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shuaflix · 3 months ago

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the xu minghao dilemma

❝ i was having more fun talking about how objectively and subjectively good i look. ❞

PAIRING ▸ xu minghao x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor, suggestive, coffee shop au, college au, childhood friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, slow burn, weed consumption, tooth-rotting fluff, lowkey jeongcheol and verkwan if you squint, everyone being whipped for minghao, a somewhat heated makeout scene, friend group antics as per usual, minghao being the living embodiment of a green flag, ft. yooyeon from triples

SUMMARY ▸ like most film students, you find yourself experiencing the worst creative block of your life when you're tasked to film a documentary for your final project. enter: your old childhood best friend turned stranger, xu minghao—an (incredibly handsome) ex-dancer and barista who just might be the spark of inspiration you need to make the best film of your academic career. on the flip side, minghao needs this film to win him the scholarship that lets him dance again. despite all, your circumstances don't stop your old, repressed feelings for minghao from resurfacing.

PLAYLIST ▸ insomnia by zerobaseone • kidult by seventeen • meme by &team • heart surf by kep1er • glue song by beabadoobee

WORD COUNT ▸ 20,606 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is for user junyangis my favorite bot

“THE TIGER: ICONIC SYMBOL OF THE WILD, AND AN APEX PREDATOR THAT WE FEAR AND ADMIRE.”

You panned your camera to focus on Yoon Jeonghan, who was currently sifting through the mess of papers and notebooks across his desk. All of the drawers were turned out with their contents scattered across the carpet. His frantic search for his missing vape had been going on for the past twenty minutes, and you were certain this was his fifth time going through his belongings again.

Normal people, such as yourself, would’ve given up within the first five minutes, but your best friend’s resilience was admirable. His unwavering persistence was exactly the sort of character you wanted to showcase in your films. Without the context of the vape addiction, of course.

“And here,” you continued in the best David Attenborough impression you could conjure up, “we see a tiger in the wild.”

“Go to hell, dude,” Jeonghan snapped back. You squinted at him through your viewfinder to catch him carding a frustrated hand through his hair. “My Circadian rhythm needs flavored air to function.”

The tiny red light flickered once, then vanished as you stopped recording. “Try regular air. It’s good for you—and free.”

“Yeah? Then maybe this is my calling to get sober.”

(It was important to note that Jeonghan tended to say this very frequently.)

He finally rose from the corner of his dorm room where he had strewn the contents of his drawer all over the floor. Jeonghan crossed over to where you were sitting—on his bed, leaning against the wall with his Doraemon pillow—and plopped down beside you. His eyes, glazed-over and half-lidded, were fixed on the ceiling, as if he was going over each groove in the drywall.

For the past two hours, you had been agonizing over ideas for your documentary. Jeonghan was typically great when it came to bouncing ideas off each other, so you often pestered him until inspiration struck. Today didn’t seem like a particularly stimulating day for either of you, though. Your best friend paid attention for maybe half an hour, but even he started running out of ideas for potential documentary content.

“By the way,” he added, still stuck in a faraway trance, “do not use whatever you just recorded for your film project. I don’t consent to being exploited for views.”

It had been weeks since you came to terms with the fact that Jeonghan didn’t want to be the subject of your documentary. You had a semester to complete this project for your documentary class, and although you still had a decent amount of time left, you were starting to get worried because most of your classmates already started outlining their ideas. You hadn’t even found your main character yet.

There were quite a few reasons why you wouldn’t have chosen Jeonghan in the first place; it didn’t just chalk down to his disinterest in being filmed. You wanted to capture someone with a story—a progression or growth that tugged at the heartstrings of your audience—and using someone you weren’t already close with would help you film more objectively.

You raised a brow at your friend. “You? I was clearly filming a wild animal in its natural habitat.”

“Recording without two-party consent is tasteless,” he reminded. “And just for that, I’m not telling you the incredible, brilliant idea I just had.”

“You haven’t exactly shared that many incredible, brilliant ideas for me to feel disappointed about that.”

“No, trust me. It’s really good.” He used his elbows to prop himself up, shooting you a wide grin. His resolve to withhold his proposition crumbled within seconds of his excitement. “It’s the best idea I’ve had since that one time I stole Seungcheol’s towel and t-shirt while he was showering.”

You glanced at him through the corner of your eyes. “All you did was make him walk around shirtless.”

“Exactly.” Jeonghan returned your look with far more judgment than you had given him. “That was the best part.”

The memory was hard to forget. During your freshman year, you were living in the dorms where your RA was Choi Seungcheol. It was safe to say that a solid majority of the people on your floor had eyes for the dreamy Resident Advisor. Jeonghan only contributed to the noble cause of fan service by ensuring that Seungcheol would end up having to walk through the hallway with his glorious abs on display, his chiseled body beaded with water droplets.

“So what’s your idea? Ask Seungcheol if I can film a strip tease?”

“No, it’s—wait, that’s so good. If we can get that greenlit, you should totally—”

“Nope, definitely not doing that,” you interjected with a firm shake of your head. You were not going to present a half-naked Seungcheol as your final project. “Give me something more PG-13.”

“Boring, but fine.” After mocking a pout, Jeonghan’s lips immediately curled up in a smirk. “Xu Minghao.”

The very mention of his name made you straighten up. You hadn’t spoken to Minghao in years, and although your friends would tease you about being his childhood friend, you didn’t see your past with him as anything worth mentioning. After all, being close friends during middle school was nothing compared to the plethora of memories you made after the two of you grew distant.

“Huh?”

“Xu Minghao,” he repeated. “Streets are saying he’s quit dancing.”

You frowned. “Minghao quit dancing?”

That couldn’t be right. Minghao? The same Xu Minghao who snuck out of his house to practice for hours in dance studios? The same one who took eight trains, walked fifteen miles, and hitchhiked to get to dance camp on his own? The same one who shed tears when he won his first dance competition?

Dance was Minghao’s life; it came as naturally as breathing to him. You so clearly remembered his overwhelming passion that drove him to practice tirelessly for years. Just watching him move to the beat made you feel like he was born to express himself that way. You couldn’t imagine your childhood friend, who had been dancing his entire life, to just throw away all his hard work and talent on a whim.

“Streets also mentioned he hurt his foot real bad. Poor guy can’t compete at nationals anymore.”

“Streets?”

“I’m protecting anonymity, okay?” After you peered at him for a moment, Jeonghan caved under the pressure of your stare and added, “Fine. It was Seungkwan.”

You scoffed. All credibility of the rumor vanished like a wisp of smoke.

“Seungkwan also claimed Vernon needed to go to the emergency room when he got a paper cut,” you replied, unimpressed.

“No, I think it really is serious this time. You can check it out for yourself, if you want,” Jeonghan said. “He’s working at the café like, every day now.”

“His mom’s café?”

“Mmhm. He stopped for a while ‘cause of school, but he just picked up his shifts again.”

“And you think that’s what I should do for my documentary? Minghao quitting the one thing that could be worth filming?”

“I don’t think he actually wanted to quit,” Jeonghan said, looking down at his intertwined hands in his lap with a puzzled expression, as if the Xu Minghao Dilemma™ had been keeping him up at night. “I don’t know what it is. Seungkwan said he seemed kind of off when he was talking about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, and Jeonghan continued, “You also find it weird, don’t you? It doesn’t make sense that he’d just quit like that.”

“I mean, if something’s really going on with him, then I don’t think it’s right for me to ask if I can turn that into a documentary,” you said.

“I’m not saying that, but…” He trailed off before shrugging. “I just think it wouldn’t hurt to check in on him.”

You arched a brow at him. “Why don’t you check in on him? Aren’t you two friends?”

“We’re bros,” he corrected. Cue a dramatic groan from you, which was promptly ignored as Jeonghan elaborated, “our way of showing that we’re there for each other is by queueing up on League together or talking about the Roman Empire.”

“Jeonghan, you have never once mentioned the Roman Empire.”

“Jokes on you, I did a research project on it in middle school.” He shut his eyes to wave off the tangent he started going off on. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that you’re a girl—a woman. Women get to the point. They get things done.” He gave you a resolute nod, and you were starting to wonder if he was simply trying to use flattery against you. “Hence why I think you can figure out what’s going on with Minghao.”

You sighed. “But Minghao and I haven’t even spoken in so long. I don’t want to overstep.”

“Look, I’ve texted Hao—even met up with him in person—but the guy won’t budge. He just gives me that customer service smile of his and says he’s fine.”

“And what makes you think I’ll be able to do anything?”

“I’m not saying you will, but I think he’ll turn around when he realizes more people are concerned about him.”

On one hand, you didn’t exactly have any sort of relationship with Xu Minghao that gave you a reason to visit him. Did he even remember your name? You could only imagine the confusion drawing his brows together upon seeing you after years of silence. Or perhaps he wouldn’t care at all. The two of you could probably pass by each other as complete strangers, and he wouldn’t experience the same flicker of old memories that made your heart ache.

On the other hand, you truly were curious. And it wouldn’t hurt to visit the old café, either.

Plus, you would never admit it out loud, but part of you had been waiting for an excuse to talk to your old friend again.

You felt utterly stupid as you stood at the entrance of the café.

First, your heart was beating unbelievably fast for something that shouldn’t have been this difficult of a feat. It was a coffee shop, for crying out loud. All you had to do was walk inside and order something without making a fool out of yourself. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

Second, it was hard to pretend like you were only here for coffee when your only intention was to check up on Minghao. Now you were wondering if you should’ve texted him first, but that probably would’ve taken you a few days to work up the courage to send.

And the cherry on top of your miserable cake was that you didn’t even like coffee. Maybe you could get something to eat, but you weren’t big on pastries, either. You just had to force yourself to get whatever seemed the most appetizing and hope that Minghao took notice of you.

That was another thing; you didn’t even know what hours he worked. Your plan was to work in the corner of the café until you saw him coming in. Knowing your luck, he probably didn’t even have a shift scheduled for today. Still, you were determined to wait it out since you had come this far already.

With a shaky breath, you pushed open the door and were immediately greeted by a rush of warmth. You instinctively tugged your cardigan tighter around your frame as you scanned the space. It had been years since you stepped into the café, but everything was about the same; almost all the tables were occupied with teenagers or lone adults who came to get work done, the back wall had a space reserved for people to leave cute notes and drawings, and a familiar barista was eyeing you from the get-go.

There he was, watching you from the counter. Clusters of stars encased in two midnight pools.

Xu Minghao, who you skillfully managed to avoid interacting with for the past six years, was looking at you with the same familiarity that stirred in your chest.

Your first reaction was to flee, but you would’ve looked ridiculous running out of the shop, so you walked to the nearest empty table first. Did people look for tables before they even ordered? You were starting to forget how to normally function as you set your bag down on the smooth oak wood.

“Sample?” a gentle voice called from behind you as you were fumbling with getting your laptop out of your bag. You looked over your shoulder to see Minghao with a tray of bite-sized slices of cheesecake with toothpicks sticking out of the top. A warm smile graced his features, so dazzling to the point where it was blinding. “It’s one of our signature desserts here.”

“Oh,” was all you could say at first, disoriented as you picked up one of the cheesecake bites. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be at the front whenever you’re ready to order.”

He left before you could get another word out, and you shoved the cube of cheesecake in your mouth so that you didn’t look completely frozen (which you were). Minghao probably went around giving samples to every customer, but surely he recognized you, right? It wasn’t like the two of you were completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Minghao had to know you two had mutual friends from the Instagram stories and posts you were featured in.

Moreover, his leg seemed fine. Boo Seungkwan had once again proven to be an untrustworthy source.

You worked up the courage to walk to the register after going over the menu about twenty times, finally deciding on getting a mango fruit tea. As soon as you were in front of Minghao, though, your predetermined order disappeared from your head and the menu looked like a blur of words.

Your mind went completely blank.

“Uh…” You were floundering for something to say—anything. Coffee was the only drink coming to mind, but you weren’t sure the caffeine would be good for your nerves. “I'll have, uh…”

This was so stupid. You waited for minutes on end to decide on your order and ended up looking like a complete fool in front of Minghao.

“Would you like a recommendation?” he offered smoothly, as if this was a routine response for him. You wondered how many other customers lost their train of thought upon seeing his face.

“Yes, please.”

“I know it's chilly outside, but our fruit teas are pretty popular. And, if I remember correctly, you've always been a fan of mango,” he said. You swore he was trying to avert his gaze now, although he had been maintaining proper eye contact up until this moment. “Injeolmi toast is a favorite here, too. I know you like injeolmi, unless your tastes have changed…”

Wow. Maybe you were off the mark all along. Minghao clearly hadn't forgotten you; in fact, he remembered more of you than you could even recall yourself.

“Mango fruit tea—that’s right. That’s what I wanted to order.” You let out an awkward laugh, brushing your hair over your shoulder to distract yourself from how hot your chest felt. “Then I’ll order both. I’ve never had injeolmi toast, but I do still like injeolmi.”

His face broke into a bright smile—the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Oh, good. I was worried I didn't remember correctly,” he admitted sheepishly. After entering your order into the tablet, he turned the screen around for you to pay. You were so focused on tipping that Minghao startled you when he asked, “How’ve you been?”

When you looked up, his gaze was sincere. A torrent of warmth rushed through your body.

“Good. I mean—college, you know?” Everything you wanted to say sounded garbled in your head. You didn’t even know where to begin. “I barely have any free time these days outside of assignments and working on sets.”

“Oh, right. You’re in film, huh? How’s that been for you?”

“It’s been good so far. I’m actually getting ready to film a documentary right now.”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, gleaming with genuine interest. Since Minghao had been no more than a stranger to you these past several years, you hadn’t expected to see such sincerity in his enthusiasm.

Your heart must have skipped a beat or two.

“A documentary? About what?” But then his attention was lost, his eyes unfocusing to glance at the customer waiting impatiently behind you. You immediately felt guilty for taking up so much time, but then Minghao said, “I get off in an hour. Are you still gonna be around?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Great. Save a chair for me.” He flashed one of his shining, award-winning smiles again. “Your order will be out in a few minutes, Y/N.”

The injeolmi toast was cold.

It tasted good enough for you to not mind, but when you saw someone else carrying a tray of the steaming bread, you figured that Minghao simply forgot to heat yours up. You were disheartened that you were doomed to eat cold, chewy injeolmi, but the sweet and nutty flavor was so delectable that you ended up scarfing it down within minutes anyway. The café seemed rather busy around this time, so you didn’t put it past Minghao to rush your order.

The mango fruit tea was incredible, though. By far the best fruit tea you’ve had. It was compelling enough for you to download Yelp to leave a glowing five-star review.

When you opened Café du Soleil’s page, you noticed that your dear friend Seungkwan (credentials: Yelp Elite Squad) had already left a review mentioning the same drink.

★★★★★ Nov 7, 2024 Incredible customer service. I love Xu Minghao. The mango fruit tea changed my life for the better.

You left a review about the mango fruit tea and injeolmi toast (conveniently leaving out the fact that yours wasn’t warmed up). A much more comprehensive review than Seungkwan’s, you would say.

Your nerves were still buzzing from your conversation with Minghao. It had been years since you two had spoken to each other, and now you were waiting for him to get off his shift to catch up with you. If you maintained a friendship with him all these years, then maybe all of this would feel natural. Maybe this would’ve been your designated table to wait for Minghao after his shift, spending time with him after work and walking home together.

An hour passed by faster than you thought it would. The first ten minutes felt agonizing, watching the minutes tick by painfully slow, but once you were consumed in a discussion post for your Narrative Production class, Minghao was making his way over to you before you knew it.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, pulling out the chair across from you to sit down in. Your eyes followed the slice of cheesecake he brought over on a plate before he nodded toward the empty plate on your tray. “What’d you think of the toast?”

“Really good,” you gushed. You opted to leave out the part where your bread was cold. “I was almost about to go up to order again.”

“Ah, right.” He pushed the plate in your direction. “This is for you.”

“Oh,” you answered, startled. “How much was it? I can pay—”

“No, don’t worry. It’s on me,” Minghao cut in smoothly, signaling his objection with a wave of his hand. “I forgot to ask you if you liked the sample earlier, but I ended up bringing it over anyway.”

Just as you remembered, he was always thinking about others first. Minghao was so earnest in his words and actions that it was hard for you to grasp that he was real. Even in his adolescence, you remembered he had a different air of maturity from the other boys just because of how kind he was. You wanted to pick him apart and dissect his brain to figure out if he was just biologically wired to be perfect.

He was so different now—not completely different but just enough to set you on edge. Minghao had grown into his features so beautifully and still spoke in that calm and soft voice, but there was this newfound confidence he carried that seemed almost unshakeable.

With the way he was staring at you so intently, you felt pressured to give your opinion on the cheesecake right away. You forked a sliver of the cake into your mouth, hand hovering over your mouth as you chewed. Mostly because you were trying to swallow as fast as possible so that Minghao would stop being so laser-focused on you.

“It’s good,” you mused. “I should come by more often.”

He perked up at your words, and soon Minghao was enthusiastically asking you to give him a recap on everything that was going on in your life. You hardly knew where to begin—or, rather, where to pick up after the two of you stopped being close.

You told him about how your parents disapproved of your film major, how it took months of convincing and begging until they realized that you were serious about your passion for filmmaking. He listened intently as you talked about all the short films you made on your own to persuade your parents, and he even watched one of them on your phone, giving you nods of acknowledgement and an impressed hum.

The conversation bled into different aspects of your life, and Minghao was able to join in while you two talked about how you met your mutual friends. You explained how you met Jeonghan and Wonwoo at a party, somehow hitting it off so well that you two ended up hanging out the morning after. Minghao met Jeonghan when they were placed in the same orientation group, and you thought about how funny it was that the world was small enough for you two to have grown apart and still ended up with mutual friends.

It was getting dark outside by the time Minghao was giving you the rundown of how he met Seungkwan, detailing the encounter in a way that made Seungkwan seem a little insane. Apparently, Minghao had gotten Seungkwan’s number at a dance workshop and the younger boy spammed him with texts one night until Minghao agreed to hang out. Thankfully, Minghao found Seungkwan’s persistence to be charming. A stark contrast from how you went home early during your first time hanging out with Seungkwan because you were so overstimulated.

When Minghao started talking about going to a dance workshop with Jeonghan, you realized this was your opening.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, feigning a casual tone, “Jeonghan mentioned that you were quitting dance?”

A sad smile dawned on his face. “At least until I finish college. I just needed to take some time off to focus on school.”

“That makes sense, I guess. But weren’t you supposed to have a competition at the end of the year?”

“Nationals,” he clarified. “I’ve been pushing back my withdrawal, but I’m gonna have to do it soon.”

You noticed his gloomy expression, and it was making you remember Jeonghan’s words about how Minghao probably didn’t actually want to quit. If he really wanted to drop out of the competition, then you were certain the corners of his mouth wouldn’t be tugging down, nor would the light in his eyes dim.

The Minghao you once knew was honest about his feelings. He unapologetically wore his emotions on his sleeve, and he prepared himself for every possible outcome so that he could keep a strong front. You always admired how he was able to stay so calm and collected as the world weighed on his shoulders.

Now, the Minghao before you looked like a kettle sputtering water from its spout, a whistle away from overflowing completely.

It was a bold question for someone you weren’t close with anymore, but you asked, “You don’t want to withdraw, right?”

With his mouth set in a grim line, Minghao shook his head. “If it was up to me, I’d still be dancing.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“It’s just… complicated,” he said. “Our café’s been doing decently, but it’s not enough for it to stay up and running. We were barely keeping up with rent and now they’ve upped the prices, but…” He moved his leg from under the table so that it was stretched out to the side. “I tore my meniscus around four months ago. It’s a lot better now—still sore sometimes—but we had to pay for physical therapy on top of everything. I’ve had to pick up shifts here because we’re so understaffed now, so there isn’t really enough time for me to focus on dancing.”

“If we had enough money to cushion our rent for the next three months, I think this place would be saved,” he continued, “but if I’m gonna make that happen, I have to dedicate all my time here.”

Oh. You sent Boo Seungkwan a mental apology for ever doubting him about Minghao’s injury. Perhaps he wasn’t as unreliable of a source as you assumed he would be.

You knew that the situation must have been serious for him to quit dancing, but you didn’t expect the café to be at stake. Of course, you had zero knowledge on what it took to be a dancer at a national level, but you just couldn’t wrap your head around Minghao giving up this easily.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s my decision.”

You asked, “Are you okay with that, though? Not dancing?”

“It is what it is.” He shrugged. “Our studio’s tuition on top of competition fees, private lesson fees, and workshop fees… it’s just not feasible for me to be able to keep doing this right now. Of course I could just practice on my own in the studio, but we just don’t have enough people to cover every shift here.”

You nodded along. He really sounded as defeated as his explanation made you feel, and you realized you were going to have to recount this to Jeonghan to get him to give up. This situation was far too nuanced for either of you to push Minghao to keep dancing out of pure passion. Sometimes that just wasn’t enough.

Minghao eventually had to go to close up the shop, and you had to turn down his insistent offers to give you more food until he basically shoved a bunch of pastries into your arms before you left. As you walked back to your apartment, braving the icy bite of the wind, one thing was for certain: you were most definitely not making a documentary out of Xu Minghao’s tragic story.

“I’m running a survey,” you declared, “because this is a democracy and I value all of your opinions.”

You had called for an emergency meeting the day after you met up with Minghao. Your friends were all sitting haphazardly around your room; Seungkwan had his legs up against the wall and his body sprawled across your bed, Jeonghan was right next to Seungkwan, Junhui was sitting on top of your laundry basket despite being scolded about crushing it, Vernon was on top of your desk, and Wonwoo was the only one sensible enough to be sitting in a proper chair.

Jeonghan scoffed. “She just doesn’t want to do the Minghao documentary.”

“There is no Minghao documentary,” you said. “There was never a Minghao documentary.”

“There was”—Jeonghan paused for long enough for the rest of them to think he had finished talking—“to me.”

Junhui leaned forward, nearly toppling over the laundry basket. Vernon was able to hold it down with his foot in time, although Junhui hardly even noticed his friend’s silent efforts to save him.

“What’s the Minghao documentary?” he asked, his eyes bigger than ever. “Like, Xu Minghao?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan answered. “Wouldn't you watch a Xu Minghao documentary?”

“I’d pay to watch a Xu Minghao documentary,” Junhui said, reaching over to high-five Jeonghan, who was extremely pleased that someone else supported his cause. “What can I say? He's a beautiful man.”

“Okay, there is no Xu Minghao documentary,” you repeated. “It's more of a… Xu Minghao dilemma.”

“So you called us here because of Xu Minghao,” Vernon chimed in.

“No,” you replied pointedly, “I called you here because I really value your guys’ opinions and want to hear your suggestions about what I should include in my documentary.”

“Xu Minghao,” Jeonghan supplied.

“Except for Jeonghan. I don’t value his opinion.”

“I think someone should die,” said Junhui with bright, sparkling eyes. “Something super tragic.”

“Or we can all live,” Seungkwan said.

Vernon offered, “Or how about something more sentimental—”

“—where everyone dies,” finished Junhui.

“Okay, that wasn't what I was getting at,” Vernon said with mild concern crossing his features. “You scare me.”

Seungkwan, distressed at this point, spoke up louder to rehash, “Why don’t we all just live?”

You let out a resigned sigh. “Jun, let’s keep in mind that I’m filming a documentary for a college film class, not a Marvel movie.”

This was going nowhere. Clearly, you misjudged when you decided your friends were the people to go to for serious inquiries. At this point, you were considering following up on the email you sent to the local ice skating rink a month ago, outright begging them for the chance to film their team practicing. (Spoiler: They ghosted you.)

“How about the geology department?” Wonwoo suggested, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re researching crustal processes during the Hadean geological period right now. Exciting stuff.”

Because Jeon Wonwoo was an incredibly persuasive man (mostly because of his lethal attractiveness), you were immediately swayed by the idea. “Wait, that’s an incredible idea, Wonwoo.”

“That is the worst idea I’ve heard in my life,” Seungkwan blurted out. “If you make a documentary about the geology department, I will personally come to the screening of your film myself just to throw tomatoes at you.”

As much as you hated to admit it (or, rather, hated to admit it in the presence of Wonwoo), Seungkwan had a fair point. Presenting a documentary about crustal formations was probably categorized as a form of social suicide. You had no true interest in the topic to make it sound interesting, and the only selling point would be geology major Jeon Wonwoo and his face of the century. The lackluster content coupled with your indifference toward rocks was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe you could make geology sound interesting. You entertained the idea for a few seconds before recollecting the time when Wonwoo got four shots deep and started rattling off about the demand for lithium in China. Your freshman year self was almost charmed before those beguiling minutes stretched into long, torturous hours of Wonwoo breaking down geopolitics until you blacked out.

No, you could not make geology sound interesting.

“Thank you for that visual, Seungkwan,” you said. “Now that I’ve returned to my senses, I’ll accept ideas that aren’t about Xu Minghao or rocks.”

“What’s wrong with the geology department?” Wonwoo spoke up, his hand shooting up in the air to get the room’s attention.

Jeonghan snorted. “Dude, what’s she gonna film? Planet Earth?”

Wonwoo accepted his defeat wordlessly as his arm slowly retreated back to his side.

“Not that I don’t think you can come up with better ideas,” Vernon started carefully, “but why are you so against making a documentary about Minghao?”

“I’m not against it,” you clarified. “It’s simply out of the question. He doesn’t even have time to dance right now because of how busy he is with the café.”

“If that’s the issue, I can literally ask around to see who’s interested in working there,” Jeonghan said.

“Minghao’s going through a lot right now. I personally think it’s insensitive to push him to do something when he’s got so much on his plate.”

The men finally quieted down at your words, and you came to the realization that your girl friends would have probably been more useful for this sort of conversation. Maybe it was because the guys were all on good terms with Xu Minghao that they were pushing for you to ask him to work with you. It was the only conclusion you could come to with how insistent they were on you choosing Minghao.

Then, Jeonghan spoke up, “Didn’t you say you wanted to make an impact with your documentary? What if you could really help him out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just think about it.”

Your forehead creased. He clearly did have something in mind and just wanted to complicate matters for you, but you held your tongue instead of pressing Jeonghan further.

Later that night, while you were laying in your bed with your laptop warm on your stomach, you could only think about Xu Minghao and his sad smile when he talked about quitting dance. He didn’t really want to quit, but there was just too much going on for him to juggle that along with the countless other balls being thrown at him.

But was it right for him to just quietly let go of his dream? A passion that he had chased his whole life?

If you were in his shoes and you had to give up your dream of film, you weren’t sure you could go down without a fight. Even when your parents were against film school, even when everyone around you questioned your abilities, you pushed yourself to take on every opportunity that came your way. Your situation had never been as dire as Minghao’s, but you could imagine how he must have felt for his dream to crumble in the palm of his hands. With the right amount of support, you believed he could mold that dream together again.

In the still hours of twilight, you opened up a Word document and started typing away like your life depended on it.

“You look like shit.” Kim Yooyeon’s eyes were wide when she watched you walk out of your room right when she was about to leave for her 8:00 a.m. lecture. She was in the middle of her bowl of cereal when you crossed her on your way to the couch. “Did you even sleep?”

Your hand flew up to gently prod at the tender skin under your eyes. “Do I really look that tired?”

You all but fell against the couch, sinking into the cushions like it was quicksand. Normally, you could pour yourself a cup of coffee and get through the day, but you had accumulated enough sleep debt over the past few weeks to reach your breaking point.

Your roommate snorted. “Remember when you stayed up for three days straight during finals week last year? You look exactly like how you did back then.”

Thanks to Jeonghan’s cryptic words, you ended up spending the entire night researching and planning ways for you to help Minghao—or, at least, what you thought would help Minghao. Your document spanned almost forty pages, and you weren’t even sure if you would be using any of it. Your intention was to share your proposals with Minghao in hopes that he would find at least one of them to possibly work out.

The problem was: you were seconds away from falling asleep on the spot and your eyes felt sore every time you blinked. There was no way you could make it to Minghao’s coffee shop and deliver your pitch in this state.

“I stayed up all night working on something for Minghao.”

Yooyeon’s spoon clattered against the bowl. “Xu Minghao?”

You gave her the same rundown you gave your friends yesterday—a much more vague one because you didn't want to get into the nitty gritty details of Minghao’s life, especially when Yooyeon probably didn’t even care. Plus, you were too tired to get into the specifics. By the time you were finishing up your story, your mouth was hardly moving in time with your brain and your eyelids were drooping. You weren't even sure if you were speaking coherent sentences.

Yooyeon had her bag slung over her shoulder and was asking you something. You couldn't quite tell what it was because you were hanging by a thread at that point, but you definitely heard Jeonghan’s name at some point—maybe. All you could muster was a noncommittal sound before you drifted into a slumber.

A flash of red behind your eyelids roused you from your dreamless sleep, but you didn’t have time to squint before the nuisance of a light source was instantly blocked. You opened your eyes to see Xu Minghao sitting by your feet, using his hand to block the ray of light that shone through the window and landed directly on your face.

Perhaps you overreacted, but you were sure anyone would scream at the sight.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Minghao stood up, alarmed.

Clearly.

You scrambled to sit up while he awkwardly shifted to the middle of your living room.

“No, Minghao, I was just warming up my vocal cords,” you deadpanned. “I don’t think it’s weird at all that you’re inside my apartment while I’m asleep.”

“Oh.” Minghao went still for a second. You watched the puzzled look on his face morph into one of dread once he seemed to understand how odd the situation looked. “Oh.”

After a few more moments of gawking at you, he started again, “This looks pretty bad.”

“Yeah, just a little.”

“I swear it’s not as creepy as it looks. Jeonghan said you wanted to see me, and then your roommate let me in. She told me to just wake you up, but I felt bad after a while. That’s why I just let you sleep.”

That must have been what Yooyeon was asking you while you were half-conscious, and you probably stupidly agreed despite not catching anything she said. This wasn’t how you wanted to talk to him; you needed time to mentally prepare yourself to meet Minghao—preferably in an outdoor setting where you were appropriately dressed—but now he had caught you completely off-guard.

It looked like he had just gotten back from the gym with his flushed cheeks and the sleeveless top that showed off his toned arms. When he raised his arm, you could even catch a glimpse of the infinity tattoo inked across his shoulder blade.

“I can leave,” he suggested, unsure.

“No, stay,” you said. “It’s just that I was gonna go see you on my own. How long have you been waiting here for, anyway?”

“Maybe ten minutes? I tried calling your name, but you asked me to let you sleep a little longer.”

You flushed, mortified. On top of accidentally inviting Minghao over to wait for you to wake up, you were sleep-talking in front of him too? Any semblance of professionalism you had was crashing and burning before you.

“I think I was sleep-talking with my roommate, too. That’s probably why she thought I needed to see you now,” you explained with a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Sorry about that.”

Minghao laughed and took a seat once he realized you weren’t going to shoo him out of the apartment anymore—or perhaps now he felt less guilty about showing up unexpectedly.

“So we’re even, right? Your stalking is forgiven,” you said, “but not forgotten.”

His eyes went wide with mock surprise, feigning a gasp. “Stalking? I could sue you for defamation of character.”

“Then sue me,” you challenged. “I have an outfit that I’ve been dying to wear in a courtroom.” Minghao raised his eyebrows with mild interest before you reached for your laptop on the coffee table. “Anyway, I wanted to show you something that could probably make you rethink that defamation lawsuit.”

You then turned to face him and clasped your hands together out of sheer desperation. “Please let me make you the star of my documentary.”

Minghao blinked at you for a few seconds before asking, “The documentary for your class? You want me in it?”

You nodded eagerly. “It’ll be all about you—your dancing, the café—everything that shows how hard you’ve worked for your dreams.”

“I don’t know, Y/N…” He looked slightly uneasy at the prospect. “I might not have the time for this. I already have shifts at the café every day.”

“I think I have a solution for that, too.”

“That’s great and all, but either way, I don’t even know how much longer we’re gonna be able to keep the café running.”

“But Minghao, listen, I have it all planned out.” You scooted closer until your knees were bumping against his, and you angled your laptop for him to see the screen. “There’s a scholarship offering twenty thousand dollars, and they’re asking for a video submission on what success means to you. It’s specifically for the arts—something you’re passionate about.”

“You mean…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on the screen.

“I say we kill two birds with one stone; I film the documentary for my final project while you use it to win that cash prize.”

Minghao looked from you, to the screen, and to you again. There was a suspension of fear across his face that was coupled with a sparkle of hope in his eyes. It looked as if stardust had scattered across his irises and lit them up.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” he started before mouthing the words again in disbelief. “That kind of money could save the café.”

“And pay for nationals,” you added. “I stayed up all night planning this out. If you trust me, I think we can actually make this work.”

“You really think so? But do you really think people would be interested in watching something that’s just about my life?”

“No doubt about it. That face sells,” you deadpanned, which caused the tips of his ears to go an endearing shade of red. “I wouldn’t have done all this work if I didn’t think we could pull it off.”

“This is all assuming I even get selected.”

“I’ll make sure you do. It’ll be my best work yet.”

After Minghao spent a considerable amount of time scanning your document over and over again (you were pretty sure the words were probably burned into his brain by now), the corner of his mouth quirked into a mischievous smile. “So, how good are you?”

“Good at what?”

“Filmmaking. I’ve never seen your work.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “I’ll have you know that I’ve had plenty of experience. I’m just using you for my big break.” You didn’t realize you had stiffened up until you let your body relax. “Do you want to see something I’ve filmed?”

“Can I?”

“Of course. I can’t have you agree to something before you know the standard of quality you’re getting,” you said with a prideful puff of your chest that deflated too quickly when you realized that you would have to show Minghao something so vulnerable. Maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal for him, but you shed your heart and soul into your craft; it was precious to you. You opened the video file and looked at him expectantly. “We don’t have to watch it.”

“No, I want to,” he said in a voice so earnest that you wanted to believe him. He focused on the file name at the top of the video player. “A Bite of Summer—what’s it about?”

“It’s pretty short. I’ll just play it for you.”

You hit play and moved the laptop onto Minghao’s lap instead, watching both the screen and his reaction to your videography. He was so zeroed in on the film that he hardly seemed to notice the way you kept glancing at him.

Summer was sweltering. Growing up, you always spent your summers surrounded by friends and family, whether it was going to the beach or going to the park. Living in the moment was simple back then; you weren’t confined to responsibilities and commitments that kept you from enjoying what life had to offer. In fact, some of your best summer memories were shared with Minghao. The two of you laughed without a care in the world as the warmth of the sun enveloped you.

Once you entered high school, however, summer felt so humid that it was suffocating. You were up to your neck in assignments, exam preparation, and part-time jobs. It became difficult to enjoy your youth when you had countless hours of work to do. Coincidentally, it was your first summer spent without Minghao; you weren’t sure if things would’ve been any different if you two were still friends back then, but maybe it would’ve simmered the ache in your chest.

Your short film, A Bite of Summer, was created amidst your summer blues. The film was about a girl named Rhea who meets her younger self at the beach she once used to frequent during the summer. It represented the relationship the older you had with your younger self; you were excited to grow and move forward as the seasons changed, but summer was always a bittersweet reminder that you had no time to grieve over your childhood. You didn't know what you lost until it was gone, but perhaps that made the memories even more precious.

You were still looking at Minghao, but you could hear your main character, Rhea, asking her younger self, “Are you ever scared of growing up?”

Minghao was watching intently, hanging onto every word. You weren’t sure why you felt so nervous about him watching. In your last year of middle school, you and Minghao began to have long conversations about how terrifying it was to grow up. He would open up about how much pressure he felt from balancing dancing and school, and you would tell him how you felt like you couldn’t breathe in the summer heat. Perhaps he had forgotten by now. Perhaps he wouldn’t connect your film back as being so personal to you.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his reaction during the scene where the younger Rhea reaches for the older Rhea’s hand, gripping tightly even as cold waves started to lap at their feet. Minghao watched quietly, dark eyebrows pulling together as he focused.

“I am,” the younger Rhea answered.

“You are?”

“It sounds exciting, but nothing scares me more.” You watched as Minghao’s lips parted, chestnut eyes glistening when she continued, “Maybe it doesn't feel that way because you don’t have to live through those hard times anymore, but I’m glad the good times stuck. That means this feeling will pass”—their hands dropped to their sides—“and yours will, too.”

And that was when a tear fell from Xu Minghao’s feathery lashes.

You’ve never witnessed anyone cry over the work you created. Sure, it tugged at your own heartstrings since it was so personal to you, but to watch someone else have such strong feelings over your film made tears well up in your eyes.

“Are… are you crying?” you stammered out, a tittering laugh following as Minghao used the pads of his thumbs to smear his tears off his cheeks. It was a pretty sight, like watching wet clay come undone before you.

“It was really good,” he mumbled, giving you the most adorable pout you had ever seen on an adult man before turning his head away to keep wiping at his tears. “I’m serious. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen someone react like that to my work.”

If you were just a little braver, you probably would’ve thanked him first before telling him that you were touched. You would’ve told him that no one had ever peeled back your layers without making it uncomfortable—sometimes even painful—but he handled you with so much delicacy. You would’ve told him that this film was about you, at your core, and perhaps he had already picked up on that, but you would’ve been brave enough to express yourself.

But you weren’t brave, so you just smiled at the lone tears that streaked Minghao’s face before he wiped them with his sleeve.

“Seriously, you’re incredible,” he said, still staring at the paused video on your laptop. The corner of his mouth lifted. “That was so short and it still made me cry.”

You couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched across your face. “You’re actually crying.”

“Well, yeah. Are you having fun watching me suffer?”

Was it borderline psychopathic that you were smiling while Minghao cried? Probably. On the other hand, you were simply glad you didn’t burst into tears alongside him. You nearly felt like you could’ve with the way he got so emotional about your work.

“A little,” you admitted. Surprisingly, that got a smile out of him. “I’m just happy you like it.”

“I do,” he said. A pause, then, “Why’s it called ‘A Bite of Summer,’ by the way?”

You scoffed. Actually, you had your reasons, but no one had ever asked you about that film specifically.

“I hate summer, that’s why,” you told him. “I can’t stand the heat.”

“Really?” His brows lifted. “I think summer’s pretty overrated, too.”

You cracked a grin. “No, you don’t. It’s your favorite season.”

“Hey, I can still acknowledge my favorite season’s overrated.”

He grinned and held the palm of his hand out to you. You were confused before Minghao gently grabbed your wrist and put your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and giving you a firm shake. Your hands were too clammy to be gripping Minghao’s calloused palms, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Use me however you want, director,” he continued, and the sparkle in his eyes was something magnificent. “I’ll be your best star yet.”

“No lawsuit?” you asked.

Minghao laughed. “No lawsuit.”

You were sweating like you had just run a marathon. (You practically did; the distance from your apartment to Jeonghan’s location in the library was a mile and a half, and you were sprinting half the time.)

Since you needed some time to plan out your filming, you exchanged contact information with Minghao and told him that you would contact him when you were ready. Your nerves were buzzing with excitement now that you actually had a subject for your documentary. Conversations with your classmates would no longer make you feel like you were desperately hurrying to catch up with everybody else.

Your friends usually claimed the big table on the third floor. It was positioned at an optimal location next to the bathrooms and the elevator, so you were quite proud of your unassigned-assigned table. Junhui and Wonwoo were normally the ones who spent the most time in the library, whereas Seungkwan and Vernon usually only stopped by if they wanted to mess around.

“You bitch,” you spat, pointing an accusatory finger at Jeonghan, who was trying to frantically wave off clouds of smoke when he coughed in surprise. You collapsed into the chair next to him, catching your breath while Junhui and Wonwoo hardly batted an eye. “You should be prosecuted for vaping in the library, by the way.”

“I know, right?” Junhui frowned disapprovingly. “Take it outside, Jeonghan.”

“Addiction kills,” Wonwoo added, doleful.

“I was gonna ghost it!” Jeonghan cried in defense, lowering his voice toward the end once he realized they were, in fact, still inside the library. He turned back to face you. “Anyway, why am I a bitch again?”

“You invited Minghao into my apartment!”

“Okay, a lot of accusations here. What about a hi? A hello? A congrats-on-finding-your-vape-Jeonghan?”

You fixed him with a glare. “It’s one accusation that has already been confirmed, Jeonghan. Start talking.”

“Yooyeon told me that you needed to see Minghao. All I did was pass along the message,” he explained before a smirk grew on his face. “So what did you need to see him for?”

“Oh, right.” You cleared your throat. “I’ve decided on doing the Minghao documentary.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted in surprise, the corners of his lips twitching upward again. “Oh my god, you’re actually doing it! I mean, I had a feeling after Yooyeon called me, but…”

“Good choice,” Junhui said. “He’s an absurdly attractive man.”

“Phenomenal face for the cameras,” Wonwoo agreed, humming along.

“Okay, since when were you guys the Xu Minghao Fan Club?” You looked around the table and shook your head once you saw Junhui’s dreamy expression. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Point is, the Minghao documentary is in motion and I have a shit-ton to plan.” You turned to face Jeonghan. “You said you’d help out at the café, right? You’ll get paid, of course, but Minghao can’t keep taking shifts every day.”

“They’re still having money problems?” Jeonghan asked.

“Unfortunately, but he said that hiring part-timers is better for them financially.”

He hummed, nodding along to your words. “Well, I didn’t say I’d be helping at the café, but I’ll find you someone.”

“They’ll still have to be interviewed, of course. Oh, and they’ll have to be trained, and—”

“Don’t even worry,” Jeonghan assured. “I have the perfect person in mind. Actually, I think I can find you a few more, too.”

“I’m a little scared.”

“When have I ever let you down?” Before you could point out that there had actually been a few instances, Jeonghan seemed to realize the flaw in his question and added, “Rhetorical question. Anyway, just leave it to me.”

To an extent, you did trust him. Not only was Jeonghan involved in several clubs and organizations on campus, but he was also a freshman orientation leader for two years in a row. This was especially useful in the sense that he had connections to students you had never even seen in your life; when you used to have inquiries on subjects you wanted to film, you always asked Jeonghan for any references, and he almost always had a name in mind.

After a pause, your friend gave you a quizzical look. “Did you run all the way over here just to say that?”

“Uh…”

“You know you could’ve just texted me, right? Or called? Modern technology works wonders, Y/N.”

“Oh—right.”

Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so excited over something that you full-on sprinted to tell your friends. It begged the question of whether you would be this ecstatic if you weren’t filming a certain someone. The ice skating rink surely wouldn’t have gotten this reaction out of you.

You were fairly certain you knew the reason behind your lapse in judgement, and it was becoming clear that Xu Minghao was tangled right in the center of everything.

Filming started the following Monday.

You captured Minghao throughout his everyday life at first, which meant you had to follow him around all day to compile footage. Mentally, you weren’t very prepared for this. Following Minghao from campus, to the café, to his dance studio, and wherever else he decided to venture made you feel as if you were intruding. It was as if you were peaking into a world that you weren’t allowed into.

He wasn’t that great when it came to school as a kid, but now Minghao really tried to study hard, even if that meant dozing off in the middle of reading a page of his textbook. Just a few days ago, he invited you over for a movie, and you were really supposed to be editing your footage, but you caved within minutes of him asking. You remembered Minghao had always been a sucker for coming-of-age movies, but you were dumbfounded when he shed tears during Little Women. (What you wouldn’t dare tell him was how endearing you found him).

You toed the line as someone between a friend and a stranger; perhaps to Minghao you would be considered a friend, but you weren’t quite sure why you couldn’t see yourself fitting in that space again. Still, as you filmed him and shot his interviews, you were so intrigued by the new sides of him that kept coming up, as well as the parts you nearly forgot about. It felt strange to hear such sincere accounts of Minghao from the interviews with his instructors and peers, yet to be the one behind the camera that couldn’t hold onto him before.

Today, he was waiting for you at 11:30 a.m. sharp outside of the Arts building. It had been a little over a month since you and Minghao started working together, but you were more worried about the scholarship deadline than your own assignment’s deadline. Filming was going smoothly, but you still needed to get interviews from his friends and family. Editing the dance footage was going to take the entire night since you were in the studio for hours.

You were overwhelmed, to say the least.

Minghao was finished with classes for the day while you had an annoyingly long gap between your morning and evening classes. You were supposed to shoot some B-roll, but that completely slipped both of your minds as you were well into scarfing down the breakfast wraps you two had bought before sitting on a cold bench.

Dark, gray clouds moved like smoke across the sky. It was getting chillier, and you were suddenly reminded of when you’d wait for the school bus with Minghao in middle school. He was always carrying around hand warmers back then, offering you one without fail whenever you started to shiver. Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder without thinking too deeply about how close you were. Now, with the awkward gap between you two, you wished you could go back to those simpler times.

Maybe you were already considered friends. Maybe you were overthinking all of this.

You rarely analyzed your other friendships this thoroughly.

You would rather shrivel up and die than admit that you missed being the closest to Minghao, but whenever he said something particularly sweet or gave you that gentle smile where his eyes crinkled at the corners, you felt your heart soar just a little higher. Maybe—just maybe—if he pressed enough, he would get it out of you.

“I told my mentor I’m gonna keep practicing for nationals,” he said once he was waiting for you to finish the last few bites of your wrap, “and I told my mom about the scholarship. It took some time trying to convince her that it could actually work.”

“She was against it?”

“At first, yeah. I mean, I don’t blame her. We’re doing this on the off-chance I get selected—nothing’s guaranteed.” He gave you a crooked smile. “But, at the end of the day, it could save our café, so she’s touched that you’re trying.”

You took the last bite of your wrap instead of replying. Of course Minghao meant well, but you couldn’t help but feel your stomach pitted with anxiousness at the mention of how everything was riding on this film. It made you feel even worse because Minghao had more to lose than you did. Nationals and an assignment grade; it was almost ridiculous how high-stakes his situation was compared to yours.

“Jeonghan actually managed to find part-timers for the café,” he continued. “They’re coming by in the afternoon.”

“That’s good news, right? You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. We hardly get people who wanna work there.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s not as convenient as an on-campus job, so most people aren’t willing to walk that far for a part-time job when they can easily find something closer.”

You didn’t mind the commute yourself, but you only visited the café occasionally; it would’ve been a different story if you were heading to work there every single day. You hoped whoever Jeonghan found was actually committed to their job.

Then, Minghao asked, “What’re you gonna be filming today?”

“I was thinking we can get some footage of you training the newbies,” you said. “Speaking of, now that you have more employees, does this mean you won’t have to work at the café as much?”

He grinned brightly. “My shifts are cut down to three days a week now. I’ll have plenty of time to focus on dance. We have other employees to train the new guys, too, so it’s not all on me.” Minghao then leaned in a little closer (making you laser-focused on stepping on every crunchy leaf at your feet to ignore how your brain was spinning) to say, “Jeonghan thinks there'll be a lot more girls coming to the café.”

“Because of the new baristas?”

He shrugged. “They’re good-looking guys.”

You thought back to the demographic of cafégoers when you first visited Café du Soleil. The majority were, in fact, teenage girls. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you discovered that Minghao’s face was the selling point, but to have multiple men like him working there? Not only were you worried that the coffee shop would turn into the Ouran Host Club, but you simply couldn’t picture even more people of the same visual caliber as Xu Minghao.

Before you could reply, Minghao noted your pause and asked, “What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Curious about what?”

When you looked at him, his gaze frantically scattered about before he returned to looking down at his wadded-up wrapper. You wouldn’t have found it weird if you caught him looking at you, but the fact that he looked away so quickly made you feel conscious of how warm you were getting under your jacket.

“Just wondering if they’re really all that. I find it hard to believe that whoever Jeonghan called is gonna bring in more of a crowd than you already do.”

Minghao looked baffled before he chuckled. “I don’t bring in a crowd.”

“There were so many girls when I visited yesterday! Didn’t you notice them giggling after you left their table?”

“They were probably just giggling over whatever teenage girls giggle over.”

Minghao was oblivious by nature. He was also a man, therefore he was stupid.

Coupled together, it was a disastrous combination that resulted in wildly attractive Xu Minghao being utterly useless when it came to recognizing that he was blessed with a first-rate genetic sequence.

“Hao,” you started slowly, “teenage girls giggle over guys.”

“Oh.” He frowned, and you held yourself back from rolling your eyes as you witnessed him take actual offense to what was supposed to be a compliment. You figured he had deeply misunderstood what you were getting at.

“Cute guys,” you corrected.

“Oh.”

You straightened up and stared back at him, bewildered. “You don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Your—” Unable to articulate what you were trying to say (partly because it was far too embarrassing to outrightly call Minghao attractive), you made a dramatic gesture to refer to his face. “That!”

To your horror, he turned incredibly smug. “What, my face? What about it?”

“Uh…”

“Are you trying to say I look good, Y/N?”

This just in: Xu Minghao was a sick and twisted man.

In this very exact, very precise moment, you felt the most vulnerable you had ever been in front of the dancer, and he was using the very opportunity to humiliate you even further.

“I’m speaking objectively,” you said.

“You’re objectively saying I look good.”

“Yes.”

“What about subjectively?”

“Can we circle back to the café instead?” you offered, buffering as if you had to muster up the strength to push the words out through your teeth. “I’d much rather talk about the café.”

“Really? I was having more fun talking about how objectively and subjectively good I look.”

A groan fell from your lips. “You objectively and subjectively need to shut up.”

Minghao laughed at your reaction before standing up and reaching into his pockets. “C’mon, let’s get going before it gets late,” he said and pulled out a hand warmer from his coat, holding it out to you. “Here.”

You took it from him. “What’s this for?”

“You’ve been shivering this whole time.”

While Minghao chatted your ear off on the way to Café du Soleil, all you could think about was how he surprisingly paid attention to the little details about you that most people would miss. You were formulating a rough theory in your head: Xu Minghao had to be some sort of otherworldly being because there was no other explanation for how perfect he was.

Yoon Jeonghan was going to the deepest circle of Hell.

As soon as you saw Choi Seungcheol in an apron, you knew your insufferable friend had an agenda of his own when he was scouting out potential baristas. To Jeonghan’s credit, the other two baristas he found seemed like they had been objectively scouted (no offense to Seungcheol, but you were 99% sure Jeonghan just wanted a chance to see the man as frequently as possible).

“That’s Chan.” Jeonghan jerked his chin in the direction of the younger guy who was fumbling with the cash register, and then you followed his gaze over to the barista who was fixing an acrylic pin of Elphaba from Wicked to his apron. “And that one’s Seokmin.”

Apparently, Jeonghan met Lee Seokmin through a hiking club. More specifically, Jeonghan met Seokmin at a hiking club party while they were trying to puke their guts out in the same bush.

Lee Chan, on the other hand, was a family friend’s son that Jeonghan adored. You recalled him bringing Chan to a college party once and never again; the high school senior was later given twenty bucks to keep his mouth shut about Jeonghan hitting his vape.

After his eyes lingered on his eye candy (read: Seungcheol) for a ridiculously long amount of time, Jeonghan finally noticed the reproachful look you were giving him. “What?”

“I know damn well you just wanted to get Seungcheol in an apron.”

“No,” Jeonghan sneered, as if he was disgusted by your accusation. “I was trying to see him with his sleeves rolled up. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, dude. They both boil down to you being a whore.”

“Hey, I mention a hiring notice to the man I want,” Jeonghan started with an air of confidence, leaning back in his seat to take a sip of his latte, “and you turn yours into the star of your film. We’re basically birds of a feather here.”

You nearly choked over your own drink (the mango fruit tea—again), and you were suddenly grateful that Minghao was currently training the newbies behind the counter despite feeling jealous earlier about them getting most of his attention. It was a relief that you two were alone at a table and out of earshot. Jeonghan needed to stay far, far away from Minghao; he was clearly not to be trusted to run his mouth around the dancer.

You gave him an incredulous look, ignoring the burst of heat that exploded within your chest. “First of all, lower your voice before someone hears you and actually takes you seriously. Second of all, what?”

“What’s wrong with me wanting Seung—”

“I’m talking about the other part!”

“I said what I said—and if you think about it, you’re crazier than I am.”

“Excuse me?” Your whisper might as well have been a shout. You quieted down again before speaking, “I’m not crazy, and I don’t want Hao.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jeonghan replied, unconvinced, “So you’re telling me that you didn’t feel any sort of way after he gave you a piggyback ride home from the club last week?”

It would be impossible to forget, even if you were blasted out of your mind. After much persuasion from Seungkwan and Jeonghan, you were convinced to invite Minghao last-minute to your night out. You were already several drinks in when he finally showed up at the club, so your first instinct was to throw yourself into his arms. Not your finest moment. But he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer by the waist, so you couldn’t help but let yourself get carried away.

Several shots later, you found it impossible to walk with how your balance was completely off. Minghao, being the knight in shining armor he was, opted to carry you home on his back while holding onto your heels.

You settled for saying, “He was just being nice.”

“That wasn’t my question, and I don’t think he was just trying to be nice.”

“Is it so hard for you to believe that he’s just a genuinely good guy?”

“Well, he is, but it’s not like you guys just film your little documentary and move on with your lives after,” Jeonghan said. “He hangs out with you, texts you every day, finds literally any excuse to invite you over, and you guys even bought matching pajamas!”

“They were on sale!”

“Lots of things were on sale, Y/N; it was literally Black Friday.”

“It was Cyber Monday,” you corrected in a grumble.

“You specifically chose the pajamas to wear with him.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted, although it sounded like you were more so trying to convince yourself than Jeonghan. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the undercurrent of your emotions tugging at your ankles, but that was not a revelation you were meant to have at Café du Soleil with Minghao in your vicinity. “We’re just doing what friends do.”

Jeonghan slurped his drink in a ridiculously loud manner. You shot him a disapproving look.

“You know what I think?”

You were certain that you didn’t want to hear what Jeonghan thought, but nevertheless, you entertained his attempts to provoke you. “What now?” you snapped.

“I think you’re still hurt by how you two drifted apart—you and Hao,” he said, “and you’re probably thinking it’s gonna happen again. That’s why you’re too scared to admit he’s being a little more than nice to you.”

Bullseye. Jeonghan had watertight intuition when it came to the people he was close with, and you were no exception. His words were so on the mark that you felt vulnerable and exposed, like your skin was suddenly clinging too tight around your bones.

The thing was, you still couldn’t exactly remember how you and Minghao grew distant. You recalled the throng of memories of when you two were friends, but everything leading up to your falling out was hazy. Could you even call it a falling-out if there weren’t necessarily any hard feelings? He certainly hadn’t done anything that made you want to block him out of your memory (it was Xu Minghao, for God’s sake), but you couldn’t imagine why you would be so hurt over growing apart from an old friend.

“You really chose the worst possible time and place for this conversation,” was all you could mutter in response.

“We have air conditioning and cheesecake. What could possibly be better than this?”

Whether Jeonghan was selective about what he chose to be perceptive about or simply didn’t understand the gravity of this situation, you couldn’t tell; you just gave him a dumbfounded stare. “Anywhere else! Anywhere else would’ve been better!”

“You’re so picky.”

“And you can’t read the room.”

“You know what I can read,” he started with a cheeky grin while his eyes focused on something—or someone—else behind you, “Xu Minghao’s name tag.”

“Oh, do you like it? I drew Seungkwan’s dog and Vernon’s cat next to my name,” came a breezy voice from behind you, making your heart plummet to your stomach.

How long had he even been standing there? You thought you could just ignore Minghao, but you found yourself turning around to see his two pets he doodled on his nametag. Unfortunately, they were cute, but you were still too mortified to give him a proper reaction.

“How—how long have you been there for?” you stammered. “Did you hear what we were talking about?”

Minghao raised a brow. “Not long. Why? Is it something I’m not supposed to hear?”

You balked before answering, “No,” but the inflection in your tone made you sound as if you were questioning yourself.

(Jeonghan made direct eye contact with you and mouthed the word pussy. You made a mental note to deal with him later in a potentially homicidal manner.)

“By the way, Jeonghan, the guys you brought in are doing great,” Minghao went on to praise. “I don’t think we even need to train them for that long. Seokmin’s a natural at this.”

Jeonghan let out a wistful sigh. “I knew I recognized his potential.”

“Didn’t you guys meet at a party? How’d he manage to show barista potential?” you asked.

“I was thirsty and he brought me water.”

Nice. That was one way to prove himself, you supposed.

Then, Minghao turned his attention to you. “Were you gonna get some more shots today? Chan says he won’t make a run for it if he sees the camera this time.”

Earlier, you were trying to film Minghao showing Chan the proper technique of steaming milk, which Chan hardly was able to pay attention to because he was too busy gawking at the camera. As soon as Minghao was done talking, the high schooler hurried into the break room.

“I think I got everything I needed,” you answered, tilting your head up to see him smiling fondly down at you. The look in his eyes made you feel like something syrupy was trickling down your throat, as if you were drowning in his endearment. “Why’d you call Jeonghan over here, anyway? He’s pissing me off.”

As expected, your words got a rise out of Jeonghan. “All I did was sit here!”

“And you opened your mouth. That’s basically a misdemeanor.”

“Jeonghan, quit bothering her,” Minghao scolded. (“What? What the hell? What did I do?” Jeonghan went on to complain. “This is going in my Yelp review, by the way—one star for betrayal and terrible customer service.”) He looked back at you with a softened gaze as Jeonghan’s maundering turned into background noise. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

You were about to head out, but your legs suddenly didn’t feel like moving once Minghao looked at you with those warm eyes of his that made your insides feel like they had been doused in kerosene and lit aflame.

Jeonghan, who was hell-bent on his mission to push you and Minghao closer as much as you resisted, appeared to take your hesitation as an opportunity.

“We’re going back to my apartment to smoke,” your friend declared. Although that had never been the plan, you kept your mouth shut to see where Jeonghan was going with this. “You coming, Hao?”

Minghao snuck a glance at you. “Tonight? I don’t know. I might be free.”

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan gushed before Minghao’s words could even properly register in your ears, leaning over the table to put his hand on top of yours. “I should invite Soonyoung. Remember? The guy from our orientation group that you thought was cute?”

Of course you remembered Kwon Soonyoung. How could anyone forget a face like that? But you wanted to reach over the table and strangle Jeonghan for bringing him up in the worst possible context and potentially screwing up your non-existent love life for good. As you fought down your murderous tendencies and glanced nervously between the boys, however, you noticed a muscle in Minghao’s jaw twitch.

You started, “Soonyoung? I mean, sure, but—”

“Actually, I’ll be there,” Minghao cut in, his face void of emotion. “What time?”

Jeonghan simpered, quite pleased with himself. “Eight?”

“Sounds good.”

Without another word, the barista walked off, leaving you in stunned silence. Did you just witness Xu Minghao get jealous? There was no way for you to spin this as anything else; it was pure, unadulterated envy that bled out of him.

As your face grew increasingly hot, you spoke in a frantic, hushed voice, “He cut me off. He cut me off! Have you ever seen Hao that mad? I’ve never seen him that mad.”

But Jeonghan didn’t seem the least bit worried at all. In fact, he looked far too smug. “He’s really mad, isn’t he?”

“What’d you say all that for? I don’t think I can handle Hao and Soonyoung in the same room after this. I haven’t even brought up Soonyoung since last year, you douchebag!”

“Relax,” Jeonghan replied coolly. “I’m not inviting Soonyoung. I just said that to fuck with Hao.” A Cheshire-like grin spread across his face, and he pulled out his phone to start tapping away in front of you. “I’ve never seen him that jealous before. Maybe you should wear something nice and lace—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted with a scowl. “There were never any plans to begin with, were there?”

“Yes, there were—now,” he said, causing you to groan at the end. “I just told the group chat about it. You can thank me later.”

“I am not thanking you for the amount of torment you just put me through,” you said, hesitated, then stiffly added, “but thank you.”

“See? I’m always looking out for you.” He gave you a sincere look. “Now do me a solid and please get Seungcheol to show up.”

“I knew there was a catch.”

yoon jeonghan: smoke sesh at my place @ 9 yoon jeonghan: be there or our friendship’s over

boo seungkwan: i have no weed boo seungkwan: lost my vape too

you: real hustlers would never make excuses

wen junhui: she’s right

vernon chwe: i have your vape seungkwan

boo seungkwan: wtf give it back boo seungkwan: wait my vape with vernon’s saliva 🤤

vernon chwe questioned “wait my vape with vernon’s saliva 🤤”

you: alright chill

boo seungkwan: if i close my eyes i can almost taste him

vernon chwe: um. vernon chwe: i'd like to give it back because it’s yours but idk if i should anymore

jeon wonwoo: Why are we having a smoke sesh on a random ass day jeon wonwoo: I have a midterm tomorrow

boo seungkwan: leave tomorrow’s problems for a Tomorrow You

jeon wonwoo: True jeon wonwoo: Ok see u guys there

yoon jeonghan: i’ll provide the smoke sesh essentials

wen junhui: i have 11 edibles wen junhui: each person gets 1 and fight to the death over the rest

boo seungkwan: pog

you: thanks for that

jeon wonwoo: Amazing

vernon chwe: incredible

You were blasted out of your mind.

True to his word, Jeonghan didn’t invite Soonyoung to his gathering; and true to your word, you roped Minghao into bringing Seungcheol along.

You were initially worried that things would be awkward between you and Minghao, but he seemed to be in a significantly better mood by the time you got to talk to him. He didn’t even know that this whole night had been Jeonghan’s maniacal plot to set you guys up, so Minghao was completely oblivious when Seungkwan ushered him to sit next to you on the couch.

The night started off with Junhui passing out his edibles and auctioning off his last three to whoever did the best animal impression (one went to Minghao, one went to Jeonghan, and one went to Vernon). You were content with your one edible because you never had that strong of a weed tolerance, and halfway into watching Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle, you felt your eyes starting to grow heavy.

There were two types of people when high, though: one was you, who could probably be considered motionless and inanimate; and the other was someone like Seungkwan, whose not-so-wise ideas seemed to increase tenfold.

And, of course, since Harold and Kumar wanted to go to White Castle, Seungkwan and Vernon wanted to go on an adventure, too.

After much planning (which you weren’t part of because your body felt as if it was sinking into the couch cushions), your friends mobilized their efforts to come up with a scheme to bring back food from three different restaurants at once. They split themselves up into teams; Jeonghan and Seungcheol were going to Taco Bell, Seungkwan and Vernon were going to Panera Bread, and Junhui and Wonwoo were going to Chipotle.

If you were sober, you probably would have reminded them that UberEats still existed—or that they should probably look up the closing hours.

Naturally, you and Minghao were left in Jeonghan’s apartment. You didn’t mind because they promised to bring back food, but Jeonghan had definitely orchestrated getting you alone with Minghao. This meant you were probably expected to make a move or do whatever else was deemed entertaining in their eyes.

“Why didn't you go with them?” you asked Minghao. Everything seemed much more amusing to you all of a sudden, like the tuft of his hair that just wouldn't stay down.

“I’d rather stay here.” He shrugged and nudged your arm with his elbow. “Why? Do you want me to go?” he teased.

You reached over and patted down the strands of hair that kept sticking up. “No, stay. I need a witness if Jun’s edibles kill me.”

He laughed. “You’re not gonna die.”

“I am.” You placed a hand against your chest, right where your heartbeat thundered at lightning speed. “Please don’t be mad at me if I flatline.”

“No, you’re fine,” he said, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. His heartbeat was fast but probably not as fast as yours. “See? They’re the same.”

You thought Xu Minghao should’ve done the right thing for your heart and not look so devastatingly good all the time, but he always managed to catch you off-guard with that sickeningly sweet smile of his. He also should’ve been making an effort to not touch you so casually when your heart was already running at a million miles per hour. It wasn’t very fair that you were cursed to control your emotions every time you saw him from a decidedly good angle (which was almost every angle). You needed to bury whatever you were feeling before he entered a dangerous territory of your heart.

On second thought, you weren’t sure you could keep him out.

“No, they’re not,” you said. “I think it’s because of the weed and the fact that you’re very close.”

You swore you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips, but Minghao expertly concealed it by raising a brow at you instead. “Oh? You’re blaming it on me now?”

“Blame is a strong word.”

Even he couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin from appearing on his face as he leaned in closer. “Then why am I such a problem for your heart, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “You just are.”

“Does it have anything to do with me being objectively good-looking?”

You groaned. “You won’t let that one go, will you?”

“Unfortunately for you, I think I like where this is going.”

Something very dangerous was brewing in your chest.

You weren't sure if it was the weed that was making you bolder, but the haze was surely letting down your inhibitions. Instead of feeling like you were sinking deeper into the couch, you felt like you were gravitating closer to Minghao.

“Will you ever give me an answer?” he asked, and your breath caught in your throat when he delicately held your chin with two fingers, turning your head to look at him.

“No, I don’t think so.”

He pouted, and then you mocked his pout in return.

And just when you thought he was done messing with you, Xu Minghao dipped his head to seal his lips over yours, kissing your pout away.

Alarmed, you pulled back immediately, your eyes wide and unblinking as you stared at him in shock. He didn’t seem all that fazed himself, but he pressed his lips together tightly and withdrew his hand slowly. It was a short-lived kiss, but you were so close to getting hooked and losing all semblance of self-control.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

“W-why are you sorry?” you stuttered, pitchy.

“I should’ve asked first.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

You shook your head to clear the mess of tangled thoughts. This was the worst possible conversation to be having while you were both high out of your minds, but you were also feeling a lot more courageous now that you knew that Minghao actually wanted to kiss you.

You wanted to kiss him, too. Now that you had a taste, you couldn’t resist thinking about how his lips would feel against yours again, how he would touch you again with such tenderness.

“Sorry, I thought you were asking,” you said.

“Asking what?”

“To kiss me.”

“Oh.” Minghao went silent for an entire minute. (You counted the seconds.) You watched as he stared blankly into space before the weight of your words seemed to finally register. “Oh.”

Your face felt hot. “Don’t just oh me.”

Minghao chuckled in response. He shifted so that he was turned toward you, one of his hands finding purchase on the back of your neck and the other on your knee. You nearly forgot how to breathe as you were so focused on how his touch burned your skin.

“No, I was just thinking about how cute you are,” he clarified.

“Huh?” You were pretty sure your voice was an octave higher, judging by how Minghao now looked even more amused by you. “Cute?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” His hand started to inch up from your knee, torturously moving up and down. You swallowed thickly. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You choked out a laugh. “Are you kidding?”

“I’m dead serious,” he insisted, and you could tell he was by the way his eyes darkened and his hand slid higher up your thigh. “You know I’m not a liar, Y/N.”

When you didn’t respond, he lowered his voice and continued, “You know, a big part of dancing is about the finer details.” Minghao’s hand dragged across your skin so slowly that you couldn’t hold in your trembling breath full of want. “I always make sure to pay extra attention, so I think you can trust me when I tell you you’re pretty.”

For a moment, you were floundering for words. You were already feeling dizzy by his mere touch, and then he went on to say something that made you feel even more feverish. Xu Minghao truly was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Here,” he said, “let me just show you.”

He moved the hand on your thigh to grip your chin again, pressing a few tentative, experimental kisses to your lips before finally capturing them in a longer, desperate manner. Your heartbeat was hardly a rhythm anymore, just a steady line of white noise that rushed loudly in your ears. Kissing Minghao was addicting, and as you moved your arms to wrap around his neck, you found yourself losing the last shred of control that was keeping you from him.

By the time Minghao made the daring decision to slide his hand up your shirt, you two had been kissing each other senselessly. Your legs were haphazardly strewn across his lap while he bent you down to kiss you at a better angle.

Part of you was worried that this was moving too fast; the other half was begging you to speed up.

You couldn’t make sense of anything when his tongue slid against yours so languidly, sending delightful shivers up your spine. One of your hands moved up to entangle your fingers in his roots, tugging just enough to have him groaning into the kiss.

Just when you were certain things were going to escalate further—and god, did you want them to escalate—a loud knock at the door had you and Minghao pulling apart like two magnets with opposite poles.

“I don’t have a key!” Junhui’s muffled yell was heard through the door.

You and Minghao exchanged a look before he stood up to get the door. You ran a hand through your hair to look presentable again, even though your half-lidded eyes were a dead giveaway that you were floating elsewhere, high up in the clouds.

With his taste still on your lips, the tangle of an unspoken truth wound itself tighter around your throat.

You used The Kiss™ as an excuse for some space. The excuse you gave Minghao, however, was that you “needed a week for editing.”

This was a (white) lie for two reasons:

Minghao wasn't going to interfere with your editing process to the extent of needing to completely push him away.

You definitely did not need a full week for editing.

The cherry on top of your excellent decision-making was that it only took you a little over a day to start missing Minghao again.

The worst part of it all was that being the sweetest man to grace this planet, Minghao understood you right away and stopped texting you immediately. And, of course, you started to overthink his silence, as if you weren’t the one who needed time.

After you and Minghao had been rudely interrupted by Junhui and Wonwoo, the two of you carried on like nothing happened. Apparently, Jeonghan had been very strategic about where he made everyone go to pick up food: Chipotle was close by, and he claimed it was important that you and Minghao didn’t spend too much time alone in case things got awkward; and the other two were mostly for Jeonghan’s convenience (Panera Bread because he wanted a charged lemonade, and Taco Bell because it was the farthest away and gave him more time to be alone with Seungcheol). There were good intentions, yes, but you were bitter because the only part of Jeonghan’s plan that was supposed to benefit you was the part that ended up cockblocking you.

The guys made it impossible for you to get some alone time with Minghao for the rest of the night. You couldn’t even see him the next day because you ended up sleeping in so late that Minghao was gone by the time you woke up.

Going back to your apartment the next morning felt like The Walk of Shame.

Now, you were sprawled across the couch in your living room, laptop warm on your stomach as you sifted through your camera footage. Yooyeon was sitting on the carpet and doing her nails at the coffee table. Earlier in the morning, when you gave her the rundown of the events from last night, The Kiss™ had her jumping on the couch for so long that you ended up banishing her to the floor.

“After everything you just told me,” Yooyeon said, “I think you should just tell him how you feel. Don’t mince your balls. Just get right to the point.”

“Mince my balls? I don’t think that’s an expression.” You paused for what felt like forever until the appropriate idiom dawned on you. “It’s mince your words, dumbass, not mince your balls.”

“Mince your words, mince your balls—same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

“Okay, but you two have had this weird back-and-forth for, like, a month now,” she said. “It’s not like he’s gonna say no to a date.”

“But what if he does say no?”

Yooyeon rolled her eyes. “You guys literally kissed. Pretty sure that’s a free pass to ask him out.”

You thought back to Jeonghan’s words, how he suggested that you were still hurt by you and Minghao drifting apart in middle school and that you subconsciously thought it could happen again. It was uncharacteristic for you to hold a grudge this long, though, but you really couldn’t remember what was the turning point that made you feel like you had to walk on eggshells around him.

After putting your headphones over your ears, you clicked on the next video file to decide whether you were saving it for the film or not. The thumbnail that popped up was Minghao’s arm around your shoulders while you were trying to record the both of you sharing takoyaki outside. It was one of the videos that you took for fun in the middle of your shoot, but the sight made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ll feed you,” Minghao in the video said, a wide grin on his face as he stabbed a toothpick into a takoyaki ball and inched it closer to your lips. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Your face twisted as soon as the searing hot takoyaki hit your tongue. You remembered how you were about to drop your camera and spit the takoyaki out, but in order to not embarrass yourself in front of Minghao and everyone else around you, it was crucial that you kept your composure.

“I said it was hot!” Minghao exclaimed when you shot him an icy glare.

As you attempted to eat the takoyaki without burning your tongue, some of the batter dribbled down your chin. You let out a muffled yelp when it scalded your skin, pointing frantically at the mess you were making. It looked like your lips were trying to frame the word tissue, but you immediately covered your mouthful of takoyaki with your hand.

Minghao laughed at you, a dimple carving into the corner of his lip. “Stay still. Let me get it for you.”

The video cut right while Minghao was wiping your chin with a spare napkin. You remembered how gentle his hold was on your face, as if you were fine china. The fond smile fixed on his face wasn’t doing your heart any favors. You glanced over at Yooyeon to make sure she was too preoccupied with her nails to catch the growing smile that kept creeping onto your lips.

When you opened the next video file, the thumbnail wasn’t a frame you recognized. Minghao was in his dance studio, facing the camera at the full-length mirror to capture his entire body. You remembered the exact day he must have filmed this because he let you attempt to braid his hair on the bus ride home.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m recording this without your permission,” he started, a mischievous grin playing on his face. “Since you’re out getting snacks, I’ve decided to vlog the choreo I just came up with.”

This time, you realized too late that your face had broken into a smile so affectionate that Cupid may as well have sent an arrow right through your chest. You were seven minutes into watching Minghao trying to master his self-made choreography when it finally hit you that you had spent the entire month with Minghao—laughing, hanging out, watching movies, going on long drives, studying at his café, and getting to know him all over again. All of that was under the pretext of filming your documentary, but now that you were realizing there was no excuse for you to be around him anymore, a strange feeling of apprehension consumed you.

You could say that you and Minghao were friends now, but your life had become so intertwined with his that you weren’t sure how you would feel when things went back to normal.

Your attention snapped back to your laptop screen when Minghao stopped dancing to speak to the camera again.

“I know you’re probably procrastinating on editing this, so you owe me five dollars if you haven’t watched this by the 19th,” he said. You checked the clock to confirm that it was, indeed, past said date and well into the week after. Just as you were about to make a note to send Minghao the money, he lowered his voice and continued, “But, since you watched till the end, I’ll tell you a secret. You can’t tell anyone, though, especially not Jeonghan!”

You noticed his face was flushed a faint shade of pink when he confessed, “Now I’m only telling you this because it’s been bothering me for weeks. You never brought it up, but… I intentionally didn’t warm up your injeolmi toast that day because I wanted you to bring it back so that we could, um… talk, I guess. I still can’t believe you ate the whole thing without realizing.”

Your heart stuttered—tripped, fell over, got up again, repeated the process—and, oh, you were a discombobulated mess on the inside.

Minghao chuckled to himself and started going off on a tangent about the injeolmi toast, but you were unable to move on from what he had said. (“You know it’s supposed to be warmed up, right? I figured you just didn’t know because you’ve never had it… maybe I should’ve given you the wrong drink instead.”)

The answer was jammed in your throat like a pill you couldn’t swallow: you liked Xu Minghao.

And, strangely enough, the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar.

You remembered exactly what it was like to long for the sun. You’d fallen in love with all of Minghao long before. A rush of repressed feelings from your middle school years bubbled to the surface, and perhaps they didn’t make any sense to you in the past, but it was all too clear now. What you felt for Minghao wasn’t anything new; your first love blossomed long ago, and you plucked out all the petals of your feelings before they could grow any further.

You just didn’t nip enough of them in the bud.

If you remembered correctly, you and Minghao started growing apart the day he got his first girlfriend. It wasn’t that you two had a proper argument or fell out, but you safeguarded yourself from the heartbreak by distancing yourself until you were out of each other’s lives. He must have been too caught up in his new relationship to realize it himself, but of course you couldn’t blame him when you were the one who pulled away first.

But things were different now. You were different now.

In the past, you made sure to swallow your feelings down, no matter how painful and thick they were lodged in your throat. Now, however, despite how hard you tried to suppress them, you felt as if you were glowing in the light of reciprocated love. It was maddening—agonizing even—but so wonderful.

“I think I like him, Yooyeon,” you blurted out, only looking in your roommate’s direction when you heard her knocking over her collection of press-on nails. The mess was hardly a concern to her right now, though. “Minghao, I mean.”

“Can I tell Jeonghan?”

You reached around your laptop to grab a throw pillow and whack her over the head with it. “I’m having the most insane revelation of my life and pouring my heart out to you here, and your first instinct is to tell Jeonghan?”

“Okay, damn, I’ll give it a few hours.” Yooyeon set her phone back down and turned around to face you again, her eyes lit up with excitement. “Now tell me everything. Like, everything. I need you to explain from start to finish.”

“That might take a while,” you warned.

She snorted and picked up her nail file. “I think I can make time in my very busy schedule.”

Your interrogation with Yooyeon didn’t take a few hours, as you expected it would; rather, your discussion cut into the late hours of the night, keeping you and your roommate up until dawn. Jeonghan joined over FaceTime at some point and screeched loud enough for you to worry about noise complaints (Wonwoo made a guest appearance, too), but you also learned that your friend group had seen this coming from the beginning. You weren’t sure how you felt being the only one out of the loop, but Jeonghan made sure to point out that you were just completely oblivious.

You didn’t exactly discuss your next steps, though. Yooyeon mentioned asking Minghao out on a date, but you weren’t sure how to do that without acknowledging The Kiss™ first. You had to bring it up somehow, but you kept putting it off to work on editing.

Thinking about Xu Minghao proved to be dangerous for your motivation. It had only been a week but you instinctively kept checking your phone to see if he texted you. (Spoiler: he didn’t.) It took all of your willpower, but you forced yourself to push him out of your head and focus on getting the documentary done.

Editing was torturous. You practically spent all day and night glued to your laptop, whether it was in the dining hall or in your bed. For something that was only supposed to be ten minutes long, there were hours of footage for you to get through, some of which ended up being unusable, much to your frustration.

Finally, though, after long days of tirelessly working, the finished project was in your hands.

Of course, Minghao was the very first person you told. You were so giddy that you called him immediately, your heart soaring when he picked up on the second ring. In under an hour, you found yourself running to Café du Soleil to show him the documentary.

Upon seeing Minghao’s bright face, before you could even get a hi out, he crushed you in his embrace. You breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne—gaiac wood and cedar. It was clear that neither of you wanted to pull away, but you took a step back first.

“Congratulations,” he praised, rubbing small circles on your upper arm with his thumb. “Do I get to watch it now?”

“If you have ten minutes to spare, we can watch it together,” you said, pulling out your laptop once you reached your usual table. “I wanted you to be the first person to see it.”

“I’m off my shift,” he replied, pulling up a chair right next to you, “so I’ve got time to kill.”

You handed him an AirPod to listen along with you. Sound was one of your favorite parts of creating a film—setting the atmosphere, building the tension, playing with senses and emotions—so you really wished you could give Minghao the full experience, but since you were in a public setting, this would have to do.

The documentary opened with Minghao at his dance studio, sweat glistening on his toned muscles as his body moved to the beat. The demanding choreography coupled with his exhaustion didn’t stop him from showcasing an almost flawless performance. There was a brief exchange with his mentor before the scene cut to an interview with Minghao explaining how his passion for dance started and how he had grown into competing in national-level tournaments.

You added a compilation of clips from Minghao’s previous performances, as well as accounts from his peers about how hardworking and motivated he was. His mentor gave a particularly heartwarming speech on how driven Minghao was as a dancer and how he put his all into everything he did. The part you were the proudest of had to be getting Jeonghan to give his two cents on being Minghao’s friend, and you were pleasantly surprised that he took it seriously and said something sweet.

“To me, success is about working hard despite my circumstances,” Minghao said. In his interview clip, he took on a more serious tone. “I don’t have to be the best dancer in the world as long as I’m doing what I’m passionate about. At some point, I think I lost myself for a while… but someone special pulled me out of that slump and pushed me to keep going. I can’t thank her enough, honestly.”

You knew it was coming because you put the clips together yourself, but your face still grew hot regardless. Minghao being right next to you wasn’t exactly helping your case or making you feel any less flustered. Perhaps most people watching your documentary wouldn’t realize who he was referring to, but you knew that he was talking about you.

The film then got into Minghao’s financial struggles with the café, showing segments of his mother talking about Café du Soleil and how much the place meant to her family. You then showed the new part-timers being trained (with extra screen time for Seungcheol, as per Jeonghan’s suggestion—or, well, persuasion), and Seokmin even gushed about how much he looked up to Minghao in his own interview.

The documentary ended with a few words from Minghao, switching back and forth between the dance studio and the café. The screen then faded to black with the bustling sounds of the café gradually fading out.

It was only when your screen was dark enough to see your reflection that you realized there were tears in both yours and Minghao’s eyes. You already watched it about five times yourself, but something was different about watching it alongside the person you worked with for over a month to bring your ideas to life.

And, apparently, you two weren’t the only ones tearing up.

Minghao flinched when he turned his head to see the part-timers sitting at the table behind them and peering at the laptop screen. “Fuck, you guys scared me.”

“Sorry,” Seokmin apologized, hastily wiping at a stray tear. “It was just so beautiful.”

Chan gave you a nod of approval. “The only thing it needed was more screen time from me.”

“You literally ran away every time you were on camera,” you said, swiveling around to look at the two baristas. “Were you two just sitting behind us this whole time?”

“Yes,” Seokmin confirmed. “We appreciated the subtitles.”

Truthfully, you were extremely satisfied with their reactions. Your short film, A Bite of Summer, bringing Minghao to tears was enough to rile you up for days, and now you had two other people who got emotional over a documentary you filmed and produced with your own two hands.

“You really outdid yourself,” Minghao murmured, and when you turned to him, he was looking at you as if no one else was in the café except you. He reached his hand out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

With a shy smile, you said, “It wouldn’t have come together without you.”

Through your periphery, you noticed Seokmin and Chan exchanging a look.

“Alright, they’re having a moment,” Seokmin announced, standing up and gesturing for Chan to follow him. “Let’s get back to work.”

Minghao, whose ears were a bright shade of red now, tried to awkwardly laugh off the embarrassment. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he looked back at you, and you burned up all over again once you remembered how his soft lips felt against yours. Unfortunately, one of the symptoms of having a crush on someone was that your mind often went blank and filled itself up with all things Xu Minghao instead, so you couldn’t exactly think straight right now.

“I’ve finished the application and essay for the scholarship,” he said, “so I guess all there’s left to do is submit.”

“I’m sure no one else had an incredibly talented film major directing and producing their video,” you joked.

“No, you’re right. If I don’t get the scholarship after this, I might take it personally.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered quietly, “you’re too nice.”

“I’m not that nice, Y/N.” To your surprise, Minghao’s eyes hardened. You had never seen such an expression on his face, and it made your stomach instantly sink to your feet, but he bounced right back to his cheery self soon after. “I’ll walk you home after we submit these?”

“Y-yeah.”

Minghao pulled his own laptop out of his bag while you copied the link to your video in Dropbox. You pasted the link into an email, but your finger hovered over the send button for far too long. Once it went through, you were officially done with this project; it no longer tied you to Minghao.

You sucked in a breath and sent him the link.

You could only stare at your Canvas submission page. The link to your documentary was already pasted in; all you had to do was hit submit, but you felt so anxious. Maybe you missed one of the guidelines, or maybe you needed to watch it again, but you knew deep down that you replayed it several times and it was as close to perfection as you wanted it to be.

“Hao, I’m scared. Let’s submit ours at the same time.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have anything to be scared of, but yeah, let’s do that.”

It took another thirty minutes for Minghao to prepare himself, though. He read over his application and essay again, handing it over to you afterward for a second look at it. When Seungcheol eventually entered the café for his shift, Minghao had him take a look at it, too.

Finally, you and Minghao were both ready with your submissions. You both had your cursors hovering over the submit button just before he slipped his free hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

With the heat of a thousand suns burning your cheeks, you nodded eagerly.

You submitted your film.

It felt like a truckload of weight had been lifted off your shoulders, but the feeling of relief didn’t come without the slight unease. You looked over at Minghao, who had just submitted his and was being clapped on the back by Seungcheol, and you felt weird. You felt so incredibly proud of yourself, but another part of you couldn’t accept that it was over now.

“Hey,” Minghao said softly, grinning when your eyes met his. “We really did it.”

You sort of melted under his gaze, the corners of your mouth hitching up into a lovesick smile. “Yeah, we did.”

With that, his hand slipped out of yours to tell his mother about finishing the scholarship application, and you felt cold again.

Minghao offered to walk you home, but you could hardly hold a proper conversation with him; your head was a mess.

Maybe it was wrong for you to feel this way after your week of radio silence, but something about this felt so final. You were scared that once you reached your apartment, you would go back to the life you had before you reconnected with Minghao. As much as you told yourself that you were just overthinking, there was a nagging fear in the back of your head. Maybe it was from the high of submitting your project, but you felt a rush of adrenaline course through you.

You wanted to hold onto Minghao one more time and tell him how you felt.

It had been on your mind ever since you had your revelation yesterday, and sitting next to him in the café and pretending like you weren’t mad for him was nearly impossible. As you two trudged down the cobblestone street, your hands balled into the pockets of your coat, you realized that something along the lines of a confession was ready to burst through your lips. Minghao kept droning on about a holiday-exclusive drink that was coming to the café, but you couldn’t even listen to him properly without your brain screaming at you to tell him how you felt.

It was when he brought the conversation back to your documentary that you found the perfect opportunity to bring up the secret video he filmed.

“We must’ve filmed hours of content,” he was saying, throwing his head back and groaning at the mere thought. “I can’t believe you watched all of it—wait, did you watch all of it?”

“I did watch everything, Hao,” you said quietly.

“Hm? What was that?”

“I knew that the injeolmi toast was supposed to be heated up,” you blurted out. Minghao froze in his tracks and stared at you, wide-eyed, and normally this would’ve made you shy away immediately, but you wanted to be braver. You stopped walking too, and you raised your head to meet his eyes. “I thought you forgot to warm it up by accident, so I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

At your sudden admission, Minghao was speechless, even more so when you continued in a breathless ramble, “And I want you to know that the only reason I chose this subject for my documentary was because of you; and I missed you all of last week because all I could think about was how you kissed me; and I really fucking hate summer, Hao, but you made me fall in love with the sun.”

“And… and I like you,” you confessed. “I liked you back in middle school, and I like you again now.”

Minghao’s jaw went slack as he searched your eyes, as if looking for a lie in your words, as if he could hardly believe that what you were telling him was real.

“Are you serious?” he asked quietly, almost scared that you would say no. He walked closer to you. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Your courage threatened to falter, but you kept his gaze even as he reached out to hold your face with gentle hands. “I’ve never been this honest in my life.”

With a shuddering breath, he said, “You’re telling the truth.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?” Although Minghao spoke in a murmur, your words died on your tongue the moment he started talking, especially after his eyes dropped to your lips.

You could only blink back at him in stunned silence.

“You were my first love, too,” he confessed.

His words struck you right in your chest. The winter bite no longer chilled you to the bone; if anything, a wildfire was ripping through your body. For a split second, you wondered if you were actually on fire, so you remained perfectly, unmovingly still until you realized that Minghao was waiting for you to answer.

You swallowed hard. “I was? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I guess I was scared it would ruin our friendship… but I didn’t do a very good job of salvaging it, anyway.” You could see the regret painted on his face, but then he steeled his nerves. “I don’t care if I don’t win the scholarship, Y/N—I mean, I sort of care—but no matter what happens, I’m happy just being with you.”

Your heart beamed.

Even days ago, the mention of your past with Minghao would’ve been a sore spot for you. Now, however, you didn’t want it to keep weighing you down like an anchor buried deep within the sand. Maybe you were both just stupid kids who didn’t know what to do with their feelings.

But all of that hardly mattered now that your souls found each other again. You weren’t ever someone who was big on the idea of destiny, but if there were stars out there that predetermined fate, they must have been shining for you and Minghao.

This time, you initiated. It was almost effortless how your arms found themselves circling around Minghao’s neck, drawing him closer to you. His eyes looked as if they were still in a dream, but after a few seconds, his gentle hands found your waist.

“I’m happy as long as I’m with you, too,” you said, your voice only loud enough for him to hear.

Minghao let out a breathless sort of laugh, almost like he was still in disbelief, and you smiled before pressing your lips to his. Compared to your first kiss, which was charged with lust and intoxication, this one was so loving and calm that you lost yourself in him so easily. He smiled into the kiss, and you couldn’t help yourself either once you felt his lips curve up against yours.

His hand found your chin, pulling away for a brief moment to take a good look at you. Let the high of your reciprocated feelings sink in. Your eyes flitted from Minghao’s lips to his twinkling eyes, your heart doing a series of backflips and spins when you saw his lips curl into a smirk.

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice, “I think I can get used to this.”

And when his lips found yours again, you were sure your souls touched, too.

(“So, are you gonna tell me if I’m objectively good-looking now?”

“Let it go, Hao.”)

EPILOGUE

Vernon scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know if I was tripping out, but I swear they just had us watch Kim Mingyu doing tricks on a skateboard for ten minutes straight.”

“I think that was an actual film.” Seungcheol looked through the pamphlet of student films that were being screened and read, “Kim Mingyu Does a Kickflip��yeah, that’s the one.”

“Whose bright idea was it to make us take Jun’s edibles?” Jeonghan, who was fitted in a formal suit and tie, complained as he slouched deeper in his seat. His eyes were a few shades too close to red to pass as sober, but he was at least able to function on his own. “This shit has to be laced with something.”

“This is your fault, dude,” Seungkwan replied, exasperated. He didn’t seem as faded as Jeonghan was, but he looked more like he had just woken up. “You told us this would be more fun if we got high!”

“Okay, and who listened to me?” He sat up to catch Seungkwan, Vernon, and Wonwoo’s guilty heads hanging shamefully. “Exactly.”

Yooyeon shot you a withering look. “They're stressing me out.”

It was the night of your film’s showcase. After you passed the class with flying colors, your professor recommended your documentary be screened during the showcase for all the film majors in your year. It was an annual event, but only a certain number of films were selected from the students. In short, this was big for you. You invited your friends, of course, although you were starting to regret it now that you had to put Seungcheol and Junhui in charge of babysitting them.

“Jeonghan, you really didn’t have to dress up like that,” you said once you noticed the contrast between his formal attire and Seungkwan’s sweater and jeans ensemble. “This isn’t even a formal event.”

Jeonghan leaned over Seungcheol to tell you, “This is important to me, okay?”

“Aw, Jeong—”

“I have to be the hottest one here.”

Alright, then.

“Jeonghan, remember what we’re actually here for,” Junhui prompted, motioning to the front of the theater.

You put a hand over your chest, touched. “Jun, you’re too sweet, I—”

“To see Minghao’s gorgeous face on the big screen,” he finished.

You decided you were going to let them finish their sentences from now on.

Minghao, who was sitting next to you and gripping your hand, raised your hands to press a kiss to each one of your knuckles. He saved his public displays of affection for rare occasions, such as your grand showcase.

You two had been dating for the past five months at this point. It wasn’t much of a surprise to any of your friends, but what did change was that Minghao spent a lot more time with your friend group now. (Sometimes you worried if they liked him more than you, but you weren’t one to vie for attention.) It was also safe to say that you two weren’t exactly out of the honeymoon phase yet. Your heart still fluttered whenever he did anything particularly sweet, and Minghao still went bright red whenever you were feeling a little bolder.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice tickling your skin. “You said your professor recommended submitting it to a film festival, right?”

“Mhm.” You grinned and used the hand he wasn’t holding to pinch his cheek lightly. “Your face could be seen by thousands.”

He laughed. “It’s really all about you, not—” Minghao paused when his phone buzzed from inside his pocket. You two exchanged a nervous look before he fumbled to pull it out. “I think it’s them.”

A week ago, the announcement of the scholarship recipient was supposed to be sent out. However, there was a complication that led to them postponing the results until today. You and Minghao had been on edge all week, but having to think about the outcome on the same day as your film showcase was nerve-wracking.

“It is them.” Minghao bit his lip when he saw the sender in his notifications. He looked over at you and squeezed your hand tighter. “I’m gonna open it now.”

With suspended breath, you tried to gauge his reaction as he opened the email. (It wasn’t very hard to read Xu Minghao’s expression when he wore his heart on his sleeve.) He took so long that you thought he was reading over each word twice, but then you watched as his expression morphed into one of pure astonishment.

“What is it?” you asked. “What does it say?”

“I…” He swallowed thickly. “I got it.” He turned to you again, mouth twitching into a grin. “I actually got it!”

Your life had been going so smoothly recently that the scholarship results had been plaguing your thoughts for the past few weeks. You didn’t have to worry about your project anymore, so saving the café and getting Minghao his chance to compete had been weighing heavily on your mind.

Now, though, upon hearing those words and seeing his eyes light up, you felt like you were glowing yourself. They selected Minghao, and they watched your film. Your work was going to save his mom’s café. It was going to let him keep chasing his dreams.

You let out a yelp so loud that dozens of heads turned in your direction, but you didn’t mind any of them as soon as you reached over your armrest to tackle Minghao into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I knew they’d pick you,” you told him. “There’s no one else who deserves it more.”

“It’s seriously all because of you,” he said. When you pulled apart, Minghao looked absolutely winded from being so overjoyed. “I have to tell my mom as soon as we get home. She’s gonna be so happy that we get to keep the café running.”

Jeonghan, who was brazenly eavesdropping, patted Seungcheol firmly on the chest. “Hear that? You just got saved from unemployment.” He reached over Seungcheol (again) to dap up Minghao.

You felt someone tap your shoulder from behind, and you craned your neck around to see your professor gesturing for you to go up on stage. That was your cue to introduce your film, and you gulped down the bundle of nerves that rose up your throat.

Yooyeon squeezed your shoulder as you were getting up. Shakily, you straightened up, smiling weakly when your friends started cheering obnoxiously loud for you. Minghao caught your wrist before you walked to the front and gave you a reassuring squeeze that managed to calm your jittery hands.

You recognized a lot of your friends from your classes, so it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you were hopeful that the unfamiliar faces would be cheering for you by the time they saw your documentary.

“We know her!” Jeonghan and Seungkwan were screaming from the top, pointing you out to every stranger in their vicinity. “That’s our friend!”

At the right wing of the stage, you were handed a mic and instructed to walk out to the center. You had never been in front of a crowd this huge, but seeing your friends in the seats melted away whatever fears were holding you back.

“Thank you everyone for coming out today,” you spoke into the mic, smiling when it resounded throughout the grand auditorium. “My name’s Y/N, and I’m so excited to share my documentary: The Xu Minghao Dilemma.”

TAG LIST ▸ if you made it all the way here, thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed xu minghao's dilemma 💗 first and foremost, this was written for @junyangis so shoutout my film major inspo. i tried to emulate the film student experience to the best of my ability so i hope it delivers 🙏 also you might notice the banner has jeonghan as the writer which sort of sounds misleading but it's because he was the one orchestrating everything between mc and minghao, so i thought it was fitting :') first fic of 2025, yay!! i hope to share more of my works with you this year & sending my love to everyone reading this right now ♡ thank you to everyone who asked to be part of the tag list as well !! 🫂

TAG LIST ▸ @jenoentry @wonudazed @aaniag @ily-cuz-i @fancypeacepersona @tokitosun @jeonnyread @reiofsuns2001 @markleeloveletter @dawn-iscozy @fennecnco @kookiedesi @nijisanjigenshin @xylatox @cookiearmy @nightshadeblooming @sillyuin @outrologist @flowerrpwrr @melonacco @sknyuz @enhasrii @skzdesi

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #minghao fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen x reader #xu minghao #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #minghao imagines #minghao scenarios #svt soft hours #seventeen soft hours

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merlucide · 4 months ago

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SPOTTING YOU IN THE CROWD! hcs

notes: first post of the new year!! Happy new years!! <33 [Requested]

characters: Aiku, Sae, Sendou, Kaiser, Ness, Lorenzo, Snuffy, Loki, Noa, Chris Prince, Lavinho, Leonardo Luna

warnings: cursing probs, not proofread (again, idgaf) fem!reader in Lavinho’s

pt1 pt2

You bundled deeper into your sweater hoping to savor some warmth, it might as well be snowing right now. As much as you wished you were at home, curled up under a blanket, you were happy to be here, watching your boyfriend’s game. Normally, you only went to home games, but this time you thought, ’why not?’. So, after a 4 in a half hour flight, a 30 minute taxi ride, you finally made it to the stadium. You’d go to his games pretty often, sitting in the VIP section. This go around, you wanted to sit closer, to get a better view of your lover of course. The whistle blows for halftime and you excitedly signal to him.

OLIVER AIKU

Smirks and shakes his head hehe

Means tons you came!! :)

He rlly can’t believe you came lmao

Doesn’t yell back but makes hand signs to ya

You can just tell what he’s trying to say, benefit of The Charm™ (*AHEM..*👀)

Might blow you a kiss, might not, depends on which Aiku you get😙

If he does you ofc accept it and return it, which he cradles it to his heart hehe

*cue jelly and disgusted sendou*

🦢: ‘cringe tbh’

🐍: ‘Say, I don’t see your S/O in the stands’

🦢: ‘Low blow.’ bitchless HA

ITOSHI SAE

Surprised

That’s it, thanks for reading.

….no like he’s so boring, no expression, no fun, no personality

Why are you with him bro

Sorry the Sae hater in me took over, let’s continue.

Happy? You came? Like

Hes indifferent to it 😭

I mean he recognizes the effort made to see him and appreciates that, YES!

Gives you a little wave :3 (if you’re lucky he’ll give ya a small smile)

He def scores a goal for you and kisses his promise ring looking in your area

After the game he Venmo’s you what you payed for the tickets— despite your retaliation lmao

I hate this hoe

SENDOU SHUTO

Aiku thumbs to you in the stands and bbg lets out the BIGGEST OVERDRAMATIC gasp when seeing you

he could squeal

— Quickly goes back to ‘cool mode’, which lasts for two seconds before yelling back at you

🦢:’BABYYYYYYYY!!’

⚓️: ‘BABEEEEEEEESSSS!!

The team give him the look saying ‘simp�� LMAO

Gets all blushy n embarrassed lol

Yells at you to watch him and tell you he’s gonna score for ya (he totally missed the net)

MICHEAL KAISER

his face when he notices you: 😏

Fuels his ego by like, a gajillion times

—though he is conflicted between making it known to his teammates/fans that you’re here or not letting a single soul know of your existence lmao

Doesn’t wanna hurt your feelings by ignoring you tho 💀 especially since you came ALL the way to see HIM

(Rlly appreciates it)

Just rolls his eyes at you and grins

You kinda have a conversation with your faces LMAO

Bc again he’s trying not to attract to much attention to you!! (cus media, etc)

Ness sees you and waves ! :)

🪄: ‘I didn’t know y/n was coming! Hi y/n!!’

🥀: ‘Shut up you squealing maggot.”

🪄: ‘Oh okay’

ALEXIS NESS

turns exactly into “🥹+🤩” combined

So happy you came!!!!

Means so much to him that you’d take your time and money to see him play!

Gives you that big fat wobbly smile of his and yells ‘Hi!!’

Points you out to Kaiser ‘Look! Kaiser, y/n came!’

he doesn’t gaf LMAO

He gives you a nod tho!

Blows you many kisses 😌

BM is all giving him the biggest side eye LMAO His love for you makes everyone within a 20 mile radius uncomfortable

def gives you the biggest cheek kiss ever and hugs you HEHHEEEHHEHEHEHE

DON LORENZO

Ugly smiles hehehehheh

Two-finger point at cha’ yelling ‘HEYYYYYYY!!!!’

Laughing and smiling soo much

He’s literally BEAMING

He always wants you to come to his games, but understands you have a life of your own and can’t make it to them all

BUT YOU CAME THIS TIME!!

‘MIO AMOUR DIDJA SEE MY MOVES EH? PRETTY SWEET YA?’

afterwards totally tries doing more showy tricks and plays for ya hehe

He’s just pumped af you’re here!!

MARC SNUFFY

Touched 🥹

Fr tho, he’s touched af

Happy big smile!!

Waves back at cha :3

He called you earlier before the game and had no clue!! I mean he heard crowd at the airport but you just brushed it off as ‘oh I’m just at the mall’

Really appreciates it! :)

JULIANN LOKI

he’s like ‘😮!!’

Didn’t expect that!!!

Means so much to him!!

Gets all blushy hehe…,.

Doesn’t want to make a scene so he opts out for a small slightly hidden wave (not to draw attention to you)

rlly appreciates you supporting his career !! Esp since he’s so young starting off so strong

After game he goes to you and shakes his head and hugs ya hehe

Can’t believe you lmao

NOEL NOA

Surprised af

Like the thought of you doing this never crossed his mind literally once, E V E R

He knows you watch his games on TV when you don’t go (most of the time)

Soft grinning from him heh

Doesn’t do much bc he doesn’t want the media all over you

After the game he brings you closer (not touching bc he’s sweaty af) and kisses your forehead

——Whiiiich the paparazzi saw and it was over the internet for the next few days

So mission failed for Noa lmao

LAVINHO

okay think Bokuto’s ‘HEY HEY HEY!!’ That’s him rn

Manically laughing LMAO

Starts F L I R T I N G with you from the field

He’s just like yelling ‘HEEEEY MAMAS, YA FREE AFTER THISSSS?’

Def brags to any single teammates of his LMAO

CHRIS PRINCE

Signature Chris Prince smile!!

Belly laughs too lmao— can’t believe you’re here! And that you didnt tell him

He would’ve easily arranged something easier for you to come, probs traveling with the team or smth

energized as crap and now will do everything at the tippity top of his game to impress you (he does this every time you go to his games, but like it’s 10x bc he’s so pumped)

LEONARDO LUNA

Making ‘:o’ face lmao

So surprised !! But SO happy!!

Like wym his darling came to his away game?? Wym they took a 4 hour flight to see him play

Feels so special hehe

Blows you kisses with both hands and waves with both as well

Makes it known you’re here (if you’re comfortable with being public, but in this scenario I’d assume so)

Gives you a big hug afterwards

help sorry for any ooc-ness for some I had a hard time getting creative juice

Made January 1st 2025

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sailornymph · 2 months ago

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never knew i needed; bllk boyfriends

synopsis — realizing you’re the one

content warning — aged up characters, insinuation of mature themes

♡ chigiri hyoma

clenching his jaw, chigiri kept his head straight avoiding all of the flashing cameras, as he left the airport. he should’ve been elated, his team had yet another victory, and yet all he could think about was you. hours after the shared success, while the others left to celebrate, he paced the floor of his hotel room, trying to resist the urge to scream. he couldn't even remember how the argument started, something along the lines of you telling him he had to calm down on the field, getting a flag after shoving a player who called him a pretty boy, he didn't want to hear what you had to say, passing words with each other leading to him being called cocky and sassy, he found himself becoming angrier. he certainly was not sassy, and cocky? he was better than nearly every player on the field, he had every right to be cocky!

going down the escalator, he furrowed his eyebrows still thinking about the stupid argument. nearly an hour passed and while the situation was long gone from his mind, he couldn't bring himself to back down, when you suddenly hung up. he tried calling you back, ready to have another reason to argue, but to his surprise, you had turned your phone off. by the end of the night, he was left feeling like a fool, worried about the state of his relationship. noticing his mom and sister, but you where nowhere in sight, he released a nervous sigh, as he met them halfway. accepting their hugs, he didn't say anything, following behind them, as they went on and on about how great he did, and how they wished they could've came.

approaching the car, he nearly cried like a baby, when he saw you leaning against the car, your arms crossed. you clearly had told his sister and mom about the argument, their expressions giving it away. taking his bag, they got into the car, while being nosey trying to read his lips.

“hey,” he mumbled. rolling your eyes, you pulled him closer, kissing his lips, his arms immediately going around you.

“are you still upset with me, hyoma?” you asked, smiling as he slowly shook his head.

“n-no”

“i know you're one of the best, one of the fastest, but you're more than a football player to me, and your aspirations are also important to me. yes, you have every right to have that ego of yours, but you don't need to do that again, for your well being and the sake of your career,” you told him, crossing your arms.

staring at you for a moment, he could only grin. how did he get so lucky? just hours ago, you were the reason he was screaming like a madman and now he couldn't stop grinning at the sight of you talking to him as if you were his boss.

“i thought you were going to break up with me, you turned your phone off” he smiled, as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“no, i just didn't want to argue with you, when you didn't want to hear what i was saying”

“you're right, i’m sorry,” he said, laying his head on your shoulder. this felt strange, but right. you were the one, he never believed in other half’s, soulmates, or any of that nonsense, and then you came along.

“you’re sorry? just like that,” you said, finding him unbelievable. the way he was suddenly bending at your will was quite interesting. it was like the idea of you potentially ending the relationship changed something within him.

“i’ll be good, for you,” he flirted, as your face burned at his shamelessness, before he pecked your lips, reaching for your hand, and leading you to the car.

♡ nagi seishiro

nagi was very discreet, his eyes moving over to glance at you. sitting next to him, one leg crossed over the other, lightly bouncing it to whatever you were listening to. occasionally opening your phone, to respond to a text message, before continuing to listen to your music. boredly playing his game, he didn't even move as you accepted the key to the suite the two of you would be sharing. releasing a sigh, he placed his phone into his pocket, standing as you stood. grabbing both of your bags, he followed behind you, as he became aware of his surroundings.

his teammates were talking with their partners who came along �� most of them telling the players about their plans to explore the city, while the team would get rest for their early practice tomorrow. looking to you, you didn't pay them any mind, entering the elevator, holding the door open until he walked in. suddenly, his mind was all over the place, he was unfamiliar with this kind of situation.

you had been together for about six months now, and it was your first time traveling with him. he didn't plan on going anywhere, playing his games, before going to bed — but if going explore was something everyone else’s partners did — he wanted you to enjoy that luxury, he just didn't know how to bring it up.

unlocking the door, you walked inside, leaving the door open for him to carry everything in. taking your shoes off, as you shut the door, you plopped onto the bed, lying back. sitting your bags on the counter, he sat next to you, catching you easily, as you climbed into his lap.

“would you like to join me in a shower?” you asked, smiling at his rosy cheeks. pulling him off the bed, as he nodded.

leading him to the large bathroom, you bit your lip at how appetizing he looked, wearing his tracksuit, and you felt excited at how amazing he would look with it off.

“y/n, you don't have to stay in the room when we travel, everyone’s partners’ usually will explore the cities-

“do you want me to leave?” you asked, as he towered over you in the shower, water dripping down his hair.

“no, of course not, i just don't want you bored while i am on my phone or asleep,” he said tiredly, pulling you closer into his chest.

“i’m sure this city has many great places to visit, but i was going to spend time with you if that is okay,” you said, looking up at his dark eyes.

“you don't have to-

“i like our habits, it’s what makes our relationship so special to me, your games are a part of you, and i don't mind it,” you said, going on your toes to kiss his soft lips, before turning to face the water.

staring at you, he was unsure what this feeling was. love? not exactly, he knew he loved you for some time now, this was deeper. you were the one. he wanted to spend forever with you. he could be himself, the two of you could sit in complete silence and be full of contentment. he needed to cherish you, to provide the deepest most sincere form of love he could give.

allowing his hand to move between your legs, he pressed you even closer, as you moaned. it sounded like music to his ears.

“hm, marry me”

“seishiro, it’s a bit early to decide about something like that, you don’t think?” you looked up at him, with a worried expression.

“i couldn’t be more sure, i’d like to be with you forever,” he replied, his fingers determined as ever.

“i-if you win the game, then i will give you an answer,” you said, biting back to lewd noises.

“we both know we will be winning”

“fine, if you win, as soon as we are back in japan, i’ll marry you, but if you lose you have to wait a while longer”

“you should start looking at rings because we’ll be buying it as soon as we’re back home,” he smirked, kissing your cheek, before backing away to let you rinse off.

♡ bachira meguru

‘dude, you’re way too clingy’

‘for real, she’s going to end up leaving you for a real man if you keep acting like a baby’

‘yeah, she’s going to get the ick, then it’s over for you’

despite being at the lively social gathering, bachira was not feeling the scenery in the slightest. since he began dating you, three months ago, he had been getting a bit of negative attention. according to nearly everyone, except a few close friends and relatives — every time the two of you were seen, he was being annoyingly clingy. he had even seen it a few times on social media, he was being too clingy, he was too eccentric.

he didn’t want to run you away, he liked you, a lot! he hoped the feeling was mutual because he enjoyed your company. you just got him, unlike most people, his mother loved you, and he just couldn’t imagine how he had lived his life before, without knowing you. however, with all of this pushback, he found himself distancing himself from you. perhaps you did need your space sometimes, he didn’t have to sleep over every night. he didn’t have to invite himself to tag along when you were doing errands. but the space was killing him :( even hanging with isagi, it wasn’t the same as with you, he needed to learn to not be clingy.

“excuse me, have you seen bachira?”

“i think he was outside,” hearing your voice, his posture straightened. you were here? and looking for him? standing up, he excused himself, approaching your figure. you stood out like a sore thumb. while everyone wore their expensive clothing, you wore the cutest sundress.

“y/n,” he approached, his heart shattering when he saw the slight puffiness in your face. you had been crying.

“meguru,” you whispered, as his arm went around your waist, as he led you away into the nearest bathroom, locking the door.

“what’s wrong, y/n”

“meguru, are you cheating on me? or you'd like to break up?” you asked, making his eyes widen.

“what? i’d never cheat on you, and i certainly don't want to break up, is it rumors-

“then why are you avoiding me? i had to find out you were here through isagi. you don't come over, you don't call, and you're always busy. if i’m not what you want, just tell me,” you told him, frustratingly.

“you are everything that i want, and more. i don't want to run you away, being clingy. if i give you the ick, then it’s over for me”

“who told you that? that is not true, meguru. i love everything about you. i enjoy spending time with you and i don't feel like you are being clingy or giving me the ick, you're just being you”

“i'm sorry i had you worried, i am… in love with you, and i don’t want to lose what we have,” he shook his head, as his arms went around your waist.

“i love you too and you won’t, could i please have my old meguru back?” your eyes pleaded with his, and he knew immediately, that he could never hurt you like this again. he only wanted to see you smile, laugh, moan- within a matter of seconds he had vowed to himself to love you and bring you happiness, no matter what anyone thought of him or you.

not saying a word, he simply nodded, going to kiss your neck, going straight to your “sensitive spot” nibbling on your skin. as you began to giggle, trying to wiggle from his grasp, he held you close.

“what’s so funny dear?” he asked, as if he wasn't doing anything.

“you're tickling me,” you laughed.

“i did not, this is tickling,” he began to tickle you, before stopping. as your laughter ceased, he moved closer to you, softly kissing your lips.

“would you like to get out of here?” he continued.

“please?”

“do you think we could do that thing again, when we get to your place, in the shower?”

“meguru, i’m still suppose to be upset about you for basically ignoring me for weeks”

“but i love you and you love me and you look absolutely beautiful with my big c-

“don’t even”

“how about a foot massage?” he changed the subject, snickering, back to his usual self.

“now we’re talking”

♡ isagi yoichi

“yoichi,” you screamed his name from the top of the stadium, watching as he turned around, searching for you. as his eyes landed on your distant figure, he waved, watching as you came down the steps, joining him on the field.

before you could jump down the last step, he had already run over, catching you, spinning you around before letting your feet touch the grass.

“i’ve missed you,” he spoke, sighing. he wished you could travel more often with him, but you had only been together a few months now, and he wanted to respect your decision to continue working.

“i missed you too, am i interrupting practice? i didn't want to stay in my hotel-

“no, i was finishing up, why don't you sit on the bench, and we can go get a bite after?” he said, reaching for your hand, placing a kiss on your fingers as you nodded.

sitting down, you watched in amazement as he began to dribble the ball with his feet before he suddenly kicked the ball. gasping at how strong his kick was, the ball quickly flew into the goal. clapping, you cheered for him as if he'd actually scored a point. facing you, his face was red as he smiled, approaching.

“i’m just going to change and get my things,” he told you, mentally cursing himself for sounding like he was still a shy schoolboy.

“okay, i’ll wait here,” you nodded, watching as he left.

putting his things away, and grabbing his bag, the last thing isagi expected to see you doing when he returned outside, was attempting to dribble the ball. you tried to run, but you couldn’t move too fast, or you’d lose the ball. losing your balance, you fell, and hearing loud footsteps you yelped, seeing your yoichi drop his bag, and running to you.

“y/n, are you alright?” he hovered over you.

“am i hurt? no. embarrassed? extremely,” you said, making him chuckle.

“you were getting a bit of practice too,” he smirked.

“football has never been my forte, i’ve only been to a few games before and that’s including yours. the point i’m making is i’ve never wanted to get better at anything so badly. you love this sport and i’d like to understand what it means to be a striker, to understand you more,” you explained.

“come here,” he chuckled, helping you stand, placing his hands on your hips.

“you were doing good, and you’re at a perfect position to score, use whichever leg you’re more comfortable with, and kick,” he instructed, slowly backing away.

kicking the ball, you dropped your head in defeat as the ball flew, but then dropped and began to roll — still a good distance from the goal. jogging to get the ball, isagi brought the ball back, sitting it on the ground in front of you.

“you can do it, focus. concentrate on the ball and the goal,” he said, stepping aside. furrowing your eyebrows, you kicked the ball much harder than before, gasping as this time, it flew into the net, while not nearly as hard as yoichi’s kick, it still went in.

“i did it”

“you did it,” he cheered for you, picking you up, jumping around, before finally letting you down.

“it’s because of you, i’d like to learn more about what it’s like to be a striker”

“it means that much to you?”

“it means a lot to you and if i am with you, i want to see it from your perspective,” you said. something about your words made his stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way.

suddenly he could see life with you, beyond the present. marriage, children, and getting old together. he wanted to melt under your gaze, bend to your commands, and meet every desire uttered from your lips. his heart and mind were agreeing at the thought that the one for him had finally come along and stood in front of him, looking as perfect as ever.

“we can train as much as you want,” he muttered, blushing as you kissed his lips. pulling away, you turned your head in embarrassment as your stomach growled.

“let’s get some food in your tummy, princess,” he winked, jogging to get his back, before coming back, his fingers interlocking with your own, as you began telling him about a restaurant you saw earlier today.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #chigiri x reader #chigiri hyoma #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #bachira x reader #bachira meguru #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi

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sirhamburrger · 3 months ago

Text

BREAKING NEWS: CHART-TOPPING ARTIST YN LN PUBLICLY DISSES PXG STAR PLAYER AFTER HISTORIC VICTORY AGAINST BASTARD MÜNCHEN?!

after #JusticeForPXG starts to trend on most major social media platforms within a mere two hours, you receive an email from their manager. they… want you to perform before their match against the ubers? for a horrifying moment you’d thought your career might actually end over an offhand comment, but it seems you’ve been thrown a lifeline.

well, so much for that lifeline, because you’re pretty sure you trample all over it and set it on fire when, during your performance item three evenings later, a photo of none other than rin freaking itoshi appears on the big screen -

and the flash of a thousand cameras captures the very moment you roll your eyes in front of ten thousand people. and the whole internet.

you grimace when you step off the pitch and head back to the holding area, still panting from the exertion of the set. as the players stream out from their locker rooms, you brush against someone’s elbow, and as you turn a second later to wish the teams luck, you notice the man of the hour himself staring back at you.

and you really hate that you might care what he thinks about you.

---

“look,” aiku snickers, pointing at the screen in the locker room. “it’s your favourite bm fan.”

“it’s not even that funny.” rin tightens the laces on his cleats a little too aggressively to punctuate his sentence.

but he’s thinking: does she really hate him all that much?

“i’m pretty sure sendou dated her at some point,” karasu chimes in, rather unhelpfully.

“no way,” aiku says dismissively and more than a little seriously. “she’s waaaaay out of his league. she’d have to be blind - or really, really desperate.”

“get out of my player’s head, aiku.” julian loki pulls his jersey over his head, shooting the ex-u20 captain a withering stare. “or is it because you know you don’t stand a chance against us?”

“casse toi!” charles pipes up.

rin groans.

---

pxg wins that evening. you can’t even say you’re surprised - you knew, somehow, that it would turn out like this.

and here’s how the rest of it goes:

you tell yourself you’re going to leave the stadium quietly. slip out before anyone can get another picture of you, before the internet takes your face and pastes it onto another meme.

but fate has a funny way of playing games with you, because when you round the corner leading to the underground parking lot, you walk right into him.

rin itoshi.

you freeze, half because of the collision, half because - well, you’ve never actually been this close to him before. he’s taller than you expected. his hair is damp from the showers, and his stare is impassive, unreadable.

you expect him to be mad, or annoyed, or at the very least, indifferent enough to walk right past you. but instead, he speaks.

"you don’t like me."

it’s not a question.

you could lie, smooth things over, but that would be too easy. and honestly, you’re still annoyed - at the internet, at this whole situation, at the fact that he looks this good after running across a pitch for ninety minutes.

"what gave it away?" you say dryly.

his brow twitches, just the slightest bit. "is it because of pxg?"

you sigh. "no, it’s because i think you’re kind of an ass."

his lips press into a thin line. you expect him to snap at you, but instead, he just studies you - like he’s trying to solve some kind of puzzle.

"fair," he says after a beat, and for some reason, that catches you off guard.

you cross your arms. "that’s it? no defense? no ‘you don’t even know me’ speech?"

"if you think i’m an ass, i probably was." he shrugs, looking away for a second before flicking his gaze back to you. there’s something almost amused in his expression now. "but you still came to perform."

you roll your eyes. "only because your manager begged me to."

"right. had nothing to do with me."

"nothing at all."

he hums, as if he doesn’t quite believe you. as if he can see the way your resolve wavers, just a little, under the weight of his attention.

and you hate that he might be right.

he shifts then, stepping aside, giving you space to leave. but before you do, he says, almost offhandedly, "i don’t hate you, you know."

something about the way he says it makes your stomach flip. or maybe it's the compression shirt. (yeah, it's probably just the compression shirt.)

---

#what was this #blue lock #bllk #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader

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reidmarieprentiss · 8 months ago

Note

hii wondering if you could write a little something about to how spencer would react to an undercover mission going wrong with his gf??<3 whether she’s on the mission alone or together with him is up to you

Where We Were Meant to Be

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: kidnapping, guns, typical case talk, break ups (not spencer), feelings talks, being injured

Word count: 7.8k

a/n: i took a little bit of creative liberty with this one i hope that's okay! it's spencer's best friend that he just so happens to be in love with heheh --- also this is meant to be a treat because i only posted once yesterday <333

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was a man of many secrets, but the one that weighed the heaviest on him was the love he harbored for you. It was a love that grew quietly over time, nurtured by the countless hours spent together, the late-night conversations that often veered into deep, uncharted emotional territory, and the shared experiences that bonded you in ways that words could never fully capture.

Everyone at the BAU knew how close the two of you were. It was impossible not to notice. From the way your eyes would light up whenever Spencer entered a room to the ease with which you could communicate without saying a word, it was evident that you shared a connection that transcended the ordinary.

"You two are like two halves of the same brain," Derek would often joke, a knowing grin on his face as he watched you and Spencer exchange another one of your silent conversations.

"Or the same heart," Penelope would add with a playful wink, causing you to blush and Spencer to give her a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

But despite the teasing, no one knew the depth of Spencer's feelings. No one knew that every time you smiled at him, his heart ached with a longing that he buried deep within himself. No one knew that every time your hand brushed against his, he had to remind himself that it meant nothing more than friendship—because that was all you could offer him.

You had a partner. A good one, at that. Spencer had met them a few times, and he couldn't find a single flaw. They were kind, intelligent, and treated you with the love and respect you deserved. It made things easier and harder all at once. Easier, because he knew you were happy, and that's all he'd ever wanted for you. Harder, because he couldn't help but wish that he were the one to make you feel that way.

But Spencer was nothing if not practical. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his emotions, and he used that skill now to keep his feelings in check. He accepted your relationship with grace, never once letting on that every "we" you mentioned with your partner's name attached chipped away at his heart. He forced himself to focus on the friendship you shared, cherishing every moment, every laugh, every secret confided.

In his quieter moments, Spencer allowed himself to dream. He imagined what it would be like to be the one who held your hand as you navigated life’s challenges, to be the one who made you laugh on your hardest days, to be the one you turned to when the world felt like too much. But those dreams were fleeting, and he always pushed them away, reminding himself that you were happy, and that was what mattered.

One evening, after a particularly tough case, the team decided to unwind at Rossi's place. The atmosphere was relaxed, the tension of the day slowly dissipating as everyone gathered around with drinks in hand. You sat next to Spencer, your shoulder lightly brushing against his as you leaned in to whisper something that made him chuckle softly.

"See, this is why you're my favorite," you teased, poking him playfully in the side.

"Flattery won’t get you anywhere," Spencer replied, his voice tinged with affection as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long.

You caught it, your smile softening as you reached out to squeeze his hand. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Only because I have the best friend," he responded, squeezing your hand in return before letting go, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the simple contact.

The night continued, filled with laughter and stories, but Spencer couldn’t help but feel the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him. It was a bittersweet sensation, knowing that he would never be able to tell you the truth, that he would never be able to cross the invisible line that separated friendship from something more.

As the evening wound down and people started to leave, you lingered behind with Spencer, helping him clean up the remnants of the gathering. It was something the two of you often did, slipping into a comfortable rhythm as you worked side by side in silence.

Once the dishes were done and the living room tidied, you both collapsed into your car, a comfortable silence settling between you.

"Thanks for sticking around," Spencer said, his voice soft as he turned to look at you.

"Of course," you replied, meeting his gaze with a tired smile. "You're my person, Spencer. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Your words hit him harder than you could have imagined. He swallowed, forcing himself to smile even as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. "And you're mine," he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh as you closed your eyes. Spencer remained still, afraid to move, afraid that the moment would shatter if he so much as breathed too loudly.

In that moment, Spencer allowed himself to believe, just for a second, that things could be different. That maybe, in another life, in another world, he could be the one you chose. But as your breathing evened out, signaling that you had fallen asleep, he knew that such thoughts were futile.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back, his heart heavy with the weight of what could never be.

And so, he continued to keep his secret, burying it deep within himself as he held onto the one thing he could have—your friendship. It wasn't everything, but it was enough. It had to be enough.

—

The briefing room was unusually quiet as Hotch laid out the details of the mission. The tension in the air was palpable, the seriousness of the situation evident in the way Hotch’s voice took on that hard, steely edge he reserved for the most dangerous of cases. You sat next to Spencer, your hands folded neatly in your lap, trying to keep your expression neutral as the reality of what was being asked of you sank in.

The unsub had escalated, and the BAU was running out of time. The only way to catch him was to go undercover, to insert yourselves into his world, to become the very thing he was hunting. And for this, Hotch had chosen you and Spencer to pose as husband and wife.

The room emptied out after the briefing, but Spencer lingered, his brows furrowed, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes. He looked at you, searching your face as if trying to find a way to convince you to change your mind before he even spoke.

“This is too dangerous,” he began, his voice low and urgent. “You shouldn’t go. We can find another way—there has to be another way.”

You reached out to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Spencer, we’ve been through worse. We can handle this.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice trembling slightly. “This isn’t just another case. This is… it’s different. If something goes wrong—if he even suspects for a second that we’re not who we say we are—” His voice caught in his throat, and he looked away, swallowing hard.

You squeezed his arm, trying to anchor him. “Spencer, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he turned back to you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation that broke your heart.

“We’re the best shot at stopping him,” you said gently. “You know that. If it were anyone else, I’d be just as worried. But it’s us. We’ve got this.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. “But what if something happens to you? I couldn’t—” He stopped, his breath hitching as he tried to compose himself. “I couldn’t live with that.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, at the raw vulnerability he was showing you. “Spencer,” you whispered, stepping closer, “I know it’s risky. I know you’re scared. But I’m scared too. And that’s why we have to be careful, why we have to trust each other.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, but the fear was still there, clinging to him like a shadow. “I do trust you. It’s just… I can’t lose you.”

The intensity of his words hung in the air, a confession of something deeper, something unspoken between you. You felt your heart twist, knowing how much he cared, how much he had always cared.

“You won’t lose me,” you promised, your voice steady even though your heart was pounding. “We’ll go in, do what we need to do, and get out. Together.”

He nodded slowly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t diminish. “Promise me you’ll be careful. No risks, no heroics.”

You smiled softly, trying to ease the tension. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

The days leading up to the mission were a blur of preparations, briefings, and final checks. Spencer was quieter than usual, his mind clearly racing with thoughts of what could go wrong. You tried to stay focused, knowing that you both needed to be sharp for this to work.

When the day finally arrived, you found yourselves in a small, nondescript hotel room that served as your cover. The ruse was simple: you and Spencer were a newlywed couple, traveling through the area, the perfect targets for the unsub’s twisted games.

The charade was almost too real, the way Spencer’s hand rested on the small of your back as you entered the hotel lobby, the way he leaned in to whisper something in your ear as you checked in. The familiarity of it all was both comforting and disconcerting.

The hotel room’s dim lighting cast a warm glow over the space, but it was nothing compared to the light in Spencer’s eyes as he looked at you. You had just finished getting ready for the final phase of the mission, slipping into the elegant dress that completed your undercover persona as the charming, newlywed wife. As you turned to face him, adjusting the last of your jewelry, Spencer’s breath seemed to catch in his throat.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. There was a softness in his tone, a tenderness that seemed to seep into every syllable. His eyes, those expressive hazel eyes, were locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

For a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. The mission, the danger, the need to keep up the pretense—it all faded into the background. All that mattered was the way Spencer was looking at you, with so much love and adoration that it was almost overwhelming.

But then, as quickly as it had surfaced, Spencer seemed to reel it back in. He blinked, his expression shifting as he forced a small smile, trying to play it off. “I mean, it’s… it’s perfect for the mission. You look exactly like someone who would turn every head in the room.”

You could hear the faint waver in his voice, the way he tried to rationalize the emotion he had just displayed. He chalked it up to the nature of the mission, to the need to sell the story, but deep down, he knew there was more to it.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the tension between you, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that were bubbling just beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniably present.

Spencer nodded, averting his gaze as he adjusted his tie, trying to focus on the task at hand. But the way his hands trembled ever so slightly, the way his jaw clenched as he fought to regain his composure, didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. “We’ll be okay, you know,” you said, trying to reassure him, to reassure yourself.

He looked up at you, his eyes once again filled with that same deep, intense emotion. “I know,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. “As long as you’re with me, I know we’ll be okay.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with unspoken words and hidden desires. It was as if the world had paused, holding its breath as you both stood on the precipice of something that could change everything.

But then, with a deep breath, Spencer forced himself to step back, his professional mask sliding back into place. “We should get going,” he said, his voice firmer now, though there was still a lingering softness in his eyes.

You nodded, trying to push down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “Right. Let’s do this.”

And as you left the room together, hand in hand, the lines between mission and reality blurred just a little more, leaving you both wondering what would be left once the dust settled.

—

The situation had spiraled out of control so fast that it felt like a nightmare, the kind where everything you feared the most came true. One moment, you and Spencer were navigating the careful dance of your undercover roles, blending into the crowd at the lavish party where you hoped to catch the unsub off guard. The next, everything went dark—both literally and figuratively.

The unsub was smarter than they’d anticipated. He saw through the act, his twisted mind zeroing in on your every move, every glance exchanged with Spencer. And then, in an instant, the plan unraveled. The lights flickered, and when they came back on, you were no longer standing by Spencer's side. You were in the unsub’s grip, his arm around your throat, his gun pressed against your temple.

“Spencer!” you cried out, your voice filled with a terror that tore through him like a knife.

Spencer’s heart stopped in that moment. The blood drained from his face as he saw you, saw the fear in your eyes, the way you struggled against the unsub’s iron grip. His mind raced, every possible scenario playing out in rapid succession, each one worse than the last. He could feel his entire world crashing down around him, the panic setting in, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

“Let her go!” Spencer’s voice was raw, desperate, his hand reaching out instinctively as if he could pull you back to him by sheer force of will. “You don’t want to do this. We can help you. Just—just let her go, please.”

But the unsub only sneered, tightening his hold on you, dragging you backward toward the exit. “Help me? You’re the ones who need help. You think I didn’t see through your little charade? You think I didn’t know?”

Spencer felt his knees buckle as he watched the unsub’s every move, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. The thought of it was too much, too overwhelming. He tried to take a step forward, but the unsub jabbed the gun harder against your head, making you gasp in pain.

“Stay back, or I’ll blow her brains out right here!” the unsub snarled, his eyes wild with a dangerous mix of paranoia and rage.

“Please,” Spencer begged, his voice cracking, his eyes pleading as he tried to reason with a man who seemed beyond reason. “Don’t hurt her. You don’t have to do this. We can talk, we can—”

But the unsub wasn’t listening. He was already backing out of the room, dragging you with him. And then, before Spencer could react, you were gone—thrown into a nondescript van that peeled away from the curb, leaving Spencer standing there, frozen in horror.

The moment you disappeared from sight, something in Spencer snapped. He was a man undone, no longer the composed, brilliant profiler but a man in the throes of utter despair. He spun around, his eyes wild as he looked at the rest of the team, who had arrived just in time to witness the tail end of the horror show.

“We have to find her!” Spencer’s voice was a shout, laced with a hysteria that made everyone in the room tense up. “We have to find her now!”

“Reid, we’re going to do everything we can,” Hotch said, his voice calm and steady, trying to contain the situation, but it only seemed to fuel Spencer’s rage.

“You sent her in there!” Spencer roared, pointing an accusatory finger at Hotch, his voice trembling with fury and anguish. “You sent her in there, and now she’s gone! You did this!”

“Spencer, we’ll find her,” JJ said softly, trying to step in, but Spencer wasn’t hearing it. His mind was a blur of panic, grief, and guilt. All he could see was you, the terror in your eyes, the way you had been dragged away from him.

“No! You don’t understand!” Spencer was nearly hysterical now, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his face as he continued to lash out. “She’s out there alone, and it’s our fault! We have to get her back! We have to—”

“Reid, stand down!” Hotch commanded, his voice taking on a sharper tone, but it did nothing to calm Spencer.

“No!” Spencer screamed, his hands shaking as he pointed at Hotch again. “You don’t get to tell me to stand down! You don’t get to tell me to do anything after what you’ve done!”

Hotch exchanged a quick glance with Rossi, who gave a small nod, understanding that Spencer was too far gone, too deep in his emotions to be reasoned with right now.

“Reid, go back to the hotel,” Hotch ordered, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. “We’ll handle the search. You need to stand down.”

But Spencer didn’t move. He just stood there, shaking, his eyes wild and red-rimmed, the pain etched so deeply into his features that it was almost unbearable to look at. He wanted to fight, to do something, anything to bring you back. But all he could do was fall apart, right there in front of everyone.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he finally gave in to the grief that was tearing him apart. “Please bring her back.”

“Go back to the hotel, Reid,” Hotch repeated, softer this time, but still with that commanding presence. “We’ll find her.”

Spencer didn’t want to go. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay, to fight, to tear the city apart if that’s what it took to find you. But he was too broken, too shattered to argue anymore. So, with one last, desperate look at Hotch, he turned and left, his heart heavy, his mind spinning with every horrible possibility.

Back at the hotel, Spencer was a man possessed. He couldn’t sit, couldn’t think straight. He paced the room, his thoughts running in endless circles, every one of them coming back to you and the unimaginable fear that you were out there, somewhere, hurt or worse. The room felt too small, too suffocating, and he found himself screaming, yelling out your name, cursing at the walls as if they could give him answers.

When the anger wasn’t enough to dull the pain, the tears came full force. He collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed, the grief pouring out of him in waves. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. The thought of it was too much, and yet it was all he could think about.

Hours passed, though it felt like an eternity, and still, there was no word. No update. No sign of you. Spencer felt like he was drowning in the silence, the waiting, the not knowing. Every second that ticked by felt like another piece of him being torn away, until there was nothing left but the hollow shell of a man who had once been whole.

When the phone finally rang, Spencer lunged for it, his heart in his throat as he answered, his voice shaking with desperation.

But it wasn’t you. It wasn’t even news about you. It was Hotch, telling him to stay put, telling him that they were still searching, still trying to find you. It was a command wrapped in reassurance, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside Spencer.

“Just bring her back,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible, broken. “Please, bring her back to me.”

And as he hung up the phone, Spencer curled up on the bed, clutching your jacket that still held the faintest scent of you, and prayed with every ounce of his being that you would come back to him, that this nightmare would end, and that he wouldn’t lose the most important person in his life.

—

Spencer was pacing the floor of the hotel room, his mind a whirlwind of fear, guilt, and desperation. The silence of the room felt like it was closing in on him, pressing down on his chest until he could hardly breathe. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and the only thing keeping him from completely unraveling was the hope that the team would find you before it was too late.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he nearly fumbled it in his haste to answer. “Derek?” he gasped, his voice tight with panic.

“Reid , we think we found her,” Derek said, his tone serious but laced with urgency. “She’s at an abandoned warehouse on the east side, just off of River Street. We’re heading there now.”

Spencer didn’t wait for another word. He grabbed his keys and bolted out of the hotel, the thought of you in danger propelling him forward with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. The drive to the warehouse was a blur of speeding cars, red lights he didn’t bother stopping for, and the singular focus of getting to you as fast as he could.

When he pulled up to the warehouse, he barely threw his car into park before he was out the door, sprinting toward the cluster of agents and medics near the entrance. The sight of them only made his heart race faster, a mix of relief and dread coiling in his stomach.

“Where is she?” he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation as he pushed his way through the crowd.

The sight of you nearly brought him to his knees. You were lying on a stretcher, your body bruised and battered, your face pale and drawn, as if the life had been drained out of you. The medics were working quickly, checking your vitals, hooking you up to an IV, but all Spencer could focus on was the faint sound of your voice, weak and trembling, as you mumbled incoherently.

“My love,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “Where is my love?”

The words broke Spencer’s heart into a thousand pieces. He rushed forward, ignoring the shouts of the other agents as he made his way to your side. You were so fragile, so small against the harsh metal of the stretcher, and all he wanted to do was gather you in his arms, protect you from the world, from everything that had hurt you.

The medics began to wheel you toward the ambulance, but as they moved, you caught sight of Spencer, your eyes fluttering open just enough to recognize him. Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion that weighed you down, you tried to sit up, your hand reaching out toward him as if he were the only thing that could keep you tethered to life.

“My love,” you said again, your voice cracking with emotion, your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, grabbing your extended hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’m here, I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held onto you like you were his lifeline.

The medics glanced at Spencer, recognizing the emblem on his jacket, the desperation in his eyes. “I’m riding with her,” Spencer told them, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The medics nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. They helped Spencer climb into the ambulance, making room for him next to you as they continued to work. Spencer never let go of your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your bruised knuckles, his heart breaking at the sight of you so weak, so vulnerable.

As the ambulance sped away, sirens blaring, Spencer leaned in close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispered to you. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, your gaze locking onto his as you tried to muster the strength to speak. “I was so scared,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to his hand.

“I know,” Spencer said, his own voice cracking as he fought back his tears. “I was too. But you’re safe now. We’re going to get through this, okay? I promise.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting shut again as exhaustion took over. But even as you slipped into unconsciousness, you kept your hand in his, holding on as if he were your only anchor in the storm.

And Spencer held on too, refusing to let go, refusing to let the fear, the guilt, the overwhelming emotions consume him. All that mattered was you—keeping you safe, getting you through this. He couldn’t think about anything else, couldn’t allow himself to imagine a world where you weren’t with him.

As the ambulance raced toward the hospital, Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his voice a quiet promise in the chaos. “I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, before he could overthink them.

But it didn’t matter now. There was no taking it back, no more hiding how he felt. And as the ambulance tore through the night, Spencer made a silent vow that he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, to bring you back to him—because losing you wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

—

The antiseptic smell of the hospital was a sharp contrast to the warmth of Spencer's presence beside you. The sterile environment only emphasized how vulnerable and fragile you felt, lying in the hospital bed with a sling supporting your broken collarbone. The pain was manageable, dulled by the medication the doctors had administered, but the emotional whirlwind you were caught in was another matter entirely.

Spencer had been there since the moment you arrived, never leaving your side. His eyes, red-rimmed and exhausted, had stayed fixed on you, watching over you with a mix of concern and something deeper that you couldn’t quite name. He was a mess of emotions—fear, relief, and something bordering on anger, though you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

You were just beginning to doze off when a nurse entered the room, gently informing you that your partner had arrived. Your heart clenched at the words, not out of relief or comfort, but out of a confusing sense of dread. Spencer’s hand tightened slightly around yours, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that spoke volumes. He was still there, still holding onto you, but you could feel the shift in the air, the way his grip loosened as the footsteps approached.

When your partner stepped into the room, their eyes filled with worry and love, Spencer immediately withdrew his hand, standing up to make room. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched as he forced himself to step back, to let go.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” your partner said softly, their voice sincere as they looked at Spencer with genuine gratitude.

Spencer nodded stiffly, the bitterness in his expression barely hidden. “Of course,” he replied, his voice tight. “It’s what anyone would have done.”

But you knew that wasn’t true. Spencer had done more than anyone else would have, more than your partner could even begin to understand. He had been your anchor in the storm, the person you had instinctively reached for when you were at your weakest. And now, with your partner standing there, all you could think about was how much you had wanted Spencer—needed Spencer—when everything was falling apart.

Your partner leaned down to kiss your forehead, their touch gentle, comforting. But it wasn’t the same. It didn’t ignite that spark inside you, didn’t calm the commotion in your heart the way Spencer’s presence had. Your mind kept replaying those moments in the ambulance, when Spencer had whispered those three words that had changed everything.

“I love you.”

The weight of those words settled heavily in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t meant the world to you when he said it. But now, looking up at your partner, you felt trapped between two worlds—one where you were safe, where everything was familiar, and another where your heart was pulling you toward something deeper, something more complicated, something you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

Spencer stood there, watching the exchange with an expression that broke your heart. You could see the pain in his eyes, the bitterness that he was trying so hard to hide. He had given you everything he had in those terrifying moments, and now he was being pushed aside, as if all of that meant nothing.

But it did mean something. It meant everything.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice soft, uncertain.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, waiting for something—anything—that would tell him what you were feeling, what you were thinking. But you didn’t know what to say. You were too confused, too overwhelmed to put your emotions into words.

Your partner squeezed your hand gently, drawing your attention back to them. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” they whispered, their voice filled with relief.

You nodded, trying to smile, but it felt hollow, forced. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m okay.”

But as you looked back at Spencer, you knew that you weren’t okay. Not really. Because all you could think about was how much it had hurt to watch him leave, to see the pain in his eyes as he stepped back, knowing that he was walking away from something that had just barely begun.

Spencer took a step toward the door, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I should go,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “You need time with your partner.”

The word "partner" seemed to catch in his throat, and you could see the way he flinched as he said it, as if acknowledging their presence hurt more than he could bear.

You wanted to call out to him, to tell him to stay, to tell him that what he had said in the ambulance had changed everything for you. But the words wouldn’t come. You were too afraid, too unsure of what any of it meant, or what it would mean if you acknowledged it out loud.

So you said nothing, letting him walk away, letting him leave the room with a heavy heart and a bitterness that you knew was only going to fester.

As the door closed behind Spencer, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. Your partner was still there, still holding your hand, still trying to comfort you, but it wasn’t enough. Because the person you needed most had just walked out the door, and you didn’t know if you had the courage to bring him back.

—

When you returned to work after your medical leave, there was a part of you that was eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You thought that once you were surrounded by your colleagues, by Spencer, things would start to feel right again. But from the moment you stepped into the bullpen, you knew something was different.

Spencer was there, of course, as he always was—dutiful, courteous, offering you a small, polite smile as you walked in. He asked how you were feeling, made sure you had everything you needed, even went out of his way to help you catch up on what you had missed during your absence. But there was a distance to him, a careful politeness that felt foreign between the two of you. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between you, one that he had constructed with precision and intention.

He wasn’t your Spencer anymore. He was still the brilliant, kind-hearted man you knew, but the easy closeness, the spontaneous laughter, the silent conversations that you had once shared—those were gone. And as much as it pained you, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it. You were too afraid of what you might find out, too scared that if you asked him what was wrong, you would only confirm your worst fears.

So you stayed quiet. You forced yourself to smile when he spoke to you, even though his words were measured and distant. You nodded along when he offered advice or assistance, even though the warmth you used to feel in his presence was replaced by a hollow ache. But the more time passed, the more you began to realize that this wasn’t just about Spencer pulling away—it was about what that distance did to you.

It felt like half of you was missing, like you were a shell of yourself without him by your side. You’d never felt this way with your partner, not even when they were out of town or during the rare arguments that led to hours of silence. There was something about Spencer, something about the bond you had shared, that had become an integral part of who you were. And now that it was gone, you were lost.

It was that realization that led to the end of your relationship. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when your heart was somewhere else, when the person you thought you loved couldn’t fill the void that Spencer’s absence had left. Breaking up with your partner was one of the hardest things you’d ever done, not because you were still in love with them, but because they were such a genuinely kind-hearted person. They deserved better than to be with someone whose heart wasn’t fully in it.

When you sat down with them, your voice shaking as you tried to explain, they listened with a quiet understanding that made you feel even more guilty. “I’ve known for a while that something was off,” they said softly, their eyes sad but not angry. “I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “You didn’t deserve this.”

They shook their head, reaching out to gently squeeze your hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I’d rather you be honest with yourself—and with me—than stay in a relationship that doesn’t make you happy.”

Their kindness only made the pain of ending things more acute, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t keep living a lie, couldn’t keep pretending that you were in love when your heart was somewhere else. And as much as it hurt, you felt a strange sense of relief when they walked away, knowing that you were finally free to face the truth.

But now that the relationship was over, you were left with an even bigger question: What do you do about Spencer? The very person who had unknowingly driven you to this decision was the one you felt you had already lost. The thought of telling him how you felt was terrifying, especially when you weren’t sure if there was anything left between you to salvage. Would he even care, or had he already moved on, content to keep you at arm’s length for the rest of your lives?

As you sat alone in your apartment that evening, the silence pressing in on you, you found yourself picking up your phone, your fingers hovering over Spencer’s contact. You wanted to call him, to tell him everything—to tell him that this whole mess had made you realize just how much you needed him, how much you missed him, how much you loved him.

But fear held you back. Fear that he wouldn’t feel the same way, fear that he would reject you, fear that you had already lost him forever.

In the end, you put the phone down, your heart heavy with the weight of your unspoken feelings. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to move forward. All you knew was that you couldn’t keep living like this, trapped in the limbo between what you had lost and what you could never have.

But as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you made a silent vow to yourself: You couldn’t let things end like this. Spencer had meant too much to you for too long to let him slip away without a fight. And even though the thought of confronting him scared you more than anything, you knew that you had to try. You had to tell him how you felt, even if it meant risking everything.

Because losing Spencer without ever telling him the truth—that was something you couldn’t bear.

—

Spencer sat in his reading nook, surrounded by books that had once brought him comfort but now served as a distraction from the thoughts he couldn’t escape. The words blurred together as he tore through page after page, trying to keep his mind occupied, to drown out the memories of you, the sound of your voice, the way you used to laugh at his terrible jokes. It wasn’t easy, keeping you at arm’s length, but it was the only way he knew how to protect himself. He couldn’t endure watching you be with someone else, not when every part of him yearned to be the one you turned to, the one you loved.

The soft knock on the door startled him, pulling him out of the world he had tried so hard to lose himself in. His heart raced as he set the book down, a sense of unease settling over him as he stood up. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all you.

When he opened the door, the upper chain still in place, his breath caught in his throat. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice full of surprise.

You stood there, looking up at him with an expression that was both determined and vulnerable. It was clear you had made a decision, one that had led you to his doorstep on a Friday evening, one that had left you standing there, waiting for him to let you in.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest. “I think we need to talk. Can I come in?”

He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with the implications of what this conversation might bring. But the sight of you, the sound of your voice, was too much for him to resist. He needed to hear what you had to say, even if it meant reopening wounds he had tried so hard to close.

With a sigh, Spencer undid the chain and opened the door fully, stepping aside to let you in. “Of course,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the familiarity of your presence.

You stepped inside, taking a deep breath as you crossed the threshold. The air in the apartment was thick with unspoken words, with the tension that had been building between you for weeks. You could feel it, the weight of everything you hadn’t said, everything you were about to say.

Spencer watched as you took a moment to compose yourself, his heart aching at the sight of you in his space, a place you had once felt so at home in but that now felt foreign, distant. He wanted to reach out, to close the gap between you, but he held back, reminding himself of the boundaries he had set.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” you said, turning to face him, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he was feeling. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. I have a lot to say, and I kept repeating it in my head. I was driving myself insane,” you laughed a bit at your own expense.

Spencer nodded, his throat tight as he gestured for you to sit on the couch. He took a seat across from you, his hands clasped together in his lap as he waited for you to speak, his heart pounding in his chest.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, the ones that would convey everything you had been feeling, everything you had realized over the past few weeks. “Spencer, I know things have been different between us since I came back. And I know it’s because of me, because of what happened.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that he had been the one to pull away, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

“Please, just let me finish,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about what we had, and what we lost. And I realized that… I realized that I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not. I miss you, Spencer. I miss my best friend.”

His heart twisted at your words, the pain of losing you sharper than he had expected. “I miss you too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… it’s complicated.”

“I know it is,” you said, leaning forward, your eyes locking onto his with a determination that took him by surprise. “But that’s why I’m here. I need you to hear me out.”

Spencer nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he braced himself for whatever was coming next.

You took another deep breath, your heart racing as you finally found the courage to say the words that had been weighing on you for so long. “I ended things with my partner.”

His eyes widened in surprise, the words catching him off guard. “You did?”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief at finally saying it out loud. “Yes. I did. Because I realized that I couldn’t keep lying to myself, or to them. I realized that the reason I was so unhappy, the reason I felt like something was missing, was because… because I was in love with someone else.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as he tried to process what you were saying. “Y/N…”

“I’m in love with you, Spencer,” you said, your voice steady now, the weight of the truth lifting from your shoulders. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time I think, and it took almost losing you to realize that. I don’t know how you feel, and I’m terrified that I’ve already lost you, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. You deserve to know the truth.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as your words hung in the air, the enormity of what you had just confessed settling between you. Spencer’s mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding all at once, but the one thing that stood out above everything else was the overwhelming relief, the joy, that came with hearing you say those words.

You loved him. You loved him.

“Spencer, please say something,” you whispered, your voice trembling now as the fear of rejection crept in.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions—relief, love, fear. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “that I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel the same way. I’ve been trying so hard to protect myself, to keep my distance, because I didn’t want to get hurt. But all it did was hurt me more, because all I wanted was to be close to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words sank in, as the truth of what he had been feeling all this time became clear. “Spencer…”

He stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as if he was afraid you might disappear. “I’m so sorry for pulling away,” he whispered into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need you more than anything.”

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally spilled over. “I need you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with relief, with love, with the overwhelming emotion of finally being in his arms again.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, holding onto each other as the weight of everything you had been through, everything you had felt, finally began to lift.

“Please don’t ever pull away again,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

He shook his head, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. “I won’t. I promise. I’m done hiding.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was long overdue, a kiss that spoke of all the love, all the longing, all the unspoken words that had been building between you for so long. It was a kiss that sealed the promise of a future together, a future where you didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to hold back, a future where you could finally be with the person you loved.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Spencer rested his forehead against yours, his arms still wrapped around you. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I’m never letting you go again.”

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered, the words feeling right, feeling true.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice full of conviction, full of the certainty that this—being with you—was where he was always meant to be.

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desperate-gay · 1 year ago

Note

How about a NNN (No nut november) fic with either Leah or Alexia where they made a bet and two weeks in regret it but R wants them to win and denies them but also still teases. they end up getting mocked by everyone because of their lack of concentration. you can decide the ending !

Needy November

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

summary: ale accepts a challenge not realizing how hard it’s going to be

a/n: pretend i’m not two months late…

“C’mon capi, join the bet. Ingrid and I are doing it!” Mapi exclaims, continuing to try and convince her captain to the challenge.

“For the last time Maria, no.” Alexia shakes her head and proceeds to pack up her kit bag. She found the whole month's dare stupid and meaningless, especially when it meant holding off one of her favorite things.

“Ah, I see. You’re too scared that you’re gonna lose. I bet you’d crumble and fail within an hour.” The tattooed girl smirks, egging on Alexia which seems to be working. Alexia is never one to lose a challenge, so hearing people say she’d fail, she’s going to prove them wrong.

“How much are we talking?”

—

“Bebe, I’m home!�� Alexia’s voice echoes through the house, but once she notices the nicely lit candles and rose petals on the ground, she decides to quickly look for you.

Making her way around the home, she still has no clue as to where you are. She finally makes her way to the bedroom, and when she walks in, hands cover her eyes from behind which makes her jump but ease down when she smells the familiar scent of your perfume.

“Surprise.” You whisper in her ear, leaning up to reach. Removing your hands, you make your way in front of her and smooth out your outfit. Her eyes trail down her body and her mouth opens slightly in awe.

“What is all this?” She asks breathlessly, hands finding their way to your hips while yours loop around her neck and mess with her baby hairs.

“I thought I’d surprise you. I didn’t have anything to grade or check over today, so I came straight home and set this up. You and I have hardly had much time together since the season started, and I wanted to make time. So here we are.” Smiling, you lean in for a loving kiss. Alexia melts into your soft lips but pulls back way too soon for both of your liking.

“No no no no, I can’t.” The taller girl groans as she runs her hands down her face. She keeps them hovering over her eyes so she can’t see you in your outfit. If she keeps looking, she would pounce and have her way with you, but lose the bet.

Your hands grab her wrists and pull them away from her face, but her head tilts up towards the ceiling. “What is going on, baby? You’re really confusing me right now.” You nervously chuckle at her weird behavior.

“I made a bet with the girls.” She trails off, still avoiding your gaze.

“Oh no-”

“I can’t have any sex this month.”

“What!”

Alexia winces at your sudden rise of tone. “I know, I know. It was so stupid to accept. I should have just left.” She groans, still keeping her eyes off of you.

You let off a small huff and race through your thoughts. Technically, the team wouldn’t even know if she failed the challenge, she’d just have to lie. You grin to yourself and return your hands to her neck, rubbing up and down sensually. Alexia’s breath hitches when you press a few kisses on her jawline, knowing what you’re trying to do.

“Y’know, the girls don’t have to find out. We can have all the fun we want and still win the bet.” You whisper in her ear, attempting to help her give in. You pull back slightly and tug her earlobe between your teeth, making her eyes roll slightly in pleasure.

“No, that’s cheating which makes me a loser.” She suddenly takes a few steps back, shaking her head ferociously while pacing around the room.

“So you’re saying no to your half-naked girlfriend because you’re too stubborn to lose a bet that you got yourself into?” You question, quirking your eyebrow at her.

“Si.”

Her deadpan answer makes you scoff and groan at the same time. She probably didn’t even consider what she’d be taking away from you when she accepted the bet, so you’re going to try one last thing in hopes of changing her mind. You approach her and lightly run your fingertips down her chest and to her stomach, causing the Catalan to look anywhere but you.

“Ale, be serious for a second. You can pretend this stupid little game doesn’t exist and do whatever you want to me. You can bend and flip me into any position then fuck me-“

“La la la la! I can’t hear you!” Alexia covers her ears, shouting like a little kid and closing her eyes to end your temptations. Groaning loudly, you stomp into the bathroom to get your robe and calm down.

After a minute, the brunette peeks her eye open and sees you’re no longer in the room. She lets out a breath in relief but frowns when she takes in how much you did for her only for it to be ruined.

Walking over to the bathroom, she knocks lightly against the door. “Amor? Are you okay?”

She moves back when the door swings open, revealing you with your hair up in a messy bun and your body dressed in an oversized shirt with shorts. Her eyes follow your figure as you blow out all the candles, confusing her as to what your mood is. You can either be angry or just meh. Once you’re done, you walk back over to the taller girl and place a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m not mad, Ale. I guess it’s my fault for being in a relationship with a stubborn captain who can’t ever lose.”

“Hey!”

—

Three weeks in and Alexia has been miserable. Her body aches for yours, to touch you and to be touched. You on the other hand have been okay. Of course, you’re constantly craving Alexia, but you can still get off by yourself. It’s hard, but it’s one way to relieve yourself.

Alexia has been off the past week due to tweaking her knee, so she has to sit out for precautionary purposes. She still goes to training to see the girls and fulfill her captain duties, but today she decided to stay at home with you. It’s the weekend so you don’t have to worry about going to work.

You decided to take in your time off and enjoy yourself with a book in bed while Alexia busied herself in the living room, most likely watching football games. You’re embracing the silence of the room until the door creaks open and a body slams itself onto the bed.

The Catalan sighs, trying to get your attention but when you don’t pay her any mind, she sighs louder. You continue to flip through the pages of your book, purposely ignoring the girl’s advances. She crawls up to your body and places her head onto your stomach then trailing her hands onto your waist, just where your shirt rises and shows off your skin.

It starts as innocent as she rubs her hands up and down, massaging at your skin but soon turns more sinister when she places kisses below your belly button. Her fingers hook onto your shorts in an attempt to pull them down, but her advances are stopped when you slap at her hands.

“Amor.” She whines, looking up at you with your nose still stuck in your book. She huffs in annoyance and slides her body up, poking her head between the gap of your arms, now resting her head on your chest.

When you continue to pay her no attention, she begins to trail kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Her teeth start to sink into your skin right before you slam your book shut, making the girl jump in shock.

“Baby, I know you’re needy right now, but you need to stop.” You say sternly.

“Oh bebe, I know you want this just as much as I do. Let’s get naked, si?” She grins as her nose brushes along the underside of your jaw.

“Ah, no.” You push her off your body and onto the other side of the bed.

“C’mon, bebe. Don’t you want me fuck you with the stra-“

You quickly place a hand over her mouth and say, “You dug this hole, Ale. You gotta get yourself out of it. I’m not gonna give in just because you want it this time. You wanted to win so you’re going to win.”

Alexia buries her face into a pillow and lets out a few noises of aggression before getting up to head back into the living room. You shake your head in amusement and reopen your book, continuing from the spot you were interrupted by.

The Catalan shouts from another room, “I guess I’ll have to occupy myself because my girlfriend doesn’t love me!”

“Don’t you dare, Alexia Putellas Segura!”

—

It’s finally November 30th. Alexia is in the locker room, bouncing her leg up and down in anticipation of tonight. You’re both definitely going to be staying up until midnight to make up for the month’s time.

“Got somewhere to be, capi?” Patri asks, noticing the girl’s antsy behavior.

“Yeah, to her girlfriend so she can finally shag her tonight,” Mapi smirks when Alexia glares at her. “Don’t you think I know? Ingrid and I are both excited too, right bonita?” Ingrid rolls her eyes at her girlfriend who is waving her eyebrows up and down.

“It’s your fault I am even in this mess.” Alexia glares at the tattooed defender who in return holds up her hands in fake defense.

“You’re the one who agreed to take part in it, amiga. I didn’t force you.”

The two bicker back and forth until Ingrid interferes, stopping both of them much to the team’s dismay who find their arguing amusing. Ingrid rushes Mapi out the door to get home and rest as soon as possible from the rough training while Alexia decides to do the same.

It’s around 10 at night as she walks through the door. Just like a few weeks ago, there are flower petals on the ground and candles lit around the house, but now there is soft music playing and you standing in a new lingerie set with two flutes of champagne.

Alexia drops her bag onto the floor and quickly makes her way over to you, taking one glass out of your hand and into hers before wrapping her free arm around your back, pulling you into a steamy kiss. After a while, you both pull away to catch your breath with swollen red lips and blown-up eyes.

“Um, we still have two hours so I thought we could watch a movie for the time being. Can’t let you lose now.”

“That’s so long though.” Alexia whines but stops when you slam your lips against hers.

Pulling away you whisper, “Maybe we can make out during the movie, y’know, set the mood for the hours of stolen time we need to redeem?”

—

“Someone had a good night!” Lucy howls at the love-sick smile and glow that has been plastered on the captain’s face since she arrived at training.

“Mapi, pay up!”

#alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen #patri guijarro #lucy bronze #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #woso #barcelona fc #barcelona femeni

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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Heyy, i was wondering if you could do an Toto wolff x reader. I was thinking kitchen sex?? Like Toto getting turned on because he found out that reader was trying to make him his beloved pumpernickel bread for breakfast. I’ve been seeing tiktoks of Toto and his love for pumpernickel bread, and was just wondering if you could write abt it, though it’s TOTALLY ok if you don’t. Sorry if this was a little messy, this is my first time rqsting something. ♥️

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐰/𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you make toto his favorite bread. he’s going to thank you for this surprise properly. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. implied age gap. kitchen sex. rambling about bread. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. morning sex. reader and toto are married. beta-read. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.2k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: toto wolff x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: can't take my eyes off of you (i love you baby) • lauryn hill

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: can you tell i did way to much research on the types of pumpernickel bread? no, well, i don’t care 🙂 i WAS NOT familiar with toto wolff and pumpernickel bread so a quick youtube search opened my eyes to it and uh what can i say, this was born. ALSO: i feel like i’ve self-diagnosed myself; i am ashamed to admit that my kink might be somebody making me their wife…because why can’t i go one fic without making the reader be referenced to as a wife (m sorry i crave love). i honestly feel like it could be better, but y’know i hope i did your request justice (sorry it took me so long, ktober beat my ass). anon! i hope you see this, and i hope all the toto wolff lovers enjoy !!!

the yellow dish gloves on your hands protect your brown skin from most of the heat of the scalding tap water. the sound of your hums airily reverberate within the high ceilings of your open-plan kitchen as you clean the expensive dishes you’ve dirtied. you’ve taken off your wedding ring and placed it on top of your phone in the middle of the island to avoid any possibility of it falling down the drain or getting damaged.

you woke up a little after dawn, quickly shutting off your alarm to avoid waking up your husband; it’s the off season for him, you won’t wake him up at insane hours when he’s not needed to work. sneaking out of bed was a battle of its own—there were several close calls as you struggled to slip out of the tight hold of the austrian man. it took seven minutes for you to escape his warm embrace, but you made it through by thinking of the surprise you were going to cook up for Toto—or bake up for him. it’s no secret to anybody that the mercedes team principal loves pumpernickel bread, and that he’s very particular about how he likes it. of course, there’s no way you would be able to make the traditional german pumpernickel bread before he woke up—it takes fourteen hours to cook and it needs to rest for an entire day to allow it to form properly into its crunchy, cookie-like consistency. so, you decided to make the simplified recipe that only takes roughly an hour and a half to bake and prepare, while the original takes its time cooking. your husband will have to be happy with the more loaf-like treat until his preferred bread is ready. you’ve never been more thankful to have two ovens.

everything went well. both breads are prepped and baking away at their respective temperatures, and you’re carefully attempting to clean up the mess you’ve made in the process. you may not have been quiet enough based on the footsteps you hear heading your way. Toto pauses in the doorway and you smile, not needing to turn around to see the baffled expression on his face. you turn the faucet off and grab the cloth resting on the oven handle to dry your hands, “good morning, bär. slept well?” you teased gently with a small smile in Toto’s direction. you take an appraising glance of his form; he’s only wearing this pair of pajama pants covered in the mercedes logo (George gifted him those when the team did secret santa last year; Toto said he’d never wear them), leaving his toned torso exposed for your viewing pleasure, sleep lines from his pillow are still faint along his left cheek, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. your husband nods half-heartedly, and blinks in confusion as he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

you're wearing one of his white button-up shirts—half of the buttons are fastened, the sleeves are rolled up and cuffed right above your elbow. you aren’t wearing a bra based on the way he can see how your nipples are pebbled through the shirt, and he assumes you’re only wearing underwear based on your bare legs. your feet are warmed by a pair of black, fuzzy house slippers, the bottom of the shirt rests along the middle of your thighs, and the collar is shifted to the side exposing your collarbone. your hair is free, allowed to rest however it wants to on this winter morning. he starts, making to finally enter the space of the kitchen and give you a proper morning greeting, but notices a smudge of flour along your jawline. and then he sees the baking utensils gathered in the sink, and a rich aroma starts to permeate the air. it smells slightly like coffee and slightly like dark chocolate—it’s sweet. then, it dawned on Toto, you’re baking pumpernickel bread. for him. his heart flutters; you usually sleep as late into the morning as possible, but today, you woke up at an insane hour just to make him his favorite bread from scratch. you’ve always teased him for how difficult he acts about his breakfast treat yet you sacrificed hours of sleep to please him. Toto’s mushy mindset is broken, as you cock your head at him, wondering why he hasn’t responded to you, and the collar of his your shirt shifts and falls to expose the top of your chest. mmm, yes, he should thank you properly.

you don’t even have time to register toto crossing the space between you, before your lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss. a shocked squeal is muffled against toto’s lips, as his large hands hold your waist steady, and your own hand flies up to hold his head. your other hand rises to tap at his chest frantically, as you begin to run out of air, and toto pulls away with an amused chuckle. dazedly, your hand on his chest pulls back to touch your lips, like you needed further verification that he just kissed you.

Toto smirks, “good morning, schatz.”

you nod unsteadily, “yes—g-good morning.”

your husband laughs louder at your stutter, and tugs you into his chest for a proper hug, rubbing at the nape of your neck with a heavy hand. the two of you stand tangled in the middle of the kitchen, uncaring of how many seconds fly by, and your eyes flutter shut at the relaxing motion of Toto’s massaging hands.

“i’m going to fuck you on the island, now, “ Toto informs you kindly.

you startle, pulling your head back to stare up at him with wide eyes. his gaze is serious, and you can’t help how your cheeks warm under his attention.

“well…” you murmur, “i’m not going to say no.”

from there, it’s all a rushed haze. you go from having two feet firmly planted on the tiled floor to being lifted and placed on the marble island as toto speeds through unbuttoning your collared shirt. you try to shrug it off, but Toto halts your motions firmly telling you to leave it on. you hum absently and pull him into a kiss. Toto moans into your mouth, and the sound has your hips bucking forwarding to grind against the bulge in his pants. his hands reaches for your left hip and assists you in grinding against him, and a sigh of pleasure parts your lips. the austrian eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, and he tastes a bit of sugar from whatever you snacked on while making his bread. oddly, that causes more of his blood to rush south and he breaks the kiss to lean back and tug your panties off.

you simultaneously pull his pajama pants down, and squirm happily at the fact that he slept without boxers. Toto gently guides you to lie back on the countertop, and coos softly when you shiver from the cold surface; he’ll warm you up soon. he pulls your panties off from where they were dangling around your right ankle and drops them to the floor, kicking them to the side along with his pants. tugging you forward, your ass rests on the edge of the counter and he leans down to press kisses on your throat.

moaning highly, you crane your neck to expose its full length to his mercy. your right hand tangles in his hair to guide him exactly where you want, your left hand holds at his shoulder for support, with your nails digging into the meat of his muscles. Toto pauses, and pulls back to grab your left hand. a broken whine falls from your lips, and you buck your hips upward searching for friction, the slide of his cock along your folds feels delicious. his knees buckle at the sensation, and he forces your hips back down with his free hand, as he pulls your left hand in front of him to look at it.

“where’s your ring, liebling?” Toto asks, warm eyes focused on your bare ring finger. you laugh disbelievingly, amused and surprised at the fact that he managed to feel the absence of your wedding ring, and pull your hand out of his grasp smoothly. you reach behind you and pluck your ring from its spot on top of your phone, and slide it back on your finger. brandishing your ringed-hand in his eyeline, you impatiently try and buck your hips upward to no avail, his one-handed hold on you is unbreakable.

“okay! fuck me—now, please,” you demand desperately.

Toto hushes you, and holds your left hand steady. he stares into your eyes as he presses a kiss on the wedding ring he bestowed you with. your cheeks burn hot, and you roll your eyes as if your heart didn’t liquify at the show of devotion. your husband guides himself to your entrance, and pushes in carefully—thankful he fucked you open last night. you whimper softly, tender and sore, but you nod frantically to encourage Toto to push further in. he groans throatily as he bottoms out, throwing his head back in pleasure, and your moan harmonizes at the feeling of fullness. the stretch burns slightly, but you’re more focused on achieving an orgasm than the space he caves out in your walls.

you squeeze your knees around his waist, and grind up on him to encourage him to move. Toto grabs your left leg, bringing it to rest over his shoulder, while your right leg remains resting on his waist, both fuzzy slippers falling from your feet at the movement. it has him sliding slightly deeper inside you, and a spark of pleasure races up your spine. Toto begins to thrust, setting a quick pace from the get go. he fucked you open eight hours ago and the tightness of your cunt has him considering that he didn’t fuck you well enough. the bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips suggest differently. it’s ridiculous, how lost the two you get in each other’s bodies. your moans are punched out of you with every thrust, his cock dragging against your most pleasurable spot every time he sinks in you. Toto should be embarrassed at how quickly this is ending, but your sounds are too erotic for there to be any other outcome.

he lays his hand on your navel, gently adding pressure over where he’s reaching inside of you, while his thumb circles rapidly over your clit. your back arches sharply as you screech from the unexpected flare of pleasure, raking your nails down his back in thin red lines as you cum at the added stimulation. it’s a multitude of sensations and emotions that had you hurtling over the edge quicker than you thought possible, and Toto has no choice but to follow you into the abyss, unable to hold back his orgasm at the unbearably hot and wet grasp of your cunt. your husband rocks into you through the afterglow, pausing only when you start to whimper in too much, and not feeling good. staring up at toto with a blissed-out smile and half-lidded eyes, you sigh sweetly as he slips out and leans down to kiss you again. the press of his lips is syrupy sweet and you find yourself getting lost under the feeling of him pouring his love and devotion into you—even though you don’t need the reminder—and the timer you’ve set on your phone blares jarringly causing you and toto to jump apart, startled.

“what the fuck,” Toto deadpans as you scramble around to turn off the alarm.

you sigh in relief once the aggravating sound is silenced, and nudge at Toto’s hip with your foot, “well—don’t just stand there! get the bread out before it burns!”

the austrian huffs exaggeratedly, like it’s such a chore, and pulls on the oven mitts to take out the pumpernickel bread adaptation after you direct him to the proper oven, not wanting him to disturb the traditional bread baking. the sight of the known headphone-smashing, hothead mercedes team principal completely naked spare for a pair of oven mitts is amusing, enough that you can’t quiet your snort, uncaring of how Toto glares at you. he places the baking tin on the cooling rack you set to the side, and hums happily at the aroma—even though it’s a far cry from the usual bread he prefers. like the oaf he is, Toto reaches to pull a piece of the fresh pumpernickel to eat, but with lightning quick speed you reach over and slap his hand away before he defiles the bread.

“aht aht! what do you think you're doing? it needs at least forty-five minutes to cool before you can take a slice,” you scold the grown man.

Toto pouts (astounding, honestly), and then he brightens considerably, a sleazy smirk spreading across his lips, “ah? we have time for a second round then, maybe three…” you laugh hysterically, ignoring the way your stomach flips pleasingly at the suggestion, and slide off the counter, buttoning up your collared shirt, and you bend down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing lying on the floor, “there’s no way you manage to get hard twice in forty-five minutes, old man–” Toto balks at your words–he’s really not old, or at least not that old, “–however, it’s enough time to finish washing the dishes you distracted me from doing.”

taglist: @saintslewi@cherry2stems@lorarri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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wandixx · 4 months ago

Text

GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 2

part one is here

@whimsicalchaosgarden you asked to be tagged, sorry it took so long

Trigger warnings: mentions of experimentation and dehumanization (tell me if there is more appropriate way of phrasing it)

“So,” Robin started, taking the voice recorder out of his utility belt. “It'll probably be best if we get an explanation while making an accident report. This way we get it all over sooner”

Everyone agreed with this idea, standing in the loose circle in the debriefing area to make it all feel more serious. They had limited time before the next batch of cookies needed to be taken out of the oven and there was no way they all wouldn't devolve into chaos when it happened. M’gann knew from experience.

To make sure they wouldn't take too long and cookies wouldn't turn on the fire alarm (again) both she and Danny set a timer.

In the meantime they had to learn who actually attacked them earlier.

“Phantom do the honors”

Danny froze for a moment, looking like deer caught in the headlight before he asked in a bit squeaky voice:

“How do I make an accident report?”

“Just say what happened but make it sound fancy,” Artemis explained.

“Make a mission report and we'll fix it along the way,” Kaldur proposed.

“Answer ‘When? Where? Who was involved? What happened? What have you done about it?’ without excessive use of puns to avoid Bat-lecture” Robin helped, already in handstand.

“Bat-lecture? Really Rob?”

“So it's like lab report lite” Danny said before Robin did anything more than squawk indignantly “Alright, I can do it. Do you have any set phrase to start? And which accident report is it, in the database?"

“44th… How about ‘[Hero name], report’? Sounds serious enough.”

Everyone agreed, so after a moment of silence Kaldur did the honors.

“Phantom, report”

Danny straightened, rolling his shoulders back and locked his eyes in the middle distance. It was a bit eerie how fast he went from relaxed and goofy to almost emotionless statue. M’gann wished to never encounter it again, thank you very much.

“Incident report no. 45 made by Young Justice member Phantom, regarding an attack from earlier today, 26th April 20XX. The Young Justice Team, later referred to as the Team, went on a trip to an amusement park staying currently in the city of Happy Harbour. It was an activity meant to strengthen interpersonal relationships within the Team, previously green-lit by Red Tornado. Every member was in civilian attire as per protocol. Around 3:15 PM, after two and a half hours, the Team were disturbed by a group of ten armed people, recognized by member Phantom as belonging to Ghost Investigation Ward, colloquially known as GIW or Guys In White because of their uniforms. Later in the report the organization will be referred to as the GIW. Two shots were fired by the assailants, targeting but not reaching member Phantom. Members of the GIW were hostile but with use of humor and threat of legal actions, the Team managed to diffuse the situation before it endangered passerbys. Despite direct attack, none of the Team members’ identities were compromised. Assailants left the confrontation with belief that Phantom left his ectoplasmic signature on an unrelated civilian. Agents refused to admit they were working for the GIW since its operations break a couple of laws of the state Rhode Island. Because of that, their appearance was reported to local law enforcement and taken care of. No injuries or damage to the city infrastructure were sustained other than two burns in the asphalt in the place of confrontation. Required follow-up with local law enforcement in civilian attire as victims of assault. End of report” Danny sighed, easing back into a more natural position. “This good?” he asked, with a sheepish smile.

“Perfect”

“How are you so good at reporting? You didn’t even know what to do a second ago? That’s just unfair”

“I used to write my parent’s lab reports. It’s pretty similar in form”

“Lab-”

“Follow-up to the report only, Kid-Flash,” Robin interrupted “Phantom. elaborate on who were the assailants”

Danny stepped back from himself again.

“GIW is a ghost hunting organization supported and accredited by the state government in Illinois, legally operating also in states Wisconsin and Ohio. Their goal is to catch and examine ecto-entities to learn more about their biology and ways to obliterate them. Obviously their plans for experimentation don’t include consideration of ghosts’ well-being”

“Damn, that’s messed up”

“They wouldn't catch a blob ghost if they tried,” Danny shrugged, though something was wrong with the gesture. She wasn't sure though, so she moved on.

“Then why were you scared?” M’gann pressed on instead.

“My parents… are, you know, prominent ghost hunters so when GIW opened we all got a tour around the whole building. The lab was… it made me imagine things I wished I had never thought about”

“They have labs? Like evil labs?” Robin perked up like a kid who just heard that Christmas came early. “How could you hide it from us?!” he added, falling to hang on Danny's shoulder. He twirled a bit to catch the left one even though before he stood on halfa’s right side. Dramatic as always “Conner, we have a birthday gift for you!”

“What does GIW’s lab have to do with my birthday?”

“The potential!” Robin yelled, straightening for a better effect.

Everyone started laughing. Well, everyone other than Conner who just looked at them confused.

“He probably wants to storm another lab, bring up nostalgia of our first meeting,” Kaldur calmed down just enough to explain.

“Tell me you wouldn't like to punch an evil scientist,” Wally added, almost dropping to the floor.

“This does sound nice”

“And THIS is exactly the reason why I haven't told you all. Thanks for spoiling my surprise Rob,” Danny lied, though he did his best to sound truthful. He even projected some false mirth.

It would take much more to trick M’gann though. She abruptly stopped laughing.

“You're lying. Why actually haven't you told us?” she demanded maybe a little too harshly, but she was worried. Everyone froze for a moment, before turning to look at Danny.

“They're all bark no bite, and aim worse than Stormtroopers’, so I haven't considered them important enough to report”

Other's didn’t know, of course, but M’gann knew just how terrified Danny was during the confrontation and how echoes of that fear soured air around him even hours later.

Everyone did realize this explanation was a tone of bullshit though.

Apparently incredulous stares were enough of the response.

“You and the Justice League have more important things to deal with than some shitty local laws”

“Bullshit again,” Artemis burst her lips “This is exactly what Justice League is for”

“I already found people to help me lobby against them”

“And why aren't we on the list?”

Danny fell silent, not looking anyone in the eyes, which was quite a feat considering they had him in a half circle. M’gann considered moving to his side to show her support. Stare down like that had to be quite stressful.

Why not actually. She stepped closer, and drew him in the loose side hug. Danny tensed, which wasn't abnormal for him. He usually relaxed in about thirty seconds, if he didn't, she'd let go.

“I didn't expect them to breach the containment…”

“Each of these lies is worse, you know? Like, insulting our intelligence level of worse,” Artemis interrupted once more, pinning him with her eyes alone “Give us truth or stop talking”

Danny raised his head to look back at Artemis and mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key away.

“Really?”

Boy just shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

“Alright, let's move on to the next question, how did it get approved in the first place?” Wally interrupted, waving his hand between them. They both shook off like dogs fresh out of water.

“Couldn't you wait five more seconds until I won?”

“Ha! You wish Artemis. Though you could give us a moment”

“I gave you literal ages”

Danny snorted “Sorry, I keep forgetting how impatient you are”

“Oh shut up, my brain is just faster than yours, you slowpokes”

“Sure, sure”

“He made a good point,” Kaldur said “This shouldn’t even pass. And even if, you’re legally a Meta”

“Normal ghosts aren’t and halfas being a thing is not exactly common knowledge among the living”

“I’ll never get used to this distinction”

“I believe in you, Rob”

“What about ‘Extraterrestrial, extradimensional and otherwise previously unincluded’ Optional Protocol to the ‘International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights’?”

“Oh my god Conner, you’re the only person to say the whole name ever”

“Hey!”

“It all comes down to the definition of the ghost and the fact that Alien addition uses sentience and sapience as a ground to give anyone said rights. And also, US signed it but didn’t ratify it so…”

“Isn’t it same thing?”

“Nope. I thought so too, but apparently signing anything means nothing unless it’s also ratified, so I’m kinda fucked. Can’t even get the UN to frown at them disapprovingly, because officially, nothing was agreed to. And you know, even if they ratified it, ecto-scientists conducted enough research to prove we aren’t sapient enough to have these rights anyway. Just most of the states didn’t need to make a law out of it”

“That’s rough buddy”

“Are you really quoting Avatar at me right now? Really Artemis?”

“Yes”

“Wasn’t Avatar this movie with blue people? I don’t think they said that there”

M’gann wasn’t quite sure why human members seemed to be appalled by the question.

“We’re going to fix that later-”

“What exactly is there to be fixed, because I feel like we’re talking about to different things”

“- but for now can we go back to the whole ‘ghosts have no rights in Illinois’ thing” Robin continued, completely ignoring Conner’s questions.

“Illinois, Wisconsin and Ohio. There are portals to the Zone in two of these states. GIW already tried to send nuke through one of them”

“How Americana of them,” Kaldur muttered.

“If you have another insane tidbit about them, please share it all now. My mind can’t utilize any more revelations like that”

“I handled it, don’t worry”

“Someone tried to nuke literal Afterlife…”

“Yup, get on the schedule Kid Flash. You’re supposed to be fast”

M’gann knocked her arm into his, kinda as a ‘don’t be mean’ message. Danny kinda tensed, but soon relaxed back and moved his head as if he wanted to lay it on her shoulder. Excitement of the day was clearly catching up to him.

M’gann wouldn’t be mad if he did laid his head there.

“Why do we learn about it just now?”

“I wrote the report, not my fault you haven’t read it”

“Can’t fault us for assuming we’d know every important thing from your endless bitching!”

Danny straightened and laughed, in this horrible humorless way that made M’gann want to claw at her brain until she couldn’t hear or sense any of it.

Instead, she brought her other hand up and just held him tighter.

Thankfully the whole spectacle didn’t last long.

“It’s cute that you think I bitch about anything important”

“Phantom…”

“Don’t Phantom me right now. Even if by some miracle they managed to send the missile to the Zone, it most likely wouldn’t have worked. They’re mostly just a joke.”

“They managed to shot you. Right upper arm or shoulder”

“Don’t deny it, we’ve seen you wince when I leaned on you and when M’gann hugged you”

Martian tried to let go hearing that, but Danny held her in place. She stayed where she was but carefully moved her hand away from the slightly damp area on his shirt. She suddenly caught on everything that was wrong with him, now that she knew to look for it.

“I got worse from the hand of my house’s security system”

“You… understand that it’s… like… way worse, right?”

“You don’t know life until you hear threats of dissection against your alter ego after stopping death ray with bowl of cereal,” he said, relaxing more into her side again. He sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Do you want to move in here? Until we deal with this whole GIW and assorted mess?” she said instead. Conner nodded, surprisingly eager to share the space that he considered somewhat sacred.

“Nope, I’m good, I’m needed there”

“You could Zeta- yeah, no, nevermind, it wasn’t good idea. But we could make it work”

“You still should-”

“It’s fine. I mean, I have it handled and it doesn’t affect that many people. And we’re working on it. It’s fine”

“It really is not,” Conner growled.

“You need your arm patched up” M’gann demanded, ignoring previous conversation, with eyes still fixed on the blood that stained her forearm. She should’ve destroyed at least Operative K.

“I bandaged it up”

“It soaked through then. Let’s go to med–”

Loud shrill interrupted her, because of course it did.

“Oh, look, convenient distraction! Let’s take the cookies out before they get burned!”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” M’gann stated in a way that allowed no argument “You’re getting away for now only because I’m holding most of your weight right now”

“Sure we will. And I can stand on my own, thank you very much”

“I’ve heard many lies today and this might be the worst of them. We’re going to Medbay as soon as the cookies are out”

“You’ve got it boss”

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #it's been a while huh?#ALMOST HALF A YEAR?!#the funniest thing is I had this part written when I posted the first one I just wante one more as a back up #and then I rewrote this like three times insteas because I felt like it was getting too serious too fast #i wanted to keep the 'crack treated almost seriously' vibes for a little longer but they just didn't want to be kept #part after that is in theory written but now too has to be heavily rewritten #anyway on more plot related topics #as you can see #I made up an international document #during my studies I brushed against an international law mostly focused on human rights so while I wouldn't call it an expretise I know smt #I believe UN in DC universe would make a document that includes all non-human people runing around and the easiest way I found was #to make an Optional Protocol to the “International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights” that Conner mentioned #this is first of two convenants and it's basicly “people deserve to not be killed or tortured and believe what they want” document #the second one is “International Convenant on Economic Social and Cultural right”; basically “people deserve fair pay healthcare and school #I think the optional protocol would be #non-human being who [insert criteria that would be wide enough but also exculde Krypto for example]#also have these rights #I can try explaining it more in depth if someone asks #i know there is a difference between ratifying and signing an international treaty #but i barely understand how it works in Polish law so im not trying to figure out US one #its whole other law system (Poland uses continental law while US uses common law I can explain the difference if someone asks)#anyway #(almost) New Years fic special #part two of five #wandixx writes #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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powderpinkprincess · 12 days ago

Text

Out of Everyone I. [Lando Norris & twin sister!reader]

description: Being twins was easier when you were twelve. You both know this, because now you are ‘dating’ Lando’s friend, whom he absolutely hates for you. warnings: Lando’s friends mentioned in this are all made-up. If he has any friends irl who are called the same, that’s a coincidence.

It was rare that your family got to be together in the past few years.

Life had its funny, strange ways, because your muppet little brother became a superstar.

Despite Lando spending most of his life karting and racing, it all happened so fast. Within the blink of an eye, he became a Formula 1 driver, and millions were swooning over him. Over Lando. Your twin brother. Like what the hell.

You haven’t seen Lando in months. Your job had also absorbed you; you just didn’t get paid for it as much as Lando did. The Norris family always valued sports, and all of you were talented in your field, which in your case was running. Besides being a personal trainer now, you were getting ready for the third marathon of your life. Lando always thought you were crazy.

Now he was back again, and not only for a day or two, but for a whole week. And that was where things were going to get interesting because you had a secret he didn’t know about.

You were dating one of his friends.

You weren’t even sure how it started exactly. You weren’t sure why you were invited to that house party in the first place, with Lando’s friends when he couldn’t even make it, but you went there anyway. It was a celebration of Joey, a basketball player whose team had just recently blown up. He returned from the US after winning several trophies.

The main problem in your eyes wasn’t even that he was three years younger than you. It was that he asked you not to tell Lando anything about you seeing each other. It was hard because Lando and you never really kept secrets from each other. Joey was begging you, promising everything he could. He told you that Lando was his friend; it was he who wanted to tell Lando about your relationship, otherwise it would be too awkward. However, three months had passed, and Joey never told you that he had finally talked to Lando. After a while, you were just afraid to ask about it because Joey seemingly took it to the heart.

Seeing Lando after such a long time was nice. Almost like arriving home. There was no point in your lives where you existed without each other, literally. You were born only five minutes before him.

Of course, Lando was Lando, though. He just couldn’t stop getting on your nerves. He was in the family house since not even half an hour, and he already managed to piss you off. It was just a very simple act: he stole the bottle cap of your juice while he was sitting next to you at the dining table, and he enjoyed every minute of acting as if it wasn’t in his hand.

“Give it back,” you frowned, and then you leaned closer to him, lowering your voice to make sure your mom couldn’t hear it. “One day I will smack you so hard.”

He raised his eyebrows with a cocky grin. “Try me.”

That was it. You glanced towards the kitchen, making sure your mom wasn’t looking. She wasn’t, so you made a fist and punched Lando in the arm with force. He quickly caught your wrist, so you looked him in the eye and smirked. Then you yelled out. “Ow, Lando, that hurts!”

Cisca’s eyes snapped toward the two of you immediately. “Lando! What have you done again?!”

He immediately withdrew his hand. “She hit me first!” he tried to defend himself, but it was almost pointless. When you were small, it was mostly he picking fights and making you cry, so your parents always assumed he started everything.

Your mom let out a tired sigh. “I really thought you two would’ve grown out of this by the time you hit twenty-four.”

“Well, Y/N should have, since she’s the older one,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes on your mom now instead of you.

“By five minutes,” Cisca replied with a frown.

“Exactly. So technically, she’s supposed to be the more mature one,” Lando nodded, flashing you a smug grin.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Please. I’m way more mature than you.”

“Then why are you attacking me?” Lando shot back, his gaze locking with yours. He was loving this. It was way too easy to get under your skin.

“Attacking? I’ll chase you around the house if you want to see an actual attack. You know I’m faster.”

“Maybe,” Lando shrugged. “But I’m definitely stronger than you.”

“And a hundred times more annoying. I seriously can’t believe you ever had a girlfriend,” you muttered. The idea of someone willingly making out with your brother made your stomach turn. His last relationship was a nightmare for you to witness.

“At least I’ve had a relationship that lasted longer than two months,” he said, squinting at you.

You flinched. He had a point. None of your flings ever stuck - until now.

“Well, I have one that has!” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. And just like that, you knew you messed up. You cursed yourself as his eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re dating someone?” he leaned in, narrowing his eyes at you. He’d never admit it, but despite being a guy, he was just as nosy as any gossip-loving girl. The fact that you kept things from him drove him insane.

You didn’t answer, suddenly unsure what to say. You weren’t even supposed to say anything in the first place. You’d promised. On the other hand, you were surprised that three months passed, and apparently, Joey still kept it a secret that you were seeing each other. He hasn’t said a word about you. No hint. No mention. Nothing. You felt a bit hurt.

“Seriously, Y/N. You can’t leave me hanging like that. When did you get a boyfriend, and how come I didn’t know about it?” Lando pushed, staring you down.

“He didn’t tell you?” you asked cautiously, hoping maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe Joey had said something, and Lando just hadn’t pieced it together yet. But his expression didn’t change - still confused.

Lando paused, staring at you like he was calculating something. “Am I gonna be mad?” he asked finally.

“Mad? Why would you be mad?” you frowned.

“I don’t know. I just assumed it was someone from my social circle, and those are some dickheads.”

“And you think I’d date a dickhead?”

“You have before,” he pointed out bluntly. You had no comeback for that, so he pressed on. “Okay, I know you like messing with me, but come on. Just tell me who it is.”

Your stomach twisted, and you pulled your mouth. This was not going well.

“If he hasn’t told you himself, he probably doesn’t want it out yet,” you said carefully.

“So, you’re saying the guy you’re dating asked you to keep it a secret?” Lando’s voice lifted a little, obviously not thrilled.

You gave a helpless shrug.

“Well, he’s a coward,” Lando scoffed, folding his arms.

“He’s still your friend, though,” you blurted again before you could stop yourself. Your heart jumped into your throat. Lando’s eyes widened, and so did yours. You didn’t mean to be so obvious. You just wanted to defend Joey, even though the secrecy had started to sting. It didn’t feel good to hear Lando calling him names.

“Wait,” Lando said slowly, his posture shifting. “You’re dating one of my friends?”

You nodded weakly. You noticed that he tried to keep a straight face, but you could see in his eyes how betrayed he suddenly felt in that moment. You swallowed thickly. This had never happened before between the two of you. You didn’t want to hurt him.

“When did it start?” he asked, his voice low.

“Are you mad?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Just- Tell me when.”

“Three months ago. When you were in Baku.”

“Three months-” Lando cut off. “Three months, and neither of you said anything?”

The guilt hit you like a truck. They’d even seen each other a few times since Baku. Not a word from Joey. You felt so bad for Lando. You honestly didn’t think Joey would drag this out for so long.

Lando was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. “Which one of my friends is it?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you until he was ready. I really thought he might’ve mentioned something by now.” You couldn’t meet his eyes. You felt horrible.

“He didn’t,” Lando replied flatly. “Or I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“I’m sorry.”

He exhaled, hard. “Are you in love with this guy?”

“Well-” you hesitated, lowering your voice so your parents wouldn’t hear it. “Technically, we’re just- Friends with benefits, I guess. At least until he’s ready to go public.”

You saw the disgust form on Lando’s face instantly. “You’re screwing around with one of my friends?!”

“Shh!” you hissed, shooting a look toward the kitchen where your parents were drinking coffee, not knowing a thing about your situation.

“Who is it?” he asked again, more forcefully this time. He was clearly getting worked up.

“I told you, I’m not saying anything until he tells you himself,” you repeated, shaking your head.

“He should’ve told me by now,” Lando muttered, voice heavy with frustration. “He could’ve at least given me a hint. I don’t get what he’s trying to hide from me for so long.”

"Probably that he’s screwing your twin sister without wanting anything serious," you muttered, eyes locked on your hands resting on the table. It was painfully clear to you by now. If he wanted more, he would’ve made a move, any move. He’d had plenty of chances.

"He doesn’t want anything serious with you?" Lando echoed, his brows pulling together.

"I’m not sure," you said quietly, shaking your head. Apparently, he didn’t, but it hurt to even think about it, let alone say it out loud.

"But you want something serious with him?" he asked.

You looked away. “It’s fine like this.”

"But if he asked for a serious relationship, you’d say yes?" Lando pushed.

You nodded reluctantly. As much as you hated admitting it, you liked Joey. Way more than you should for something that was supposed to be casual.

"Then it’s not fine like this," Lando decided.

"It is! I’m a grown woman, I know what I’m doing," you shot back defensively, trying to sound stronger than you felt. You didn’t want him to see how badly this was hurting you.

"No, it’s not! My friend is messing with your feelings," he argued.

"He’s not- He just has a lot on his plate right now," you mumbled, desperate for him to stop pushing. You just wanted to run upstairs to your childhood bedroom and cry into your pillow.

"Okay, I’m gonna try and guess the guy," Lando said suddenly.

"No," you said quickly, eyes going wide.

"Let’s rule out the ones who are in a relationship," he muttered to himself.

“Lando, don’t,” you hissed, but he wasn’t listening.

"That rules out most of them. I’m down to, like, four suspects- If I count the not-so-close ones too."

His remaining single friends were Steve, Joey, Alex, and Matt. Steve was a personal trainer, so he had similar interests to you, yet he was probably too decent to sneak around like this behind Lando’s back. Joey had just kicked off his sports career and was constantly traveling for competitions- And he was three years younger than you, so Lando couldn’t even imagine you ever had the chance to talk. Then again, Joey would totally be down for this friends-with-benefits thing. Alex would’ve told the whole group if he was seeing someone because he’d been trying to find someone for so long, and Matt? He couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. If it were either of them, Lando would’ve heard something by now.

“Lando, please,” you whispered, but he was already piecing it together.

"I’m thinking- Who has ‘a lot on his plate’ right now?" he said slowly.

Your stomach dropped. You’d given it away. Lando’s eyes widened in realization, too.

“No way,” he breathed.

Your face flushed.

Lando ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhere between horrified and furious. “Are you insane? Does he treat you at least somewhat decently?” He knew what Joey was like, and his stomach shrank at the thought of imagining you with him.

“Who?” you tried weakly, hoping maybe, just maybe, he was wrong.

“Joey,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You looked down in shame. You didn’t need to say anything. Your silence said it all. Lando just stared at you, stunned.

“Joey? Seriously? Out of everyone, you chose him? He’s 21, Y/N. He doesn’t even know who he is, let alone what he wants. Of course, he’s not going to commit to anything!” His voice rose with each word, and your glare did nothing to stop him. “And you know what’s even better? That little bastard kept it from me for three months!”

“Lando, quiet,” you pleaded, glancing toward the kitchen again. Your parents were still in there. No one else could find this out, especially not them.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re so going to regret this.”

find part two here

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando x y/n #lando norris x y/n #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n

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captain-bubble-wrap · 3 months ago

Text

As the Canucks' newest rinkside reporter, you're preparing yourself for your first day on the job but things don't exactly start out the easiest. From calling in a favor from your father to interviewing the team's captain, it's bound to be a memorable night.

CW: none

9 October 2024 | Season Opener

Tonight marked the start of the Canucks' 2024-25 season and your introduction to the team's organization and fanbase. This was the biggest day of your career and you couldn't be any more nervous. You had done your makeup twice before leaving your apartment, changed your clothes half a dozen times, and frantically checked your hair in every mirror at least once. You had finally been given the chance to get your feet wet in professional broadcasting and you prayed you didn't fall on your face.

You knew any expectation of your abilities were going to be high just because of the fact that your father was the head coach of the team. Aware that there would be those whispers of favoritism and unfair handouts, you had tried to prepare yourself for such rumors and just wanted to let your work speak for itself. You were a Canucks' Top Prospect graduate and last year, you had reported rinkside for the Abbotsford Canucks as an intern, following college graduation, and it had been a wonderful opportunity. Now, you would find yourself among seasoned veterans and hoped not to feel like a child with numerous babysitters.

You had arrived at the arena around the same time as some of the players, just because if you didn't, you knew you would have found reason to pick another outfit or redo your eyeliner for the third time. Your heels clicked with an echo through the parking garage, your hair swished back and forth in the high ponytail atop your head with each step. You were confident, sure, but beneath that polished exterior was equally as much anxiety and panic.

"Badge?" Demanded the security guard from his post, not familiar with the new face standing before him. You produced the lanyard that was intertwined with your keys from your purse. Once it was in his possession he checked it against a series of papers. Nervousness began to set in within your chest when he didn't give it back quickly. The way he looked at you was like a bouncer checking a fake ID outside a club.

"I don't have you on the list," he replied sharply, handing back your fresh credentials. "No one with your name in Media."

"But I'm reporting tonight," you reassured, eyebrows pulled in from worry. "I was hired back in June."

The older gentleman, portly and with deep lines etched into his face scowled, "I can't let you in. You better call who ever it was who 'hired' you, because I'm not letting in anyone just because they claim to be Rick Tocchet's daughter. Nice try."

"I can show you my driver's licen--."

"Still no one with that name on the list. Now, step aside."

Absolutely taken aback by the rudeness and unbelievable news, you turned back towards where you had walked from and briefly saw two men, dressed in nice suits pass by you. Digging around the interior of your purse for your phone you'd hear the security guard call them by their first names.

"Connor. Quinn. Have a good game tonight, boys," he said to them, far more chipper than he had been with you just moments ago. You knew both players, hell, you knew all of the names on the Canucks' roster. That had been Connor Garland and Quinn Hughes who had breezed past. Too bad they couldn't vouch for you, now you were tasked with calling in a very poorly-time favour.

"Hey princess," said the voice on the other end of the phone once the call was finally picked up. "You alright?"

"No, dad, I'm not," you said, your voice low so to not let anyone overhear your conversation. "Security won't let me in, says I'm not on some media list. Not to mention he thinks I'm lying about who I am."

Your father sighed deeply. He was the last person you wanted to call and whine about someone being mean to you, especially hours before the first puck would drop. You had a job to do, and who better to pull some strings than him? However, it was the timing that was unfortunate.

"What gate are you at?" He asked, the frustration evident in his tone.

"I don't know. I'm at the players entrance or something. Connor and Quinn just went past me."

"Alright. Let me make a call. Sit tight."

"Thanks, dad."

He mumbled a "mhm" before the call dropped, leaving you loitering, hoping the guard didn't threaten to escort you off the grounds for being unauthorized personnel. What a way to start the night, the season, and your career. It wouldn't take long however before the ringing of a phone would echo throughout the garage. It had come from the security booth and you hoped it was someone calling on your behalf. Unable to stifle your curiosity, you looked towards the direction of the booth to see the man looking at you, nodding while he said nothing. He'd motion you over with a wave of his hand and you'd waste no time seeing what it was about.

"Apparently, your name wasn't added to the active media correspondents," he said flatly, hardly that of an apology. "You can go on in."

"Thank you," you sighed, making short work of the remainder of garage that opened up into the bowels of Rogers Arena. Finally, you were where you needed to be and it was already a mad house. Equipment managers were transporting rolling carts of towels and all manner of various odds and ends through the hallways and around tight corners. You had general directions of the media hub and you were thankful you had gotten there so early, because finding that specific room was like a treasure hunt. After probably twenty minutes of navigating the behind the scenes world of the arena, you arrived at the door.

"Oh, you must be Y|N Tocchet! So good to meet you! We're glad you made it," remarked Senior Writer Chris Faber, who was going over his notes when you came in. "We heard you'd be joining the team. Welcome."

"Thank you so much, I'm eager to get started!"

"We love the eagerness," he added, always happy to have young talent involved in the sport and pioneering for younger generations to follow. "Heard you made quite the name for yourself in Abbotsford last season."

"I loved it there! It was fun watching to see who had the hints of being a big talent develop down there. It was always loud," you smiled with a nod.

"I think you'll fit right in with us here. No doubt your father is proud," Chris said, with the smile himself.

"You'd have thought I had been drafted first overall!" You remarked, remembering how he had boasted when you got the call from upper management about the reporter position being given to you. "I have a high bar to strive for. Can't make him look bad, you know?"

Chris chuckled, reassuring you that you'd have no trouble transitioning into Vancouver's content team. "I'm sure you'll make him proud. Now, you have any questions for me?"

"Actually, I do. What is my schedule for tonight?"

"You're going to interview Quinn during warmups, get his opinion and insight on how the team preformed through the pre-season and his outlook and expectations for this season. Think you can handle that?"

"Absolutely," you beamed, the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. It was actually happening; you had made it.

- - -

Warmups began to an overwhelming response around the arena. You walked down the tunnel following the team and were instructed to stand at the end of the bench. Quinn had already been told you meet you along the boards following a few hot laps. Watching the players at ice level really hit home that tonight was real. Nothing could beat the opening day of a hockey season. The energy was electrifying: from the fans screaming at the top of their lungs, player's fresh reactions to playing again, and shouted messages coming from the coaches. Opening night was just another beast entirely, and it marked the official start to the season and fans were eager to begin that grind and see their team back in the playoffs.

"Good luck, sweetheart," your dad would say as you passed in front of him and the other assistant coaches, a gentle smile across his lips. You'd give him a wink before getting to where you needed to be.

Your eyes zeroed in on Quinn's number forty-three as he practically floated across the ice, edges sharp and skating so fluidly. You had watched him since his debut with the team, and he was seriously one of the most beautiful skaters in the game right now. Your cameraman went over the key points of your short interview and you would give a quick nod in agreeance.

"You're going to do great! Don't worry!" He said to hype you up, and give you the confidence boost you needed to calm your nerves.

It didn't take long for Quinn to finally make his way over to you. He didn't do an aggressive hockey stop, not that you thought him the type to do so, instead he sort of just listed to the two of you, looking eager to already have it over and done with. You had watched numerous other girls before you have the chance to interview the star captain, and each time he just came off like he wasn't comfortable doing the interview aspect of his job. You hoped you'd make it easy on him so he could get back to warming up, and so you could get your heart back to a regular speed.

The cameraman, again, would give you a nod, checking his equipment before giving you the signal to begin your conversation with Quinn. His eyes were down, gloved hand holding his stick upright like he was at attention. It would be after you greeted him that he would finally bring his eyes to your face, actually seeing you for the first time.

"Welcome to the start of the new season, Quinn," you said brightly, smile beaming.

He swallowed hard, almost like he had forgotten how to speak, "Thank you."

"You're fresh off of winning the Norris, congratulations! Do you have a plan for trying for a back-to-back award winning season, or is that not really a concern for you? Sort of a, 'if it happens it happens' type of thing?"

"Really just focused on making sure we can win as many games as possible is the main objective, right now. We're hopeful to have a repeat trip to the playoffs first. Anything extra is just that: it's extra."

Quinn dropped his eyes from you while you spoke your next question. He seemed so disinterested and you were hoping that you weren't a bumbling idiot on camera.

"How confident are you in your team following camp and how the pre-season faired?"

"I think we put everything we have into how we practice at any given time. It's nice getting together with the guys again, and feel that brotherhood reconnect even in practice. I think we're all in a good headspace at the moment."

"Finally, what can fans expect from this year's Canucks lineup?"

"I think we're a solid group of players who bring a multitude of strengths to the ice, and we're prepared to bring that night after night all season long."

"Wonderful! Thank you so much, and good luck."

Quinn nodded at your parting words. "Thanks."

As he skated off, you faced the camera for your sign off, "Tonight marks a fresh start for this Canucks' team, and fans can believe that they're in for a strong season."

Holding your smile until given the signal that the recording had ended, you'd breath a deep sigh of relief immediately after. Your palms were slick with sweat and your heart was beating in your ears, but you had done it!

"See, I knew you had it in you! That was fantastic for your first NHL interview!" Remarked your cameraman, picking up his tripod and laying it against his shoulder. "Great job!"

"I was so nervous," you laughed.

"It didn't show! Congratulations."

You smiled, and went to follow him from the bench, but before you got too far from the boards, you heard someone calling out to you from the ice. Looking over your shoulder, you'd see Quinn skating back to you.

"Good luck on your first game," he said, a warmup puck in the palm of his glove. You'd reach for it, shocked by the kind gesture that hadn't crossed your deepest daydreams.

"Aw, thank you so much," you blushed, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks. Quinn would smirk, his eyes dropping from your face yet again before he rejoined his teammates following the end of the warmup sequence. Quickly, you'd make your exit, not wanting to linger where you didn't belong for a second time today. But passing behind your father, he'd give you a quick hug at your accomplishment.

"You're a natural," he whispered. "You did so well."

"Thanks dad!" you said, heart swelling. "Good luck tonight~"

- - -

The game had come to a heartbreaking end for home fans when the Flames had managed to score a goal in overtime. A collective sigh of defeat hung over the interior of the arena which followed everyone out with disappointment and broken spirits. Everyone had hoped for more; had hoped for a win in regulation to start the season, not a participation point for losing in OT. Regardless, a single point was better than none.

You said goodbye to your new colleagues, and started to make your way back to the parking garage. Your dad would be busy going over things with the players as well as post-game interviews, so waiting for him would be a complete waste of time. All you really had to do was head back home.

It had been an exciting day, one that had both fried your nerves and catapulted your confidence. Your interview with Quinn had turned out quite smooth and polished, when you watched the playback. You found yourself looking at Quinn the entire time, noticing him stealing looks at you that you hadn't realized before when you were interviewing him. How had you missed that? His eyes blinking up at you, those gentle nods to each of your questions, the one subtle smirk he'd let slip at you telling him good luck at the end. You had blushed watching it, like you had when he gave you the puck souvenir to mark the start of your career within the organization. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you. It had just been a puck; your father likely would have done the same thing if Quinn hadn't beaten him to it.

The question would plague your mind the entire drive home.

Even when you went to bed, your mind kept replaying Quinn smiling as he skated away from you the second time. The puck sitting on your nightstand would cause quite the dream that night.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #💌maven's love notes

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alyssawritcs · 3 months ago

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WINDOW WATCHING ( a trevante rhodes fanfic ) . one - shot .

love interest : trevante rhodes ( specifically 2016 - 2019 tre ) rating : m as shit . ( smut , drinking , smoking , voyeurism , masturbation , public sex , plain ol' p in v sex ) wc : 6.7k author's note : this is so old ngl , i wrote this like five years ago and never posted it so my apologies if anything feels off time - wise . this was pre - pandemic even ! but yeah , harking back to my moonlight / tre obsessed phase ugh what a time !

The hardest part about moving into the off campus housing for Ashley was the fact that she had to pay for laundry.

Back in DuBois Hall, where she'd lived for the past two years, there was free laundry. It was one of the few perks she liked, other than her friends always being within arm’s reach. Now, she lived in a small studio apartment just ten minutes away from D-Hall and she had to be scrounging up quarters for her to be able to wash her damn clothes.

Therefore, she was happy most of her friends had remained in the dorms and were more than happy to let her swipe their student IDs so she could get into the laundry room on her old floor and take care of business. Every Thursday, she'd roll her little wheel-y hamper over to the U-shaped building, enter on the left side, and ride the elevator to the ninth floor where she would spend three hours with her friends while she waited for her shit to wash and then dry.

This Sunday was no different, other than that it was a little later in the evening than usual. It was only nine o'clock when she'd thrown her clothes into the dryer and was walking back toward her friends Imani & Serena’s room. Suddenly, a group of giggling girls ran in before her. When Ashley turned the corner, there were about ten girls in the room, all gathered around the large window on the other side of the room.

“What are y'all doing?” Ashley pushed through the crowd, standing next to Imani who had a pair of binoculars, of all things.

“You know Nikki?” Imani asked.

“Ugh, of course I know Nikki.” Nikki was a cheerleader. Nikki had a slim little body with an ass that turned heads. Nikki had fucked almost half of all the frats on campus. Ashley usually wasn't in the business of slutshaming but when you made it a point to brag about sleeping with other girls’ men in their faces like it was a prize, she was more than okay laughing at the jokes made about you.

“Well, her room this year is across the courtyard, a couple floors down. We think it’s a single and her bed is right next to the window.” Imani held out the binoculars to Ashley, who had to smack away some girl’s hand so she could take it. “And it looks like she's got Tre in there right now.”

“Tre? Trevante Tre?” Ashley hurriedly looked through the binoculars and couldn't help the gasp she let out.

Tre was the captain of the school’s football team, the quarterback, in a prominent frat, and by far, the finest nigga at Laurent U -- and it looked like he was tearing Nikki apart.

She was on her knees with him behind her, face mushed into the mattress as he went to town on her. His dark body was muscly and glistening, sweat dripping down his body. The way his hips were pistoning into her, the way his hands gripped her hips, one of them rising up to smack her ass once, twice - it was far too much. His pearly white teeth bit down on his bottom lip before he slowed himself down, drawing himself almost completely out of her and then ramming himself back in. The gold chain around his neck glimmered in the light. The other girls made various noises of approval and Ashley hadn't realized it but she did too.

“He's way too fuckin’ good at this. He just had practice like, two hours ago! How does he have the damn strength?” Serena stood on the other side of Ashley, fully leaning on the window glass.

“He's a goddamn superhero, sis. He ain't letting up either, she’s barely hanging on.” Imani replied.

She wasn't wrong. From what Ashley could see, Nikki was gripping the sheets like she was holding on for dear life and if she'd had any arch in her back before, it was gone now. She went to place her hand on his lower stomach but he caught her wrist and lifted her upper body so his chest was pressed to her back. He said something to her as he rolled his hips up, holding her in that position for a minute as she nodded. Then he let her fall forward, pulling out of her but only long enough for him to flip her onto her back and reinsert himself. He placed both her feet onto his shoulders as he turned them on her daybed so he was standing beside it, now facing the window.

“Oop, he switched positions. Gimme my shit back!” Imani snatched the binoculars back from Ashley, who just sucked her teeth.

“Y'all are so nasty. This is such an invasion of privacy.” She shook her head, the black curly tendrils from her simple high ponytail bouncing around on top of her slick hair. She crossed her arms over her chest, still not taking her eyes off the window.

“Stop watching it then.” Serena pursed her lips.

There was a beat.

“I ain’t say all that now.” The other girls chuckled at that. For a couple minutes, they all stood at the window, heads slightly tilted, mouths a bit ajar, as they watched Tre drive himself into Nikki over and over again. There was almost complete silence in the room. Ashley pressed her thighs together slightly, the denim from her jeans rubbing against her cotton thong. It was entrancing.

Tre seemed to finally finish (“he was going for at least thirty minutes” said Serena) and he pulled out of her, taking off the full condom and throwing it into a trashcan. He grabbed a couple of wet wipes from Nikki’s dresser and helped wipe her down (“what a true southern gentleman” said Imani). Nikki was seemingly in a state of bliss, just smiling up at the ceiling. Just as he was finishing sliding his grey sweatpants up over his boxer briefs, he looked up and out the window, directly at theirs.

All of the girls shrieked and ducked, including Ashley who hid right underneath the windowsill next to a cackling Imani. Some of the girls ran out of the room.

“This ain't funny, Mani! We look like perverts!” Ashley scolded her.

“We are! But that nigga was putting on a whole show. A performance, if you will. Matter of fact ...” She grabbed a nearby notebook and Sharpie, quickly writing down 10/10 on it. She pressed it against the window while still laughing her ass off.

“You are too damn much. I'm leaving!” Ashley couldn't help but laugh too, along with Serena, as she duck-walked out of the room, still afraid of Tre seeing her. “Goodnight, ya nasties!”

Quickly, Ashley walked over to the laundry room, gathered all her now dry clothes into the hamper, grabbed her keys out of Imani & Serena’s room, and rolled her hamper into the elevator. Once she got onto the main floor, she headed out onto the courtyard and checked her phone. It was nearing 9:45.

Damn, he had been going for a while. She thought to herself as she walked towards the parking lot.

She hadn't even noticed the figure sitting on the bench to her right until he spoke.

“Enjoy the show?”

She nearly jumped out her slides at the sound of his voice, turning her head only to come face to face with the man himself, Tre.

“I - I - I -” She stuttered and looked up at him, seemingly losing the ability to speak. He stepped towards her, the smell of sweat mixed with deodorant and some bomb ass cologne invading her senses.

“Front row seat, huh?” He had the nerve to have a little smirk on his face as he said it. He looked down at her, eyes raking over her tank top and blue jeans, an otherwise normal outfit for the middle of September in the Louisiana heat. Yet, a shiver ran through her spine, despite the humidity in the air. She cursed her decision to go without a bra as she could feel her nipples hardening. He hadn't so much as looked her over and here Ashley was, nearly standing in a puddle. “Imagine my surprise when I finish with ol’ girl, I look up and the cute shorty from my econ class is staring dead at me. Had a nigga gassed.”

He licked his lips and circled around her, stopping behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Next time, if you wanna be the star, come and find me. I got you, baby.”

His Louisiana accent shone through on that last part and it nearly had Ashley weak in the knees. He walked away, toward the parking lot, leaving a very turned on Ashley standing in that courtyard with her little hamper and a whole lot of dirty thoughts.

Ashley’s tiny little studio apartment was starting to sound like a barbershop.

It had been three days since The Perving™️ ( mani had named it that) and Ashley hadn't been able to stop thinking about Tre since. Between the memories of him naked and their little conversation afterwards, she had plenty of ideas that kept her little vibrator going. She'd already had to change out the batteries and it was during said change that she realized, maybe this shit was getting ridiculous.

As the weekend came to an end and Ashley was forced to leave her dorm on Sunday night to return to the girls’ room, she recounted the story to both of her best friends.

“Wait wait wait - he said this to you and you didn't IMMEDIATELY jump that nigga’s bones? Are you dumb?” Imani exclaimed, sitting up in her twin sized bed. Serena pushed Ashley’s head in disbelief.

“Ow! No, I didn't! I was shocked, I just kinda stood there and didn't say nothing. I'm pretty sure I lost all ability to speak.” Ashley played with the fringes of her shorts to avoid looking at Imani, who was staring her down in complete disappointment.

“You gotta fuck him. Do it for us, in our honor. We gotta know if Nikki was just over exaggerating or if that man truly is that talented.” Serena spoke up from her bed.

“Yeah, that'll happen. Keep dreaming y'all.” And that was the end of that, as far as Ashley was concerned. She had decided that she was just going to keep to herself, mind her business, and keep it pushing. Tre was a nonfactor in her life, just another part of her spank bank. He hadn't mattered before, he wasn't gonna matter now.

Still, when Tuesday came around and the reminder that she had their shared econ class that afternoon at one dawned on her, Ashley may have decided to put a little extra effort into her appearance. She swore, to herself, that the Fenty body lava she was applying was so she could take cute pictures later. That the neon pink bodycon tank dress paired with the long white cardigan she fished out from the back of her closet were simply cute clothes and not because they accentuated her skin tone like nothing else. It also definitely wasn't because she'd spent the last six months in the gym doing squats so she knew she looked good as hell in the damn outfit. It wasn't none of that. The girl was simply going to econ, like she had already for weeks and like she would until the end of the semester.

After properly doing her hair and applying minimal makeup, Ashley was slipping on her white slip on Vans and throwing her big ass snakeskin purse onto her shoulder. She drove the five minutes back to campus where she bought herself an iced tea from the cafe & quickly headed over to the class, taking her regular seat in the back left hand corner.

She was fifteen minutes early but that was good. That meant she wouldn't have to run into him and could instead keep a watchful eye for the six foot two masterpiece as he walked in. She was sitting there, one AirPod in, sipping her tea when the sound of raucous laughter from the hallway seeped into the room and she knew he had arrived. He seemed to go everywhere with an entourage - a side effect of being that well known, Ash supposed.

Turning to face forward so she wouldn't appear like she had been door watching, she quickly inserted the other AirPod and turned up the volume on her Megan the Stallion while flipping through her textbook. The act seemed to work for a minute or two before two thick ass arms caged her in from behind. She removed her headphones.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” Ash turned her head to look up at him and immediately, the smell of his cologne invaded her senses. It was the same smell from the other night except now even stronger, though she couldn’t decide if it was better or worse when mixed with sweat. What a freak ass thought.

“I was wondering if you was gonna show up today - was tryna see if you got scared.” His voice was low in her ear and when she turned more, they were face to face, noses practically touching.

“And what was I supposed to be scared of, exactly?”

“I think I got an idea of what you might be scared of.” He answered with a smirk and then a lick of his lips. Jesus, be a fence.

Still, Ashley played it cool, rolling her eyes. “I ain’t scared of you or what you got in ya pants, sir. Don't you have to find your seat?”

“Oh but I already got one?” At her raised eyebrow, his mouth broke out into a full on grin, white teeth and all. “If you wanna lift up, I can slide on under you and we can get this class crackin’.”

Ashley couldn’t help the laugh she let out and he chuckled with her. She turned back, waving her hand at him. “Boy, good-bye. Get to your seat Trevante.”

There was a beat then regrettably his arms lifted from around her and his smell already started to fade away. “Aight, I'll get to my seat.” With that, he slid from behind her chair and situated himself to the right of her.

Ashley had picked this spot because while there were nearly fifty people in the class, it was a huge lecture hall and most everyone was seated in the middle or right sections. Up here in her corner, she was all alone, with no one behind her. The people in front of her were several rows down. It had been just her while Tre typically sat in the middle sections, front & center. They were far too alone up here. This was not good.

Class had started and Tre hadn't moved and Ashley was sure she was gonna die. He had gotten very comfortable, leaning back in his chair, worksheets out and his textbook open in front of him as the professor droned on & on. It was boring as hell, as per usual, but Ashley was so hyper aware of Tre’s presence that she couldn't focus on anything else. She hadn't even looked at him since he sat down next to her.

She could see him moving out the corner of her eye, leaning forward onto the desk with his left arm. He whispered low enough for only her to hear.

“You look like somebody finna bust down them doors and hurt you, shawty. You needa calm down. Relax.” Slowly, Ash felt his big ass hand slide up her calf and over her knee, stopping right at the end of her thigh, millimeters away from where her dress ended.

He was sitting up straighter now and she was holding her breath, unable to speak. To anyone else, they looked like two students patiently listening to their professor but one look at the way Ashley was gripping her pen and you could tell something was amiss.

It was only when he slid his chair closer to hers and his fingers slipped under the material of her dress that she moved. Her hand clamped down his thick ass forearms, freezing his fingers where they were - right on her inner thigh.

“What the fuck do you think you doing?” She gritted out, her teeth clenched together.

He waited until she made direct eye contact with him and then whispered. “Making you relax.”

Her grip loosened out of shock and his fingers continued on their path, the heat coming from between her thighs seeming to call to him. She bit her lip in anticipation before jumping a little when his middle finger swiped gently over her pussy through the material covering it.

“Is that lace? Hm, I bet that shit looks amazing on you. What color is it?” He whispered, letting his finger continue to stroke over her mound. “Hm? Can you even remember right now?”

“Green. It's green.” Ashley managed to breathe out.

“I like green. Almost as much as I like pink on you.” Now, his index finger had joined his middle in the stroking and Ashley could feel the material of her panties getting wetter by the second, so she knew he could too. “You like this huh? You got these big innocent eyes and got everyone fooled into thinking you're some little angel but clearly, you a little freak like me. Look at you, wet already and I ain't even get to the good part.”

Ashley closed her eyes for a second, still lightly gripping his forearm before she reopened them to look him directly in his again. “So get to the good part.”

His jaw clenched and they continued their eye contact for a second before Ashley looked back at the professor. “Aight then, but you asked for this, remember that.”

First, his thumb rubbed her clit through the material, causing Ashley's thighs to clench together for a second before Tre pushed them apart again. She felt his two fingers from before push the lace to the side and make direct contact with her lips, running over the slick that now covered it. They were thick as hell so when he finally dipped his fingers in past the lips, it felt like she was already filled up to the max.

Her mouth opened in a near perfect O and Tre kept his eyes on her lips as he slowly pumped in & out of her. She closed her mouth after a second but the grip on his arm tightened. That seemed to only encourage him forward, fingers picking up pace as his thumb now rubbed that little bundle of nerves that sat tight at the top. When he curled his fingers inside her, Ashley could feel her stomach coil. Her gaze was still on the professor, who was giving his closing remarks.

“Oh, you finna cum huh? You gonna cum all over my fingers, right here in the middle of class?” Tre picked up the pace of his fingers, now driving into her at an almost brutally slow but deliberate pace, watching her bite down on her lip so hard he was sure she was going to draw blood.

She nodded meekly and held back a whimper, nails digging into his arm while she clenched her thighs together as much as they could go with his hand between them. He watched her close her eyes and twitch once, twice, three times, her walls gripping his fingers in a vice. Now all he could imagine was her pussy doing that to his dick and he didn't think it was possible, but his shit got harder.

Her nipples were hard, her legs were shaking slightly, her pupils dilated - if this was how she reacted to just his fingers, he couldn't wait to see her after a good three or four rounds with Junior.

While she was still catching her breath and the class was starting to pack up their things, he slipped his finger out from in her, sliding her panties back into place. She quickly gathered her materials into her purse before they both stood up, chest to chest, hers still heaving slightly. He looked down at her with a smirk as he sucked his index finger into his mouth.

“Just like a good cobbler.” He went to do the same to his middle finger but she grabbed his wrist before he could and sucked the finger herself, letting her tongue roll over the top of the finger before she let it go with a pop & a smirk.

“See you Thursday.”

She wasn't going to see him on Thursday, Ashley remembered as she ate dinner while watching TV in her apartment. Tre was the quarterback and as the quarterback, he had to lead his team to a win against their rival, across the state that same week. The only way she was gonna see Tre that weekend was if she joined the rest of the school to watch the game live on Friday night.

Which she did.

Imani and Serena had dragged her down to the local bar where they were airing the game & had a five dollar deal for 15 wings. A two for one deal as far as Ashley was concerned. She opted to not tell the girls about what happened in class, instead wanting to keep it to herself for just a little bit longer. Not forever, just until she could figure out what the fuck she was even doing with this nigga.

Come Saturday morning, all Ashley could think about was going out that night and getting drunk. Drunk her always managed to figure shit out for sober her anyway.

There were three frats on campus but Rho Nu Tau always put on the best parties, even more so now that they had the three star players on the football team as official brothers. Ashley’s first real college party way back during her freshman year had been a Rho party and she remembers a tiny pledge named Tre running around being an errand boy as a part of his initiation. Clearly, he wasn't taking orders no more.

Imani and Serena were standing beside Ashley in the backyard as they shared a blunt with two boys she recognized from the dorms, damn near freezing their asses off in their little FashionNova fits when there was a cheer from inside the house. Ash almost went to check out what was going on when the blunt was passed to her and she was heartily distracted.

It took only a couple more minutes for her to get tired of shivering and walk back into the kitchen, eyes low & mink lashes fluttering. A vodka and pink lemonade was calling her name. After fixing herself the drink, she began to wade through the crowd before bumping shoulders with a familiar face.

“Ashley, you always bumping into me, damn!”

She looked up to see her bio lab partner, Alex, smiling down at her. He was cute, in a nerdy type of way, and totally not her type but he always made her laugh in class. She let her lips spread into a small grin before play shoving him back.

“I know you not talking, clown. What’re you even doing here, I thought you’d be locked in your room binge watching some new anime or something?”

“Oh, you got jokes? Nah, Rho’s game celebration parties always be the best ones, you know that.”

They stood talking to one another for a couple more seconds before You by Lola Brooke & Bryson Tiller started playing overhead. Ashley started bopping her head on beat and Alex raised his eyebrow at her, smiling all wide & shit. She rolled her eyes, finishing off her drink and pulling him further onto the makeshift dance floor where all the bodies were grinding against one another. She turned around, pressing her ass right up against his crotch and began moving her hips and her ass in accordance with the beat. Now, she wasn’t no expert but all those years of high school cheerleading and dancing in the mirror did have their payoffs.

Alex’s hands remained on her hips and as the song progressed, Ashley could feel eyes on her. She looked up at the top of the staircase where Tre was standing with two more of the team’s players, his eyes trained on her and Alex. His jaw was clenched tight from what she could see and the veins in his arms were bulging as he death gripped that railing.

Now, Alex had always made it very clear that his type of woman was always more the Dua Lipa type than the Rihanna so Ashley knew he wasn’t interested in her like that but damn it if it didn’t amuse her a little to see Tre standing up there all jealous while she threw it back for another man. If anything, the sight of him reinvigorated her and suddenly, she was putting a lot more work into her dance with Alex. The song did come to an end, however, and JT Coming filtered through the speakers which meant that Imani would be in Ashley’s face within the second.

Like clockwork, right on time for JT’s verse, Imani pushed through the crowd to get to Ashley as they screamed the lyrics in each other’s faces. Alex had disappeared at the beginning of the song but returned with a closed bottle of water for both himself and Ashley. Serena was not far behind and soon the four of them were dancing around one another with the music. It didn’t take long for Serena and Alex to start dancing together instead. As much fun as she was having, Ashley couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift off to Tre, who had vanished from his post at the top of the steps.

Role Model by Brent Faiyez was playing as Ashley looked around for a bathroom half an hour later, her high slowly wearing off and the two bottles of water plus her cups of alcohol finally getting to her. The bathroom downstairs had a line wrapped down the hallways but luckily for her, she knew that there were several upstairs. Unluckily, all the ones in the hallways were also sporting lines so that left her to seek out one of the en suites. Almost every one of the doors were locked except for the one at the far end of the hall. She’d never been this far into the house before but she need to pee so she said fuck it and pushed open the door.

The bathroom was on the other side of the darkened room, lit up only by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. She rushed over, locked the door behind her, and took care of her business. As she was washing her hands, Ash looked over her hair and makeup, surprised to see both in pretty good condition considering she was sweating like a whore in church. She figured at the very least, she’d be dealing with excessive frizz or her eyelashes falling off but she was all set. Ain’t God good?

Stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she took in where she was. There was a little desk to her left and a bookshelf to her right. Looking at the shelves, she noticed trophies, ribbons, medals, certificates - all the clear signs of a winner. There was a picture of a beautiful woman holding a precious little black boy and then another of a family standing with a tall young man wearing a football helmet. Her eyes focused, however, on the number six on his jersey and then subsequently, the sign the woman was holding: “Congrats Trevante!” She gasped and stepped away from the shelf, accidentally falling backwards onto the queen sized bed just as the door opened and in came Trevante himself.

It was awkward for a moment, but he quickly let a smirk take over his features as he closed the door behind him and crossed his arms over his chest to look down at her. From this angle, staring up at him, she was almost face to face with his crotch. She had to refrain from biting her lip.

“Now, how’d you manage to find my room of all the rooms in the house?” He licked his lips, unmoving from the position and ever so slightly thrusting his hips forward.

“Completely by accident, don’t get too excited.” She answered, sitting up and twisting her body to face his. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“There are three public bathrooms in the house.”

“With lines damn near going out the door. I figured one of the big guys would have an en suite and I was right.”

“Oh so I’m a big guy now?”

Yes sir, you definitely are. “You know what I meant.”

“Well, why didn’t you ask that nigga you were dancing with if he had a bathroom at his place? It seemed like y’all were having a good time.” His smirk dropped and he crossed over to the desk, sitting on the spinning chair. Ashley's head tilted and she let out a small laugh.

“Is Trevante jealous? Oh my my!” He rolled his eyes as she got up from the bed, dancing over to him while singing “Tre’s jealous! He’s jealous! Very jealous!”

He stood back up and they were suddenly chest to chest, abruptly putting an end to her singing. His large fingers gripped her wrist tightly, and she looked up at his beautiful face. She was physically closer to him at this moment than ever before, even in the courtyard and in the classroom.

“Why would I be jealous? That nigga can’t make you cum like I did, in a public place, with two fingers. He ain't the one you think about when you in bed late at night, right? That’s me, all in your dreams, in your head - that’s Tre right?”

For a second, she lost her breath but she could see that smirk creeping back onto his lips and a part of her snapped.

“What about you Tre? You been thinking about me?” She trailed her hand down his pants to the waistband of his jeans, letting her fingers play with the button for a second. “When you in this bed at night, playing with this big dick of yours -” her fingers wrapped around his growing bulge through the denim and she heard his breath hitch. “- are you thinking about this pussy? How tight it was? How wet it was? Thinking about how many rounds you’d last with me?”

He didn’t answer, instead wrapping one large hand around her throat and letting it slide around to the back of her neck, pulling her face to his in a fierce kiss that took her breath away. She let out a sigh, one hand still on his dick and the other on his neck. Their tongues fought for dominance for a minute before Tre bent down to pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and easing them both onto the bed. His lips made their way from her lips to her throat, her legs tightening around him as he hit her sweet spot at the part where her ears met her neck.

His hands were moving at a pace so slow, Ash almost screamed. He was ghosting over her tits, fingers almost brushing against her nipples but not quite yet. It wasn’t until he pulled the neckline of the shirt down to reveal her pretty blue bra did he finally pinch her nipples through the material. Her hips bucked up at that and she could feel him smirk against her throat before he sat up a little to help her pull off the shirt. He pulled the cups down and immediately dove in, pulling one of the hard buds into his mouth as she let out a groan of pleasure. He knew exactly what he was doing, his finger expertly twisting the other one.

“You’re way too good at this.” She managed to get out and he chuckled, letting her go with a pop.

“I’m good at a lot of things.” He bit his lips, kissing down her bare skin as he unbuttoned her jeans. “Wanna see what else I’m good at?”

If she wasn’t wet already, she was sure that the combo of how he was looking up at her along with those words would’ve flooded her panties anyways. He pulled her pants down and off, throwing them on to the floor before sliding a finger over the material covering her pussy. She held back a whimper, which proved to be even harder when he gently pushed it to the side and blew on her weeping slit.

Her matching blue thong was the next thing to come off and he looked up at her with a smile, pushing her legs up so they were bent. “Hold onto the back of your knees for me, sweetheart, and don’t let go. If you let go, I’mma stop. We clear?”

She couldn’t formulate words at that moment so he would have to do with her following his instructions and nodding her head yes, letting out a little ‘mhm’ through bitten lips.

“That’s a good girl. You a good girl right?” She jumped as he lightly smacked her clit, almost letting go of her legs but not quite yet. “Answer me, Ashley.”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” She managed to grit out.

“Good girls get rewarded, don’t they?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead diving straight into to put his oh so talented mouth on her pussy. She was biting her lip again, holding back the moans trying to claw their way out. He paused for a moment, spreading her lips with his fingers as he did so. “Uh-uh. I wanna hear you. Let that shit out shawty.”

He went right back to it, thrusting his tongue in & out of her with a force. She could feel one of his thick fingers playing with her clit and she was sure she was letting out noises but honestly, the whole thing was starting to feel like an out of body experience. Her hands gripped the backs of her thighs even tighter as her back arched up. His tongue replaced his finger on her clit and then he inserted that finger into her pussy, followed by a second one. The two together were driving her insane and causing small sweat beads to formulate on her stomach and chest.

“Oh fuck, Tre, I’m gonna cum, oh fuck fuck fuck!” Her moans were breathy, her legs beginning to shake in her hands as she could feel the coil start in her stomach. He nodded his head as he sucked her clit into his mouth and picked up the pace of his fingers. When his fingers curled upwards into her, tapping the roof of her pussy, she dropped her legs on his shoulders and let out a small scream, cumming right into his mouth. He didn’t stop as she was cumming, lapping her up like some whipped cream. He finally pulled away a couple seconds after she finished, sliding back up her body to give a wet kiss on the lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

Ash ran her fingers over his defined abs, popping open the button on his jeans and pushing the pants down with her feet. He was practically bursting out of his briefs at that point but she made quick work of those too.

“Condom, condom - get a condom Tre.” She managed to squeak out in between kisses and he pulled away, looking at her for a moment. “What?”

It took him a second but he shook his head. “Nothing. I got you.” He pulled open the bedside drawer, pulling out a Magnum from an already open box. “I’mma finish this box with you, trust me.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” She smirked, biting her bottom lip as he tore open the wrapper with his teeth. “Here, let me.”

Tre closed his eyes as she stroked his member, using the precum at the tip to lubricate the nine inches of him she could. Her hand tightened a bit at the base before sliding back up to slip the condom over him. She was still stroking him as she led him toward her opening, spreading her legs wider for him.

Now, Ash had had sex with a total of two people in her life but neither of them had ever been as big as Tre. Just the tip of him was enough for her to let her mouth open into a perfect ‘O’. She wasn't even sure he could fit all of himself in there but Lord knows, he was gonna give it the good ol’ college try. She moaned as he pushed through, pleasure ripping through every part of her, and kept going until he was fully inside of her.

“Please fuckin’ move, Tre.” She whimpered.

“Gimme a fuckin’ minute, sweetheart. If I move right now, I ain't gonna give you that show you wanted.” His lips connected with hers and then his hips began to thrust into her, rolling. She sighed into the kiss and tried to meet him thrust for thrust. He pulled his head away to bury into her neck. “Fuck, you feel good girl. You been hidin’ this shit from me?”

She wanted to respond smartly but her brain wasn’t formulating cohesive thoughts at the moment. Instead, she dragged her nails down his glistening back and moaned out his name like a chant - “Tre, Tre, Tres, yesssss.”

“S’tight, oh my fucking -” His own thoughts were jumbled as he drove in to her, winding his hips, trying to prolong the moment. He knew that, with the way shit was going, he was gonna have to make her cum at least once more and fast or else he was gonna ruin his own reputation and leave her hanging.

“Right there, yes!” Ashley exclaimed as his thick finger came down to rub her clit again, which paired with the motions of his hips extremely well. Her hands had slid down to his side as he lifted himself up on his arms and she let her nails dig into his skin, creating little marks there he’d probably get whistles about in the locker room tomorrow. “You’re so good, Tre, yes, yes, yes!”

Her last yes came out as a squeal as he picked up his pace, rubbing faster and thrusting without abandon. She could feel that coil in her stomach again, moaning over and over again. Tre felt her tighten around him and let her ride out her second orgasm of the night before his hips began to stutter. He groaned out his release, nearly collapsing on top of her.

“Gahdamn!” He exclaimed, which made her laugh. She whined a bit as he pulled out of her, taking the condom off and climbing out of the bed to walk into the bathroom. He returned moments later, prompting her to rush in after him to clean herself up. When she came back, he’d pulled back the covers and was laying beneath them. She looked at him for a minute with her head tilted. “What?”

“I don’t know, I was expecting for you to make a run for it like ...” Ashley trailed off but he caught her drift.

“Like with Nikki? Well first of all, this is my room this time so not really any option.” He laughed when she scoffed and held up the blanket, patting the spot next to him. She hurried to get under the covers, still naked like he was. “I also kinda wanna keep you around ... to finish off the box, of course.”

“Of course.” She smirked, tucking into his side.

“So?” He inquired. She raised her eyebrow. “Was it as good as it looked from across the courtyard?”

“Hmm ... I think I might need a couple more encores to truly decide.” She tapped her chin like she was deliberating and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’ll show you an encore.” Ashley let out a small shriek that quickly turned into a moan as he rolled her on top of him and began to kiss down her neck, dragging his thick fingers down her body to get her ready all over again.

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