arms and twist them back. You didn’t know what else to do, eyes scanning the trees in hopes of finding the Mandalorian rushing towards you. But when you realized he was nowhere around, you looked at the kid and prayed he was alright. When you saw his large eyes blinking a few times before struggling to sit up, you knew there was only one outcome. 

“Make a sound, and I will feast on your organs.” The stench of the creature filled your nostrils and you sobbed quietly at the implications behind his words. Taking one last look at the kid, you took a deep breath and pushed off the ground as hard as you can.

“MANDO!” As soon as you screamed his name, you felt three talons break the skin of your shoulder blades and drag all the way down to your lower back. You felt hot tears roll down your cheeks and hated how distressed the Child looked. Almost on queue, he was standing up and trying to waddle your way, refusing to listen to your little objections as you tried to tell him to run the opposite direction. 

Before you could dwell on the many different ways you were about to die, you heard a large blast sound through the forest, throwing the creature off of you against one of the trees with a loud cracking noise. You looked up just in time to see the familiar glint of beskar coming closer through the greenery and as you tried to stand up, you felt the same weight behind you again, twisting the talons into your hair and pulling you to your feet. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you felt the edge of the hunting knife against your throat. Eyes unable to focus on the figures in front of you, you blinked a few times and realized there were too many sensations hitting you. But the one seemingly outdoing all the others was the growing wet patch on your back and you soon felt sharp pain growing against your skin where the strange liquid rolled down your skin. You weren’t sure if it was blood or if it was drool from the thing behind you and a part of you didn’t care because what difference would it make. 

“Should have known you were the only crazy one to come here...come after me.” A slithering whisper made its way past your ears and your knees buckled as you started to feel faint. But then the creature held you up roughly and pressed the knife harder against your throat, warning you against falling to the ground.

“Your problem is with me T'doshok. Let her go.” You vaguely saw the Child walk towards his father, relief washing over you when you knew he was safe once more. At some point, you’ve come to care more for him than for yourself and you were never sure if it was because he was so precious or because of how important he was to the Mandalorian. 

“Aren’t we past formalities Mando? At least do me the honor of saying my name...old friend.” 

Your gaze immediately shifted from the kid to the beskar-clad man standing in front of him. So they knew each other? Why didn’t he tell you? Did he still not trust you to know such matters until now?

“ Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh.” You heard the Mandalorian growl through the visor and even though you didn’t understand what he said, you knew it was anything but friendly. Wait, that meant the T'doshok behind you understood Manod’a. 

A sob escaped your throat when you felt the bounty laugh behind you at the warning. 

“You can’t possibly mean that Mando.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a hint of surprise etched in the voice growling in your ear.

“Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas...believe me.” The conscious part of your brain wondered why he continued to speak in Mando’a. He knew you didn’t understand much of it…

The silence was almost deafening and you weren’t sure what was happening until your boss stepped forward and tilted his helmet to the side,

“Gedet'ye.” The modulated voice sounded strange to your ears. He was only ever this softly-spoken with the Child.

“Well, this is unexpected. In that case-” You didn’t have time to react, watching as the world twirled around you before you fell among the purple and pink flowers you were so impressed by earlier. A strange scent hit your nostrils but you couldn’t dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Willing yourself to stand up, you pushed off the ground as soon as you saw the kid waddling towards you. As soon as he tried to walk behind you, you knew what he was trying to do and picked him up before he could do anything.

“No little guy...you- I can’t...I need to make sure you’re okay.” You could faintly hear the sound of blasters going off for a few moments and by the time you managed to take the gun out of your holster, you saw the Mandalorian standing above an unconscious reptilian creature. So that’s what a T'doshok is…

Slowly making your way towards them, you blinked away the tears and wiped your eyes to try and clear your sight. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” You shivered at the tone Mando was using with you. Dank Ferrik, you must have hit your head pretty hard if you thought the Mandalorian was worried about anyone but the green little thing in your arms.

“I- yes. I’ll be f-fine. Just-” You hadn’t meant to react the way you have but as soon as you felt his gloved hand touch your neck, you jerked away from him and held out your hand to stop him from coming any closer to you. Mando was shocked at your reaction and was glad to have something to hide behind. A few seconds passed in silence and you were still staring at him with wide open eyes and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were afraid of him. It occurred to him that it wasn’t shock that beat at his heart but a deep and twisting sense of hurt. And when he scanned your body language, he could tell you were trembling in front of him and the last thing he wanted to do was to give you another reason to fear him.

“Can you walk back to the-”

“Yes. I’ll- fu...I’ll take the kid.” Before he could say anything else, you were clutching the Child closer to your chest and walking back to the Razor Crest. You searched your mind to try and understand why you reacted the way you have to his touch but couldn’t find anything to explain the sharp pain striking through your insides. It was too much too quickly. Even though it wasn’t his skin, you felt neurons firing simultaneously as soon as he trailed his fingers down your neck. You hoped to the gods he wasn’t offended by your reaction because the last thing you needed was to drive him further away from you.

Barely making it back to the ship, you managed to go up the ladder and put the Child back in his crib in the cockpit before shutting it and locking the door behind you. Scrambling inside your mind for a moment, you turned to the ramp and walked towards the hatch before pushing in the code until it sealed shut. 

In an instant, everything touching your skin was too rough and incredibly heavy. Before you could think twice about it, you were violently stripping out of your clothes, throwing them to the ground on your way to the refresher. As soon as you walked into the small room, you turned on the cold water and sighed heavily as it beat down on your heated skin. 

“Not enough���” Crying to the empty room, you made sure the hot water wasn’t on before leaning back against the cool tiles of the walls. But no sooner than that were you hissing and pushing off of the wall. You completely forgot about the open gashes on your back and the shooting pain was almost instantaneous when you remembered just how large the wound was.

As you dwelled on the last hour or so, you felt your legs give out on you and before you knew it, you were sliding down to the floor. Eyes shutting slowly, you fell to the side and let the cold water run down your form. And as hard as you tried to stay awake, you couldn’t help your mind’s request as it begged to rest. You let sleep wash over you, the last sound ringing in your ear was Mando’s worried voice asking if you were okay.

Back outside, the bounty hunter was fuming with anger, not caring about how oddly violent he became with the quarry. He was never one to beat an unconscious being but something took over him when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. As he pushed his way through the forest, he thought back to the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. And he hated himself for the way his body reacted to your fragile body.

“Ni’duraa.” He whispered to himself when he saw the Crest come into view, continuing to pull the T'doshok until he walked up the ramp and onto the ship. It was awfully quiet but he decided to freeze the reptile before he walked around to look for you. Minutes later, he was ascending the ladder to the cockpit, unlocking it and reaching for the crib on his pilot chair. When he opened it and saw the kid cooing in his sleep, he shut it once more and left to look for you. It was strange how he couldn’t hear a single sound. You were normally talkative after a mission, and as he placed his weapons back on the wall, he noticed your clothes lying haphazardly on the ground. Mando sighed heavily as he picked them up, flushing violently when he saw the last two items leading into the refresher. Strange, you were never one to throw things around.

Not wanting to bother you anymore, he placed the clothes on your cot and ascended to the cockpit once more, wanting to leave Felucia as quickly as possible because he knew how the locals became when uninvited guests stayed for too long. As they left the sector, the Mandalorian couldn’t help but question why you were still in the refresher. You’d arrived long before him and it took him a while to navigate through the jungle because of how heavy the bounty was. 

Putting the ship on auto-pilot, he made his way to the refresher but not before noticing a strange scent fill his nostrils. Looking down at his hands, he noticed a bright purple powder covering his gloves and as soon as he brought his hands up to the edge of the visor, he was hit with many different sensations, all of which he could distinctively place back to you. Your honey-scented soap, the orange tea he saw you constantly drinking, the smell of your sweat on a particularly hot day when you tried to fix the ship...

“Fuck…” He swore before wiping his gloves against his cloak and approached the refresher. 

Knocking on the door, he waited a few moments for a response and breathed impatiently when  you didn’t bother to say anything.

“Open up, Cyar'ika.” He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly using such endearing words to call for you and when he was met with more silence, he groaned in annoyance before warning you. “If you don’t open the door now, I will break it.” Normally, you would have clapped back with a snarky comment that would get his blood boiling but he knew something was wrong when you remained quiet. Throwing propriety out the window, he kicked the door open and walked in, eyes searching the small room until they fell on your unconscious form under the water. 

“Maker,” kneeling to the ground, his heart clenched when he saw a viscous, black liquid oozing out of the gash on your back. How did he not notice this when you left? Quickly reaching for the left knob, he swore when he noticed the hot water wasn’t even on and almost broke the other one as he tried to switch it off. Why would you take such a cold shower when you weren’t even on a desert planet? Wiping your hair away from your face, the Mandalorian tried to wake you and began to feel anxiety seep into his clothes along with the water cascading down your body when he realized this was much worse than he thought. He took off his gloves and pushed you onto your back, trying his hardest to avert his gaze from your naked skin as he bent down and carried you out of the refresher. 

Opening his quarters, he laid you on his covers before grabbing the anesthetic above him and turning you on your stomach to care for the wounds. As he sprayed your back, he noticed the way you groaned in your sleep and forced himself to attend to the task at hand. He hoped to the gods there wasn’t any poison in the wound before he grabbed the bacta spray and slowly made his way down the skin of your back. He sighed in relief when he noticed your skin slowly shifting and sealing itself, trying to calm his increasing heart rate when he remembered just how fragile and naked you were beneath him. Some sick part of him was attracted to you even in such a state and he wished more than anything for you to be awake and willing to-

This is not how he pictured seeing you for the first time.

When you started shifting beneath him, he kneeled away from you and covered your legs, continuing to care for the wound on your lower back until it started to close as well. By the time he put all the medication back in its place, you were turning around and moaning in discomfort and Mando realized it was because you were probably still freezing from the cold water. Taking off his cloak, he barely draped it on your sleeping form when you pushed it off and turned on your back. He felt the fabric of his pants tighten around his crotch and looked away from you.

“Please...too- too much. I can’t-” He couldn’t understand what you were trying to say and moved to place the cloak on you again, head instantly turning to your face when you smacked the offensive object away from him and began to trail your fingers down your skin. He hadn’t meant to and before he could stop himself, he was watching as your fingers made their way down to your hips before dipping into the space between your thighs.

Maker be damned, how were you so glistening and flushed?

“M-Mando?” His eyes snapped to your face and watched as you spread your legs until he positioned between them. “Mando I need...you. I need you please, this is- it hurts. I can’t...it hurts so much. Please h-help me.” Your voice was filled with dangerous requests, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants when he saw the way you reached for his thighs and dragged your nails down to his knees. 

“Cyare, you don’t know what you’re asking.” He forced himself to keep his gaze on your face and nowhere else. But with every passing moment, the need to look at where he’d dreamt of feasting on for so many nights outgrew his respect for you. 

“Mando...I want you, n-need you...please, I promise I’ll be good. So so good for you, just- oh maker I-”

The small part of his brain that wasn’t ruled by his pulsing cock finally figured out what was happening and he growled as he pushed off of you and out to your cot. Grabbing your shirt, he turned it around and saw the same purple powder that was on his gloves coloring the whole front of your cloak. He recalled back to what happened when he left you and remembered where the T'doshok pushed you before he attacked him. 

Of course. The pollen from the spore plants.

Which meant that-

“Oh fuck.” The Mandalorian felt his insides churn when he realized what was taking place not ten feet away from him, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he knew what could potentially happen to you if your...needs weren't properly met. With reluctance, he made his way back to his sleeping cot and felt his chest tighten when he saw what you were doing.

You were on your side, fingers rubbing furiously at your soaking core and whimpering at the consistent and harsh touches passing through your nerves. But it wasn’t the mess you were making that caught his attention. No, it was the fact that you had his cowl twisted between your thighs and around your back. He watched in awe as you pushed your face into the rough material, taking in deep breaths to try and fill your nostrils with his scent. Taking one step closer to you, his eyes bore into your heated skin and he choked on air when he saw you lick at the hood of the cloak before taking your fingers out of your cunt and replacing them with his cowl. He couldn’t believe his eyes and the thought of wearing it around with your scent sticking to it broke him. 

Mando looked around the ship for a few moments in an attempt to think of what he should do. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, he approached your slowly and gasped when he met your eyes and saw the way you were looking at him.

“M-mando! Please...fuck me. I- I need you to...don’t c-care how. I promise I’ll do anything, wh-whatever you want...ple-please.” Chills ran down your spine when you forced yourself to throw the cowl away. Turning around, you laid on your stomach and took a deep breath before raising your lower half off of the covers. As you rested your head on your arm and bit into your wrist, you looked back to the beskar-clad man, silently pleading with him while swaying your ass in the air. 

“Gota'la…” Before the Mandalorian could talk himself out of it, he was kicking his heavy shoes away and making his way closer to you. A part of him screamed that of the two of you, he was the one less affected by the pollen and was technically responsible for whatever transpired next. And he was close to asking you if you were sure you wanted to take this further if it weren’t for the way you reached beneath you and faintly trailed your fingers through your soaking slit. 

“Ad'ika, gar cuyir mesh'la.” He was speaking to himself more than to you and smiled to himself when he noticed your cunt clenching around nothing as soon as his words filled the silence. “Sweet girl, you like it when I speak to you in Mando’a?” You shivered at his tone and found it difficult to respond to him, especially when you could tell he was definitely not looking at you but at the mess you were making on his bed. A loud cry rang through the small room when you felt his hand come down on your backside before squeezing the flushed skin. 

“I asked you a question Cyar'ika.” His deep and modulated voice only made it worse and you found yourself nodding at him before whispering out a low ‘yes.’

“K'olar,” you squealed when you felt Mando twirl your around onto your back before pulling your naked body flush to his still-clothed one. You were about to beg him to just fuck you already when he shoved two of his fingers into your mouth to shush you. You moaned shamelessly around his fingers, whining even louder when you realized you were sucking on his calloused skin and not on the gloves he almost never took off unless he was alone. 

“You’re going to come just like this sweet girl.” Mando manhandled you until you were straddling one of his thighs, growling impatiently when you tried to push yourself away from him. His arm tightened around your waist, pushing you down on the beskar cuisse until you finally understood what he wanted from you.

“C-cold…”

“Be a good girl and drench my armor little one. Let me walk around with the memory of your cunt dripping on me.” His words hit too close to your somewhat aware mind and you chose to dwell on their meaning later. Softly inching your hands onto his shoulders, you fisted your fingers into his shirt to support your weight before dragging yourself against the rugged and cool beskar in between your thighs. As you threw your head back and sighed in pleasure, Mando couldn’t help but squeeze the heated skin of your hip, knowing very well there would soon be fingerprint marks wherever he touched you. 

“That’s it...could smell how much you want me Cyare. Can’t believe you’re in my arms...look at you, using my thighs to get off.” You barely managed to turn your attention to him, lips still enclosed around his fingers and biting down on them the more he shoved them in your mouth.

“Mando I- I need to-” Before you could finish your request, Mando was wrapping the other arm around hips and violently dragging you against his cuisse, looking down to watch as your juices dripped on his beskar armor. 

“What a sight…” He groaned and turned his gaze towards you again just in time to watch you fall apart on him. He marveled at how quickly he brought you to pleasure and figured it must have been the pollen making you extra sensitive to his ministrations. Wanting to stretch out your pleasure for as long as possible, he threw you back onto his bed and pushed your thighs open, not giving you a chance to question him as he shoved two fingers into your cunt and massaged that spongy spot deep inside you. You arched your back and grasped at his arms, barely managing to look at the visor just as he increased pressure and fucked you with his fingers. 

“M-MANdo oh g-gods-”

“Scream my name sweet girl, and only my name.” Had you actually listened to what he said, you would have sassed back at him and told him you didn’t actually know his name. But you couldn’t care less at the moment, digging your fingers into his forearms as you came around his thick fingers, repeatedly praying his “name” until you couldn’t remember anything else.

“Mesh'la...you’re so tight and warm for me...that’s it, squeeze my fingers like the good little girl you are.” Mando watched as you came around his fingers, his eyes not knowing where to look and wishing he could taste the sweat sticking on your neck as you whimpered beneath him. 

He heard it before he felt it, moaning in blind lust as he took in the sight beneath him. Your legs shook violently as you, quite literally, drenched his thighs and blankets with your cum and Mando didn’t know if he wanted to lick you dry or stuff his nose into your pulsating cunt. 

“Sweet fucking darling, look at the mess you’ve made,” you shivered when you felt his fingers leave your slit, blinking hazily and turning to look at where he was staring. When you saw what he was referring to, you quickly covered yourself and tried to move away from him, embarrassment washing over you when you saw the way he was so obviously staring at the wetness dripping down your. But Mando was much quicker than you, grabbing your thighs and pushing them wide open again before laying in between them and dragging his crotch across your sensitive clit. 

“Never hide from me,” you nodded instantly and the Mandalorian would never admit feeling his chest fill with pride at the lust-filled fear he instilled into you with only a few words. Your chest heaved as you continued to look into the visor, almost whimpering when you were met with incredibly dazed eyes and messy hair staring right back at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the only proof that Mando was very much aware of your state being the hardness twitching against your sensitive cunt. 

Mando wasn’t sure what to do with you. He wanted to simultaneously fuck you into the next system and lick every inch of you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “I can smell your cunt Ad'ika...can almost taste your neediness.”

“Ma-mando I- I want you to r-” You felt so naked beneath him, wishing he’d at least take off his clothes before this went any further. Not a single care was given to his helmet and it was out of the question to even attempt and ask him if he could take it off. You just wanted to feel his skin sliding against yours as he fucked you. Nothing else mattered. Just his scarred and sweaty muscles contracting and trailing over your own. 

“What is it sweet girl?” His voice felt like a thousand needles piercing your soul and you didn’t realize where your hands were moving until you felt him roughly grab your wrists and slam them above your head. You could tell there was a shift in the air around you and ceased to breathe when you no longer heard his moans. 

“This is the way.” Those four words hurt you more than they should have. 

“I- I would never ask you to...I swear I just wanted- I wanted to touch you. Not take it off...please I-” Mando felt his heart shatter into a million pieces because somehow, even in your most inebriated state, you respected him. You put him before yourself. And he ceased to breathe when he sat up and watched as you grabbed at his arms and refused to let go.

“N-no don’t go...I need you- d-don’t leave me pl-” Your breathing was erratic and the Mandalorian feared you’d spiral into shock. Without thinking much of his next moves, he grabbed the nearest item of clothing and ripped a small piece of it, returning to rest between your knees and not giving you a choice as he wrapped the band around your eyes and tied it in the back. You trailed your fingers over the band and pulled away instantly when you felt his the hair on his wrist. 

“I’m sorry…” Mando thought of your actions so far and knew in his heart that if there was ever another who’d look upon him, it would be you. Softly taking your hands in his, he pulled them towards his helmet and rested them at the side.

“T-take it off.”

“I can’t...Mando, you don’t have to- I swear I was only-” As hard as it was to say those words, you wanted him to know that he owed you nothing. And you hated how selfish you were being in that moment because the man was trying to tell you something and you were only worrying about yourself and how much your cunt ached for him. You were so close to pushing him on his back and taking your pleasure from him but something told you it would be worth the wait. 

“Mesh'la, I want you to.” You always marveled at how much the Mandalorian could convey in only a few words and shouldn’t have been surprised when you felt just how much he was willing to put his trust in you. Not wanting to scare him, you slowly pulled on the visor until it was completely off, remaining motionless as he took it from your hands and placed it on the floor. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with your hands so you kept them to the side, fisting your fingers into the blankets to prevent you from reaching out and touching his face. 

Mando could tell you wanted to touch him. You even told him yourself. So he made the decision for you and leaned down, passing his lips over your forehead and smiling down at you when he heard you suck in a breath. You gasped when you felt his beard tickle your cheeks. He had a beard. Of course he had a beard. But as he continued to leave kisses over your face, you realized it wasn’t really a full-grown beard. It didn’t matter in the end because he was driving you insane with every small pass of his plump lips near where you wanted him.

As he finally molded his lips with yours, you felt him pull your hands up to his face and lay them on his cheeks, the groan escaping his throat letting you know he enjoyed you touching him as much as you, perhaps even more. The kiss grew frantic the more you explored his naked skin, and you couldn’t hold back the long moan that erupted into his mouth as soon as you felt him suck on your tongue. When you pulled on his soft hair, Mando couldn’t help but growl into the heated kiss, not caring for how rough he was being as he grabbed and squeezed your thighs. 

But the kiss was over as soon as it began and you whined after him when you felt him pull away from you. You felt your fingers ascend to your face but remembered why the Mandalorian blindfolded you in the first place. Not wanting to lose his trust, you pushed your arms beneath your back to prevent any temptations from taking place. Unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching every little muscle twitch on your nude form and he almost devoured you right then and there when he saw you quickly moving your fingers from your face. 

He was amazed by how caring you were even when you didn’t hold any proper level of the right consciousness. Anyone else would have removed the cloth and blamed the pollen. But not you. 

You were special. 

Refusing to waste any more time, Mando made quick work of the beskar armor, not caring about the mess he was making just outside his room. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, smiling when he noticed you shivering beneath his gaze. He was on you as soon as he deposited his long-sleeve and pants, devouring your mouth and digging his fingers into your waist as he rutted against you. 

“Ner-” 

The possessiveness was almost palpable and he surprised even himself at the single syllable. Since when was he like this?

“Mando,” you whispered his name as you wrapped your arms around his back and pulled him flush against you, sighing in relief when you felt the hair of his chest tickle your nipples. Mando noticed your reaction and instantly descended on your heaving chest, biting and licking and pinching at the hardened buds until you begged him to slow down.

“Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. You’re so fucking delicious.” The way he effortlessly switched between his mother tongue and Basic shouldn’t have turned you on this much and yet you were. 

“Fuck me.” Your words were dripping with desperation and the Mandalorian wasn’t able to hold any longer. He wanted to take his time with you, commit every little curve to memory. Memorize what made your breath hitch and what made you sigh. 

But the request ended all of his curiosity and before you knew it, you felt him roughly pull down on his boxer briefs. You flushed when you heard the sound of his hand jerking his cock, mouth falling wide open when it jutted at your inner thighs and you felt how fucking hard and thick it was. 

“What will it be sweet girl? You want me to make love to you,” he paused for a moment and took advantage of your distracted expression, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet slit and biting his lips when he felt you arch against him at the simple yet filthy movement. “Or fuck you like I own you…like you’re mine.”

Hearing him say ‘fuck’ in such a vulgar tone did it for you and you didn’t know what to do with yourself except widen your legs more for him and grab the bed sheets beneath you.

“F-fuck me like you own me Mando...ruin me. Take what you want and- oh maker you’re so- so...fu- please, u-use me however you want. Just- I need your cock. Need to cum on your cock...can’t wait anym-”

Mando was sure he broke you with his words, watching in awe as you begged and begged until you couldn’t breathe anymore. There was no warning, no asking if you were ready for him. There was just your wet cunt teasing him until he couldn’t bear the thought of not being deep inside your pussy.

Resting his head against yours, he took his painfully hard cock in his hand and shoved it past your wet lips, letting out a deep growl as he felt you scratch his back.

“Mando, Mando, M-mando…”

You didn’t find the strength to think of a proper sentence to express what you were feeling so you opted to pray his name over and over again. He was shaking above you and you knew instantly he was trying his hardest not to break you.

“Take what you want- I...I won’t break.” 

Just hearing you say those words to him almost made him cum right then and there. You were returning the trust he gave you and he knew there was no way of putting this moment behind him even if he tried. 

Pulling out until only the head of his cock was splitting you open, Mando bucked his hips violently back into you, whispering the filthiest promises into your ears as he set a rough pace that had you seeing worlds you didn’t even know existed. 

“So, fucking, tight...how are you so wet and tight for me Cyare?” It took you a while to realize you were hearing his voice without the modulator of his mask. How had you not noticed how beautifully sinful it was when he first took it off? You wanted to tell him how much you loved hearing his thick and smooth voice. You wanted to kiss down his neck and bite onto his shoulders. You wanted to push him down and force his cock inside your throat. 

So much. You wanted so much. 

But you couldn’t find your voice in that moment. Not when he was railing into you with such an unforgiving force. 

“Made for me...made to take my cock. Such a sweet fucking girl- ah.” You should have known Mando would not be the quiet type in bed. He was a man of few words during his day-to-day life so of course he would take this chance and spill out his innermost thoughts. But it surprised you nonetheless considering how downright dirty his moans and whispers were. And you were sure he was as filthy, if not more, when he continued to speak in Mando’a. 

With every passing moment, you felt a piece of your heart split from your chest and slowly make its way into his hands. He was branding you, his cock reaching so deep inside you that you were sure you could feel him right below your navel if you only moved your hands against your skin. But you couldn’t afford to let go of him, not when he was using you just as you requested. 

“Mando you...maker, you’re filling me so- so good. I- please, can I cum? I want t- to cum. Been so good for you. Need to-” The chuckle that left his lips was sweet music to your ears until you realized he might be laughing at how pathetic you were. 

“Fucking gods Ad'ika...fill you up? Is that what you want sweet girl? You want me to- fuck, fuck...want me to fill you up with my cum? You’re killing me baby.” His voice was hoarse and he realized his mistake as soon as the words left his lips. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away from him. It was his deeped, darkest secret. He swore he would go to his grave with it. Too often he thought of breeding you, fucking you and fill you up until his cum leaked out of you and you couldn’t move. Too many nights he went to sleep thinking of what it would feel like to wake up with your sweet cunt still wrapped around his cock. What he’d give to ensure not a single drop went to waste. 

Too many days were spent dreaming of giving that little womp rat a sibling to run around with. 

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed by him and he was about to slow down when he felt your hands grab his ass and push you closer to him.

“Want your cum Mando...want you to cum inside me, fill me up until I can’t breathe...oh fuck, until I can’t feel anything but your cum hot and deep inside me. Fuck a baby inside me Mando I- oh oh gods I-” Mando couldn’t hold back anymore, violently pushing his cock inside you and swallowing your moans every time they echoed just a little louder than he preferred. He groaned in ecstasy when he looked down and saw pure bliss etched on your soft features. You clenched around him, thighs vibrating around his hips as he somehow drove into you harder and carried you past the point of pleasure. You didn’t know you were coming around him until you heard him whisper ‘good girl’ in your ears. And it sent a jolt down his spine when he continued to rut against you and fill the ship with the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin. It was almost painful, the way he didn’t let up and continued to rail into you without a single care. 

“Mine...mine, fucking mine. That’s it sweet girl, feel me. Feel me marking your fucking soul.” He was a mumbling mess at this point and he wasn’t sure if it was because you were panting like an animal in heat or because of the way you desperately licked and kissed and nipped at his neck and lips. 

“Yes, I’m yours Mando. Yours...always have been.”

The heaviness of your words struck his heart instantly, and he shoved his cock so deep inside you he swore he could feel your heartbeat. Mando rested his head in the crook of your neck, biting harder than intended on your shoulder as hot spurts of cum coated your inner walls. You feel a sudden warmth wash over you and dug your nails into his ass as he thrust once, twice, three times before stilling completely. 

The two of you continued to breathe heavily against each other and when Mando moved his knees to get comfortable between your thighs, you unintentionally squeezed his cock and felt him twitch inside you.

“Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika.” It was such a silent comment and you knew this was much different than everything he’d said thus far. Something about his tone told you he was spilling his heart out and you wished more than anything to ask him what he was saying but knew you shouldn’t...wouldn’t. Not unless you wanted him to continue and speak to you.

You were brought back from your thoughts when the Mandalorian kissed your lips, and you felt yourself drowning in his scent when he rubbed your hair and nudged your jaw with his nose.

“Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar.” Slowly, Mando wrapped his arms around you and rolled you over until you were practically sleeping on top of him. The two of you hissed when you felt his cock leave your heat and Mando wished more than anything to spread your thighs and watch as his cum leaked down your thighs. No worries, he’d do that later.

Later…

Oh what he would give for there to be a ‘later’ with you. 

The thought of not being able to have you again snapped him back to reality and he realized there was a very high chance this would never happen again because as far as he knew, this was only a consequence of the pollen.

Not wanting to bother you with his insecurities, Mando pushed your head down onto his chest and rubbed your shoulders, telling you to get some rest and to not worry about anything else. 

Hours later, Mando was waking up to a soft noise emitting from beneath him. As he rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings, he looked down and noticed you were still very much naked and cold next to him. Pulling the covers over you, he allowed his eyes to feed on your curves before meeting your face. Dread filled his heart as soon as he saw the wet patch on the band around your eyes. 

You must have woken up and realized what happened. A thousand different scenarios flew through his mind and Mando knew that almost each one of them was caused by your regret of sleeping with him. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” When you didn’t respond and sniffed loudly, Mando knew he had to brace for the worst. 

“Please...are you hurt anywhere?” Hearing his pleas was what did it for you and you threw yourself into his chest. 

“Mando I- I took advantage of you. I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t know what was happening...I promise I- please don’t tell me to leave. I can’t leave you or the Child. I- I promise I’ll pretend this never happened. Just- don’t leave me. I can’t bear the thought of living without you...without him.”

Of all the things the Mandalorian thought he would hear from you, those were certainly the last to make the list. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky with you? Not only did you refuse to take the blindfold off when you woke up but you genuinely thought you’d forced him into sleeping with you.

“Cyare, it hurts to see you cry. Come here.” Mando sat up against the cold metal wall, pulling you into his lap and wrapping the covers around you so you weren’t exposed to the cold air of the ship. 

“You didn’t take advantage of me sweet girl. If anything, I- I should be the one apologizing. I was not hit with the effects of the pollen as much as you have been and...and I should have refused your pleas. But you looked so beautiful, Cyar'ika. You prayed for me to have you and I- I was selfish. I was selfish and I couldn’t stop myself from sinking into you. Branding you. Being with you.” To say you were surprised by his words would have been the understatement of the century. 

The Mandalorian wanted you. He wanted to have you. He wanted to be with you. 

“I-I’ve wanted you for so long...spent so many nights dreaming of being with you.” You confessed to him before you could think of the meaning behind your words and you were met with a deep sigh and a kiss on the lips almost immediately. 

“How long Mesh'la?” 

“S-since Tatooine.” 

Mando’s heart skipped a beat at the short yet direct response. He’s only ever been to Tatooine once with you, months and months ago when he needed Peli to fix something on the Crest for him. You hadn’t even been with their group for three weeks then. So busy thinking of all the ways he could have had you since then, Mando didn’t notice how the silence affected you until your fingers twitched against his chest. 

“Mando?”

“That was eons ago.” It was more of a comment than a question and you weren’t sure if he was angry or surprised. 

“Is...is that bad?”

“Bad? No Ad'ika, not bad.” When he didn’t offer more of an explanation, you rested your head on his chest and continued to draw circles on his naked abdomen. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in each others arms but the faint sounds of cooing and laughter snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should probably get up and make something for the kid to eat. Before you could move away from him however, Mando was bringing you closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you could never tire from feeling his lips mold and pass over yours and you welcomed his tongue with as much vigor as you could muster up.

As he pulled away, you smiled at him and wished more than anything to be able to see him smile back at you. 

“Din.”

“Hmm?”

“My name...it’s Din. Din Djarin.” 

Mando could see the exact moment you registered what he just said and he smirked to himself at how pretty you looked when something shocking took place. 

“Din.” You repeated his name silently, afraid this would all be a dream and that he didn’t actually just tell you something that was so important to him.

“You didn’t have to tell me…” You traced his jaw with your fingers and marveled at how oddly soft his beard was. 

“I didn’t, but I wanted to.” Din was silent for a few seconds before he flipped you beneath him and took hold of your wrists before slamming them harshly above your head. “I wanted you to know it, Mesh'la, so you could scream it the next time I fucked this sweet and tight cunt.” 

For a man of few words, he sure knew what to say to get you worked up again.

Translations: 

Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh - I will kill you if you do not leave her.

Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas. - I do not care about the credits.

Gedet'ye. - Please.

Ad'ika - Little one

Ni’duraa! - You disgust me.

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Gota'la - Maker.

Gar cuyir mesh'la. - You are beautiful. 

K'olar - Come here.

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Ner - Mine.

Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. - I can’t...hold back.

Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika. - I fear you, darling.

Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar. - You are too important to me. I can’t lose you.

[wolferine]

Don’t Dead, Open Inside

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Beefy!Nat and the reader go through a Halloween maze.

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word count: 1903

Request from @nanathebb: i want some beefy!nat 👀👀 whatever you want

AN: Sorry this is a few days late. I didn’t get the idea until the day before Halloween, lol.

You and Natasha stand in line for The Walking Dead themed maze. It was your first Halloween together, and despite your fear of basically everything, you somehow let your girlfriend talk you into going with her to Universal Studios’ annual Halloween Horror Nights event. 

The moment you set foot in the theme park, your worst nightmare began. Actors dressed in gory costumes and carrying chainsaws ran up to guests and screamed in their faces. You almost had a breakdown when a character from The Purge crept up behind you and swung an axe so close to your ear you thought you were about to be beheaded and tore away from Natasha to hide in the nearest bathroom. It took almost 20 minutes for her to coax you out.

“I’m not sure if I’m regretting coming here or dating you more,” you say as you inch forward with the rest of the line through a hospital-themed queue. Natasha puts her arms around you, resting her baseball-sized biceps on your shoulders.

“Aw, come on, babe. You know I’ll protect you from the zombies,” she says, flexing her arms.

“Your muscles are useless here,” you respond, too nervous to enjoy her show of strength. 

“That’s not what you said last night,” she pouts, tightening her hold on you lovingly.

“There will be no more nights like last night if I don’t get out of here alive,” you say.

“You need to relax. This is supposed to be fun,” Natasha says.

“It’s only fun for you.” 

But you’re not the only one who looks ready to bolt at your first opportunity. Groups of girls hang onto each other, snapping photos with every prop they walk by. Men even bigger than your girlfriend struggle to put on brave faces as they play off their nervousness to their partners.

In the queue, you pass by one of The Walking Dead’s most iconic scenes, a pair of doors with the words “Don’t Open, Dead Inside” spray painted in dripping black. The doors push open a crack, revealing a dozen pairs of animatronic zombie hands trying to reach out.

“Oh, God,” you mutter, hiding your face in Natasha’s forearm. “I hate this so much.” 

“It’s not real,” she assures, as if that’s any help.

But the closer you get to the front of the line, Natasha has to admit she’s not feeling so brave anymore. While she’s a big fan of the show, being fully immersed on an identical set, with flickering lights, loud noises, and actors hiding around every corner ready is not comforting to her. Especially because you were right—her muscles, which she had spent countless hours honing to perfection in the gym—were utterly useless in a situation like this.

You two finally reach the front of the line. An employee dressed in a blue security vest motions you to wait while the party ahead of you enters the maze.

“Is it too late to turn back?” you whimper. 

“We’ll be fine.” Natasha keeps one arm around your waist, her strong hand anchored to your hip. 

“Your turn,” the employee says.

With a shuddering breath, you enter the maze. White body bags stained with blood line the floor. Bloody handprints are smeared along the walls. A glass door up ahead reveals a little office with a broken gurney.  Suddenly, a zombie pops out, smacking his hands on the glass and snarling. 

You flinch into Natasha with a yelp.

“That was just the first one!” she says. 

“I don’t like this!” Despite the sheer size of your girlfriend, you feel no safer with her by your side.

“It’ll be fine, come on.” It takes Natasha considerable effort to steer you to the next room. You drag your feet in protest, trying to pull away from her but immediately pushing back into her warmth when you see the next scene.

The lights are so dim it’s almost pitch-black, and a zombie animatronic moans as it drags its legless torso along the ground.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you comment. “Nat will help you find your legs, right, babe?”

Natasha chuckles nervously and ushers you into the next room. It features an impressive set with a burning house as its centerpiece. Smoke and lights add to the effect of actual flames, and either it’s your own rising body temperature or a heater in the room that makes everything feel hotter than average. 

A zombie burn victim rushes out of the house, coming so close he almost touches you. You scream and jump onto Natasha, wrapping your legs around her waist and burying your face against her chest.

“Save me!” you cry.

“Oh, no,” Natasha squeaks, letting you cling onto her like a koala.

You hear the zombie clacking his teeth in your ear. “Get away from us!” you shout, swatting at him. He’s so close you can see the cracked details of his burn makeup, ashes flaking off his bald head as he groans and tries to grab you. 

“Next room, next room!” you beg, your fingers scratching her abs as you yank on her shirt to encourage her to move past the burned zombie. Natasha peels you off of her and holds you around your waist, draping her massive frame over yours protectively.

But you hardly feel safe as a bright light flashes in your eyes as you walk around a corner. A zombie launches itself at you two seemingly out of nowhere and lets out an ear-splitting roar.

“HOLY SHIT!” Natasha screams, picking you up and using you as a human shield.

“Put me DOWN, Nat!” Your legs instinctively curl up to your chest and you’re almost in tears as the zombie pushes his face into yours.

“Oh, God, I don’t like this anymore!” Natasha wails, clutching you against her chest as another zombie jumps out from a hole in the wall and growls.

“This is all your fault,” you say, clawing at her muscular forearms to be let down. Not only are you terrified out of your wits, you’re also angry at Natasha for being so willing to sacrifice you to the zombies.

If she didn’t grab onto you before you slipped away, you would have completely abandoned her and ran out the nearest exit with no regrets. But her hold on you is as strong as iron, and you don’t want to waste your strength fighting her when there are zombies crawling around.

You lead the way into the next room, which is a scene from a prison. A regular-looking actor on the second-story balcony yells at you two to hurry and pass while he holds off zombies with his shotgun blasts. Zombies moan from behind cell bars and pop out behind barrels. You’re afraid Natasha is going to break your arm where her hand tightly grips onto it.

“If we get out of here alive, I’m breaking up with you,” you announce, although it’s the fear talking.

Natasha doesn’t even respond to your comment, and you know that she is experiencing some serious regrets as well. At least you two can be frightened to death together.

In the next room is a few trucks, the backs open to show headless, limbless bodies hanging from meat hooks. A piercing whistle rings out above the moaning of zombies. There’s one of them moping around the open, dragging his left leg behind him. 

“We can see you,” you warn, switching positions with Natasha so you can hug her from behind. Not that you’re trying to play the role of protector by any means, but you can’t risk being relegated to a human shield again. You lock your hands together over her abs and press your stomach against her butt so she can’t push you away.

“Y/N!” Natasha hisses, cringing as the zombie lunges towards her. Her fingers tug at yours, but you hold onto her tighter. “What are you doing?”

“Your turn to be the shield.” You choke on your laughter. 

You walk past a wall of chain-link fences, prop zombies and actors camouflaged together. An arm shoots out in front of you as you try to squeeze past.

“We are definitely going to die in here,” you mutter, convinced the maze will never end.

“No, we’re not. Look, the end is right there, babe.” Natasha points ahead and you see fluttering black curtains. You finally release her and try to shove her to the side (although she doesn’t even budge), ready to sprint towards freedom. 

“RAAARRRRR!”

A zombie jumps out before you can take a step and you scream so loud you’re pretty sure you’ve deafened yourself. You fall backwards and Natasha lashes out, punching the zombie in the face. 

“Owww!”

“Oops…”

The zombie stumbles back, holding his face, while Natasha helps you up. Suddenly, two blue-vested employees appear and stand between you and the zombie.

“I…I am so sorry—” Natasha stammers.

“Come with us,” one of the employees says. It’s not a request; it’s an order. They lead you the way they came in: a door decorated with a fake lock leads to a brightly lit back room. The zombie actor sits on a chair, moaning as he holds his face. Real blood drips from his nose.

“I’m so sorry,” Natasha says, looking genuinely upset. You hold one of her hands to comfort her and rest your head against her arm. “I just...reacted. I thought he was going to hurt us—”

“This happens a lot more frequently than you’d think,” one of the employees admits while the other brings over an icepack and tissues for the zombie.

“Is…Is he going to be okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” the zombie mutters, pressing the icepack against his face.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks. “I mean, I do throw a pretty mean punch—”

You smack Natasha on the shoulder for bragging about her strength at a time like this. “Really, Nat?” 

“Well, it’s true—”

“Are you going to arrest her for this?” you ask the employees.

“Arrest me?” Natasha’s eyes widen.

“Well, since she didn’t do it on purpose, no…” the employee answers.

“Can they still take her away for trying to use me as a shield?”

“I only did that out of instinct!” Natasha argues.

“Instinct? What kind of instinct was that?” you say. “You’re supposed to protect me, not use me to protect yourself!”

The employees watch you two with silent amusement.

“Okay, well, if you’re not going to arrest her, we’re going home. Halloween is over,” you say. “Sorry about your face, sir. You all have a good night.” You grab Natasha’s hand and tow her out of the room. You successfully exit the maze, but the mood for the rest of the night has been ruined.

“Are you actually going to break up with me?” Natasha asks with a frown, looking much smaller than she actually is.

“No,” you sigh. “As long as you promise never to use me as a shield again.”

“Deal. I’m sorry that I did.” She hugs you, and you love the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around you. You would never willingly give that up, even after a traumatic night like this. “I wasn’t really thinking, I was—”

“Also terrified out of your mind?” you tease.

“I...Uh...” Her hesitance is all the answer you need.

“Just never take me through a horror maze like that ever again,” you say.

She laughs, and you feel the vibrations through her chest. “Deal.”

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

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @yeeterthekeeper @diaryoflife @norwaynatasharomanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @nightingalxxc-blog @supersourlemon13 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @d14n4ol @whitelotus00 @happylittle-dillpickle-12 @ssa-shaylam @mjaudrey @jazromanoff @ryunniez @007giu @wandaslittlewhore @ymzki-haruki @ki33es @fayhar @m-zne237 @kyalinsworld @bentleywolf29 @furys-eyepatch @kermy48 @awkward-and-indecisive @whofan88 @alexxislex @marrymemcgrath @marvels-bitch-boy @bonkie-barnes @makegoodchoices @thewidowsghost @darkangelxoxo @t00manyfand0ms @k47-r47ny @alexxislex

AN: I have gone through The Walking Dead maze at Universal Studios before, but unfortunately did not have a Beefy!Nat to protect me (although I’m not sure how useful she would have been anyway).

Click here to join my taglist!

Thanks for reading, and until next time...

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one where Ethan is pretending

Description | When you bump into Ethan in Paris, you fail to mention that you know exactly who he is. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep it up when he asks you out for a drink.

Content | Fluff

Pairing | Ethan x gn!Reader (with the exception of one female pet name)

Word Count | 2071

Taglist | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans

***

There was no way you were staying in the same place that Måneskin had just arrived at. There was no way, you kept telling yourself. Paris was a massive city, the number of available hotels in the hundreds, maybe thousands if you had to guess. And yet, somehow, you had managed to pick the one place one of your new favourite obsessions would spend their time. You knew it didn't mean much, the hotel had more than a couple of rooms and with your luck, you wouldn't even catch a glimpse of them. But as you kept scrolling through Instagram, seeing pictures of people meeting the four Italians in front of the place you had checked into mere days ago, you couldn't fight a little bubble of excitement forming in your chest.

Well, you told yourself you wouldn't get your hopes up. And you definitely wouldn't hang around in front of the hotel or in the lobby. You had booked your solo trip to Paris months ago, after dreaming about visiting the city for most of your life, and you would be damned if you wouldn't stick to your itinerary and enjoy your holiday. However - you had gotten up at what felt like dawn to go queue up for the Louvre and spent the last couple of hours there, so you decided that a nap was the way to go if you wanted to continue exploring the city in the evening. Fortunately, the walk back to the hotel wasn't long.

You had made it to the last corner before entering the street you were aiming for, when two giggling girls ran past you, unceremoniously bumping your shoulder and sending you tumbling. You were fully expecting to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of strong arms caught you and brought you back to your feet. A pair of strong arms belonging to a strong chest that you came face-to-face with, belonging to a gorgeous face, belonging to Ethan Torchio.

"Tu vas bien?" His broad French accent confused you, momentarily forgetting about the little detail that you were, in fact, in France, as you stared at the drummer in front of you, who was still protectively holding onto your upper arms.

"Huh?" Was the immensely intelligent answer that thus left your mouth.

"Oh, not French?"

"No, definitely not French." You finally said, taking a step back from him to avoid the increasing awkwardness you were feeling about being touched by him, while the two girls who had previously knocked you down were now lingering around the two of you suspiciously, not coming close enough to be rude, but obviously desperate to get their own piece of Ethan. "No, just a tourist."

"Me too," Ethan smiled. "A tourist, I mean. Well, kind of. I'm here with my band so it's not like we have time to do a lot of sightseeing."

He briefly turned around to look at the two girls who still seemed frustrated at you hogging his time and gave a small wave before turning back to you. It was the movement that made you realise he had the most gorgeous red rose tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Well, it used to be the most gorgeous rose - after your little crash, it had bent in the middle, the top hanging only by a thread, in the most miserable fashion.

"Oh, no I am so sorry!" You gasped, carefully grasping the delicate petals that were on the verge of breaking off. "I must have crashed into it when you caught me."

"Don't worry about it," Ethan said, softly, and pulled the stem from his waistband. The flower looked even more tragic now, in all its crushed glory. "A fan gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Huh?" You surely proved yourself articulate in this conversation. You mentally hit yourself, angry at yourself for being so easily flustered.

"There are a few fans waiting in front of our hotel, because we're in a ... band ... and things."

Apparently, your awkwardness was contagious. Also, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan thought that you had no idea who he was.

"Let me get you a new one," you suggested. "There's a flower shop just two doors down from the hotel - I mean, I am staying there, too, so I know."

He smiled at you with a serenity and calmness that had your heart soaring. You decided you'd be willing to buy him a million roses if only he kept smiling at you like that for a little longer.

"Well, I've got to go now, but it would be rude to refuse your offer. Meet you in the bar of the hotel at 8 tonight?"

No way this was happening. You almost gasped, but at the last moment managed to keep your cool, outwardly. On the inside, you were a mess. Bumping into the drummer of one of your favourite bands was a wonderful chance meeting as it was - but this almost sounded like a date. Now, of course, Ethan wouldn't be asking you out on a date. That would be ridiculous. But there was also no way you would miss out on a chance to meet him again. Preferably without those two giggling girls that were still standing behind him, watching every move of your interaction but luckily too far away to hear what you were saying.

"It's a d- uh, deal," you quickly recovered before almost spitting out the word date instead. Ethan chuckled.

"Right, see you later, then, for our... deal."

He had seen right through you anyway, you thought. But he was still laughing, so it wasn't all that bad - right?

With another quick touch to your upper arm, Ethan walked past you, turning around just one last time.

"My name is Ethan, by the way. You can tell me yours tonight."

Oh, you would.

***

The rest of the day was... well, restless. You couldn't nap because your mind was a whirlwind and your stomach was twisting with excitement. So instead, you had made sure to get the prettiest red rose you could find in the flower shop down the street - while slightly wincing at the price that a shop in the center of the city of love demanded - and put it in a glass the hotel receptionist had been nice to give to you. Then you had decided that there was no way you would manage to relax before 8, so you allowed yourself a few hours simply wandering through the city, no real destination, no itinerary for once, just a nice long stroll with nothing but your thoughts.

At five past eight - being slightly late was still cool, right? - you did a quick check-up in the mirror, realised you were not going to get any happier with your appearance whatever you tried to do at this point, grabbed the rose from its makeshift vase, and left your room.

It only took you a second to see him when you entered the little bar on the ground floor of the hotel. Even in the dim light, the white blouse that he had already been wearing when you met for the first time stood out like a sore thumb. Long dark hair fell over his back in a silky fashion. You had never wanted to touch anyone's hair more.

You took one more deep breath and then walked over to Ethan, smile on your face and rose in your hand.

"A rose for the handsome gentleman?"

Ethan almost jumped, apparently not having heard you coming, but quickly a smirk spread over his face while he stood up.

"I'll take the rose and your name, then."

"It's Y/n."

Ethan greeted you with a soft kiss to your cheek, before taking the rose, pulling your chair back, and inviting you to sit. It was almost ridiculously romantic and if it had been anyone else it would have seemed over-the-top and off-putting, but with Ethan it seemed sincere and fitting.

"Glass of wine, Y/n?" He asked as he casually waved the waiter over to your table.

"Just one. I want to get up early tomorrow for some more sightseeing."

***

It didn't end up being just one glass. It ended up another one and then a bottle shared. But it also ended up with three hours of talking, laughing, teasing, and slowly moving your chairs closer together until you were basically sitting on the same side of the table. You had asked him about his band - still trying to cover up that you knew exactly who they were out of pure fear that he'd reject you for being a fan - and he has asked about your job, your life, your family. In fact, you only left the bar when the waiter had started throwing you annoyed looks while demonstratively cleaning the tables around you.

"I'll bring you to your room," Ethan chuckled lightly as you waited for the elevator. His hand was on the small of your back and it was spreading tingles all through your body. You were standing close enough that you could smell his perfume, a light yet musky scent that encapsulated everything about him.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he lightly pushed you inside and you found yourself not minding him leading you like this. You pressed the button for your floor, leaning against the wall as you studied the man in front of you. He was a thing of beauty, no question about it, and when he smiled down at you the way he was right then and there, he made you feel like one, too.

"I had a lovely evening, Y/n. Is there any chance I could get your number?"

What a question, you thought to yourself. You'd be mad to refuse him!

You dug your phone out of your cluttered bag. You had switched numbers just a few weeks ago and had not yet learned the new digits by heart. Quickly, you switched it on - and your heart sank. Oh crap. You had completely forgotten about this.

The lockscreen of your phone was a picture of Måneskin.

As you looked up, you realized Ethan had seen. And, contrarily to the reaction that you were anticipating, he was wearing a massive grin.

"Ethan, I am so sorry, I should have told you immediately when we met but I kind of just stumbled into this and you were explaining you were in a band and I didn't know how to say-"

"Dolcezza, calm down. I've known all along."

"Wait - what?"

He didn't explain. Instead, he pointed to your bag - your tote bag - your Måneskin tote bag.

You truly felt like the least intelligent life form on earth.

"I've been carrying that around all day, haven't I?"

While your embarrassment grew, face heating up, Ethan grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his body. His arms tightly wrapped around your body and you could feel his giggles in his chest, as your head was pressed against it. You didn't hesitate in reciprocating, clinging onto his torso, slowly swinging from side to side. Both of you caught in a tipsy stupor.

You only stopped when the elevator arrived at your floor, both of you stumbling out and dragging each other to your door while clinging on. When you reached your room, you let your back lean against it, pulling Ethan along so you were standing face to face, smiling at each other shily and yet never breaking eye contact.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You finally asked. He stroked your cheek, leaving goosebumps. He had now gotten so close that you could feel his breath on your, drowning in each other.

"I liked pretending."

And then he kissed you. Boldly, unafraid and passionate. You melted like putty under him, letting him take control while letting yourself fall, as his lips moved against yours.

You only pulled away enough to get another glance at him, before once again searching your bag, now one-handed, so you never quite had to let go of him. A small triumphant sound escaped you as you located the key card. Holding it up next to your face, you shot the man in front of you another smirk.

"Why don't we keep pretending? At least for tonight."

It wasn't an offer he was going to refuse.

[boldlyvoid]

Spencer and fem!reader have been together for a decade, married for five. They got married right after the Justin Mills episode, she proposed cause she almost lost him. He proposed to her once he got out and she had no idea he was going to. Anyway I got off on a tangent sorry I have ADHD. But anyway so part of Spencer was scared she’d leave him while he was in prison, which of course she never would. Not only because they have a three year old daughter. She of course doesn’t, and they’re both there to greet him when he’s released eighty-four days later. She’d been using porn to pleasure herself while he was gone, but it wasn’t nearly the same. He’s been so pent up that he jumps her the second they get back to his apartment. Needless to say, she wasn’t expecting him to be even more dominant when he got out of prison than he had started to be when he went in.

so i changed it up a bit, she hasn't had an orgasm since he left. she's so touch starved becasue she cant even hold his hand at visiting hours and they both can't help but fuck the second she tell's him they're bringing him home.

word count: 1.4K

cw: unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, dom!spencer, wall fucking, public sex, creampies, talk of pregnancy, touch starved reader and spencer, canon typical violence, references to PTSD, (I hope I got it all)

She’s anxiously tapping her foot, she’s been awake for 48 hours now, she hasn’t seen her daughter in just as long, and her husband even longer.

84 days to be exact.

She feels like she’s going to explode, she misses him so intensely and if he doesn’t come home now, she might never see him again. His mother is missing, he stabbed himself to stay safe in prison, he might not come home. again.

In the 10 years that she’s been with Spencer, he’s almost died 3 times. she thought that was the extent of her worry for her husband's safety... then he went missing, then he was arrested in Mexico and now he’s in prison fighting for his life.

She has her head in her hands, curled into a ball on the briefing room sofa, trying desperately to get her mind to stop saying he’s dead, they’re going to kill him, you’re too late. Over and over and over, the thoughts are so intense she almost doesn’t hear Emily call in and tell them to go get him.

It’s time to bring him home.

She stands faster than before. Faster than when they found the cemetery. Faster than when he almost coded in the ambulance from the anthrax he was exposed to. The only time it rivals is when the doctors came out and said they stopped the bleeding, 2 weeks before they eloped, 9 weeks into a pregnancy they were trying to hide from the team.

She always finds herself rushing to his side, fearing the worst but never has she been this close to the edge. She’s on the plane with JJ, Luke and Penelope faster than she’s ever moved before. Leg still bouncing as she sits, trying her best to stay awake, but her adrenaline is making her dizzy.

“Y/N,” JJ whispers from across the table, “he’s okay.”

“I know,” she whispers back. “That’s not why I’m nervous.”

“Why are you?”

She turns and sees Penelope and Luke arguing in the back, flirting way too much to eavesdrop, she takes a deep breath.

“I haven’t touched him in 3 months,” she whispers. “You guys may not think he’s a touchy person, but I haven’t slept. I don’t know how to sleep without him beside me. I haven’t had a real hug in forever…” a tear falls down her cheek.

She shakes her head, it’s been so unbelievably hard to be separated from him and she’s kept her composure this long. “I haven’t even been able to touch myself.”

She’s ashamed but JJ doesn’t budge, she simply tilts her head to the side in sympathy, “oh honey, he might be really distant, you have to prepare for him to continue to not touch you, or he might not leave your side and drive your crazy. I’m not sure how he’ll react but I know it’s not going to be easy.”

She nods, releasing a shaky breath and pretending that it’s not making her more anxious, “I know.” She finally breaks, sobbing and hiding her face behind her hands. “I’m sorry.”

JJ gets up and moves around the table, rubbing her hand over her back and shushing her, “you can tell him. You can go in and have a few minutes alone with him, Penelope and I will wait in the hallway.”

“I just want a hug,” she whispers, “I’m not going to fuck my husband in a prison.”

“Bundy did it,” Luke replies from the back of the plane because of course, they were listening in. “Plus, I don’t think he’s going to be comfortable enough to do that yet, I think his mind is on saving his mother.”

“Exactly,” Y/N rationalizes it, even if all she can picture is him bending her over that table that she wasn’t allowed to cross.

Sometimes the prison was so intimidating for her that she felt like she wasn’t even allowed to look at him. It was easier for her to send letters, they corresponded regularly. She knew everything, on a level the team didn’t, she knew just how hurt he was in there and she was already preparing for his recovery.

She has a binder in her purse, it has every resource he’ll ever need. Random information pamphlets for him to read on the way home and his sponsor's number. She got it from the VA, taking a special trip with Luke to ask the men there what they wish they had when they came home from Afghanistan, how they coped with PTSD and what they wish their partners knew beforehand. She’s as prepared as she could be.

But nothing prepares her for the look on his face when she opens the door. The guard steps aside and JJ closes the door as soon as Y/N is safely inside the room with him, she just cries.

“Is my mom okay?” He panic, “who’s watching Elly?”

“Spence,” she walks up to him, “we’re taking you home.”

“What?” His face drops, he turns as white as a ghost like he’s hallucinating and doesn’t believe what he hears.

She simply nods and throws her arms around him, holding him tighter than ever before, he holds her just as tight. She can’t breathe, he’s holding her too tight and then he’s picking her up and sitting her on the table, kissing her neck and down her shirt and she can’t help herself from leaning back and attempting to unbutton his jeans.

He pushes her skirt up and pulls her panties to the side, roughly kissing her as she stokes him a few times before wrapping her legs around him and bringing him inside. His beard is longer than it’s ever been, scratching at her skin as he explores her, she can’t believe they’re actually doing this but it feels too good for her to even say a single word.

“God, I’ve missed your sweet cunt,” he grunts in her ear, picking her up and turning them. He presses her against the brick wall, holding her with a strength he’s never had before, and fucking into her with intent.

“I haven’t cum in 90 days,” she says between pants, wanting him to praise her.

“So that’s why you’re such a desperate slut? I’ve made you into a whore over the last 10 years, haven’t I?”

“Yes sir,” she replies on instinct, they’ve tried having him be more dominating but it never really worked out in their favour… this however, this is more than that.

This is primal.

He bites her shoulder, over her shirt and making the fabric wet, grunting as he fucks her, he’s like an animal. It’s incredibly hot, she’s so deprived she almost cums but she holds off, “please?” She begs, wanting his permission for the first time in months.

“Please what?”

“Please can I cum?” she cries, actually tears fall down her cheeks from the frustration, months of anticipation bursting at the seams, “please, daddy?”

“Ugh,” he lays his forehead on her shoulder and fucks into her harder, rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Cum baby, come on daddy’s cock, you depraved little whore.”

She tosses her head back against the wall, it’s going to hurt later but her orgasm is so intense she barely even feels real. She’s floating there as she grips his shoulders and her legs hold him close to her. He stills as he cums, filling her up, they both sigh at the same time.

Sliding to the floor, she’s still wrapped around him, cock inside her as they hold each other. Faces buried in the other's neck, they try to come down but all they can do is run their hands over each other's bodies, appreciating the fact they’re allowed to hold one another in this stupid room again, no one is going to yell at her for holding his hand or passing him a bracelet from their kid.

They hear a knock on the window and that’s their queue to get presentable again. She feels a little gross, but this is the closest she’s felt to him in forever. Carrying a part of him inside of her was her favourite thing in the world, all she could hope for was another little one to be the glorious result of this terrible situation.

[goldenissues]

bad girl-georgenotfound x reader

summary- you’re a role model student, but recently, you’ve been misbehaving. teacher! george takes things into his own hands and puts you in his place

warnings/notes- smut, swearing, violence?, female receiving, insults

high achiever. that’s what you were. with your kind smiles as you pass by, your top grades, and anything anyone could wish for. you were pretty much always presentable, pretty much always on time, pretty much organised and pretty much pretty. and on the rare days when you were late or forgot a piece of homework, nobody would batt an eye, you were too reliable to worry.

however, it might’ve been this week when people found a notable change in your behaviour. perhaps it was the scowl plastered on your face, the bumping into people- which was very much on purpose- or the changes in things that came out of your mouth.

though, you still did what you did before, it felt threatening to people. you still gave your smiles (even though they made people uneasy when you did now), and you looked presentable, that hasn’t changed.

“y/n, you’re late,” you heard a stern voice behind you as you crept into class. rolling your eyes, you turned to face the taller male-mr.notfound. “good morning sir, how are you? great! right now i’ve got to-“ a smile laid on your face as you sarcastically greeted the older.

“y/n” he sighed, running a veiny hand through his fluffy hair, making the not already perfect strands of hair even messier, “you were a perfect student before; high grades, modal behaviour, neat organisation. what happened?”

you fought the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a bigger smile. you hated hearing those words, it’s always ‘what happened?’, “nothings happened, sir. i’m not sure what you’re taking about,”

his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, hesitant to speak for a minute or two before replying with a simple, “whatever y/n, get to your seat, copy what’s in the board,”

>>

you strutted out of class, on your way to the lunch queue when you got called midway from a familiar voice. “y/n,” you stopped in your tracks and huffed as you looked to the direction of the voice- mr. notfound. looking up with innocent eyes, “yes sir? is there something bothering you?” he gave a disappointed sigh, punching the bridge of his nose, “you know what’s wrong. it’s a shame, you’re well behaved in everything, yet you can’t make sure your skirt isn’t so high,”

you crossed your arms, leaning all your weight onto one hip as you gave him the most annoyed look you could muster, “i don’t see why it bothers you so much, sir,” he raised a brow. you’ve never had a good view of mr. not found, especially because of the communication between you and him.

“unroll your skirt,” you glared at him, clearly annoyed at the interaction. still glaring at him, you rolled it up once higher. watching as his breath slightly hitched in his throat, he made eye contact with you again, his eyes holding an emotions you couldn’t quite uncover. “i’ve told you once and i’ll tell you again, unroll your skirt,” you brought a finger to your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “hm.. no”

“you’re such a bad girl..” mr. notfound muttered, continuing to look you up and down, it sent butterflies to your stomach. however you quickly got back into the right mind, ‘he’s your teacher y/n’, you thought.

“if i see you later with your skirt still so high, it’s going to be a punishment,” you huffed and carried on walking down the corridor, giving him no response.

perhaps you had simply forgot what he said. oh honestly, did it really matter that much? it was only a skirt length, it wasn’t your fault if people found it distracting, i mean it’s not your fault your so attractive. hah.

gliding your finger along the lockers as you headed to the changing rooms. bag trailing across the floor by the way you lazily wrapped your fingers around the strap. you were late to cheerleading again. wow, well done y/n, gold star! eh, you couldn’t care less. as you carelessly strutted down the corridor you unknowingly muttered about how senseless mr. notfound was, “i mean it’s not my fault i’m so hot-“

“tsk tsk, y/n l/n, what a bad little girl,” you stopped in your tracks from pure startles, shooting your head up to the voice, mr. notfound. no matter the effort you made to cover it, mr. notfound truly did frighten you, and the same could go for mr. wastaken. perhaps it was that they made you feel so small and intimidated that you tried to switch it, protesting to their orders.

“what are you doing here so late,” he asked, leaning against the wall with the poster that read “believe in yourself’. you swallowed your nerves in your throat you didn’t even know were there, “i was heading to cheer sir,”

the brunette looked you up and down, staring at your skirt and legs, before looking up to you with a disappointed sigh, “i see you haven’t fixed your skirt, what do you think mr. wastaken will think about this,”

you gulped, internally panicking and unsure of how to reply, “i’m not sure what you’re taking about sir,” you batted innocent eyes, smiling politely up at him. tutting, he leant back of the wall, rubbing his temple in irritation, “you’re so disobedient. i’m afraid you won’t be attending cheer today,”

suddenly, you furrowed your brows, “what? huh?” he grinned and walked closer towards you, close enough to hear his breathing, “you’ve got a detention,” his husky voice spoke into your ear. god his voice made your face as red as a cherry.

“why?” there wasn’t really a point in asking why, you had been gone downhill for the last few weeks: not following orders, turning up late to lessons, being rude and sarcastic. “come on,” mr. not found started walking down the hall, you following close behind.

you were angry, you didn’t like school, but the only things keeping you going was cheerleading, no matter the times that you pretend to hate it. school is shit, you hate it and everything about it: the rules, the students, the lessons, the food, the teachers -well, mr. notfound and mr.wastaken certainly didn’t bat your eye.

yeah you hated them, how they were constantly telling you off, but god they were hot. sometimes you so desperately want them to bend you over their desks and fuck you till you can’t remember your own name.

anyways, you were in a bad mood, you had been looking forward to cheer (even though you were running late) and mr. notfound had to ruin it. huffing and puffing, you glared at any walking students. one girl walked past, looking so fucking happy, and you decided this was the right time to ruin her mood just like yours has been ruined. stopping in your tracks as she stopped at her locker, you yelled at her, “that skirt is so fucking ugly makes me want to puke, are you thick in the head or what?”

“y/n.” the man called sternly, giving you a look to stop. well, that look turned to annoyance once you flipped him off. taking a step closer to the girl who already looked upset, “aw, you gonna cry?” you sarcastically asked, giving a fake look of aw, “pathetic little bitch,”

“y/n, stop it. come over-“ “shut the fuck up sir, i’m not going to your stupid little detention,” turning to glare at him, gritting your teeth, only to earn a look of amusement. “oh so you find this funny? bitch,”

mr.notfound gave you a long, hard stare -intimidatingly long, before striding beside the girl and bending down slightly to her eye level. you watched with a weird feeling coursing through you as him and the girl talked about something, the girls face turning red as a tomato. it wasn’t a surprise really- almost every girl in this school had a crush on him, and well, you couldn’t say anything bad as you were one of those girls.

it wasn’t your fault when you swung at her after she gave you a cocky smirk. she grabbed her cheek, gasping dramatically, before forcing tears out of her eyes. “you little bitch!” you screamed, hitting her again. you didn’t stop trying after sir picked you up with force and pulled you away further down the corridors.

as he frustratedly headed to his office, you couldn’t help but think about how it felt being carried by him. yeah you had done something bad, but god this felt good.

“why can’t you just behave?” he muttered through gritted teeth. you didn’t answer, didn’t think it was your time to talk, didn’t think it was the right moment to give him a bitchy answer. “you were such a good girl before, now you’re punching people as they walk by,”

“i’m sorry sir,” you replied as he sat you down on his desk, walking over to his cupboard. you really were sorry, you didn’t know what had gotten into you recently. though you were sorry, you didn’t regret anything.

as you watched sir rummage through his cupboard, eyebrows furrowed, a trickling down your lower face had become incredibly noticeable. brushing your hand over your nose, you were met with blood -fuck, a nose bleed. it was probably when the girl swung back, but you didn’t notice it. mr. notfound walked over to you with a box of tissues in his hand. leaning in, he grabbed your chin and held tightly as he brushed the soft tissues over the blood. something about this sent a flutter between your legs; perhaps it was his concentrated face mixed with anger, or maybe it was the way he handled you, the way he touched you.

“you’ve been naughty,” he breathed out. breath so close to my neck that it sent butterflies to my stomach, “gonna have to punish you,” the look on his face told you he wasn’t kidding, and the way he didn’t move away from you to put the tissues in the bin, just throwing them into it from where he was.

silence is what surrounded the room, your faces inches away from each other, hungry looks on both. the only thing that broke the silence through time was the breathing that became heavier. and as he smashed his lips onto yours, you kissed back. it was hot, needy, it felt perfect. the messy movement of his lips on yours left you whining in his mouth.

“fuck, you don’t realise what you do to me,” he pulled away slightly, still practically sharing breath. you felt his hand land on your thigh, before feeling him rub it in a circular motion with his thumb. he kissed you again, open mouth, if it was anyone but him you would’ve been grossed out, but god he made this so hot.

you couldn’t imagine what someone would think if they walked in whilst you were messily making out, his hand on your chin grasping tightly with the other massaging the skin on your thigh. he pulled away again, kissing at your face, “the way you prance around in this tiny skirt, you make me so horny, i bet you make everyone else feel like this as well,”

you shook your head, “no sir, only for you, all for you,” as he kissed and sucked at your neck, you felt his smirk plastered on his face against your skin.

you moaned as he sucked at a certain piece of skin, “can’t keep quiet, want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are?” you wasn’t sure how to respond, if you were to say no you would be lying. you wanted people to hear how you were making out with your teacher, you wanted to make the girls jealous. so, all you could do was timidly look away from his gaze.

you gasped as you felt a strong hand grab your black tie and yank it towards him, snapping you to look in his eyes, “look at me when i’m talking to you,” george gravely quipped, glaring at you.

out of nowhere, you felt the sudden urge to be a brat again, not the smartest idea but it would be interesting, “i don’t want to look at you,” you snarked back, watching as his eye brows furrowed and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. hand still tight on your tie, forcing you to painfully look up from the height and the difference of you sitting and him standing over you. “stand up.” he demanded

“no.” suddenly, you felt a harsh slap to your cheek, before your face was pulled up to be inches away from his,

“fucking stand up brat,” his tone was deep and husky, it awoken something inside you. but, being the stubborn person you are, you shook your head. he yanked you up by your waist, then slammed you against the nearest wall.

his warmth engulfed you as he so quickly slammed his lips back onto yours, spreading through you like an infectious disease, however, this disease would be one you want to never leave. he pulled you closer to him from your waist, leaning burning fingerprints every inch his hands touched.

this kiss was not much different from the ones just before, but for some strange reason, this one felt more forceful, daring, one that got you more worked up. as he attached his lips to your neck, quickly exploring more and more of your body, you were well aware you were not leaving that room without bruises. despite being as aware of it as can be, you couldn’t help but want to carry on being bratty.

and as the buttons to your shirt came undone annoyingly slow, you became more and more impatient. “hurry up, if you can’t teach well atleast be able to make me feel good,”

he pulled away, still close enough you could feel every exhale, so close you watched his jaw clench and face so desperately trying not to show just how angry he was right now. it was peculiar that you still persisted to stay bitchy, there really was no need for you to act like this, and you both were fully aware, but you wanted to rile him up, wanted him to know you don’t give up easily, wanted him to earn this from you. in hindsight, that was probably it the brightest idea and you you became aware of that the longer he started into your eyes.

“oh i’ll make you feel good,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “and you’ll fucking like it, so don’t tell me to hurry up,”

with that, he pulled your shirt off, hands immediately going to your back, desperately fiddling with the clasp off your bra as you innocently looked up at him, acting like you weren’t just pissing him off, “your so fucking annoying,” he murmured, the clasp loosening as he pulled the fabric down your arms, leaning you bare chested.

“your acting like i don’t turn you on just by walking around school sir,” you retorted, as he rolled one of your nipples through his long fingers, smiling sweetly whilst he scoffed, however mesmerised by how beautiful you looked.

“remember what you’re saying whilst you’re begging to cum and i say no,” he whispered into your ear, before moving his mouth to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and both of you noticed the goosebumps that covered your skin in that few seconds.

right as you were about spit another retort, syllables falling down your throat and being replaced with a choked moan as you felt his hands sneak their way under your short skirt that pretty much started this whole thing.

gripping your thighs, taking in exactly how the skin felt with his hands over them. you felt your heart almost beat out of your stomach as you felt a hand get closer to your leaking heat, barely covered by your damp panties. “and with how your acting your probably not wet right now. isnt that right?”

and you couldn’t mange to say a word as you felt his middle finger run over your panties, barely ghosting your clit, leaving you wanting more contact. his pointer finger caught onto the side of the fabric, pushing it aside, leaving just enough space for his middle finger to feel the juices that so guilty poured out of you. his touch felt so cold compared to your heat, leaving you so embarrassed as he coats his finger in you before slowly pulling away, catching your eyes with a smug smirk whilst doing so.

“oh? oops,” he chuckled, “looks like i was wrong,”

without a second to respond, his fingers shoved themselves inside you, leaving you whimpering from sudden pleasure. you almost collapsed if it wasn’t for him holding your waist with one hand as he roughly pumped them in and out of you, leaving lewd noises to spill out of your lips. drops of wetness spill down your thighs, he still persistently works his magic through your wet underwear, thumb sneaking to rub tight circles on your clit. and you couldn’t stop yourself as a moan left your red lips, music to his ears, and his smug smile grew bigger. you can’t help letting out noises when he made you feel this good, but of course, you couldn’t let him know that, couldn’t let him know that he made you feel heavenly. everytime he pumped his fingers, everytime they subtly brushed over your clit, it left you twitching.

y

s-sir, sir fuck! please i’m-!” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before his fingers ripped out of you, the pleasure disappearing into thin air, taken from you. as you stare at him, your hands having a mind of their own, moving down to your heat out of instinct, but being grabbed and pinned above your head before you could reward yourself with pleasure.

“don’t you fucking dare. what happened to the brattiness? you come when i give you permission,” both of you are well aware that you’re brattiness has been taken away from you when you don’t reply, just look into his eyes and nod, swallowing your nerves. and that’s when his smirk grew bigger, he loves this.

you watch as he unbuttons his dress shirt, throwing it pulls and he pulls his trousers and boxers down, exposing his throbbing, sizeable cock that sent a pit to your stomach. his eyes catch sight of you as your practically drooling over him, and he does nothing but smirk as your eyes meet.

“get on a desk, all fours, unless you don’t want to be pleasured,” and you comply, pulling your panties and skirt down leaving you in nothing but a tie and thigh highs, climbing onto a desk, legs trembling. you watch as he unbuttons his dress shirt, throwing it off and he pulls his trousers and boxers down, exposing his throbbing, sizeable cock that sent a pit to your stomach. his eyes catch sight of you as your practically drooling over him, and he does nothing but smirk as your eyes meet.

he moved behind you, “i won’t be gentle,”

SORRY I DIDNT FINISH IT. i started writing this months ago but now i’ve kinda left the fandom and i’m never gonna finish this so here it is. you can imagine the rest.

new obsession: it (novel and book) ✅

new person to obsess over: jaeden martell 😍😍

i’m probably gonna post it oneshots and maybe stranger things fluff.

[bakubabes-tatakae]

A/N: I hope you all enjoy part 3/4 of my pieces for the last day of the anniversary collab for the @konoblog-simps. You can find all the lovely pieces for the day here! Today’s theme is seasons, and it’s time for summer. My last piece for the day will be out in a couple of hours! You can find all the days of the collab here!

Pairing: Benimaru Shinmon x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

If there was anything that you had regretted, it was your decision for today. It was the hottest day so far this summer and you had thought it would be a good idea to let your husband train you for the day. The icing on the cake? That would be the Captain of the Seventh… Benimaru Shinmon.

As you fought for your breath you heard his loud voice above the sounds of flames erupting around you. “Don’t stop, I didn’t say it’s time for a break yet.”

You put your hands on your knees and leaned forward, staring at the ground. “Beni, will you take a break for five seconds. I can barely breathe, I don’t have as much stamina as you do.”

Benimaru scoffed at you and crossed his arms. “Ten minutes. That’s all you get.”

You knew that training with Benimaru was always this way, but you were always a glutton for punishment. Just the thought of being trained by the strongest fire soldier made you agree to these things every time.

As you continued to fight for your breath you saw his figure coming toward you, your mind racing on whether or not it would be your Captain approaching you, or your husband. A hand stretched out toward you with a water bottle and you quickly snatched it, downing nearly half of it before even looking at him.

“I know that you wanted to train today, but it’s getting to be late in the afternoon and if you remember correctly we have two little girls sitting in the guardhouse. And I can tell by the aura around us that they’re growing bored and impatient.”

Benimaru turned to the stairs attached to the porch and sat down, patting the space next to you. You took a place next to him and watched his expression. He smiled slightly and you relaxed, you were talking to your husband now. You still hadn’t been used to his struggle with keeping the two roles separate after all this time.

As if on queue the backdoor to the guardhouse opened up and Hinata and Hikage erupted from it, running to Benimaru. They both jumped on his back with smiles on their faces. “Waka! You told us that you would take us to the beach on your day off this week!”

Benimaru tried to interject. “I have two days this wee-”

Hinata softly smacked his head and stopped him. “Konro said today is the only day you don’t have plans, so we have to go!”

You chuckled and watched as the dagger eyes turned to you. “You brought this on yourself, Beni.”

Hikage climbed down and ran to the front of him. “So we’ll go get ready and so will you guys! This Asakusa heat is absolutely killing us!”

The girls ran off without another word and you held back more laughter as Benimaru sat with his jaw open. He raised his eyebrows and sighed. “What just happened there?”

You couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore as it erupted from you, his figure pulling you into him as he tried to keep you quiet. “I think you’re taking the girls to the beach, Beni.”

* * * * * *

Parking the matchbox at the busiest beach in Asakusa has never been an easy task, it was part of the reason that Benimaru hated going there, but Hinata and Hikage always got what they wanted. Everyone climbed out and the girls ditched their robes and beelined for the water before you could even tell them no.

Benimaru chuckled slightly and opened the back doors, grabbing the floats, chairs, and cooler and handing some to you. “We should have known they wouldn’t be any help when it came to bringing stuff down there.”

You grabbed a couple of chairs from him and turned toward the pathway to the water. “You’d think they’d be a little more grateful.”

Benimaru followed you, his anxiety at being around this many people growing some as he stepped onto the crowded sand. You both stepped out of your sandals and threw them into the bag with the towels, finding it easier to walk that way.

Once you located the girls in the water you set up the chairs and towels in front of them. Benimaru sat down and grabbed water from the cooler. “I haven’t been to the beach in what feels like forever.”

You raised one eyebrow at him and huffed. “Yea, because every year it’s me taking the girls to the beach with Konro. You’re always too busy.”

He took a sip of his water and sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he pulled you into his side. “I know. I’m sorry that work takes up so much of my time, but I’m a Captain, I don’t have much choice in the matter.”

Guilt started to eat at you as you listened to his apology, you hadn’t wanted to make him feel badly about it. “I know you don’t have a choice and that’s why we try not to get upset when we can’t see you.”

Hinata and Hikage approached you, both soaking wet from being in the water already, and Benimaru stood. They both grabbed onto Benimaru’s exposed legs. Benimaru flinched as the cold water touched his bare skin. “Girls, you’re soaked, let go of me.” The chuckle on his voice made the girls smile.

Hinata hugged tighter as she spoke the same words that Benimaru used all the time. “Sorry Waka, we’re not taking any complaints right now.”

Hikage laughed hysterically and did the same. “We’re just so happy that you’re here with us.”

Benimaru glanced up at you with a grin before looking back down at the girls. His arms wrapped around them and grabbed them both from the ground, screams of laughter filling the area as he started walking through the sand with them.

You looked on with nothing but admiration on your face. Despite his busy schedule Benimaru always made sure that the time he spent with you guys counted, and as he tossed them both into the deep end of the water you couldn’t help but start moving toward them. His playful shouts as he jumped into the water after them echoed as the girls swam away from him as quickly as they could.

Just another day at the beach, a day that should have come a while ago, a time where Benimaru let down his cold Captain exterior and was the friend, husband, and father figure he needed to be. And it was the time that you loved him the most.

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @kyu-pine @ellechanwrites @barrysimpparker @impinthecloset @nikiniki743

©bakubabes-hatake’s original content, please do not repost/modify without my permission

[goldensstateofgrace]

HI BESTIE! could you possibly do #8 and #21 from the angst prompts but then #2 from the “i love you” prompts to give it a happy ending. I LOVE YOU! HAPPY WRITING!!! 💗💗💗

Lies.

Requests || Masterlist || Spencer Masterlist || 

Warnings: talk of not being enough, insecurity, lying, (lmk if there is anything else)

Word count: 2760

Pairing: Spencer x fem!reader

- I hope you like this! Happy reading!! - G

Spencer’s pov. 

This feeling never goes away does it? The feeling of not being enough, and feeling insecure in everything you do? I know, I know I'm not enough for her, and that she’s just passing time before she finds something better. 

When I first met her she was walking out of my favorite coffee shop, coffee in one hand and a book in the other, one that I came to know she’s read over and over again because it’s her favorite. I accidentally bumped into her, not watching where i was going and spilled her coffee all over the front of her lilac sweater. 

I remember her gasp when the hot liquid hit the skin of her hands and the look of shock on her face when she looked up at me. I was sure she was going to curse me out and any other hurtful words she could come up with, but she didn’t.

She looked up at me, the shock gone from her soft and beautiful features as she told me she's sorry. 

She told me she’s sorry. When it was clearly my fault. I was the one who hadn’t been paying attention, but yet she’s the one saying sorry for something that was completely out of her hands. 

So once the shock had worn off and I came back to my senses, I bought her another coffee and we talked. We talked, and it felt really good to talk to someone other than the team or the victims of the cases we go on. 

I knew she was out of my league, god was she out of my league.

When she asked for my number and to get coffee again sometime, the shock came back and I didn't know what to do. Why would she want to talk to me? The nerdy FBI profiler who can’t really read social queues or make conversation without correcting someone or stating random facts. 

But I gave it to her. Why? I’m not sure, I wasn’t expecting her to call or text, I just thought she was being friendly. 

But a week later, I got a text asking to meet up for coffee as long as I promised to not spill it all over her that time. 

After that we met up for coffee often, eventually I worked up the nerve to ask her on a real date. She said yes immediately to my surprise. 

In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't good enough for her, she needed someone that could be there for her, not me who was always away on cases or teaching. 

But now we've been together for a little over four months and I’m so happy with her, I just can’t help the lingering insecurity in the back of my mind that she’s not happy and I’m not good enough for her. 

-----

Y/n’s pov  

 Four months. 

You’ve been with Spencer for four months. He treats you right and is so attentive. You’ve never been happier. You never never thought getting coffee spilled on you would lead you to the happiest you've ever been. 

You never had to be worried that he would cheat or lie, he never gave you any of the red flags you used to overlook in your other relationships. He never lied to you. 

Until now. 

You understood when he called and had to cancel your date night for an emergency case, the same way you understood the three other times he had to do the same. 

You understood because people's lives depended on him and his team to catch the person responsible for causing so much chaos. They needed him more than you did in that moment. 

What you didn’t understand is why he was sitting in a bar with the whole team, laughing. You didn’t believe your eyes, he lied? Why would he lie? 

You didn’t know how to feel, you didn’t know the tears that started welling up in your eyes finally fell and he chose that moment to look your way. 

“Y/n,” he sighed, the shock clear on his face and in his wide chocolate eyes. 

Wiping your tears away, you stumble over your feet turning around and quickly making your way out of the bar and back to your apartment. 

You heard him pushing through the large group that walked in right behind you, calling your name but was too late. By the time he made it outside you had already flagged down a cab and drove off. 

Once you got home you undressed and curled up in a ball in bed. You stared at the wall for a while, your brain running over all the possibilities that could have happened. He and the team probably just wrapped up early and went out for a drink, he probably got caught up and forgot to text. 

Yeah, that’s what you told yourself. Ready to give him the benefit of the doubt and hear what he has to say. 

You didn’t realise but you fell asleep, waking up the next morning to the smell of coffee. Wait what? 

You sit up, hearing the cabinets opening and closing and the toaster popping up. Flinging your feet over the side of the bed, you stand making your way out of your bedroom and into your open kitchen/living room. 

You freeze, your eyes watching Spencer buttering the toast before he pours coffee in your favorite coffee cup. 

“What are you doing?” you mutter, voice filled with sleep. 

He stops what he’s doing, spinning around to look at you, a shy smile on his face, “I wanted to explain” he pauses, “If you’ll let me,” he says, looking down at his shoes, you can see a hint of the mix matched socks he chose for today. 

Pineapples and stars. 

You try to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. You always loved the mix matched socks he wore, ready to see what he chose for that particular day when you used to meet up for coffee. 

“You lied, is there really much to explain?” you tell him, your voice cold and almost detached. 

You aren’t one for lying, it's all your ex used to do and you’re so done with it. You’re done being pushed around and your partner picking and choosing what they get to tell you and leave you in the dark on. 

“Yes, there is. I didn’t lie, we wrapped up early and my phone was dead. I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. Y/n I promise, I wanted to come straight to you when we landed, but the team hadn’t been out in awhile and they talked me into going for at least one drink.” he rambled all in one breath, only stopping when you sat at the counter. 

He placed toast and coffee in front of you, smiling slightly before he started again. 

“y/n please,” he started. 

You think it over, you had tried to call him and it went to his voicemail, he always answers, he has never once lied to you. Never given you a reason to think he was lying. 

Maybe you jumped to the conclusion, maybe he was telling the truth. You are so used to being hurt and lied to that that's the first thing your brain thought happened. 

You nod, “ok,” you say, your voice soft. 

“Ok?” he questioned. He rounded the counter, moving to your side, gently taking your face in his hands. 

You nod softly, “I’m sorry, I jumped to conclusions. I’m not used to people not lying, I’m sorry,” you said, your eyes filling with tears. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should have just come to you,” he said, an emotion you can’t pinpoint filling his voice. It sounded like he was guilty, but he had nothing to be guilty about. 

---- 

Things after that day got better in a way, but something felt off and you couldn’t tell what it was. 

Spencer had to cancel another date, as he had a couple other times since that day, but he always called, telling you he landed and when they wrapped the case. 

This time he didn’t, but you didn’t freak out like last time, he did leave his charger at your apartment before he left for the case. 

You were going over to his place to clean it up a bit, do some of his laundry and make some prep meals he can take to work for lunch. You knew he was always so exhausted after cases and didn’t have the energy to clean and do laundry when he got back. 

Walking up the stairs of his apartment building you hummed the tune to a song stuck in your head, as you fiddled with your keyring looking for his key. Pausing as you found it before you unlocked his door. 

You were carrying a couple shopping bags of cleaning supplies and stuff for the meal prep you planned to do. You set those down next to the door, turning on the light and letting out a small scream. 

“Spencer?” you ask, your hand over your chest like it would stop the heaving beating of your heart. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, rounding the couch he was on, he looked tired, in his lavender colored bathrobe and staring at the wall. 

“Why do you keep lying? Is this what you’ve been doing every time you cancel on me? Just staying here?” you ask, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

Your mind was running a million miles a minute trying to figure out what was happening, “Spencer answer me!” you cried. 

“Yes,” he muttered, finally. He looks down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. 

Your heart dropped, he’s been lying the whole time. He’s no different from all your other ex’s, lying, lying, and lying some more while you were oblivious.  

Your heart feels like it broke in two, you thought he was different, he was supposed to be different. 

 “You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what? You yelled, tears streaming down your face, “You lied! You lied again and I fell for it!” 

“Were done Spencer, I-” you sob out a cry, “I can’t be with someone who lies, I can’t do it. You knew, you knew what happened in my last relationship and you did the same. How could you!” you cry. 

The whole time he just sat there playing with his fingers, not looking at you. 

You quickly gathered your stuff, about to walk out the door before you remembered. You quickly found his key, pulling it off your keyring, “I hope you have a good life Spencer, I don’t need this anymore,” you say looking at him one last time, tossing the key on the table next to his door. 

“Y/n wa-” you hear him call, but you were already out the door. Holding back the sobs until you got to your car and you broke. Letting out all of your hurt, sobbing and crying your eyes out. You never knew you could hurt this much, you were just starting to love him. 

-----

It’s been almost three months since you broke up with Spencer, all the hurt and betrayal you felt has slowly been fading and you're getting back into your routines and getting back out there. 

You were having a night in, watching a movie and drinking a glass of wine as you waited for your popcorn to pop. 

There’s a knock on the door, you set your glass down walking to the door and opening it slightly, shocked at who you saw standing there. 

“Spencer?” you mutter, pulling the door open a little more, “what are you doing here?” 

“I- I need to talk to you, please? I know you don’t want to see or talk to me but- please?” he sounds desperate, and he’s rocking back in forth on his toes. Something he does when he’s nervous, you remember. 

You nod, moving away from the door and letting him in, “uh, do you want water or something else?” you ask, moving back into the kitchen. 

He shakes his head, “no, thank you.” 

He stands there, playing with his fingers as he looks like he’s going over something in his head. 

“Spenc-” you start but are cut off. 

“I’m sorry” he blurts out, his hands stretched out in front of him, “I'm sorry about everything, I'm sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Y/n, but please just hear me out?” he asks. 

You nod, you have nothing to lose, and you always wondered what it was that made him lie. 

“Ok, uh, can we sit?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod, moving into the living room, sitting on one end of the couch as he takes the other. 

“I didn’t think I would get this far, if i’m being honest,” he smiles shyly. 

“Just start from the beginning, why did you lie?” you ask, turning to face him crossing your legs on the couch. 

“I- I was working through some stuff. I was trying to be better while my mind was telling me I wasn't enough, not for you, not for anyone. You deserved so much better than what I could ever give you, but I want to be better, I am better, because of you. I’m so sorry for treating you how I did, y/n, you didn’t deserve it.” he rambled, your mind trying to catch up with everything he just said. 

“I-” you pause, not knowing what to say. He is the right person for you, you had never been happier than you were with him.

“Were you going to break up with me?” you ask him, looking him in the eyes as you pull at your fingers. 

He shakes his head, looking away for a second before answering, “I’m not sure. I know this time apart has really helped me work through everything and made me realise how much i care and lo- like you,” he stutters, looking at you shyly. 

You smile, scooting closer to him. You grab his hand, squeezing softly, “I want you to know you could have told me what you were going through, I would have done everything in my power to show you how perfect you are, in general and for me.” you smile, looking at him softly. 

“I want you to know how sorry I am too. I shouldn’t have just walked out that day, I should have stayed and listened when you called after me. Spence, I am so sorry, I am. You’re the only thing that matters, to me, to my heart.” your eyes well up with tears as you smile at him. 

“I’m sorry,” you shrug, laughing lightly wiping away your tears before his hand comes up and his thumb wipes away a lone tear. 

“Y/n, I love you. God, that feels good to say,” he chuckles, wiping away another tear. His hands cupping your face, he leans his forehead on yours, breath fanning your lips. “I love you, and I don’t care if it’s too early to say that, I fell for you the moment I saw you.” he breathes out, his smile contagious. 

You can’t help the wide smile that breaks out on your face, you breathe out a laugh pulling back to look him in the eyes, “I love you, Spencer Reid. So. Fucking. Much.” you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to you and kissing him hard. 

The kiss was full of love and unspoken words that only he could understand. 

“Y/n, will you take me back? I promise to do everything in my power to not let you down again.” he asks, shy and nervous. He pulls back, looking at you waiting for you to give him and answer. 

“Yes, I love you, Spence, so much. I promise to do everything in my power to not let you down and to hear what you have to say. Please come to me when your head gets too much, I’ll be here to reassure you how much I love you.” you tell him, smiling wide, happier than you have been in months. 

He goes in for a lingering kiss, only withdrawing to catch his breath, “I love you, y/n. A whole fucking lot.”

taglist (ask to be added or taken off) : @vividstyles23 @harrystylesandharrypotter @thesadstoryofme @shemarmooresfedora @spencersawkward

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 17 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello my loves, just a reminder that I am still on vacation so the queue is posting this! Will respond to ur taglist requests and messages ASAP love u all :) 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of death, violence, drug use

wordcount: 2k

You and Aaron each read Jack a book of his choosing before tucking him into bed and heading towards Aaron’s bedroom together. Bringing your pajamas into the bathroom, you change and brush your teeth with the door closed, which feels silly, given everything, but you can’t help it.  Aaron slips into the bathroom as you step out, and you sit on top of the covers, hands folded in your lap, anxiously awaiting his return. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks, clocking your anxiety immediately. 

“Nothing, I just feel bad that I got us caught by Jack,” you confessed, looking down at the comforter. 

“I couldn’t be less upset about that,” he assures you, climbing into bed beside you and taking your hand in his. “I mean, he practically told us that he already knew, even if he was a little confused.” 

“That was the other thing-- sorry that marriage and all of that got brought up. I’m sure that was---”

“I’m not upset about that, either.” He interrupts you. “Did I do something to make you think I was upset?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “It’s just kind of early for that kind of stuff, I’m sure it was uncomfortable--”

“It wasn’t uncomfortable. Apparently I’ve done a bad job of expressing how strongly I care for you, and I’m sorry for that.” You go to interrupt, but he cuts you off. “I couldn’t be happier that Jack knows how much I love you. Sharing that with our people-- my son, and our team-- is not something you need to apologize for, or something I’m ashamed of. I’m thrilled to be able to love you openly. No more apologies, okay?” 

Your breath caught just a little, but you hold it together. “No more apologies,” you agreed. “Aaron, it’s such a privilege to be loved by you,” you whispered, needing him to know how much his words meant to you but scared to ruin the moment. Aaron just shook his head, leaning to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he whispers into your hair, and you close your eyes, letting the peace of his touch overwhelm you. 

“There’s one more thing,” you said, after a moment. 

“And it’s not an apology?” Aaron checks. 

“No, it’s not an apology,” you assure him. “I wanted to thank you for sharing those pictures with Jack and me tonight. I’m sure it was emotional, but I was glad to see them. You love Haley so much. Thank you for sharing her memory with me.” 

“She was the reason I got up in the morning, from the day I met her until the day she died.” Aaron tells you, and you squeeze his hand.

“Everyone knew how much you loved her, Aaron. Even after the divorce, there wasn’t a single person at the bureau who knew a man who loved his wife that much.” You assured him.

“But it wasn’t enough. I failed her, and I could fail you too.”

“No, Aaron, no you didn’t. You promised to love her for as long as you lived, and you didn’t break that promise. You didn’t promise her you’d never change, and she never promised you that she’d never change. You both changed, but you never stopped loving each other.” You told him.

“How did you know? How did you know that I never stopped loving her? Didn’t that scare you out of loving me?’ Aaron whispered. 

“Aaron, the way you love her shows in everything you do. You never took a picture of her down, even after the divorce, when I’m sure they were painful to look at. You always let her know you were safe at night, and when she left you, you helped her move and made sure she had everything you needed.” 

“And that doesn’t scare you? That even when she left me, I still loved her?” 

“No, Aaron, it doesn’t scare me. That’s how I feel about you, so I understand.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Aaron says immediately-- how could you mean that? When Haley was so refined, so beautiful, so compassionate, and he was just a man, a man with baggage and trauma and a dark past?

“Of course I do, Aaron. I never told you this, and I might be selfish in telling you now-- but in the weeks after Haley died, I went to bed at night praying that time would move backwards and that I could take her place. I’d do anything to get her back to you, even if it meant that you and I never made it here.” 

“It’s an incredible privilege to be loved by you,” Aaron echoes your earlier statement, and you smile.

When you wake up the next morning, you realize that you’re never going to get a good night’s sleep without Aaron beside you again, and you love him and hate him for it in equal measure. Your anger is quickly forgotten when he rolls over and starts planting kisses across your face. 

“We have to get Jack to school,” you reminded him with a smile between kisses.

“We’ve got time,” he brushes you off. 

“You’ve got time, maybe. My hair is a mess from napping on your couch and I have to do my makeup,” you reminded him, planting one final kiss on his lips before rolling out of bed and heading towards the bathroom.

When you’ve gotten yourself ready for the day, you make your way out to the kitchen, were Jack is sitting in front of a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. 

“Morning, little man,” you said, ruffling his hair and smoothing it back down as you sat in the seat next to him. Aaron crosses the kitchen with two plates, putting a piece of toast with peanut butter and banana slices in front of you, and one on his own placemat. 

“Thanks, honey,” You smile, taking a bite of your breakfast as he sits.

“Dad? Can we go to the soccer field tonight after work?” Jack asks as his father settles in.

“I can’t promise tonight, but we can definitely go this week, okay bud?” 

“Okay.” 

“Finish your breakfast, kiddo, or you’re gonna be late,” you told him, taking your plate to the sink and prepping travel mugs of coffee for you and Aaron, who shepherds Jack through the last few steps of getting out the door. You follow them down to the car and Aaron drives down the road to Jack’s school. You sit in the carpool line for a minute, listening to Jack point out his friends as they walk into the building, before Aaron pulls up to the curb and it’s Jack’s turn to get out. Aaron rolls down the window as Jack collects his things. 

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Hotchner,” a peppy brunette woman who you’re pretty sure is Jack’s teacher ducks down to make eye contact with Aaron through the window.

“Good morning, Ms. Meadows.”

‘Oh, and who’s this?” Ms. Meadows says, taking note of you for the first time. Aaron introduces the two of you, and you notice her looking you up and down, almost sizing you up. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says perfunctorily, turning her attention back to Aaron almost in an instant. “Did Jack tell you about the volunteer sign ups for the kids’ talent show?” 

“He did, I think his Aunt Jess--”

“Oh, that’s right, Jess did mention to me that she’d be here!” Ms. Meadows interrupts. “I guess I was just hoping to get some strong FBI dads in the building to help set up the stage equipment,” she pouts, and you briefly entertain the thought of leaning over the center console and wiping the pleading look across her face. 

“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” Aaron says, blissfully interrupted by Jack waiting to give him and you a kiss goodbye. The two of you kiss both of his cheeks, and he hops out of the backseat and takes off towards the main entrance. 

“She was pleasant,” you note sarcastically when Aaron pulls out of the parking lot.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, looking over at you briefly, his nose scrunched up in confusion. 

“She’s clearly into you, Aaron.” You said, knowing it was obvious and he was just being oblivious. 

“What? No she’s not,” Aaron shook his head. 

“Oh, Mr. Hotchner, please come save me from the Woodbridge Elementary School talent show. I need your big, strong muscles to move all this heavy equipment because I’m just a docile young lady,” you mimicked Jack’s teacher in an exaggerated tone. 

“Now, if she had said that, then maybe I would have thought she was into me,” Aaron laughs at your dramatics. 

“She gave me a nasty look. She doesn’t like that she has competition.” You argue. 

“She doesn’t have competition. I mean, there is no competition. There’s just you, and that’s how I like it,” he said, taking one hand off the steering wheel to grab yours and bring it to his lips. 

Garcia is waiting for you both in Aaron’s office when you arrive at work.

“Is everything okay?” You ask her immediately, feeling Aaron shift his body towards yours.

“I finished digging up everything I could on Josh, if you want to see it.” She tells you both, and you look at Aaron. Truth be told, you don’t really want to know, but being disgusted and informed is probably better than being uninformed and caught off guard. 

“Come on, we’ll go review it in your office.” Aaron said, stepping aside to let Garcia lead the way. Once she is a few paces ahead, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, and you just tell me if you need to take a break, okay?”

You nodded, and Aaron place a comforting hand on your back as the two of you made your way down to the batcave. 

“Okay, so, just going through the highlights,” Garcia starts, clicking at tabs and pulling them up on her assortment of monitors throughout the room.  “Starting a few weeks before you left, I noticed that Josh was calling and texting the same number a lot-- but only when you all were off fighting crime. Of course, I assumed that this absolute peach of a man had somehow conned not one but two women who had to be decidedly out of his league, but it turns out that wasn’t the case. He’s been doing coke, and the number leads to his dealer.” 

“Fuck, again?” You interrupted her.

“He was doing coke when the two of you were together?” Aaron asked, surprised. 

“Not for a while, or so I thought. The coke was what made him violent-- I told him it was the drugs or me, and when he told me that he’d picked me, I believed him.” You explained. “He must have been high when he showed up that night-- he was always an asshole but showing up like that was out of character.” 

“So, with you out of the picture, it seems like the coke usage has increased a lot. Like, from a weekly to a daily thing, a lot. He’s going out at night, racking massive credit card debt. He hasn’t purchased a firearm or anything that indicates that he might be planning something violent, but he’s definitely acting impulsive.” 

“Was he sober or high when he sent the flowers?” Aaron asks. 

“Sir, I don’t think he’s been sober since you took all of her stuff out of the apartment,” Garcia responds. 

“He’s only going to get more aggressive and out-of-touch with reality the longer this bender lasts,” you note, clinically, as if you were talking about a case halfway across the country and as if your future wasn’t hanging in the balance. 

“We’ll keep an eye on it, and we’ll be ready. Garcia, can you print out a full copy of this and get it on my desk?” 

“Are you sure? The full copy is really long, it’s got to be--” 

“I’m sure, Garcia. Thank you.”  

tagging:  @hotforhotchner11      @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @msmarvelsmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie

[masterjedilenawrites]

What about a reader that is drunk, going to do some nonsense, so both Tech and Crosshair stop her, and in the next day there’s a climate btween them? Pretty please 🥺

I wasn't sure what you meant by the last part of your request so I just let the scene play out in what felt like a natural direction, I hope that's okay! I'm happy to write something else if you'd like!

Tech & Crosshair & Reader | 1.8k words

You tried to hold back your giggles as you gathered up as many helmets as you possibly could. This was going to be great. You couldn't believe you hadn't thought of this before, it was probably one of the best ideas you'd ever had in your life. Your whole body seemed to shake with excitement. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. Nah... you hadn't had that much to drink. This was a genuinely good, smart idea.

You stumbled out of the closet and down the hallway, dropping a few helmets along the way but not even noticing. It was like the edges of your vision were out of focus but surely that was just the dim lighting of 79's. It'd always been hard to see in here.

"What are doing?"

The voice came out of no where, even thought its owner was practically standing right in front of you. Arms crossed, scowl on his face, eyes studying you as you juggled a half dozen clone trooper helmets in your arms for seemingly no reason.

"Back off, Crosshair," you slurred, trying to push past him quickly. Why was he always in your business?

The sniper was too quick for you even on your good days. He took hold of your arm and pulled you back before you entered the main bar area, keeping you in the relative privacy of the hallway.

"Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he rephrased his question.

"It's not stealing, it's a prank," you protested, trying and failing to get your arm out of his grasp. Another helmet tumbled to the floor in the effort.

"Oh there you are," came a new voice. It was almost as if you were moving in slow motion as you tore your gaze from Crosshair and over at the newcomer.

"Tech, tell this jerk to get out of my way," you thought you said. But whatever actually came out was apparently not as understandable. Tech looked between you and Crosshair, confused.

"Um, okay. Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he asked the same question as his brother.

As if on queue, another helmet slipped out of your grasp, though you hadn't moved. At least, you didn't think you did. You huffed and ignored Tech's question, turning back to Crosshair with pleading eyes. Both men were standing between you and your chance to pull one over on the 501st, a battalion infamous for their clever pranks. And you were not going to be stopped.

"Come on Cross," you drawled. "I'm pranking the regs, you should be proud."

Even through your crazed senses, you were still able to pick up the amused twitch of his lips. But he quickly suppressed it and turned back to his usual grouchy grimace.

"Normally I would," he said, "but not like this. Not tonight."

He took a pair of helmets from you and handed them over to Tech, ignoring your whiny sounds of protest.

"He's right," said Tech, placing the helmets on the floor in the corner. "Wrecker already upset some of them tonight, I don't think they'd find this very humorous. Besides, in your drunken state..."

"I'm not drunk!" you exclaimed, probably louder than you intended judging by the flinch both men gave in response.

"Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bloodshot," said Tech matter-of-factly.

"And I saw exactly how many drinks you had," added Crosshair.

Tech nodded at him. "Yes, we could go on, but that should be indication enough that..."

You cut him off again, this time with tears. You couldn't help it. The whine that had almost been perpetually eking out of you during this whole conversation grew into actual cries and whimpers. Before you knew it, your cheeks were wet and your lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You're both so mean, you never let me have fun, the one time I come up with a great idea and you shoot it down like I'm an idiot, it's not fair, all I wanted was to show you that I belong here with you guys, but none of you let me, you don't care about me at all, you're such fun-busters..."

You babbled on and on, only barely making any sense to the two men who'd now freed you from your armful of stolen helmets and were gently guiding you out of the bar. You clunked along between them like a baby learning to walk for the first time, unaware of where you were going or what was happening. You could only focus on your emotional speech, and then after a few minutes, your focus was redirected to the queasy feeling in your stomach.

Thankfully the boys got you back onto the Havoc and into the refresher before you spilled your guts. Crosshair held your hair back and rubbed a hand soothingly along your spine until the worst of it passed. You fell limp next to the toilet, unable to form any coherent thoughts in the aftermath.

"Come on," Crosshair said softly by your ear. He tried pulling you up, but when it was clear you weren't going to stand on your own, he picked you up altogether and carried you over the to bunks.

Tech had pulled out one of the cots, the one everyone on the ship agreed was more comfortable than the others and thus fought over the right for almost every night. He had it set up with blankets and pillows, and he stood nearby holding a bottle of water as Crosshair laid you down.

"Just small sips for now," Tech said, holding the bottle up to your lips and helping you get down a few quick swallows, enough to calm the burning in the back of your throat. You were vaguely aware of his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your earlier tantrum from your eyes.

"Fun-busters," you muttered before curling up on your side.

Tech looked over at his brother, who only rolled his eyes at your stubbornness.

"Good-night to you, too," he said just before you lost consciousness.

* * *

The next morning was... rough, to say the least. You'd been tipsy a few times in your life, but never full-on drunk, which meant you'd also never had to deal with a full-on hangover.

Your head was splitting open, you were sure of it. Every turn of your neck made you feel sick. There was a pressure behind your eyes and a lightness to your stomach. You wanted to stay in bed forever. But even more painful than your hangover symptoms were the memories of your behavior the night before, and the urge to make amends eventually propelled you to get up.

You found Tech first, fiddling with his holopad in the cockpit. He eyed you as you carefully lowered yourself in the chair next to his, keeping a hand up to shield your eyes from the rays of morning sunlight that crept through the windows.

"I'm sorry," you said in a low, raspy voice, getting right to the point. You knew Tech appreciated when people did that. He wasn't a fan of small talk and segues, not when there was clearly something important to discuss. "I was kind of a dumbass last night, wasn't I?"

Tech set down his holopad with a shrug. "You had too much to drink. You weren't in control of your mental faculties."

You smiled at his uncomplicated way of viewing things. But then came a cough from behind, from a particularly unamused sniper leaning against the doorway.

"You were a dumbass," he said just as plainly as his brother. Well, at least they were both honest, even if it was in contrast to each other.

"I'm surprised you remember," said Tech, quickly trying to move past his brother's more negative comment. "From what I've read, memory loss is common after heavy intoxication...."

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as it made your head ring. "I don't remember a lot, just enough to be embarrassed. If I said anything nasty to either of you, I really didn't mean it, I swear. I was just...."

You trailed off, not sure what it was you were really trying to do. You'd wanted to pull a prank, but there'd been something else driving you forward, some other motive to want to do something so stupid.

"You called us fun-busters and cried because you didn't think we cared about you," said Crosshair through the customary toothpick in his mouth.

You looked at Tech, who gave you an apologetic look that confirmed his brother's words were true. You let out a little groan and slumped into the chair. A part of you was glad you didn't fully remember.

"Do you really think that?" Tech asked. "That you don't belong here?"

You shrugged. You still weren't sure about your feelings.

"I dunno... I guess, maybe sometimes... it does feel like you treat me the way you do the regs." You spoke slowly, discovering your own thoughts as you said the words. "Like I'm just along for the ride. Just a normal person who doesn't matter. I thought if I did something to them, you'd see I wasn't part of them. At least, that's what my drunk alter ego thought, anyway."

You gave another shrug and tried for a laugh but it didn't feel quite right.

Tech looked thoughtful for a moment. "You do realize most of the regs in that club were inebriated, too. But we didn't carry any of them to bed for the night."

"Or watch as they puked their guts out," added Crosshair with a slight wrinkling of his nose.

"Yes," Tech nodded at you. "We knew you've been feeling down lately, that's why Hunter suggested we all go to that bar in the first place, to give you a chance to have some fun. Crosshair and I kept an eye on you, and Hunter and Wrecker made sure those regs didn't get upset over your, ah, attempt at a prank."

Tech let his words linger for a moment as you finally raised your throbbing eyes up to meet his.

"You belong here. And we do care. We care because, well..."

He looked over at his brother and you followed his gaze. Crosshair took out his toothpick and pointed it at you.

"Because we're your family."

He put the toothpick back in his mouth with a wink and then turned to leave, showing that that was the final word on the subject. Tech looked at you with a soft smile, one that made you finally feel at peace. You hummed as you laid back against the chair and let the feeling really take hold within you.

You belonged with the Bad Batch. They were your family.

It was a very nice feeling.