#their interactions with past them just makes me laugh okay

[oikarma]

left my message!

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

summary: you’ve heard about the legend but you’re not quite prepared to meet him in real life.

a/n: first part is like a smau companion i guess? but this is the actual interaction which makes the twt posts make more sense!! 

part one / two

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

two days ago

you still can’t believe it. the paddock pass is smooth under your hands, so smooth it might just slip out and away. you’ve never been so close before, despite having watched many of the races on a grainy screen or far, far up into the grandstands. it didn’t make sense, really. when you were younger, your mother disapproved of flouncing around just to go to a racetrack—she certainly wouldn’t accompany you, with the engines roaring past, when your music on 70% volume was already deafening to her. but now, early decisions had come out, very much in your favor. mother was pleased, and that left you to go wherever you wished over easter.

so you’re here, standing in the ferrari paddock. it’s a gift on both guanyu and your brother’s part, flying you out at last minute’s notice when charles’s surgery was confirmed. an extremely generous gift you’re not sure you can repay anytime soon. it makes you feel a bit guilty, until you see how happy both of them are to see you. with college applications, you haven’t had much time to facetime your brother—he was overseas working—and the same went for guanyu. late family reunion, you decide. 

lando walks pass the ferrari garage and waves at you. it turned out you had rooms on the same floor after bumping into each other in the elevator. it wasn’t the first time you��d met him: you’d been present at a few of his karting competitions when you were younger. you weren’t “friends,” you’d argue, but you’d talked enough to be good acquaintances. he was also a familiar face in the uk. that is, before he moved to monaco. 

you grin at lando and turn back to guanyu, inside the garage. he’s trembling, even though his smile is wide and back is straight. charles has done well this season, and lewis is in the other seat. of course he would be nervous. you still remember how he sobbed when sauber released the news. formula one was the pinnacle of motorsports. being there was an achievement in itself, anyone knew. but when you were constantly outperformed by other drivers in other cars, it was hard to keep track of the fact.

you place a hand on his arm. “hey, you good?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” he reaches out for a one-handed hug. “glad to see you here. just a bit different from last year.”

“hey, come on. this is for everyone here for you. seeing you race is enough.”

zhou massages his temple. “what if it’s not? i don’t want to disappoint them again.”

“you won’t. your practice times are great! and if people think they do, they should try driving themselves.” you squeeze his hand. “where’s my brother? let him talk some sense into you.”

to that, he laughs. “oh, he did. told me that i should be happy i get the opportunity to drive and i think he’s right.”

you wince. sounds a bit harsh, but you know your brother means well.

“yeah, he usually is. probably a bit salty that he’s not a driver, too. but g’luck out there, okay? don’t crash.”

“i’ll try.” 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

one day ago

once the sprint is over, you can tell a weight has been lifted off his back. fourth is great. fourth is amazing. max leads in first, lewis in second, lando in third, and guanyu in fourth. it’s not a shabby place in a lineup like that. points have been scored for ferrari and everyone is all smiles when they come to congratulate him.

lewis pats him on the back. “good to see you out there, zhou.”

“thanks. nice work today.” his data analyst taps him on the shoulder and guanyu is being led away. he waves goodbye at you.

the brit turns to you and offers a hand. “hamilton, lewis hamilton. i don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”

lewis! hamilton! is shaking your hand! meeting lando is less crazy because you’ve seen mini him stumbling off the track. but this is seven-time world champion, sir lewis hamilton. his braids are sleek and he’s perfectly polished: glowing, even. it should be illegal to stand around in a half-zipped race suit.

you shake his hand, making sure your grip is strong because your father said that’s the way to make an impression. “i’m yn. i’m guanyu’s friend.”

“oh, i see. you watch racing, much? i suppose you do.”

“yeah. he got me into it and i never stopped.”

lewis gives you a coy smile. “tell me, who’s your favorite driver?” he leans against one of the floating tables.

“i hate to break it to you, but it’s max.” 

his eyes widen dramatically. he teases, “oh dear, we’re starting off on the wrong foot already.”

“if it makes you feel any better, i meant current driver.”

“okay, okay. no restrictions. favorite driver of all time?”

“kimi.” 

he raises a thoughtful eyebrow. “you seem to have a type.”

“so who’s yours?” and you want to hit yourself right there because you just asked lewis hamilton who his favorite driver is. stupid, stupid, stupid. it’s probably senna. he’s too polite to say himself and you think you’ve heard that somewhere before.

“senna.”

bingo! quite the genius, you are. it’s hard to think around him, so that’s practically twice the achievement.

lewis sees your smile and asks, “why, do i have something on my face?”

“oh, no. i was thinking.”

“...about? nevermind, i won’t pry. tell me, yn, what else do you like to do?”

how conversational. if he does this one more time you might be convinced you’re friends. he’s probably just bored. 

“sorry, excuse me?” you see a couple of fans outside the garage. the pit lane tour guide is surprised to see lewis still there. “could we get a few photos, please?”

lewis turns to you, surprisingly apologetic. “see you around?”

“alright.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

(a/n: 1st of the convo is post-meeting lewis & 2nd part is post-gp)

[tvseries-writings]

Hiiii I loved all of your wandanat fics and was wondering if you could possibly do a agathario where the reader has a panic attack please!?

The Road is cursed

Agathario x reader

TW: past suicidal attempt, Death, panic attack, nightmares.

You knew the Witches Road would be hard, you knew it since your wife, whom you had not seen since the death of your child, had come knocking on your door with a strange teenager and three other witches you did not know.

You knew, of course you knew, the road had always been known as a suicide for all witches but you accepted anyway; maybe because of those violet and gray eyes you love so much despite everything, despite the death of Nicky, of your Nicky

"Y/n...y/n, wake up!"

You jerk awake, sweat running down your back causing the blouse you are wearing to stick to you. The cold face of Nicky, your baby, has been haunting you for two centuries, and you know you are not the only one to have nightmares about it.

Agatha's hands run down your back, over your face, through your hair...Her lips move but you cannot actively focus on what she is saying. Rio is just behind her; she has always been good at hiding her feelings but you can still see the concern in the deep lakes of her eyes.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It was just a nightmare...just a nightmare"

You pull away from her touch and their worried glances. Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, your hands are shaking, and your breathing is only quickening.

"You should breathe" Rio says, moving away from the tree he was leaning against and stopping twirling the knife blade against his own index finger.

"You're not helping, Rio"

Agatha whispers angrily as she leans toward you, trying to get closer but pulling away as soon as she tries.

"Y/n, honey, you need to breathe okay?" "That's what I just said"

Rio says, her smirk faltering though as she sees that her strange humor is not making you laugh, not this time.

The purple witch approaches, her cold fingers encircling your wrist. Despite her touch, you cannot shake the image of your lifeless child and her cold, motionless body in your arms. You pull away from her touch and give them your back, their gazes burning into your back as you look up at the haunted sky above your heads.

"Y/n, honey, what did you dream?"

"You know what I dreamed, Aggie"

You whisper, your voice cracking and your chest becoming heavy again.

"I visit him...often. He always asks me about his moms, his other two moms...I miss him every single moment and there is not a day when I don't hate myself for destroying our family."

Rio whispers, you can hear her voice tremble as she says it. You know how much it cost her to take your son's soul, you remember the suppressed tears and the cries Agatha and Rio hurled at each other

that night.

"It's been 100 years and I still miss him like air, I-"

Your breath becomes a gasp as your lungs don't seem to want to cooperate.

"Is he okay? He-"

Agatha stops midway, watching you carefully and chasing back the worry about your son for a few moments.

The purple witch approaches once more, rests two fingers under your minus and lifts it up, forcing you to look her in the eye.

"Y/n, hey...you need to breathe"

"Y/n I can't Aggie, y/n I can't...why can't I see him? I-"

Your chest rises and falls quickly; your heart beats fiercely as a

familiar ache, characteristic of the last decades of your existence, begins to radiate down your chest.

"Mi amor, you can see ghosts, and Nicky is not a ghost; he has moved on. I made sure he did

" "I miss him so much, mi vida. Please take me to him, please!"

You sob, the dream has shaken you deeply, and your child's face is burned into your mind.

The Witches Road is playing with you and is winning.

Agatha remains silent, watching the interaction between you and his ex-wife from afar, looking at the loves of her life and feeling inside that they are hiding something from her...that you are hiding something from her.

"Y-you shouldn't have saved me that night. You shouldn't have!"

Your sobs become desperate, your cries tearing through the silence of the night as the air makes its way, with difficulty, inside your lungs.

"I had to mi amor, I couldn't lose you too"

The Green Witch kisses your forehead, letting her arms wrap tightly around you.

Ironic to see Death in love with two mortals, one a necromancer to boot.

That was exactly how you had met Rio, through your powers. You were trying to resurrect a cat when a sensuous woman had knocked on your door with a Dagger in her hand and a sadistic smile that you had immediately fallen in love with. At the time you could hardly have imagined that Death would show up at your little cabin in the woods for a little resurrection ritual. And then...well, then you had met Agatha.

"What the hell is she talking about, y/n?"

Agatha seeks your gaze but you ignore her, watching the mushy ground beneath your feet.

Confusion and fear invade your aura as you watch your ex-wife anxiously.

Death takes a deep breath, places the blade back in its sheath and approaches the witch.

"Ten years after Nicky's death, she...tried to trade her life for her own but I

stopped her."

You close your eyes, the weight and despair of that night burning in your mind like a

newly lit fire. You remember the spell, the burning in your chest and the candles, in a circle, around you.

A life for a life, it was simple basic necromancy...but magic is never simple.

It had to be the soul of someone who loved Nicky only as a mother would and who

would spend eternity burning in the flames of hell to bring him back to life. You had accepted that fate but Rio had intervened just in time, breaking the spell and

controlling you like a hawk for the next thirty-five years only to disappear again.

"Why the hell you didn't tell me? HOW COULD YOU HAVE KEPT IT FROM ME, RIO!!! I could have stayed by her side, I could have-"

"I tried to tell you but every time you chased me away! You were too angry with me, Agatha!"

The two women in your life keep yelling at each other as if you were not there, accusing each other again and again, just like the night Nicky died.

"STOP!"

You shout so loudly that your voice affievolves soon after and an unpleasant tingling radiates along your vocal cords.

"Stop fighting, stop...stop."

"Why didn't you come to me? I could have given my soul in exchange for Nicky's, you don't deserve to burn in hell, I-"

"I couldn't lose you too, Agatha. Neither Rio nor I could. I just wanted to bring our baby home-"

"Not at the cost of your life, you idiot!"

Agatha growls, frustrated at the idea that you can't conceive that even the thought of losing you would kill them for good.

"Yes it would, damn it! I should have saved him, I would have-"

A sob shakes your chest as your legs give out and you fall to the damp ground. Rio supports you and holds you close, whispering phrases in Spanish as the purple witch soon follows suit. Unconsciously, you begin to scratch your wrists, your scars reddening before the two

witches can stop you, and only then does the purple witch notice the scars that centuries before were not present on your otherwise perfect skin.

"Oh doll..."

Agatha whispers, her hands overlapping yours, her fingertips caressing your

scars as silent tears slide down her cheeks. Rio leaves a kiss in her hair before kneeling in front of you and locking your wrists together, preventing you from hurting yourself by scratching.

Sobs violently shake your body, so violently that Rio is forced to hold you tightly in her arms to keep you from hurting. Soon, your breathing becomes so fast, so rapid and warbling that oxygen no longer reaches your

brain quickly and your body collapses in their arms.

"Y/N!"

Agatha screams, shaking you by the shoulders as Rio gently lays you down on the ground.

"Rio don't take her away from me, please, please don't take mi vida away from me. Por favor, por favor mi amor, por favor."

"Shh, shhh, it's okay. I won't take her away from you Aggie, it's not her time yet, she's fine, she's fine mi amor."

Death cradles her wife in his arms while cradling your head in her cold lap until, after interminable minutes, you seem to regain consciousness.

"Welcome back mi vida,"

Rio whispers, leaving a kiss on your forehead before letting the purple witch do the same.

"The road is taking its toll on us, doll"

Agatha presses her forehead against yours, her hands running over your face, caressing your neck and pausing over your heart, listening intently for your chest to rise and fall rhythmically.

"Damn it, you're going to make me lose my immortality if you keep scaring me like this," she whispers, her worried gaze ill-concealed by the defensive attitude that is characteristic of her person.

You sigh, detach yourself a few inches from them, and place your hands on the wet, muddy ground beneath you to sit up.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't ready for the Road but I wanted to come anyway ... when you knocked on my door, I ... I don't know, I went back to when we were in the cabin, in our bed, and Nicky was snuggling between the three of us all night."

"I miss him like air, since I had to take him away...I can't help thinking about him. But I cannot die, though I have tried"

A sad laugh leaves Death's lips and both you and Agatha hold your beloved in your arms. You say nothing to her; it would be hypocritical of you to do so.

You tried countless times to take your own life and Agatha, well, she had thought about it more than once.

"I forgive you Rio, I forgive you my love."

The purple witch kisses Death's lips, their tongues entwining as the passion of centuries spills over in a single, single instant of time. They pull apart only for lack of breath.

"I've missed you so much...Goddess, I've missed you so much I-"

Your voice freezes, you cannot put into words how much their distance has cost you and you are certain that they have felt what you have felt.

A second later, your hands are sliding down the purple witch's back, your two fingers unclasping her bra as her neck is assaulted by your passionate bites and loving kisses. Agatha moans, her fingers clawing at your hair as your lips collide and tongues dance for dominance; her other hand tightens, however, around Rio's right breast as the latter slips a hand between your legs, causing you to moan.

A minute later, you are lying, naked, on the mud of the Witches Road and making love as you haven't in ages.

Needless to say, when Billy sees you, he screams and covers his eyes, running away as eagerly as a 12-year-old.

Thanks for reading! It’s been a while, uh? Merry Christmas people! (And Have a great day!)

Support me on ko-fi

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @scarletwidow @tati3001 @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @agatharioscoven @agathario-did-the-thing @agathario-all-along

[sanguineterrain]

Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

[thevoidstaredback]

Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

Listen. It was an accident. He didn't mean to! It just kinda happened.

So maybe he brought a drink with enough caffeine in it to kill an elephant within a few minutes, and maybe he forgot to put the sleeve on his cup so he could tell it apart from the others, but it's not his fault! He didn't think anyone else was going to have the exact same Yeti cup as him! It's not like he'd seen any of the others carry one before. Besides, he worked with superheros. They should be smart enough to check before drinking someone else's drink.

Danny had been summoned by the Justice League Dark a few years back in order to help with a world ending crisis and he just didn't leave. It's not like he could go anywhere anyway. His ghost half hadn't grown past fourteen and his human half had stopped visibly aging at eighteen. He'd had to leave town as Danny Fenton, but he'd stayed in Amity Park as Danny Phantom. When his parents died of old age, thank god, he'd closed down the portal, stuck around for a few more years, before traveling the world as Danny Fenton.

Anyway, he'd taken up residence in the House of Mysteries after the JLD had summoned him. Constantine, at first, had been wary, but he and the rest of the JLD had grown to accept him. He was an honorary member of the team.

At some point, just after Robin had become Red Robin, Danny had been introduced to the Justice League. He liked those guys, too, and worked with them sometimes. Though, he usually only went to bug them.

Red Robin had been very interested in the fact that his was fourteen and working with grown heros, like he was one to talk, but Danny hadn't explained anything other than saying that he had died and come back. The following conversation was an interesting one that lead to Danny knowing that Nightwing was the Batman he'd met and that Batman was lost somewhere. He'd confirmed that the man was not dead, but he hadn't offered to help look for him. He probably should have, in retrospect.

Back on topic! Everyone in the JLD knew not to touch Danny's drink. They'd all seen him make it before and had been horrified on varying degrees. It's not like it could kill him. He's already half dead! So long as he only drank this specific brew as Phantom, he'd be fine.

The Justice League, apparently, didn't get the memo. He blames Constantine because Zatanna and Raven can do no wrong. No, John, he's not biased.

The point is, Red Robin just had a sip of Danny's drink. The horror he now felt was akin to the fear he held when he'd told his parents he was Phantom. (An interaction that had gone very well, thank you very much.)

Danny knew the exact moment that the vigilante realized he grabbed the wrong drink. His eyes widened to an astonishing degree, and, if he'd been able to seen his eyes behind the mask, Danny knew that the man's pupils would've completely overtaken the irises. His hands started shaking, too. Oh, no. The man's already addicted to hellish amounts of coffee. This is only going to make it worse!

Quickly, and without drawing any attention, thank the Ancients, Danny rushed over. "You, um, you okay, man?" Obviously not, but he tends to talk when he's anxious and he was certainly anxious right now. He could've possibly just killed a man via poison!

"What the fuck is in this coffee?" Red Robin asked, going to take another sip.

Danny pulled the Yeti from his hand and gave him the proper one. "Enough caffeine to kill an elephant."

"Obviously not, seeing as I'm still alive."

"Yeah, I can't tell if that's a good thing or not."

"Excuse me?"

"I-I mean-! I didn't-! You know what I mean." Caffeine is poisonous in excess, and his drink was way beyond excess, but it's the only thing that works for him as a ghost! Superpowered metabolism and all that.

"Do I?" The laugh in his voice answered for him. He took a sip from his drink and frowned at it. "I don't think any coffee will ever be enough again."

"And that's my cue to get my drink very far away from you." Danny turned, fully intent on moving to the other side of the room. Besides, the meeting was going to start as soon as the Flash and Kid Flash arrived, which would be soon. Something about one of their Rouges getting out?

"What?" Red Robin asked, "Why?" If he was a little desperate to get another sip of that coffee, he'd rather not acknowledge it.

"Because you don't need anymore lethal coffee," he muttered, "The sip you took will already keep you awake for three days at least, and it probably jump started an addiction. Best to stop it now. Besides, I need to go have my crisis on how the hell you're still alive after even a sip of this stuff."

"Again, rude." The bird themed vigilante crossed his arms as best he could while holding his cup. "If it's so dangerous, why do you drink it?"

Danny took a deliberate sip as he locked eyes with the technically younger man. "I'm dead. I don't need to worry about my heart stopping or having a seizure."

"Excuses."

"No, it's not 'excuses'. I'm saving your life."

"You're a kid. If I can't have that coffee, then you shouldn't be having it."

"First, I'm older than you. Second, I already told you: I'm dead. This isn't going to hurt me. Third, you can't tell me what to do."

"There's no way you're older than me. You're like, ten."

"I'm thirty-eight!" He balked, "I only look fourteen because I died when I was fourteen. We've been over this."

Neither noticed the entire Justice League looking at them. The two they were waiting on had arrived a few minutes ago and everyone was ready to start the meeting, but they'd been distracted by the two's conversation. Was that true? Had Phantom really died so young? They'd all been made aware he was not living, but they didn't think he'd died so young! Though, that was probably the denial speaking.

The Justice League Dark had been fully aware of this and didn't really bat an eye. Though, someone should probably get this meeting started. A potentially world ending threat was the topic, and that was a pretty important thing to discuss.

Captain Marvel was the first to pull himself together, though that was only after Atlas and Zeus had mentally slapped him out of his stupur. "As, ah, riveting as this conversation is," he stepped between the two boys- er, boy and man? "we really need to start this meeting."

Batman did not clear his throat because he'd not lost his voice in the first place. "He's right. Everyone take your seats."

Storyboard Part 2

[revelboo]

Can I ask for more Metroplex x reader? I find it so cute

I Can Feel You Pt 2

Metroplex x Reader

• Electric through him, the feel of that little hand surfing along a wall, grounds him. Helps him focus on the present instead of getting lost in the past. On you, the smallest of his wards as you tell him about Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s jet judo with a mix of excitement and worry that sinks through him in what might be jealousy. Not that you’re free to leave him when he’s essentially trapped, but that the others can really interact with you. Talk to you instead of these one sided conversations that while they mean so much to him, also hurt. You talk to them, joke and laugh and they can answer you. He’s seen you hitch a ride with Trailbreaker or Hound, watched them lift you up to carry when your smaller legs are tired, and it twists through him, because it’s something he can’t have. Something not meant for him.

• Laughing as the street shifts under your feet and keeps sliding you until you oblige the huge Cybertronian and walk in the direction he’s gently herding you. “Okay, okay,” you murmur with a smile. Metroplex is a bit more active if you’re around, something none of the other Autobots seem to know what to make of. More alert. That has to be a good thing, though. They all make you feel so tiny, but he’s a literal city and still somehow makes you feel seen.

• Little shifts and nudges to get you to go where he wants you. Knows when you see it, because you stop short and he has to slide the sidewalk under you to get you to move again. You look around, before turning your attention to the new building he’s made to a much smaller scale. A place just for you. “Is this for me?” You ask and he slides the door open, inviting you in, tracking as you enter and look around. Having no idea what a human dwelling should look like, he’s fashioned you a space like those he’s made for the Autobots who call him home, but scaled down to you. Little hands touch the berth, sliding over the top of the desk, those touches sparking through him. “You didn’t need to do this, but I love it,” you say, warmth spreading through him. But the truth? This is for him much more than you. Making a place that’s yours so you’ll stay with him longer. Not need to leave. Talk to him so he’s not so lonely, because he’ll take every scrap of your time you’re willing to give him.

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[itsjusthockey]

All I Want For Christmas - Jack Hughes

Wow guys, I’m back from the dead

Please interact because It’s fun

Do we want a Christmas series (I was gonna do one last year and then just didn’t because I don’t know)

I have other ideas brewing if this gets a lot of love

Anyway…enjoy

w.c 1,326 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

What do you get a man who has everything? Money? Check. Fame? Check. The best girlfriend in the world? Double check. Everything Jack Hughes could ever want, he had. And unfortunately for you, that makes it very difficult to buy him a Christmas present.

For the past almost three years, whenever you’ve asked about it, Jack always says the same thing: he doesn’t want anything, and not to waste your money on him. Normally, you'd be okay with that—college is expensive, and the savings you have go toward your future. But still, it’s your favorite time of year, and you want to get him something, anything, to show just how much he means to you.

To make your life easier, this year, you’ve come up with a new plan. If you can’t get an answer from Jack, you’ll go to the next best sources. Your first call is to Ellen and Jim, who kindly explain that Jack had gotten to them first and he doesn’t want anything from you but your undying love and affection. Well, he already has that, so the call is mostly a bust.

Next, you call the Captain. He laughs, telling you the same thing as the parents, and he even adds a “He’s got everything, kid. Don’t stress about it.”

Your final hope is a FaceTime with Luke. The second he answers, you beat him to the punch.

“If you say Jack just wants my love for Christmas, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Luke bursts out laughing, which you don’t find remotely funny.

“Sorry, champ,” he says, grinning wide through the screen. “I’ve got nothing. I don’t even know what I’m getting him.”

You let out a frustrated groan and bury your face in your pillow. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a gift for your boyfriend, and the days are counting down. You stay like that for a minute, until Luke calls your attention back to him.

“Stop stressing so much. You could get him a Yankee candle and he’d love it.” He pauses. “Or, hear me out, maybe you just listen to him and don’t get him anything.

Another groan escapes you, and you finally pick your head up. “That’s the thing, Luke. He always gets me the nicest things every year, and everything I get him feels... not as good.”

Luke rolls his eyes at your state. “Come on, you know he’s got the big bucks. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself to compete with him.”

You know he’s right, but it still doesn’t help. You give up on ideas for a bit and talk to Luke about whatever’s going on in his life. He’s still single, still slightly dumb, but he’s every bit still one of your best friends—much to Jack’s dismay.

“I actually do have an idea for you,” Luke says suddenly.

You sit up, eager to hear any suggestions.

“Come to Jersey for the break. Maybe the whole thing. You know that would be the only thing he’d want.”

You deflate like a ballon, a heavy weight coming in your chest. Even still, you try for a minute to work it out in your head. You’ve got your own family who expects you home, a job to manage, and grad school applications to finish. As much as you’d love to drop everything to be with Jack for a month, it just doesn’t make sense in your current situation.

Luke senses your unease like he always does and recovers. “It was just an idea. A stupid one. I forget you’ve got a lot going on.

You force a small smile, but the ache in your chest doesn’t go away. You put on a facade and talk to Luke a bit longer until your stomach growls and you excuse yourself to make dinner.

You’re halfway through cooking a pasta recipe from TikTok when your phone lights up. You assume it’s Jack, and you’re proven right. You prop the phone up just enough so you’re in the frame and answer.

“Hey, J,” you say, sounding more tired than you want. “How was your day?”

“It was great, mostly. Except, I heard through the grapevine you’re trying to get me a present.”

He teases and you try to laugh, but the sound dies in your chest, and before you even know it, tears are welling up in your eyes.

“Wait—what’s going on, babe?” Jack’s voice is full of concern, and that makes you start crying even harder.

“I'm fine, J,” you manage, your voice is quieter than you like. “I’m just...overwhelmed.

Jack falls silent for a moment, and you want to hang up, but you know if you do, he’ll blow up your phone until you answer again.

“Is it... me?” He ask, and your heart cracks again.

You let out a sharp laugh. “No, Jack. Not by you—just by life.”

He nods slowly, and for a second, you can practically feel how much he wishes he could be there with you.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, his voice is so sweet and so sincere that it almost kills you.

You wipe another tear away and finally give in to what you need to ask. “You can tell me what you want for Christmas.”

This time, he laughs, and it lifts your spirits just a little.

“Fine. I want one of those journals you write in. You know, the one with the prompts. That’s all I want.”

You turn the oven off and sit down at your table, making a mental note.

“Okay, that’s all I needed to know.”

The call falls silent again, and then Jack says something that makes your chest tighten all over again.

“(Y/N)... all I want, I already have. And I’m not just saying that. The only thing that could make me happier is having you here with me. But I know you’ve got your own stuff going on, and I can’t pretend to understand it. I need you to stop stressing about me. I’m good, great even. And seeing you hurt... that’s the only thing that’s making me hurt.”

You swallow hard, wiping away another stray tear. You nod silently, but finally break just a little bit more.

“I just wish I was with you,” you finally admit.

It’s true. Every time you hear his voice, things start to smooth out, and it’s even better when you’re together. You’ve done long-distance your entire relationship, and you’re starting to get really sick of it.

“I know. But we’ll have a week together soon, and it’ll be the greatest week ever, okay?”

You nod again, a small smile tugging at your lips. You finish your food and let Jack talk about whatever he feels like, the sound of his voice settling the tightness in your chest. You talk for an hour, long after you’ve finished eating and cleaned up. Finally, when your eyes are growing heavy, Jack bids you goodnight, and you hang up the call.

After your nighttime routine, you buy the journal he asked for from one of your favorite sites, and settle down under the sheets, wishing he was on the other side of the bed. You try to fall asleep right away, but of course, you think for a while, and the weight of your life situation hits you again. Maybe it’s time for a change—something to give you more time to be with the be thing that truly makes your happiness. Before you even know it, you’re pulling out your computer again and typing. You have another Christmas present idea, and you’re sure it tops anything you could ever think to buy him.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘SAILOR SONG,

-THEPENGUIN!SOFIA FALCONE X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You run into Sofia at Berto’s funeral. You’re the only one who can calm her down.

⋆ tags/warnings. sofia falcone x female reader. ANGST AND COMFORT!! Might make this a series if anyone likes it enough <3 she’s my literal BABY im so in love with her it makes me want to kms! she deserves SO much better i just wanna give her a hug (and a kiss). slight homophobia mentions, past relationships (but unclear), THE HANGMAN!!!!! Based on 1x2, bertos funeral ! she is my girlfailure wife and i need her

♫ “Begging, baby, would you please? / Do the things you said you'd do to me. / And when we're getting dirty, I forget all that is wrong / I sleep so I can see you 'cause I hate to wait so long.” Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

High tides. That’s what Gotham is, after the haunted return of the Batman. At least, that’s all you see around you now. Theres blood in the water, and the sharks have all come to hunt.

You think it’s all bullshit. The bat, the Riddler, this fucking funeral. You hardly knew the man, and you know it’s a waste of time. Everyone dressed in black here is only cutting their losses. It’s all out of fear. Berto was unabashedly himself. And that was weak. He tried too hard to be his father.

You scan the funeral, which might as well be a party for some of these fuckers, and hold your breath. Okay, maybe you’re more upset than you’d like to admit. Nihilism appeases the soul where optimism does not. You’d only had very few conversations with him, but he was…nice, to some extent.

It’s a day of mourning. And that’s what you do. Memories come to you in unsafe and ungrateful waves, alerting you of every interaction you’d ever had with the man of the night.

“Hey, so,” He scratched the side of his head with his index finger. “Wha- What’s up with you and my sister?” A bitter smile on his face, nose scrunched in faux curiosity. You’d known better. You grew up your entire life in Gotham, and you had known a thinly veiled threat when you’d heard it.

“Sofia?” You’d asked, lighting a cigarette. The sunset flooded through Italy’s streets. It wasn’t your first summer here. You took a long drag of smoke, thinking of how to phrase your answer. The Falcones weren’t stupid, none of them were, not really. “Nothing.” You settled on, dabbling it out in the ash tray. “Why?”

You’d expected some bullshit to fly from his mouth. The family…That you were an outsider. That whatever the two of you had going on was distasteful. A woman and a woman. Not a good look in the papers. Weak willed woman frolicking together in Gotham’s underground. You expected him to insult you, and her. What would their father think?

But Alberto didn’t say anything like that.

“If you hurt her,” He began, and you felt yourself visibly recoil. “I’ll have to, you know,” He motioned with his hands, forming a gun with his forefinger against his temple, and a pew sound. “Pop your top.”

Returning to yourself, you find it in yourself to be greatful. For Alberto, not ratting the two of you out. Whatever you two had…was more than the both of you ever managed to let on. Small touches here and there, kisses when you played house. Laughing underneath streetlamps, painting her nails. And then she got locked up in Arkham. Your best…friend.

And now she’s finally released. Idiots with poster boards outside begging for her return to the loony bin. She’s somewhere in this house, on the same floor as you.

You mindlessly sip on your glass. Alchohol is your real friend tonight. The undergrounds in shambles, the entire city is. What’s stopping you from leaving? You don’t know. Not until you see her.

She trails in the room, and the first thing you hear are overwhelming whispers. You don’t pay attention to them, how could you? Her hair tied up messily, sticky bangs and beads of sweat on her forehead. Her makeup is neat, but just barely smudged.

She’s bug eyed as she enters, chest heaving in…anger? fear? She pays much more attention to the whispers than you do, you realize.

“She’s crazy,” You hear from behind you. Faces hide behind there glasses and hands, leaning down and gossiping amongst themselves. It makes you sick. She makes you sick. Even more so, as she seems to lose herself. It starts with a small bite, digging at the finger food, before she picks up heaps of it in her palms. Over and over and over again…

“That’s enough,” You whisper, sternly, grabbing her forearm. Her mouth almost drops open with the food, eyes widening even more. She stops chewing, and for a moment, it seems everything and everyone is finally scilenced.

She doesn’t say a word in her shock, her arm falling down. She lets you guide her out the room, and the both of you ignore the comments from passerbys.

When you finally reach an empty room, you close the door. Her blood runs cold, and she’s perpelled to the edge of the room, like a cornered and vulnerable prey animal.

“What are you doing here?” Sofia drawls, clearing her throat. Her cheeks are tinged pink from embarassment, and her nose twitches in frustration.

“I knew him too.”

“No, you didn’t.” She remarks, firm in her stance. Her jaw is clenched tight, and you sigh. You make your way over to a couch, sitting down lazily. It doesn’t feel how it used to.

“Yeah, I didn’t. But I got an invitation.”

She ignores you. Straight to the point.

“You’ve heard. What they are saying about me, out there.”

“Hard not too.”

She scoffs, letting out a hmph noise. She turns away from you, blinking.

“Well. Do you believe it?” She tests, arms crossed. You feel your eyebrows scrunch, and you give her a once over. You want to scream at her, that she isn’t crazy. That whatever she’s done isn’t her fault, not completely. But you can’t claw the words out- not after not seeing her in years.

“You do, don’t you?” She continues. She stops pacing the room to take a seat parallel to you. You bite your tongue.

A beat of silence, and something in her dark eyes takes it as your final answer. Theres something deeper, darker swirling in them you can’t quite place. She’s not the same girl you knew as a child.

“No,” You whisper, finally, and watch her perk up. “You’re not crazy.”

She stays silent as she looks at you disbelievingly. Like you’re saying it simply to appease her. You find it in yourself to let the tension melt away, leaning back into the cushions.

“You don’t need help.” You affirm, and her expression is unreadable. “You aren’t broken. Or whatever those fuckhead doctors told you in Arkham. You’re just…” You trail off, needing to word this right. “You’re just your fathers daughter.”

You expect her to ask ‘what thats supposed to mean?’ but she doesn’t. No…she looks too vulnerable in this light to fight back against you. Again, silence sounds, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

It’s only when she speaks, voice trembling, do you see her resolve break.

“Why didn’t you visit me?” It’s quiet, almost a whimper, and her voice breaks. “In Arkham?”

There it is. The question you’d been dreading, mostly because you didn’t know the answer yourself.

Her eyebrows are pulled together, nails clenched into her own skin. You go to tear them from her palms, opening them up to find the marks. She doesn’t say a word. She makes no move to push you away. She’s too tired. She’s greiving, her father, her mother, her brother, her sanity.

You lean down, and press a gentle kiss to her nails. A strangled sound is ripped from her at the action, and you notice how her eyes turn glossy. You decide to ignore the question for now, watching tears finally slip from her eyes. She’d been holding them in for what felt like forever. But not with you, she finds, she could never hide anything from you.

You pull her in, embracing her for all its worth. She immeadiatley falls into you, open mouthed sobs against your shoulder. You hug her tight, and it feels blissful. After so long of only seeing her on TV reports and pictures, touching her, feeling her, is heavenly. Just like it used to be.

She still smells the same. Her makeup runs as she cries into your shoulder, and you gently hush her. You pet her head and hair, cradling her like she’s fragile glass about to break. She’s yours. You’re hers. You always have been.

Rocking her back in forth, you place a kiss on her forehead. When she leans into you, you place more. Soft little pecks across her skin, to her head, wrist. You kiss all her tears away as they fall. Sweet and salty, wetting your lips. You feel her try to catch her breath.

She pulls away from you, hair messy. Her lips are parted, and her pupils blown, and theres a silent promise in the air between the two of you. I’m with you. Im on your side. I am the woman who wants you to win.

Her hand trails to your cheek, and she looks at you worshipfully. Her eyes flit to your lips, as if asking, begging for just one.

You nod. You could never deny her anything. She leans in, tentiavley, before connecting your lips. Memories flash through your head. She tastes the same, acacia honey and cigarette smoke. Besides yourself, you deepen the kiss, and she responds tenfold.

Her hands thread through your hair with a gentle tug, as if there is a feral need buried underneath her skin, to possess you. Remind herself you are here, and you are hers, not an illusion. Not a nightmare. She would kill for you.

You have to almost fight her to part for air, pulling away with heavy breaths. She doesn’t let you get far, resting her forehead against yours.

For better or for worse, she has stuck her claws in you. You realize she will not let you go. Not tonight. Not tommorrow. Not ever.

Breath intermingling, her body heat radiating against yours, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You stay like that, unanswered questions still plaguing the silence. You’ll answer them one day. For now, you choose only to lose yourselves in one another.

You regret not telling Alberto the truth before he died. She’s not nothing to you. She’s everything.

[earlysunshines]

you always had me (and you’re always shining)

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff, pining, slowburn

synopsis: danielle has been there for your ups and downs, knowing her for so long and debuting with her makes you fall deeper and deeper—whether you like it or not.

warnings: sixth member reader ; readers a few months younger than dani ; pining and yeah i… love pining ; sloooow burn ; TOOTHrotting fluff like all your teeth will fall out prob and also angst (if u squint hard) ; they’re in love i fear, like sooo in love ; minji literally watches the whole thing unfold and doesn't say anything ; reader's native language is english ; some other implied things that will make sense it's just story buidling/backstory LOL ; barely proofread

a/n: this is a loooong one i hope u all enjoy :-] i enjoyed writing every bit and I was smiling the whole way, I hope you all smile reading this too.

being an idol is anything but easy, and that’s very palpable as you lie on the ground, sweaty and exhausted, in the practice room.

minji had watched the whole thing; right after the last session of the ditto choreo, you had walked over to the corner of the room, sat down, and ended up flat on your back. seeing you like this made her laugh.

regardless, you loved your job. music was your passion, and dancing brought joy to your heart. the journey to becoming an idol prepared you for the intense performances and demanding physical routines, but it didn't prepare you for how your heart would race each time a certain member interacted with you—just like she’s doing now.

danielle waits until you take your forearm off your forehead, watching you blink twice when she’s in your field of vision.

she greets you warmly. “hi stranger.”

“dani.” just the sight of her makes you smile. “hey.”

“you okay? minji wanted me to check on you.”

“tired, that’s all.”

“you should drink water then, sweetheart.” 

you hated when she called you these stupid pet names—not because it made you uncomfortable or anything, but because it made your heart nearly jump out of your chest. 

“want me to get you some?” she asks, her voice gentle yet playful.

“i can do it myself, thanks.” you respond, getting up without looking back at her—danielle frowns.

she watches you walk over to get water for yourself, slightly hunched over with your hand propping you up at the counter. she sees you stare down at the table between sips, seemingly lost in your own world, and it’s a tad bit concerning. sure, you’re quiet, but never this quiet or distant. you even practiced during the breaks, not giving yourself one and pretty much defeating the whole purpose of a break. everyone had noticed, but danielle had been much more worried.

danielle goes over to minji, who’s stretching and humming as the younger one is in her peripheral. she sits down next to the oldest member and continues to look at you, now you’re leaning against the wall sipping on the cup, and then letting it hang loose in your hand as you stare into the distance.

“minji, is y/n alright? she’s been so out of it today and the last time we had practice.”

minji looks in your direction and shakes her head. “no idea, i noticed it too. i thought you would’ve known.”

“i don’t. i’m just worried.”

“you want me to talk to her?” minji suggests, “but you’re closer with her, aren’t you?”

the younger member continues to look your way, watching haerin tap your shoulder and making you jump a bit from being startled. haerin turns to face you, her lips moving with some quiet words danielle can’t quite catch. you wave her off with a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, then head to a corner to stretch, finding your own space.

“yeah, she’s just been distant these past few days. minji, i don’t know what to do.”

“pry her open, she’s got a tough exterior you know.”

“she’s always been like that.” danielle sighs, continuing to stretch.

it’s well known that you’re quite reserved, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t bold, outgoing, or unwilling to talk to your members. all of them see you as a pillar and light in the group, a source of strength and joy. even further, there’s compilations of you online making the members laugh and being an idiot, you’re a joy to your fans and the people close to you. but there are times when you close yourself off and become unusually quiet. it’s not like haerin’s nature, being quiet and all; instead, it’s a concerning silence that signals something is off. danielle, in particular, has a keen sense for these moments, always noticing when you retreat into yourself and sensing that something is bothering you.

she’s always been able to find a way to help you out and talk to her a bit, you’ve had a soft spot for her and it’s evident to everyone in your group. you rarely speak on your problems; the fact that danielle can get you to utter a sentence regarding what bothers you is astonishing itself.

you’ve known danielle for as long as you’ve been a trainee since she’s been there longer. she’s always been incredibly kind and patient with you, especially during those initial days when you were adjusting to being away from your grandparents who raised you. being in a place so completely different from what you were used to was challenging, but danielle’s presence was a comforting constant. 

the bond that you two had only grew with time and experience, and the fact that you two had so many similarities (one being the year you were born) only strengthened it. danielle, without a doubt, was the one person who could ground you. because of this, she’s going to make it her priority to find out what’s up with you.

when practice ends and everyone is free to go back to the dorms, danielle approaches you and grabs your hand, making you turn to face her with a raised brow.

“yes?”

“let’s grab lunch y/n, the rest of us are going to.”

“oh, i’m not really feeling it, sorry.” you apologize, feeling bad when the member holding your hand frowns. “i think i’ll just eat later, i’m not hungry. could you buy me something though?”

she lets out a small huff. “what’s going on?” 

you tilt your head like haerin always does and hum in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“something is bothering you.”

“no, i’m just tired. can’t you see the eyebags? seriously, i’m so sleepy…” you try to mask what you feel with a lighthearted chuckle, but danielle can hear the lie in your words. she wants to be angry at you for lying, but she knows you can’t help it. lying about what you feel is like breathing to you. “grab me a rice bowl?”

she lets go of your hand and it almost urges you to spill pent-up emotions, but you won’t give in that easily. sure, her pretty face and caring self make you fold most of the time, but not in this case.

“alright y/n.” danielle sighs. “can we talk tonight? if you’re feeling like you want to. i hate seeing you so out of it.”

you pause, looking at her with slumped shoulders before biting your lip. 

“thank you, light.”

–

danielle has many nicknames and things people like to call her. one of her favorites—if not her absolute favorite—has always been dani, at least until you let a special nickname slip off your lips not too long ago, one that made her cheeks warm and brought a shy smile to her face.

“light?” she asks, looking at you like you’re stupid – in an admirable, adorable way of course.

you shrug. “sunshine is used too much by bunnies and the other members, light is much more unique and special to me. you’re special to me so i wanted something special. you don’t like it?”

danielle loves it the moment she hears you say it.

it's late, and while the rest of the members are fast asleep, you and danielle find yourselves unable to drift off. instinctively, you both end up in your room, lying on the bed. danielle’s head rests comfortably on your stomach as you explain the spontaneous, out-of-nowhere nickname you came up with for her a few months after your debut. she can't tell if the room is too hot and you need to start using your fan (you really do, danielle doesn’t understand how you survive without turning on that fan in these hot dorms), or if it's just because you've just called her something that makes her feel truly special.

her heart flutters. “i like it a lot. how’d you think of it?”

you start humming to yourself as you think. “i mean, you’re like sunshine, the sun. you know, you’re very bright and lights are bright too so…”

“that’s cute.” you’re cute, danielle might explode right there and right now, ‘cute’ is not capturing how much she adores it. “you’re creative.”

“i’m not.”

“you look down on yourself too much.” danielle retorts as she gets up to lay down next to you. her face is turned to gaze at your features. “seriously.”

“or maybe you just look up to me too much.”

“well you need to shrink. anyway, i think my statement is factual and yours is false.”

“you really want to debate right now?”

“i don’t need to, i’m right.” danielle smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

you turn on your side and she mirrors you, the mood of the room shifts, the air seems warmer – maybe you should turn that fan on.

danielle lets out a small yawn, her blinking slowing down as her eyelids grow heavy. you giggle quietly, then pull the blanket over the two of you, taking a moment to admire her. she looks peaceful and beautiful, more so than anyone or anything you've ever seen.

you reach over to fix the blanket sitting on her figure. “i take it you’re staying here tonight?”

she nods sleepily.

“okay.”

–

danielle knocks on your door, and before you can answer she lets herself in. she’s always done this, it’s amusing.

(and really, she knows you’ll let her in anyway. you’ve never once declined.)

she spots you lying in bed, your face hidden under the plaid blanket your grandma had shipped from your home. danielle knows it’s one of your most prized possessions, she can tell that it’s especially important as you cling onto it.

“the rice bowl is in the fridge, you should eat.”

“i’ll eat later dani.”

she frowns at you, watching you lay there and face the window in your room.

your favorite playlist fills the silence in the room, the one hanni contributed half of when you two were feeling emotional in the middle of the night and sharing sappy songs that made your hearts melt. it’s a bit concerning that this playlist is also what you listen to when you’re sulking, given that it’s filled with half of daniel caesar’s discography and slow love songs (happy and sad, but you still manage to sulk when it’s something to swoon over). 

you and hanni have such similar tastes in music; it’s almost dangerous how in sync you are when it comes to the songs that tug at your heartstrings.

danielle shuts the door slowly before making her way over to you. she sits beside you, rubbing your shoulder through the material of your blanket.

“hey sleepy, you’ll feel terrible if you don’t eat.” she squeezes you lightly, making you groan quietly. “the others are worried too, i told them you took a nap.”

“tell them i’m sleeping in.” you mumble, covering yourself in the blanket more. “thanks dani.”

she sighs and moves over so her lips hover above your ear. “y/n, you can’t stay like this. we’ve talked about this before, it’s not good to keep things in; you’ll explode.”

“it’s nothing, please danielle.”

“sweetheart,” her voice makes you all tingly. “please?”

you finally give in after she slides her hand down to your back, rubbing it comfortingly. with a deep breath, you slowly sit up and lean against the wall behind you. danielle’s eyes are filled with a tender, eager sparkle, her bottom lip jutting out slightly as she watches you, ready to listen to every word. 

the room feels warmer, the closeness between you making the moment intimate and heartfelt.

“the comeback is a little stressful, but i’ve managed of course.” she nods as you explain, giving you her undivided attention. “and my grandma recently got surgery, i found out two days ago and i’ve just been worried sick. the thought of her without me there to help her out makes me sick. i know my grandpa is there to help her out but– i’ve just always been there for them. now i can’t, and i can’t disappoint them either.”

you've never been much of a crier; the members have seen you cry maybe two or three times. but when danielle’s features soften and she immediately reaches over to engulf you in a hug that you could drown in, tears start to well in your eyes. you manage to hold them back, but the overwhelming comfort and warmth she offers makes it difficult.

“and you know the whole thing with my family after i took the trainee route, my grandparents are the only ones who are really fond of me and i– i’m just really… thrown off right now.

“i’m sorry to hear that, really.” she mumbles near your neck, mostly into your hair.  her embrace feels like a safe haven, a place where you can let go of your worries, even if just for a moment. you start to think that everything will be fine. “you’re not letting down anyone, just you existing makes your grandparents proud. i know it. and, i know i’ve only met your grandma briefly, but she’s such a strong woman from what i’ve seen, seriously. i trust that she’ll be fine, but would she be fine if she knew you were stressing?”

you shake your head – danielle has a point.

“i- i guess not.”

“well, i think her recovery would go much better knowing the woman she loves most is doing her best and doing alright.”

danielle’s right, she’s so right it really does ground you. you wrap your arms around her and hug back tightly, letting your worries flow away.

“thank you.”

“mhm.” she hums softly, then pulls away to gaze at you, placing her hands on your shoulders. “you should eat, let’s eat together.”

“you haven’t eaten yet?”

“a little, but i couldn’t eat a lot knowing you hadn’t.”

maybe you should’ve eaten, you should’ve because danielle isn’t satisfied. her stomach is most likely nowhere near half full. you quickly get up and grab her hand, dragging her out your room after hearing the new information.

“i can’t have you hungry dani.”

-

minji is happy to see your spark back, seeing you so enthusiastic and performing so well during practices makes her happy. 

this time, your practice is being recorded. you're all jumpy and giddy as you play around with hyein, teasing her in between breaks, but you manage to stay focused and excel as you run through the choreography. the camera captures you tease hanni, you make fun of the three-inch height difference between you two while she pouts and chases you around. even haerin joins in, watching you run around while you grin at the shortest member. the practice room buzzes with laughter and energy, your lighthearted teasing making the grueling session more enjoyable for everyone.

danielle and minji watch from afar, well, it’s mostly danielle who’s watching – admiring.

minji sees something special in her gaze, a sort of longing. a smile makes its way to danielle's lips, and minji watches the way danielle softens. the camera captures the same sight minji is seeing, though in much lower quality. the tender moment is evident even through the grainy footage, highlighting something much more complex between danielle and the object of her affection: you.

minji judges the younger member. “seems like you got her back on her feet.”

“hm?” danielle says, flinching slightly after being startled. “oh, yeah. she’s definitely feeling better, i’m really glad.”

“you two have something special, hm?”

“what do you mean?” 

minji looks back at you. you’ve given up, and hanni is now dragging you to the ground, both of you laughing as hyein records the whole thing. minji then glances at danielle. the younger australian member finds herself giggling unknowingly as she watches the whole scene unfold, her eyes twinkling with amusement and something softer, something that betrays the ‘platonic’ aspect in the fondness she holds for you.

minji shakes her head. “nothing. let’s get back to work.”

-

“hi everyone, i’m with y/n!” minji greets the livestream, looking at herself in the screen and fixing her hair. “say hi.”

you sit down next to her and fix the cap on your head, waving at the phone and smiling. “hi everyone, it’s been a while since i’ve made an appearance, huh?”

minji looks at you and scoffs. “you were on danielle’s live last week, and on her little voice message for a moment.”

you giggle and shake your head, putting up your hands to make a little ‘x’ sign with your fingers. 

“sounds like someone’s a fan of miss marsh, stalking her phoning activity…”

“bro, you are literally apart of her content a third of the time.”

“are you jealous kim minji?”

“of what, danielle being all over you? count me out…”

you giggle and continue on with the live. the two of you talk about the upcoming ‘making jeans,’ reminiscing and laughing over the countless memories you shared during the process of filming the music video.

of course, you tend to mention danielle often, complimenting her looks in each outfit and scene you all shot, the memories of mainly the two of you during the whole filming process. minji listens carefully as you ramble, narrowing her eyes each time the name ‘danielle’ is brought up. she lets you ramble, of course; she'd be something not too short of awful if she were to cut you off from gushing about your fellow member. 

there’s a sparkle in your eyes like fireworks going off as minji watches you. your smile is wide and genuine, your hands animatedly emphasizing every detail of whatever topic you're discussing, and without fail, danielle is woven into the narrative. the slight tint of pink on your cheeks doesn’t escape minji’s notice; it hints at something deeper than simple admiration.

the conversation shifts away from danielle and onto your other members, particularly how you and minji managed to cook a five-course meal for the rest of the group. questions flow and are answered promptly, and as the live stream reaches its fifty-minute mark, minji decides it's time to wrap up. 

once she ends the stream, you turn to her and give a thumbs up. “that was fun, lets do more of these.”

“you talked about danielle for a fifth of the live, y/n.”

“sorry…” you mumble, “i just remembered a lot of things from the shoot.”

you remembered danielle from the shoot that’s for sure. 

minji waves her hand and says, “it’s not a bad thing that you did…”

“of course not, danielle is lovely.”

to you? more than just lovely i bet. minji thinks, rolling her eyes before she flicks the cap off your head. you make some strange noise and it makes the older member chuckle.

“let’s get some rest, thanks for joining me.”

“yeah, anytime.” you wink at her before getting up and waving, walking out the door with a grin on your lips.

minji finds herself leaning against her bedframe, reflecting on everything she’s observed over the past two weeks—and honestly, over the years. 

the whole livestream with you has her pondering now; even as trainees, you and minji had always been close and supportive of each other. however, minji had always noticed something distinct in the dynamics between you and danielle. while all four of you—minji, hanni, danielle, and yourself—spoke english, there was an undeniable uniqueness in the connection, the exchanged glances, the subtle cues, and the way you and danielle interacted.

she collapses onto her bed and grabs her phone, concentrating hard as she clicks on the 'youtube' icon and goes to the search bar. biting the inside of her lip, she types 'newjeans danielle and y/n,' feeling a little awkward, as if she’s doing something a fan would do. she shakes her head to dispel the feeling, focusing on the recommended searches that follow:

"newjeans danielle and y/n moments" "danielle and y/n cute interactions" "newjeans y/n looking at danielle" "danielle and y/n chemistry compilation"

minji clicks on the first result, curiosity piqued, then clicks on the first video that pops up. the video is a compilation of moments between you and danielle, set to a soft, romantic song. as the montage begins, she sees clip after clip of the two of you laughing together, eyes sparkling with unspoken understanding. secret glances are exchanged, your smiles growing wider with every shared look. inside jokes flow effortlessly, creating a tempo only the two of you seem to follow. 

minji watches as the moments play out, each one reinforcing the undeniable bond between you and danielle. most of these clips could be played out as touchy, close friend moments, but some cannot be brushed off as that at all.

there’s a clip that plays, and minji cringes a little when she sees herself pop up on screen, talking about how she feels before a stage. the focus then shifts, zooming in on the background where danielle is leaning against your shoulder, eyes closed. minji watches as you turn to look at danielle lovingly, a soft smile playing on your lips before you look back at the makeup artist fixing your blush. 

another clip that makes minji's brows furrow also sparks a memory in her head. in the clip, you jump at minji, placing both hands on her shoulders as you lift yourself up from the ground. when you land back down, you hug the older member and laugh with her, happy that you've managed to scare her. what minji never noticed before now plays in the video: danielle is in the distance, the footage edited to zoom in on her. she's watching the whole scene, and as soon as your arms wrap around minji, danielle's gaze turns slightly more serious. danielle bites half of her lip and clenches her jaw, clearly a little bothered by it.

that’s not like her at all.

minji skips the video and finds the most replayed moment, her eyes widening at how oblivious she had been to you two. have the other members noticed as well? the question rings throughout minji’s head, the others have to have had a small hunch. then again, danielle is affectionate, and you are too at times, so maybe it wouldn’t be unbelievable for them to be blind to whatever you and her have going on. 

you and danielle are shooting for the photobooks, taking your duo pictures. minji watches as danielle takes this opportunity to be touchy as ever, her hands never leaving you as you both pose. her hand ends up on your forearm, shoulders, and even the back of your neck. she's flirting with you the whole time too, mostly to earn genuine smiles and laughs for the camera, but also because she enjoys it and means it – minji assumes. even as you two pose with hanni added, danielle still keeps her hand on you at all times, not wanting to leave you be. and when the camera pans to her hand sliding to your waist and rubbing it just barely, minji freezes.

each moment feels charged with a depth she hadn't fully grasped before. even she hasn’t noticed half of what was clipped.

the comments are filled with fans gushing over your interactions:

"i swear they have the best chemistry!" "look at how danielle looks at y/n! my heart can't take it." "they are so cute together! #dany/n" “are they dating? i’m new to this group. ↪️”not officially, but from their interactions it seems like it could be true.” ↪️”there has to be something though, most likely they are.” ↪️”hey, let’s not assume things. we don’t know what goes on behind cameras and they’re probably just really close friends!”

minji sighs, a mix of amusement and concern flooding her. she knew you two were close, but this compilation and the fan reactions make it clear just how much your bond stands out. sure, danielle and haerin had some of their own moments (mainly because haerin, but this? this is something.

 she scrolls through a few more videos, each one reinforcing what she's just realized. 

"oh my fucking god," minji murmurs, the weight of understanding settling in as she processes everything: you think danielle shines brighter than the sun.

you talk about her like she is your sun, and danielle looks at you like you’re her moon.

and minji? she's caught in the midst of your oblivious pining, realizing she occupies the role of the stars, planets, and everything in between.

-

“hanni.”

the younger member jumps at the sound of minji barging into her room at 12 in the morning, looking at her like she’s crazy.

“the hell man? at least knock–”

“you and danielle, you’re both very similar, very close too, i know that.”

“of course i’m close with dani, what the hell are you–”

“you’re close with y/n too, yeah?”

“i’m close with everyone including you minji, what kind of interrogation is this?”

minji flops onto hanni’s bed and stares up into the ceiling like she’s just worked a 9-5 with no break in between. the younger member walks over to close the door of her room, then sits back down to assess whatever is happening. 

“seriously,” hanni begins, “what’s up?”

“are dani and y/n dating? like are they together? like girlfriends, like– romantic?”

hanni giggles, making minji turn her head to give hanni a good look of the confused expression she has on. “what? no…? they’re just really flirty minji, i thought we knew this.”

“okay well i just went live with y/n and she was rambling and gushing about dani for a solid fifteen minutes. hanni, that live was almost an hour.”

“oh.” hanni simply responds, going silent.

“have you noticed something between them? or am i going crazy…”

the room is silent for a while, and minji lets it stay that way, giving hanni time to process her thoughts. hanni starts to really think about her other two members. minji has a point: you and danielle are close, and your demeanor changes noticeably when danielle is involved. she also recalls the time when she and danielle had gone out together, only for danielle to talk about you a good chunk of the time. it doesn’t help that danielle’s lock screen consists of two rotating pictures: one being a group photo and the other being you holding a kitten.

danielle and hanni spend a lot of time together, and now that hanni fully analyzes all those moments, she realizes that a significant portion of their conversations revolves around you. it’s almost as if you were there with them. danielle also looks at you differently, more lovingly, compared to the way she looks at the other members. when she flirts, it’s also different – more genuine, more meaningful. hanni had always been too distracted by how flirty and stupid danielle was to notice the blush on both your faces during those flirtatious moments. now, everything starts to make sense.

“okay wait yeah,” hanni bites the side of her finger. “i guess? but danielles really loving and sweet.”

“but much more with y/n, right?” minji sounds like she’s trying to convince herself too. “oh my god this is so embarrassing but i went on youtube…”

“don’t tell me you–”

minji puts a hand in the air, closing her eyes embarrassingly. “it was for research.”

“research on your friends?”

“stop! you need to see the video too, i didn’t even notice this shit.” 

hanni sighs, letting minji scoot next to her and play a video titled ‘danielle and y/n moments that could make the cut in a romance drama.’ the younger member eyes minji after reading the title, minji just puts a finger to her lips and presses play.

“i can’t believe you’re making me watch this, am i a bunny or what?”

“just watch.”

minji is older and hanni does not have anything better to do at this hour of the night, so she keeps her eyes glued on the screen.

the younger woman goes through every single emotion that minji has with each second passing by. her brows crease, her hand hovers over her mouth in shock, and she almost squeals during some clips – minji nudges her teasingly. when the video ends hanni sits there staring at the phone dead silent. 

“well?”

“that was edited very well.”

the older member pushes the younger one and rolls her eyes. “shut up. are you picking up what i’m putting down?”

“yeah, no, oh my god it’s real.”

“but they’re not dating…” minji thinks to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. “wait, are they… do they even like girls?”

“oh yeah, danielle mentioned it like, twice, but she thinks it’s not a big deal. but yeah, she likes girls. i think y/n mentioned it once too, they’re both just not open about it i guess?”

minji clicks her tongue. “so they’re probably in love and pining, they’re oblivious.”

“what do we even do with this information?” hanni asks. 

they both ponder the possible outcomes, weighing the positive and negative consequences of you and danielle becoming a couple or continuing to pine for each other. if you two stayed in the limbo of unspoken looks, flirting, and loving gestures, the status quo would remain, but it might cause tension. on the other hand, if you two became a thing and eventually broke up, it could create a rocky dynamic within the group. 

however, minji knows you well. you’re mature and have been through a lot, so she believes you’d be able to handle it professionally. danielle, on the other hand, might struggle more with the fallout. but if the relationship lasted, it would bring happiness and joy, despite the challenges of dating as an idol and concealing so much. the two of you would be happy – you’re already happy as is to be part of the group and know each other – and so would the other members. 

the thought of this potential happiness brings a soft smile to minji’s face as she considers the best path forward for everyone involved.

minji leans into hanni’s pillow and closes her eyes – she looks like an overworked therapist. “we shouldn’t intervene.”

“let things flow naturally?”

“yeah, but with the knowledge that they’re in love i guess.”

“so it’s actually like an angsty, intense romance drama.”

“they’re our friends idiot… more like a romcom, it’s not that bad.”

the two laugh and decide to call it a night, promising to run to each other with information and thoughts on every single thing that happens to the two of you.

(they can still be fans of the two of you despite being part of the group itself, and that as a guilty pleasure isn’t the worst thing in the world.)

-

your birthday falls right before the break you have, just a few promotions to get through and you’re set.

unfortunately, you’re not able to see your grandparents during the first week of your vacation since they’ve had a few complications with flights and their work. however, they’ll be coming to visit you in the second week, staying a little longer despite you having to work. because of this, you'll have plenty of time to spend with them and show them around seoul. 

plus, they’ll get to meet your members, and you can already envision how much they’ll baby and spoil everyone. the thought of your grandparents showering your friends with affection, gifts, and really just their love and charm brings a smile to your face, and you can’t wait for them to experience the warmth and love you’ve always cherished. 

every birthday for each member includes a special livestream, and today, it’s your turn. 

despite it being your birthday, a heavy feeling of sadness lingers, overshadowing the excitement as you all set up. you should be happy, and you are with the members around you by your side on your day, but you’re still not completely you the absence of danielle gnaws at your heart. everyone except her surrounds you, and you try to mask how terrible you feel without her presence as you prepare for the broadcast. she apparently had something very important in her schedule that would last until the late evening, leaving you to celebrate without her.

[danielle] im so sorry i can’t be there for you ☹️ i wanted to be there but they’ve shoved this into my schedule since the break is soon im so sorry sweetheart i’ll make it up to you as best as i can, promise i love you, i’m sorry i’m so so so sorry

you remember seeing danielle's messages two hours after noon. the instant you read them, your shoulders dropped, your smile faded, and all the excitement drained from your body. those texts still haunt you, a constant reminder of her absence on a day you wanted her by your side the most.

[y/n] it’s okay, don’t worry about it.

you put on your best facade, greeting the viewers with a joyful, upbeat tone, but the rest of the members can see through it. the light in your eyes is dimmed, your smile not as genuine as usual. hyein notices and rubs your hand under the table, offering silent support, trying to lift your spirits on your special day. the others chime in with their own attempts to cheer you up, but the void left by danielle’s absence is hard to fill.

you force a smile. “i’m surrounded by most of my members! i’m very happy to be with them on my special day.”

hyein puts her arm around your shoulder and squeezes you close to hug you from the side, making you giggle. “she’s getting older and older and older… please wish her a long life everyone.”

“hey! i’m not that old…”

“if y/n is old then what am i?” minji questions, quirking a brow at the youngest.

“ancient.”

“hey!”

your members start to bicker playfully, and it washes away a good amount of your worries. the smile on your face stays, though it falters now and then. despite the sadness lurking in the background, you're grateful to be surrounded by those who have supported you. their presence and antics bring some light to your birthday, helping you feel a bit more at ease.

hanni suddenly grips your shoulders, making you jump. “okay~ time for the birthday girls’ gifts!”

she makes you giggle, then moves out of frame to grab a wrapped box. she hands it to you – not without accidentally hitting your head, making you and the members gasp and chuckle – then lets you examine the exterior.

“you’ll love it man.” you roll her eyes at her confident tone.

everyone watches you unwrap the gift, hyein snorts as she watches you struggle to open the box up, having to find a pen to stab it and rip the seal. there are a few things inside, but you grab the larger item out and gasp when you see it. 

“hanni you’re– oh my god.” you gaze at the signed daniel caesar vinyl in your hands, mouth wide open. “hanni.”

“yes?”

you stand up immediately to hug her tight, engulfing her in your arms as you sway in place. “thank you so much.”

she rubs your back and hugs you back with the same energy. “seems like my present will be hard to beat, that so?”

you pull away and scoff playfully, sitting back down to inspect whatever else is inside the box. “don’t make it a competition!”

the rest of the live continues, most of your sorrow completely lifted after opening each present. minji gives you a cap with your name on it, along with a necklace you had been eyeing for months, some stationary, and your favorite candies from back home. you marvel at how she managed to get a bag of your favorite sweets, but she just shrugs with a smirk plastered on her face, clearly enjoying the mystery.

haerin’s gift is thoughtful and cute. you ‘re given three different koala keychains (your representative and favorite animal), a cat shirt, a new ds game, and blue light glasses. haerin is attentive to everything, but it still surprised you that she remembered you were missing the ‘y’ version of your favorite pokemon game – and your glasses that you had bought a month ago. she also hands you a letter, it’s full of words that will probably make you tear up later, so you decide to tuck it away for the time being.

hyein gifts you something that makes you laugh until you're leaning against her, nearly crying. her bag contains new earrings that match your style perfectly and your favorite disney movie on dvd. the real kicker, though, is an oversized shirt featuring a popular baby picture of you photoshopped boldly on the front. in the picture, your six-year-old self is sleeping with your head turned uncomfortably and drool seeping from the corner of your lips. the sloppy masking of the image only adds to how hilarious it is, making hanni and minji hold onto each other as they cackle, while haerin has to move out of frame to hide her amusement. 

“how did you even get this made?” you ask the youngest member, still clinging onto her and laughing in between words. “oh my god, this is insane.”

“do you like it?”

“i love it hyeinie.” you press a short peck to the top of her head, then pat down her hair. “it’s wonderful.”

she’s smiling brightly, happy that you’re not as sad as before and that you love her gift. hyein has always been full of love and care.

you begin to organize the presents again, looking back at all of them and feeling like the luckiest, happiest girl in the world. after hugging all of your members again, nearly crushing them from how grateful you are.

haerin then brings your cake back in frame, tugging on your sleeve to grab your attention. 

 you clap your hands. “ah! yes, let’s blow the candle.”

it’s really simple, mundane, and everyone does it – blowing a cake and all, despite yours not being edible – but it makes your cheeks hurt from how much you smile. everyone enthusiastically sings ‘happy birthday’ and you sit there like a child all giddy. once they’re all done, you close your eyes and clasp your hands, making a silent wish in your head.

most of the wishes are simply you wishing for your grandparents to be well and healthy, and you wished the same for your members. you also wished for one more thing, something on a whim, but it would make you even happier than you are right now.

i wish danielle were here.

you silently go over each wish again, unaware of hanni opening the door behind you, someone walking in silently and quickly rushing over to stand behind you. 

opening your eyes, you grin and blow the candles out, then jump and shout in surprise when you feeling someone’s arms around you and their body pressed against you from behind.

danielles scent is recognizable, and so is her voice, heavy with accent. “happy birthday!”

you turn around in surprise, looking up at her with wide eyes and your jaw dropped. she moves her hand to the crook of your neck, the other resting on your shoulder as she looks at your expression.

“dani? you– you said you couldn’t–”

“i’m sorry, i had to pick up your present and surprise you. was it too harsh?”

you felt you heart break into pieces when you had received her texts, but still answer, “no, absolutely not.”

she hugs you again and you sink into her embrace. minji and hanni exchange knowing glances, hyein and haerin just smile at how sweet the moment it is. 

you end the live shortly after, with danielle explaining to the viewers that her present for you is something very special that she needs to show off-camera. the group continues chatting about you and your birthday, with haerin snickering at hyein’s remarks. danielle stays where she is, standing behind your chair with her arms around you, her fingers grazing your skin in a way that makes you swoon. minji and hanni silently communicate with each other through their eyes and brows, sharing a knowing look about the bond between you and danielle.

you couldn’t be any happier.

–

it turns out that you can be happier.

once the livestream ends, you all help clean up the studio. minji tries to suck in helium from the balloons, while hanni and hyein run around trying to stop her, adding to the lighthearted chaos. despite the playful antics, the six of you manage to clean up quickly. each member hugs you tightly, danielle hugging you last. as she pulls away, she gives a look to each of the members, silently sending them off with goodbyes and “see you back at home’s.” soon, it’s just you and danielle back in the empty studio after she had dragged you back inside.

“i’m sorry again, but i had to grab you some special things.”

“it’s okay, really.” you lie, knowing you probably would’ve went back home and sulked for a bit. you look at the bag in her hands, then giggle. “is that for me?”

“yes miss birthday girl!” 

you laugh and she hands you the bag, it’s smaller than everyone elses, but that doesn’t matter at all.

reaching in, you feel something fluffy. you pull out a small teddy bear about twice the size of your hands, feeling your lips turn up. it’s a bear with a flower in its hand and a small flower crown on top of its head. it’s adorable, but not as much as danielle.

“dani,” you pull her in for another hug. “this is so cute.”

“mhm.” she mumbles, pulling away. “press on its chest.”

“what?”

“just do it.”

you comply, you thumb adding pressure and feeling a small click. there’s a small sound that starts to play, and as soon as you hear the familiar voices, you almost break.

“hi y/n! we miss you and love you and are so so proud of you.” the sound of your grandpa’s voice in the recording makes you freeze.

your grandma speaks next, “we miss you and love you to death. keep it up! you are so amazing and the greatest gift ever, you’ve got this.” 

they both speak at the same time next, saying, “from your favorite bunnies: we love you y/n!”

danielle is a little scared as she watches you frozen in place, still clutching the bear she gave you. your lip trembles slightly, and she hears a slight shake in your breath. you stare at the bear in shock, then look up at danielle with tears brimming in your eyes. her heart aches, unsure if your reaction is good or bad, and she takes a hesitant step closer, her voice soft and concerned.

"hey, are you okay?" she asks, reaching out gently to touch your arm. 

you grab her wrist and pull her in, engulfing her in the warmest hug you’ve given. “danielle, this is the best gift i’ve ever received.” she can hear you starting to sniffle, not letting go of you and letting your tears stain her hair. “thank you so much, i– i really needed this. you’re seriously the most thoughtful person i know and i just, i can’t explain how much this means to me.”

danielle's heart swells with relief and affection. she hugs you tighter, resting her chin on your shoulder. "i'm so glad you like it," she whispers. "you mean a lot to me, and i wanted to give you something special, something that shows how much i care."

you pull back slightly to look at her, your eyes still glistening with tears. "it’s perfect," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "you’re perfect, oh my god, i love you so much.” 

danielle smiles, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "i’m glad you like it, happy birthday.” she says softly.

-

“yes, i got it. i can’t believe danielle did all this for me.” you face your ipad, smiling at your grandparents. “i cried you know!”

your grandmas eyes smile with her and you can see the slight wrinkles in the corner of them. “aw, at least they were happy tears. your member, she reached out to us first you know? what a sweetheart…”

“danielle cares for you a lot, you know? she’s a great friend, you keep her close, okay?” your grandpa adds.

friend. the word rings in your ear, stinging a little. danielle is sweeter than honey, caring, loving, and she’s the reason your transition to moving away from home was easier. at the end of the day, no matter how touchy she is with you, how many flirtatious comments and affectionate gestures she gives; danielle is your friend. 

at least she’s in your life, you’re grateful for just that.

“yeah,” you chuckle, it’s bittersweet leaving you. “she’s a great friend.”

your grandma leans closer to the camera, smirking. “but if i had to take a guess, i don’t think you’re just a friend to her.”

an awkward laugh leaves your lips. “what are you on about?”

“friends don’t do things as significant as this. your grandpa was my ‘friend’ in college, but none of my friends did the things he did. did the rest of your members do something like this? she cares about you deeply, im sure the other members do too, but this is different y/n.”

“i mean, my members also gave me great gifts.”

“sweetie, danielle reached out to us via facebook and set up a whole thing in order to get this for you.”

“and i’ve seen your little videos with the members, she looks at you differently and clings onto you more than haerin. that says a lot.” your grandpa adds on, raising his brows. 

your cheeks start to burn, you roll your eyes and scoff. “i think you’re looking into it too far, seriously. she’s my coworker and friend.”

“y/n, follow your heart. you adore her and you’re trying to push away the feeling because you’re scared of rejection.” your grandma was very good at reading you. too good. “don’t suppress and run away because you’re scared, things will work out.”

“i don’t even know if she likes girls like that, i mean, danielle–”

without any warning, the door of your room is opened suddenly and you jump, dropping your ipad on the mattress and letting out a small yelp.

danielle stands int he doorway in her pajamas. “hey! oh sorry– did i interrupt? sorry i’ll come back later–” 

“no! i mean, no.” you clear your throat. “d-did you need something?”

your grandparents can only see the ceiling, but they still hear danielle, “ah, well, i’ll just tell you later when you’re done. are you calling your grandparents?”

“danielle? is that you?” your grandma calls out. “dear, let me see her.”

picking up the ipad and setting it upright again, danielle walks over to where you sit on the bed and leans over so her head is in frame. “mrs. and mr. l/n! hi, how are you?”

“oh danielle, it’s lovely to see you! we’re doing great.” your grandpa responds. 

you scoot over and pat down the space next to you, mumbling softly to danielle, “sit here.”

“you sure? i didn’t interrupt, i’ll just say hi and–”

danielle feels you grab her wrist, pulling her down so she’s next to you now. “it’s fine, i swear.” you assure, and danielle just nods.

“oh gosh, you get prettier each time i see you.” your grandpa says in awe (he gets it). “how did y/n react? tell us the full details.”

the member beside you laughs, it’s music to your ears. 

“she just stared at it while the audio played and… cried.” she turns to look at you with apologetic eyes. “it was very emotional, but i can assure she loved it. did you?”

“yeah.” you mutter, eyes on danielle as she speaks.

“aw, how adorable. well, we actually have to go. you had something to tell our granddaughter?”

your grandma and grandpa want you dead.

“aw, well i hope to talk to you two for longer next time! stay safe and healthy– oh! and speedy recovery to you mrs. l/n!”

“thanks dear, goodnight you two! happy birthday, we love you.” is the last thing your grandpa says before your grandma blows you a kiss and waves goodbye. the call ends a second later, leaving you and danielle alone.

she turns her head, your faces find themselves a hand apart.

“your grandparents are so lovely.”

you look at her like an idiot. “yeah.”

“i’m sorry to cut your call short, really–”

“no! no, it’s okay. what did you want to tell me?”

“well,” she starts, her gaze fixed on her hands. she looks nervous, and it makes you nervous as well. “i kind of was wondering…” you gulp, hearing the hesitation in her voice. she does that thing, the little nervous lip bite that’s both adorable and nerve-racking at the same time. “you know, the vacation we have is soon, and you’re here in seoul for the first week. i figured that might be boring, considering all of us will be out and with family, you know? and you, you’re still here.”

her words hang in the air, the weight of her uncertainty pressing down on both of you. you can feel the anticipation building, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to decipher her intentions. the idea of spending the first week of vacation alone had been a bit daunting, and the thought that danielle had been thinking about you, about your potential loneliness, makes your heart swell with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“and…?”

“well…” you focus on each curve of her side profile, eyes softening as she continues. “how does australia sound? with me, my hometown to be exact. oh! but only for a few days of course! i know your grandparents are visiting and yeah, that’s– that’s what i wanted to ask.”

you can’t help but chuckle at how she fiddles her fingers, how she avoids your gaze, and really just her all nervous like this. it’s cute, she’s cute. 

(everytime you’re with her, it seems that you fall more and more.

it seems impossible, but she finds a way to make it possible everytime.)

“danielle, i mean, this is so sudden but i would love to.” you reach out to put a hand on hers, danielle feels her heartbeat start to simmer back into its normal pace. “your family is fine with it?”

“they’re the ones who suggested it actually, and i know that one time when we were trainees you said you always wanted to visit where i grew up and i got giddy that time just thinking about it so of course i jumped at the idea and–” she cuts herself off after looking back up to see you. you’re grinning and your head is leaning against the headboard now. “sorry, i’m–”

“no, i like it. i’ll go.”

danielle sighs in relief. “okay good because i had bought the tickets a month ago when you mentioned staying in seoul for a week–”

“what?” 

all you can do is laugh again, making danielle laugh too. 

-

the first interaction you had with danielle had already piqued your curiosity. the memory replays in your head as you wait for the coffee you had ordered in the airport.

you were a new trainee, fumbling through the maze of hallways in search of the training room you had been reassigned to at the last minute. your korean was rudimentary at best—reading it was manageable, but grasping the full meaning took considerable effort and time. conversations were a challenge, your speech a mix of broken sentences and unintentional informalities that made interactions awkward.

every sign you passed seemed to blur together, each character a puzzle you struggled to piece together. the unfamiliar surroundings only heightened your anxiety, making every misstep feel monumental. your heart raced with a mix of frustration and determination as you looked down at the paper in your hand, clearly too focused on it as you collided with someone.

“shit–” you whisper, then rush out a botched, formal “sorry,”

you look at the girl in front of you, waving her hand and patting herself down. she looks at you worriedly, then says a little too quickly, “im so sorry! are you okay? i should’ve looked where i was going!”

“what?” you say in english. she’s speaking formally, it’s hard to decipher with your limited vocabulary and experience with others. you shake your head and mutter in accented korean, “sorry, w-what did you, um, what did you say?”

“ah,” the realization hits her, your confusion and accent told her enough. “do you speak english?”

her accent is strong, very recognizable which helps your body relax. she’s aussie, thank god. you think to yourself, then nod at the girl. 

“yes, fluently. my korean is not the best, sorry. it takes a bit to understand.”

“it’s no problem! i was just asking if you’re okay– i really should’ve watched where i was going.”

hurriedly, you wave your hands in the air. “no! no. i wasn’t looking, i was trying to read the paper and clashed into you.”

“it’s alright, at least we’re both fine!” you loved her radiant energy the moment you met her. the girl, you had bumped into already seemed to calm you down. even the first meeting, a simple collision, brought you some peace despite all of your stress as a trainee. “you’re having trouble with the paper? let me help.”

you hand her the paper. “thank you so much.”

“no worries, really.” she says before reading. “it says you’re moved to room 153– oh! i was just heading there!”

“really?”

“yeah! come with me!”

“thank you so much… um, your name?”

“danielle! yours?”

you take some time to examine her. danielle is really pretty, and if you hadn’t bumped into her at first you would’ve spent more time admiring her face. she had these beauty marks on her face that could rival any constellation, and the way her eyes lit up without even trying was enough to keep you captivated.

you gulped. “y/n.”

“pretty name.” she says, then grabs your hand and drags you in the other direction. “you know,” she giggles, “maybe it was a miracle that you ran into me.”

it was nothing short of a miracle, and honestly, it felt like something beyond that. had you not bumped into her that day, you might never have found your way to the training room. more importantly, you wouldn’t have met the person who would become your friend. danielle, with her effortless kindness and patience, helped you navigate and bear with the troubles of being a trainee in a place away from home. she assisted you in improving your korean, and provided the emotional support you desperately needed. she was your rock.

without danielle, you would have been lost, both literally and figuratively. her guidance made everything seem less overwhelming; she turned every challenge into a manageable task, and somehow, she managed to stay upbeat too. 

if it weren’t for her, you probably wouldn’t have debuted, you really wouldn’t have come this far.

and without her influence, you wouldn’t be in the airport trying to find her so you can give her that latte she wanted you to order. you catch her in the blue hoodie she had been wearing, walking towards her immediately and watching her eyes crinkle when she sees you. even with her mask on, she’s lovely.

–

seeing danielle reunite with her family almost brings tears to your eyes. she’s crying as she hugs her sister, mom, and dad, you smile at the sight. it’s clear she’s missed them; who wouldn’t miss the people they loved most while being a long flight away?

“oh! y/n, come here!” danielle pulls away from her parents to drag you over by the hand. 

her mom looks you up and down, smiling at your awkward self in your oversized graphic t-shirt and sweatpants. she puts her hands on either side of your shoulder, then pulls you in for a hug. “y/n, it’s great to see you again.”

“likewise.” you hug her back.

danielle’s dad joins in, wrapping his arms around you two as well. “don’t leave me out!” and it prompts danielle’s sister to hug you too.

“hey! i want hugs too!” danielle jumps over, and now you’re engulfed in a multihug, but who would complain?

–

“no really, it’s alright! i don’t want to trouble you any more. i can settle myself in, really.” you’re trying your best to fight off each attempt at helping you relax into the guest room next to danielle’s, dismissing every family member until it’s danielle.

she pouts. “you sure? are you posssiiittivveeee~”

“dani,” you hold her fingers. “i’m so positive that i’m negative.” you put a hand up to interrupt her before she even speaks. “and no that doesn’t mean i need your help, seriously. go see your family, i’ll meet you all soon.”

she’s frowning now. “fine, fine. meet in the living room?”

“yes, i’ll take ten minutes tops.”

“you sure?”

“more positive than a plus sign.”

danielle giggles, and so do you. she holds both of your hands and you two stare at each other for a good while. she’d love to spend a few minutes helping you unpack. the action is mundane, but that’s what she likes to do most with you. she could be watching paint dry and as long as it’s with you, she’d enjoy every second. 

you forget how to breathe for a moment until she releases her hands. she winks at you, then heads out the door, leaving you flushed.

you wonder how you’ll survive for the next few days.

–

you manage to survive the first day. it consists of you following danielle around (not that you’re against it) and your eyes widening with each new sight.

every car ride, your head is angled towards the window, captivated by the passing scenery. danielle’s gaze also falls on the window, but not for the view it offers. instead, she watches you, memorizing your features with a quiet intensity. she already knows every contour of your face by heart; a simple touch, even blindfolded, would be enough for her to recognize you. 

you, however, are too entranced by the world outside to notice her adoration. the vibrant trees, the shimmering water in the distance, and the people going about their lives with smiles on their faces all hold your attention. the landscape unfolds like a living painting, and you are lost in its beauty.

danielle finds her own kind of beauty in watching you, her heart swelling with each small expression of wonder that crosses your face.

from morning to sunset, the day is filled with shared giggles, smiles, and endless affection. danielle leads you to each of her favorite spots in the city, eagerly sharing the anecdotes that make each place special to her. the two of you are like peas in a pod—she talks and talks, and you listen intently, soaking up every word.

as you explore the city together, danielle's excitement is infectious. she points out the café where she first realized espresso based drinks weren’t all that bad. then she takes you to the park where she used to sit and clear her mind, mentioning that she dropped an ice cream cone at a bench near a tall tree as a child. and you learn that the little bookstore tucked away in a quiet alley is where she discovered her favorite novel. each place holds a piece of her heart, and she's sharing it all with you.

(another piece of her heart, you, mingling with the others like puzzle pieces clicking together.)

you let her take as many pictures as she wants, capturing every moment to savor later. whether it's a candid shot of you laughing at one of her stories, a moment where you’re caught of guard, or a scenic view of the sunset you both admire; you pose willingly, knowing how much these memories mean to her. because really, you'll do anything for danielle. her joy is your joy, and her stories are now part of your shared narrative, weaving a tapestry of cherished memories that belong to both of you now.

when the two of you make it back home to her home in the evening after a tiring, eventful day with her and her family, you realize that yeah, you’re in love with her.

you’re in love with her beyond anything, you could breathe danielle.

it’s never been a question, really, loving her and all. but you’ve seen her at each moment in time and your first day with her where she grew up ties the knot tighter. it should hurt your heart, the feeling that it might not be reciprocated, but you’re too distracted by how happy she is to plate everyone’s dinner to let it get to you.

besides, maybe your grandma was right. 

you trust her intuition, but you need some more reassurance.

–

on the second day in the afternoon, you’re helping out her grandparents with cooking pastries. you’re mixing the batter for banana bread and danielle’s chin is on her palm as she watches you attentively. 

a soft tune is playing and you're humming along, the melody bringing a relaxed smile to your face. the family dog, jinni, keeps brushing against your leg, wagging her tail eagerly. your laughter rings out, light and infectious, and danielle can't help but think that your laughter is much more pleasing to the ear than whatever plays in the background. 

danielle's gaze remains fixed on you, a tender smile forming on her lips as she watches you interact with jinni. there's something mesmerizing about the way you move, the way you laugh, and the effortless joy you radiate. 

her reverie is interrupted when her sister taps her shoulder, pulling her back to the present moment. danielle turns, humming softly in response, but her thoughts are still with you, the image of your laughter lingering in her mind.

“dani, you’re in love.”

“lower your voice!” danielle hushes her. “i– i’m not.”

“you look like the lead of a romance film.”

“well,” danielle sighs in defeat after glancing at you again. her grandma has found a small spoon and is scooping a bit of the batter to feed you. your eyes light up, and the way your teeth show could stop a storm, danielle thinks. "ugh, it's just, i adore her."

“that’s evident.”

danielle laughs and playfully nudges her sister, then rests her hadn on her palm again.

“she’s beautiful and sweet and– how could someone not love her?”

“you’ve been in love with her ever since you gushed about the ‘pretty girl not from here that can basically only speak english’ when you were a trainee, dani.”

she groans in response and leans against her sister as she watches you again. you pour the batter into the prepared tray, then look over at danielle. you motion for her to walk over and she gets up immediately, but not before catching the knowing look from her sister.

you hold the spatula up and order, “taste.” before she laughs and licks the batter off of it. you raise your brows. “good, right? it’s not too sweet and the perfect amount of banana.”

“it’s amazing.” she fights the urge to say that you are too.

–

danielle takes you to three beaches on the third day, you enjoy watching her splash her feet around in the water before dragging you in, almost soaking the upper half of your linen pants.

“hey! i don’t have a change of clothes!”

“then be quicker!” she says in between giggles, “don’t be a scaredy cat!”

“i’m not!”

her sister follows the two of you to the pier-like structure, a rocky outcrop covered in green organisms that squish underfoot, eliciting a mix of surprised noises from you and laughter from both danielle and her sister. the scene is serene, with the sound of waves lapping against the rocks in the background. 

danielle takes your hand, guiding you along despite the squishy algae underfoot. she shares another anecdote, this time about how she and her sister used to swim until they were the last ones in the water, far out where the bigger waves crashed. you listen intently, captivated by her storytelling, and without realizing it, your fingers intertwine. her hand may be smaller, but it fits perfectly in yours, as if they were meant to be connected all along.

as danielle reminisces, her eyes sparkle with fond memories, and a soft smile plays on her lips. the gentle breeze ruffles your hair as you both stand there, sharing a moment that feels suspended in time, it really feels like you’re stuck in time and place the longer you stare. her features are highlighted by the rays of sun shining and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of her.

“you guys look like a couple.”

at the same time, you and danielle turn your heads around, cheeks pooling with embarrassment. “hey!” danielle shouts, but her hand doesn’t leave yours, and neither does she step away from you.

the thought of looking like you’re together doesn’t bother you one bit, if anything, it seems right.

–

her, her family, and you all go to the last beach together with clothing suited for swimming. danielle ends up dragging you toward the water eagerly, she makes you trip and fall. the taste of saltwater overwhelms your tongue, and before you know it, you’re grabbing danielle and dragging her down with you.

laughter fills the air, her family joins in on the splashing, and her dad has managed to splash you so hard that you slip and fall again. the feeling is overwhelming, your heart might burst.

after you all spend time in the water, the rest of the time at the beach is spent on a towel where the sand is. you dig your feet into the sand, as you listen to her parents sharing stories that make you smile wide – you’ve already been smiling so much the whole trip, but they manage to make you smile more and more. it’s apparent that danielle is the way she is because of how wonderful her family is, and maybe you’re just as wonderful after being around her these past years.

“y/n, did you go to the beach often when you were younger?”

your head shoots up at the question her mom asked, you hum. 

“mhm.” your feet dig into the sand a little deeper. “we lived a one hour train ride from a really pretty beach, i learned how to swim there. my grandpa used to fish too, he’d catch one or two fish for us and make either a soup or grill it over rice. and sometimes he’d bring his ukulele so my grandma and i could sing as the sun started to set. i would always fall asleep and wake up on his shoulder as we boarded the train, and then on the way home i was always asleep on my grandma.”

it’s silent for a moment until danielle breaks it. “y/n, that’s so sweet.”

“yeah.” you fight back tears, biting your lip and managing a smile. “being at the beach with you all makes me as happy as i was then too.”

“well i’m really glad, your presence has given us much joy.” her dad says. you look up and giggle.

“yes, and i bet making me fall into the water did too.”

everyone laughs at the playful retort. all of you continue to reminisce and enjoy the scene until her mom decides it’s time to get going. danielle lingers near you, her arm linking with yours because she’s cold and you’re allegedly ‘almost as warm as the sun.’

danielle also lets you fall asleep against her, a light snore making her family turn their heads to see her taking a picture of you and smiling.

“you two are adorable, you know.” her mom says softly, not wanting to wake you up.

danielle nods. “she is.”

–

later that night danielle accompanies you on a late night walk. initially, you wanted to go alone to clear your mind – not that you were troubled, but because you needed designated alone time. however, danielle is a worrier, and for you, it’s tenfold.

her arm brushes yours every now and then, she doesn’t fill the silence knowing how you are. the feeling in the air is calming and every worry is gone.

you look ahead and practically breathe out, “dani.”

“yeah?”

“i’m really happy.”

“i’m glad.”

“like, so happy.”

she moves to hold your hand again, your fingers interwining purposefully. “i’m happy that you are.”

"i'm really overwhelmed," you sigh softly, finding respite on a small bench nestled in the park where you've wandered together. sitting beside her, you pause, a mix of happiness and longing evident in your eyes. "seeing you with your family... it just fills me with this warmth. you know, i've never had that closeness with my parents. they've never really understood or supported me. you know how it is." you confess, feeling her reassuring grip tighten around you.

you tilt your head back, gazing up at the sky painted in hues of twilight, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "i'm not jealous, not at all, like, seriously. it's just... i'm so happy. your family is so loving and wonderful, and you," you turn to meet her eyes, heart swelling with affection, "you're just... yeah, really great."

she laughs quietly, leaning against you so her head is on your shoulder.

“well, you’re really great too.”

“maybe.”

“definitely.”

-

danielle coaxes you into staying in her room for a bit. she’s laid next to you on her phone and you can hear the small breaths she takes. you’re hyperaware of everything, despite being on your phone. 

you notice the way she curls up closer to you, how she puts her phone down and turns to stare at you.

“what?”

“nothing, you can keep going on your phone.”

“well now i don’t want to.”

“aw, i guess you’ll have to pay attention to me then.”

your features soften upon meeting her.

danielle has always been a sight for sore eyes. you really just wanted to pursue your dreams, singing, dancing, and being on stage. you didn’t expect to be lying next to someone so ethereal, eyes bright even in the dimmed room, making your heart skip a few beats here and there. 

what are you thinking? you want to question, you want to know if she sees the same glow in you as you do with her. is this okay? what do we have?

“you’ve always been so pretty y/n.” she breaks the silence. her hand reaches over and her kunckles graze your skin. “i can never stop staring.”

uneasiness settles in, your heart starts to roll around in your chest. it’s terrifying, the thought that everything could be mutual. you’ve always been avoidant, and especially now with her staring at you like you’re the world and beyond, you’re trying to escape her hold. 

you turn your head away to face the ceiling. “you praise me too much.”

“everytime i look at you i think… you’re the person i want to wake up next to everyday, i want to cook us breakfast and make you more than just a bowl of yogurt and berries and–” you turn to face her again, and now she’s closer. “i want to be the one that sees the sun hit your face first thing in the morning.”

“danielle i–” it’s terrifying, you never thought you’d get this far. the drowsiness and the fact that it’s past twelve makes you hesitate, people just say things at this hour. “i should go to sleep.”

“stay,” she holds your wrist.

“i’m scared.”

her eyes soften. “of?”

your lips part, and suddenly, you can't recall why fear ever gripped you in the first place. allowing yourself to be embraced by the affection of the other members had been a daunting step, but growing under danielle's adoration felt as effortless as reciting your abcs. it came naturally, flowing with ease and simplicity. there was never a need to second-guess, never a hesitation.

she blinks, then her eyes land on your lips, and back to your eyes.

“i, i don’t know.”

“then stay.” she mumbles, her voice is soft and low before she takes your breath away.

she kisses you and everything around you fades into nothing because all you can focus on is her. the way her hand holds your face, so gently as if you might break if it were any rougher, makes you melt. you’ve never kissed anyone, but thankfully she’s the first. and the soft feeling of her top lip sliding in between your own lips makes you think that you really want her to be the last too.

she pulls away and you both pause for a moment, basking in the moment before meeting again. flowers bloom, waves crash, thunder claps; danielle is kissing you and nothing has every felt better.

the two of you pull away to stare at each other in awe, that is, until you lean in eagerly again it catches her by surprise. her arms are around your neck and she starts to giggle as you climb on top of her, peppering kisses along the curve of her jaw, down to her neck, and the dip of her collarbone. 

“i love you.” it sounds out like a prayer.

“i love you more.”

“no way.” you roll your eyes before attacking her with kisses again until she’s trying to push you off from how ticklish it all is.

the night draws to a close with your head nestled comfortably on danielle's shoulder, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on your scalp. a sense of calm settles over you both, sleep slowly claiming your consciousness. your heartbeats synchronize and your breathing steadies, the shared intimacy deepens, until you’re cocooned in a mutual understanding.

in the quiet of the night, danielle shifts, prompting you to instinctively roll closer, draping an arm over her from behind. your hands find each other naturally, fingers intertwining even while you’re both dead asleep.

-

[danielle PHONING update]

🐶: hi everyone! i’ve been on vacation 🐶: i’ve never been happier, really. 🐶: take care of yourselves and stay healthy! 🐶: i’m very happy, seriously attachment: six images

minji stares at the notification, still half asleep, but as she scrolls through each photo, a soft smile graces her lips. she admires the picturesque beach view, the shirt danielle had bought, and the adorable snapshot of her dog.

her eyes widen with surprise at the last three pictures, but a warmth spreads through her heart. in the first, she sees the side of your face against a backdrop of a stunning sunset. the next captures you and danielle leaning into each other, a moment of intimacy frozen in time. the final photo shows you gazing into the distance, danielle's hand playfully squishing your cheeks together, both of you making silly duck faces with laughter lighting up your eyes.

and then another notification pops up, making minji nearly choke on the water she had sipped on.

[danielle PHONING update]

🐶: almost forgot this one ;-) attachment: one image

the picture shows you being kissed on the cheek by danielle, your cheeks burning from the contact. 

a few seconds later she gets a call, the contact ‘bbang hanni’ popping up at the top of her screen. minji picks up immediately.

“did you see?”

“i saw.” minji says, still staring at the picture. “we are so interrogating them when they’re back.”

“good cop bad cop?”

“good cop bad cop.”

[wstviewvidal]

fwb!wanda headcanons

pairing: fwb!wanda maximoff x reader

summary: headcanons based on my two small works breakfast and birthday!

a/n: thank you all so much for your love and support on my past two works! it means the world to me that at least two people like it lol.

minors do not interact

- fwb!wanda who finds herself staring at you with a love struck smile when you get ready at her vanity wearing her sleep clothes (she may or may not have candid pictures of you on your phone in said scenario)

- fwb!wanda who had a crush on you for the longest before the two of you slept together for the first time. she often found herself wondering what you were doing, and if you were doing okay. she usually always called you with a lame excuse of wanting to talk

- fwb!wanda who gives people death stares when they look at you for too long. she hates that she can’t vocalize or act on her jealousy due to the nature of your relationship

- fwb!wanda who laughs at every joke you tell her (even when they suck) and her friends making fun of her for it

- she absolutely loves when you sit on her lap on your own without her having to pull you into her. it makes her feel like you willingly seek her out, that her feelings for you aren’t as one sided as they may seem

- at parties, she knows you don’t like crowded spaces so she makes it a point to check in on you and keep an eye on you from wherever she’s at. she’ll text you from across the room, let me know when you want to leave. we can get food

- has a list of things you’ve said you liked and wanted (she uses this list to buy you gifts every month)

-your parents love wanda (granted they think she’s just your best friend and know nothing about your agreement) and she makes it a point to get to know them personally because she hopes someday she’ll ask for their blessing

- wanda who will make reservations for dinner for the two of you and, if you’re late, will order you whatever she knows you’ll like.

- you gave her a necklace a few years ago as a gift and you’ve yet to see her without it on. she changes all of her jewelry often, always adding to her collection, but this necklace is the one thing that’s never changed

- wanda loves to compliment you because of how flustered you get, the way you roll your eyes and try to look away so she won’t see the blush on your face

- she is a flirt. she will flirt with no shame, doesn’t matter where or who you’re with. she will try to woo you at any moment

- although she’s such a sweetheart to you, she has a dirty mind and will often throw her thoughts at you while doing the most mundane tasks. (innocently, she acts like she didn’t say them after you ask her to repeat herself)

- when you two go out, she never allows you to open a door. she insists that it’s better if only one of you touches the door so it minimizes the risk of the germs getting you two getting sick (but you know better)

- when you two would study together in college, she would try to subtly ask if you were seeing anyone (you know why she was asking but never acknowledged it)

- whenever you two go out to eat, you two always give each other the first bite of whatever you’re eating

- on your way home from work, you always call wanda to ask her how her day went (not because you were dying to hear her voice all day..)

- wanda’s a few inches taller than you and loves it. she loves being able to reach things on the tall shelf for you, she loves being useful

- when you told wanda that a guy was flirting with you at work, she took it upon herself to send you a gigantic bouquet of flowers because she said it was her duty as your friend to protect you (not because she was jealous..)

- wanda who is absolutely head over heels for you and often finds it hard to not act like your girlfriend (not that you mind)

[saturnznct]

best kind of nap | jks

➸ word count; 549 words

➸ ella; aged 3

➸ warning(s); none

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

‘Jake? El?’ 

You’d just arrived home from a late night at work to a seemingly deserted apartment. The TV is on in your living room, midway through an episode of Pororo, and Ella’s toys are littered across the floor. Despite this, your husband and daughter are nowhere to be found.

‘Hello?’

Ella’s bedroom is also empty, so you continue down the corridor. When you round the corner into your own bedroom, your heart nearly explodes.

Jake is laying on your bed, fast asleep, arm wrapped around an also sleeping Ella. 

The two of them are the spitting image of each other, faces smushed against the pillows, mouths slightly open and snoring softly.

You smile widely at the sight, immediately itching to be beside them.

Peeling off your formal work clothes, you grab a pair of sweatpants and pull them on, before crawling into bed with them.

You brush away some hair that’s fallen over her face, savouring how sweet and angelic she looks.

Jake stirs, sensing your movements.

‘Oh, hey,’ his voice is deep and raspy, ‘when did you get in?’

‘Few minutes ago,’ you whisper, ‘didn’t expect to come back to the most adorable looking nap ever.’

Jake smiles, ‘didn’t even mean to go to sleep. I guess we played too hard.’

‘I can tell by the mess in the living room.’

‘Shit, sorry baby. I’ll clean it in the morning.’

‘It’s okay. As long as you had a good day.’

The two of you are quiet for a few moments.

‘She’s just the best, isn’t she?’ Jake practically has heart eyes as he looks at her, ‘she’s growing up so beautifully. But I wish she’d slow down a little bit.’

‘I know. One more year and she’ll be starting school.’

Jake looks almost wounded, ‘nah, she’s not allowed to leave me. We will stay at home and play Barbie Dreamhouse until she’s eighteen.’

You laugh, but Jake looks genuinely dejected.

‘It’s okay, Jakey,’ you rest a hand on his arm, ‘she’ll always be your little girl. Her growing up is just a part of life.’

‘I know,’ he sighs, ‘I just- I miss when she was a little baby.’

‘Me too,’ you admit, ‘but I must say, she’s much more entertaining now.’

Jake grins, and a few more moments pass before he shakily asks you a question.

‘Do you want to have another baby?’

You lift your head up, ‘what, now?’

‘Yeah, is that so crazy? I just keep thinking about cuddling a little baby. When I’m with Ella I just imagine what she’d be like as a big sister, how she would interact with the baby. I miss the tiny clothes, the baby smell, even being up all night..’

You mull over his words, remembering that newborn bubble you had with Ella.

‘Okay,’ you hum.

‘Really?’ Jake looks ecstatic, ‘we’re going to try?’

‘I’ll make a doctors appointment in the morning.’

‘Amazing,’ he beams, ‘I love you. I love you and Ella so so so much.’

‘We love you too,’ you twirl Ella’s hair between your fingers.

‘Maybe we should put her in her own bed?’ Jake suggests, conscious that it’s now past her bedtime.

‘Nah, let’s let her sleep here tonight. Just this once.’

‘Alright,’ Jake kisses the back of her head, ‘goodnight my babies.’

[triplefrontierbabe]

hello! can i request a dr3 x black cat! reader? we all know dr is like a golden retriever and the dynamic with a tough, badass r, i feel would be so good! it gets to the point where the grid is like “mate your gf is kinda scary” and are legitimately scared of her (except for max, and danny tries to tell them shes not). but one night maybe dr (+more) get tooo drunk and the grid sees how caring and loving r really is (takes care of them) and understands that shes just a tough exterior with a soft loving interior please?

if not, its all good!! thank you 🤍

Opposites Attract

summary: Daniel’s the only person who knows how to crack your hard exterior

pairing: black cat! f!reader x golden retriever! Daniel Ricciardo

warnings: mention of drinking, you are responsible for the content you consume

a/n: I love this prompt!! I truly think Danny has the personality fit for a black cat! gf. hope you enjoy!

Daniel loves to smile, a lot. It’s kinda his thing. If Daniel Ricciardo isn’t smiling then something is seriously wrong. You can’t forget about his contagious laugh that livens up any space he’s in. Overall, he’s just a ray of sun bursting with joy.

So you can imagine the confusion on everyone’s faces when he introduced you as his girlfriend. You, the stoic, keeps-to-herself, only-shows-minimal-expressions girl dating Daniel, the golden retriever of the grid.

To any outsider the relationship dynamic didn’t really make sense. But, to be fair, compared to many other wives and girlfriends of the grid, you keep your life fairly private. You accompany Daniel to his races, you watch the race then you’re ready to go home as soon as the last car crosses the finish line. And, unlike many of the other drivers’ better halves, modeling and being in front of the camera is not your thing.

“I can’t tell if she hates me or likes me? She seems a little intimidating.” Lando says to Daniel one day. Daniel has introduced you to many of his mates and you’ve gotten to know many of them on a personal level outside of the paddock. Your stoicism once again triumphing in confusing the drivers.

“No, she does like you, Lando.” Daniel says. “I know she’s hard to read sometimes but she enjoys the company.”

This was a conversation Daniel found himself having often with other drivers. While you did fraternize with the other ladies, your social battery was quick to wear out on long weekends. Often excusing yourself from conversations because you were tired and could only handle so much interaction in one go.

However, after one race weekend, Daniel somehow convinced you to go out with a group of the drivers and their partners. It was a good race for Daniel, he placed P8, so of course a celebration of points was in order.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” He tried reasoning with you. He had tried many times before in convincing you to go to a bar or club to celebrate. Only once before was he successful, and that was because it was to celebrate his birthday.

“And, we don’t even have to stay that long” he began “just have a couple drinks, mingle a little bit then leave.”

Now that was a plan you could get behind.

“Okay, I guess.” You said, sighing in defeat. It was one night, that wouldn’t kill you. And who knows, maybe people would see you’re not all that emotionless after all.

The night was going along just fine. Drinks were served, conversations were had, music was played. Max somehow ended up dancing on top of a table which resulted in Daniel joining him.

You and the other girls giggled at the sight of the grown men acting like college frat boys at a rush party. Yes, you giggled too. Lando saw it. He tried to take a mental note, amidst his drunken state, of the expression of emotion you had. Who knows if anyone would ever see that again.

“Mate did you just see Daniel’s girl smile?” Lando asked Charles who was standing close by. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a mental note he made after all.

Before you knew it, the clock had gone way past midnight and many more drinks were had. You, however, tapped out after two drinks. Someone in the relationship needed to be the coherent one for the night and it sure wasn’t going to be Daniel.

“Babe, I love this song!” Daniel shouted over top of DJ Got Us Fallin’ In Love as he stumbled towards you and the rest of the group. Once he was standing next to you he started dancing, terribly, attempting to twerk or at least move his butt in a what he thought to be a provocative manner.

As he bumped around you, you couldn’t help but smile at the scene you had now been brought into. Your almost six foot tall boyfriend acting like a newly turned twenty one year old at a bar for the first time. It was truly comical in the way he moved. For being as tall as he was, dancing for him was quite the sight, his lanky arms moving every which way with no rhythm at all.

“Baby dance with me” he whined reaching out to hold your waist and slightly slurring his words in the meantime. He was quite gone. The thing about alcohol and Danny was that it just heightened his golden retriever energy. He’s already very energetic and affectionate while sober, but inebriated? That’s a whole new level.

As much as you were reluctant to leave, you knew if Danny didn’t get to bed soon, the inevitable hangover in the morning would only be ten times worse.

“Okay honey, I think it’s time we head out.” You announce putting an arm around his waist to keep him upright. As soon as your arm is around his tall frame, he leans into your touch just like a puppy who hasn’t seen their human all day.

“But the party’s just getting started.” Daniel said pouting. Once again, a laugh escaped you before you could even process what was happening.

“I know, I know” you began as you put Daniel’s arm around your shoulder. “We can have more of a party later, okay?” You said patting his chest, trying to maneuver him in a way that would make it easy to walk out.

Before heading out, you announce your and Daniel’s departure and thank everyone for such a great night.

The group watches in amazement as you methodically guide Daniel around the crowd and head for the door. And they don’t miss the kiss you press to Daniel’s cheek along the way.

The guys are stunned to say the least.

“I think that’s the most personality I’ve seen from her ever.” Max exclaims, eyes wide at what he just witnessed.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her speak before.” Charles adds.

“It’s no wonder he chose her,” George begins, “she keeps him calm.”

So yeah, is your and Daniel’s relationship dynamic totally different on the outside? Sure. But he’s the only one who has managed to open up your heart just enough for him.

Opposites do attract after all.

Check out my Masterlist

[aurumalatus]

kinich + 2 pls 😔🙏 pls continue doing these i’m love them and enjoying them sm

a/n. we had a lot of ppl request 2 w kinich so hopefully this satisfies the urge hehehe, spy au, cw mentions of poison and blades

the ballroom chandelier glitters almost blindingly overhead as you eye the rest of the party. men and women are laughing and dancing, donned in expensive silks and jewelry that weighs heavy on their wrists and necks.

if you were a trust fund kid with nothing better to do with your money, this entire event might've actually been enjoyable.

you meet kinich's gaze across the room. he raises a brow at you over the rim of his glass.

what is it?

you gesture toward the drinks table. there’s a variety of beverages in different colors, many of them alcoholic. if you were a bit braver, you would drink a bit just to make the night go faster, but you decide against it—after your last drunk stint, you think it’s better not to embarrass yourself in front of everyone. still, you make a drinking motion, smiling.

let’s get wasted?

he rolls his eyes, then twirls a finger next to his ear.

you’re crazy.

he acts annoyed, but it’s probably the most interesting thing to happen to him in the past few hours. you'd received intel that the target was supposed to attend this party, but the man himself has yet to show. for now, all you can do is mingle and dance, pretending that you give a shit about whatever this whole celebration is about.

pacing around the edge of the room, you meet kinich in the middle. he doesn't look out of place in his styled hair and black suit, but the boredom written on his face sticks out more than anything.

you frown, tugging at his collar. "your tie is crooked."

he sighs. "i hate these things."

if it were up to him, you know kinich would rather be on the roof of a building some distance away, one eye zeroed in on the party through a scope—sniping is far preferable to him, and requires much less social interaction.

but mavuika had decided that a quieter method would be more palatable in a highly populated place like this, much to kinich's chagrin.

"i don't know, i'm having a good time," you tease lightly, brushing lint off his shoulder. he watches you with a fond smile. "have you tried that steak tartare? it's to die for—"

suddenly, kinich pulls you in by the waist, dragging you toward the dance floor. his grip is tight, a warning.

the target is here.

"hold that thought," he murmurs, lips nearly brushing your forehead. "someone interesting just walked in."

he engages in an easy waltz with you, gaze trained somewhere over your shoulder. you don't dare glance back, trying to maintain a subdued presence. he squeezes at your hip twice.

almost time.

you feign a flirtatious laugh, fingers brushing over his belt and subtly pulling out the dagger hidden there to slide it under your dress. in the event of any issues, you'll need to defend yourself. the vial of poison sits in kinich's pocket, ready to be slipped into the target's drink.

kinich tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in even closer. a smirk is written over his lips, as if he's whispering something scandalous.

"let's go in one minute. stay close to me, okay?"

even for someone so deadpan, his words are laced with concern—he's always worried when it comes to you, even though you both have been doing this for years. you merely nod, offering him a grin in reassurance.

"yes, yes, i'll be very good," you say, batting your lashes. kinich rolls his eyes, but he can't prevent the smile that surfaces on his face.

"that's my girl. let's move."

[freshlove-sturn]

texts w bsf!chris

<- previous, part 6, next ->

continuation of part 5!!

nick goes to open the back drivers side door of the car, before chris quickly places his hand over the door handle.

“you can sit in front again, i wanna sit with y/n.” chris suggests, trying to sound casual but the hint of desperation in his voice is apparent to all of us.

nick raises an eyebrow, “you’re actually ridiculous chris” he shakes his head before walking around to the other side and sitting up front.

i smile almost teasingly at chris, a pink tinge becoming present on his cheeks.

“you want aux?” chris asks.

“no, i’m okay with whatever yall want to play.” i tell him.

“you sure?” he asks again, just to be sure.

“chris this is literally like suffocating.” matt pipes up, peering back at us through the rear view mirror.

“i’m just making sure.” chris defends.

chris and i have always had a flirty friendship, but lately i’ve noticed a new intensity to it all. it’s like every time i turn around he’s there, primed and ready with a new excuse to be close to me. it seems like the entire dynamic of our friendship was changing right in front of me.

but i wouldn’t call it a bad change.

while he used to casually brush his hand against mine, or throw out a teasing, flirty comment here and there, he now finds every excuse to touch me- whether that be his knee pressed against mine whenever we sit next to eachother, much like right now as he sits beside me, occasionally stealing glances at me, or moving past me with his hand pressed against the small of my back.

he takes any chance he can get to compliment me, telling me how pretty i am, that i’m smart, talented, even things as random as he likes the way i look in green.

and then of course, the way he looks at me.

he has a longing eyes that weren’t there in boston, like he’s trying to tell me something without words.

i’d be lying if i said i didn’t love every part of it.

we pull up to the restaurant and matt throws the car in park. chris opens the door for me, of course, extending out his hand for me to take in assistance.

“i can’t remember if i told you already, but you look really nice y/n.” matt remarks, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“thanks.” i smile, accepting the compliment.

i glance over at chris, his jaw slightly clenches at the compliment. i brush my fingers against his to ease the tension.

once we enter the restaurant, the host escorts us to our seats. chris’s hand planted on the small of my back, guiding me.

we get sat in a booth and chris slides in next to me. his legs brushes against mine under the table, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. the soft hue of the overhead lights casting a warm hue on chris’s features, illuminating them perfectly.

chris’s arm drapes casually on the back of the booth, his fingers grazing my shoulder gently. it’s a small gesture, but it feels so intimate, almost as if he’s taking a silent claim over me. i try focusing on the menu, but it’s almost impossible with him this close.

“what’re you thinking about getting?” chris leans down to speak to me, his breath warm against my ear with the close proximity.

“i actually don’t know. this is the biggest menu ive ever seen in my life.” i laugh, glancing around at the endless options.

“i recommend the alfredo, just sayin” he suggests with a casual shrug.

“you always recommend alfredo.” i roll my eyes playfully.

“and it’s always the best thing.” chris defends.

“actually, it doesn’t sound half bad.” i admit.

“see? what did i tell you?” he says confidently. earning another eye roll from me.

a little while after we take our order, our food arrives.

as we eat and talk casually amongst ourselves, matt interrupts the conversation.

“oh y/n, you kinda got something right there.” he gestures to the corner of my mouth. “here i got it.” he leans over the table with a napkin, gently wiping the sauce from my face.

“oh thank you.” i murmur, feeling slightly flustered from the interaction, but i shake it off when i notice chris’s sudden change in demeanor. he goes quiet for the first time tonight, i give his hand a gentle squeeze under the table.

was he jealous of matt?

surely not. why would he be? matt is his brother, and im his best friend.

his friend.

and that was it.

after dinner, the drive home was painfully quiet. you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

now chris and i sit silently in his bed. i excuse myself to go take a shower, in hopes that maybe he would get over whatever had his so pissed off by the time i was done.

“i’m gonna go shower.” i stand up, grabbing a pair of pajamas out of my suitcase.

“k.” chris replies coldly.

i stop myself from saying anything, i didn’t want to argue with him.

…

i walk back into chris’s room, and sit back in his bed. chris had turned on netflix, and was watching love island.

“watcha watching?” i ask, desperate to break the silence.

“what’s it look like?” he responds sarcastically.

i was done holding my tongue, “chris what is your problem? why are you so mad?” i ask, my patience finally snapping.

“maybe next time you want to gawk over my brother, don’t do it in front of me.” he snaps back.

“are you serious?” i scoff. “that’s what this is about? matt wiping sauce off my face?”

“you’re fully capable of doing it yourself, no?” chris retorts.

“you’re acting as if i asked him to do that, he was just being nice.” i defend, my voice tinged with frustration.

as i sit there, facing chris, a whirlwind of thoughts race through my mind. i can’t believe we were arguing about something as trivial as matt wiping sauce off my face. it seemed so insignificant, yet chris was clearly upset. i can’t help but feel a mix of frustration and confusion. why is he making such a big deal out of this? does he seriously think i have any control over matt's actions?

deep down, i wonder if theres more to chris's reaction. is he really that jealous? the idea of that seems almost absurd, but there’s no denying the intensity in his eyes. i try to push the thought away, focusing instead on defending myself. i hadn't done anything wrong. matt was just being nice, and it felt unfair to be blamed for something so innocent.

yet, despite my in doubtable irritation, a small part of me couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. if chris actually is jealous, does that mean he cares more than he lets on? was the flirty behavior more than just chris being typical chris? the thought is both thrilling and terrifying. i don’t want to read too much into it, but the possibility lingered in the back of my mind, adding another layer of complexity to our already tangled relationship.

chris’s expression softens when he sees the frustration in my eyes. he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“i’m sorry.” he says quietly. “i overreacted. it’s just, shit, i don’t know. maybe i’m just jealous.” he admits.

“chris you don’t have to be jealous.” i tell him.

he looks at me, eyes full of sincerity. “yeah i know, i just care about you, a lot and sometimes it just gets the best of me.”

a small smile tugs on my lips. “i care about you too chris. more than you know.”

“but, can you just promise me you’ll talk to me when things bother you before you go an be a dick about it?” i tease, extending my pinky out to him.

“i promise.” he laughs, interlocking his pinky with mine.

a/n: sorry i didn’t know how to really end this LMAO. i don’t really know how to feel about this part tbh. PLEASE lmk your thoughts/ what you would like to see in future parts. my requests are ALWAYS open and highly appreciated and encouraged.

taglist: @conspiracy-ash @pouring-rains @aniesvision @sturniolo-fann @mattttypooh @sarosfilms @oliviasturniolo21 @le4hsblog @stonermattsgf @fratbrochrisgf @sassysturniolo2008 @creamoncreamoncream2 @st7rnioioss @chrizzysturns @lisask8s @mattnchrisworld @sturnioloblues @spencerstits @chrisstopherfilmed @sturnzsun

[suugarbabe]

Softer Side

Pairing: Mattheo Ridde x Ravenclaw y/n

Warning: Fluff

When others asked, you told them you weren’t sure when it happened. You weren’t sure when you stopped thinking Mattheo was just an ignorant prick and instead started defending him when others brought up his name in conversation. But you knew exactly when it happened, and you wanted to keep it to yourself. You liked being one of the only ones to see the soft side of Mattheo.

You’d seen him straighten up the Slytherin table after the rest of his friends left for class, stacking plates and straightening goblets when he thought no one else was paying attention. You saw him help Madam Pince in the library a few times as well. You swore it was a detention until you heard her thanking him for volunteering his time again at the end of the week. However your favorite soft Mattheo moment was the first time you witnessed it. Whether it was his actions in the moment, or your interaction with him afterwards was an internal debate you continued to have with yourself to this day.

The first was purely on accident. You were cutting through the courtyard to get to transfiguration on time. You were already running late and McGonagall was not going to go easy on you if you showed up after her again. You noticed two students in the corner of the courtyard, a male seemingly having a female pinned against one of the pillars.

As you got closer, you noticed none other than Adrian Pucey trapping a poor third year, whispering in her ear. Her face was contorted in disgust as she tried to squirm away from him. You were about to shout at him to leave her alone when he was suddenly shoved to the ground. You stopped dead in your tracks and watched as Mattheo knelt down next to Pucey, a hand on his throat as he threatened the boy through gritted teeth. “Guys like you are the scum of the fucking earth, Pucey,” he spat. “If I ever see you trap another girl like that again, you’re fucking done for, ya hear me?”

Pucey nodded his head the best he could as Mattheo’s hand was still around his neck, holding him to the ground. Mattheo released him and Pucey quickly got up and scurried away down the nearest corridor. Mattheo stood up, straightening his robes before turning back to the young girl. “Are you okay, darling, did he hurt you?” You had never seen him speak so softly and reassuring to someone before. You had to blink a few times to make sure you were still seeing the same man before you. The girl shook her head no in response before Mattheo patted her shoulder and encouraged her to head to class.

“Well, that was interesting,” you spoke up, slight smirk on your face. Mattheo’s head whipped around at your voice, you could’ve sworn his cheeks were slightly pink as well. He stood still as you walked closer to him. “Who knew big bad Mattheo Riddle would save strangers like a knight in shining armor,” you said, patting his chest mockingly. Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Pucey is walking dragon shit, everyone knows it.” You laughed lightly, nodding in agreement, starting to walk past him but he followed, quickly keeping pace with you as you walked down the corridor.

“Were you at least impressed by my heroic efforts, y/n?” He threw his arm around your shoulder as he walked. It was your turn to roll your eyes, “Oh, yes, Mattheo, I just loved watching you choke out the slimiest member of your house.” You playfully pushed his arm off you as you turned the corner leading to your classroom. He quickly grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him, your chests a mere few inches apart.

As you opened your mouth to protest, Mattheo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Yannow I never pegged Ravenclaws to be into choking, but if you wanna explore that fantasy I can give you my common room password.” Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment before pushing him back. Mattheo just chucked lightly before giving you a wink and a Cheshire grin, disappearing behind the corner.

[chrissturnsfav]

Hiiiiii, your work is like insanely good. I am obsessed with singer!reader and rapper!chris!!Can I request one where they’re just like oh and someone asked for a picture with reader and Chris takes it?? It’s just really cute and fluffy!!!

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris loves to watch singer!reader interact with her fans

the night air hums with energy as you step out of the sleek black escalade, chris closely at your side.

the flash of cameras hits immediately, paparazzi shouting questions you’ve learned to ignore. your bodyguards keep the growing crowd at bay, creating a bubble of calm amid the chaos.

chris keeps a hand at the small of your back as you walk toward the restaurant. his presence is grounding, his confident grin a constant reminder not to take any of this too seriously.

that’s when you hear it—a small, timid voice breaking through the noise.

“excuse me… um, can i get a picture?”

you turn to see a young girl, maybe ten or eleven, clutching a phone in her hands along with a vinyl of your newest album. her eyes are wide with hope, her cheeks flushed with nervous excitement. it’s clear she’s talking to you.

your heart melts instantly. you crouch a little to her level, offering her your warmest smile. “of course, pretty girl. what’s your name?”

the crowd of fans and paparazzi begin gushing at the adorable moment, some fans trying to push through the crowd in hopes to get a picture with you as well.

“ava,” she says shyly, glancing between you and chris as if she can’t believe this is happening.

chris steps in before you can even think about how to set this up. “here, i got it,” he says, holding his hand out for ava’s phone.

ava hesitates, starstruck. “oh my gosh, you’re chris!” she exclaims through an excited grin, her eyes twinkling with awe.

he chuckles, taking the phone with ease. “yeah, that's me kid.”

you laugh softly at him, stepping closer to ava as chris angles the phone. “aight, big smiles,” he says, crouching slightly for the perfect shot.

you wrap an arm around ava, who looks like she might float away from happiness. chris adjusts the phone, tapping to focus, his tongue poking out in focus to get the perfect picture as he watches you interact with the little fan.

“got it,” he announces after a few clicks. he kneels to show ava the pictures, and her face lights up.

“thank you so much!” she says, looking from him to you with pure gratitude.

“of course, ava,” you reply, ruffling her hair gently. “have the best day ever, okay?”

as the girl rushes back to her parents, you turn to find chris staring at you. not at the cameras, not at the crowd—but at you. he looks lost in thought, a smirk on his face, but it's not cocky as usual. he looks in awe of you.

“what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, a snicker slipping past your lips.

he shakes his head, that lopsided grin of his spreading wider. “nah, nothin',” he says softly with a shake of his head. “you’re just so sweet.”

you roll your eyes, though you’re smiling. “chris, stop.”

“m'serious ma,” he says, slipping his arm back around your waist as you both continue toward the restaurant. “i love watchin' ya interact wit' your fans, 'specially the little ones, she was all smiles.”

the flashes of the paparazzi pop again, but they’re nothing compared to the warmth in his voice. you lean into him slightly, an appreciative smile on your lips as he grins down at you, his arm snaking around your waist as you enter the restaurant away from the chaos.

it always baffles chris how you're so patient and sweet with your fans, not that he's not appreciative and kind with his fans, but you...

the way your face lights up when you meet them, the kindness in your soft voice, the gestures you make to them.

it just makes him love you even more.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: the end is a lil cringe in my opinion, but i didn't know how else to end this so i hope it was okay lmao

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[luvrodite]

keep me here (with your skin on mine again) [17.6k]

summary: it's been a long time coming. he's the bane of your existence, but there's no denying it. your roommate is hot.

cw: gn!reader, afab!reader, smut, jealousy, friends with benefits arrangement, original characters, stephanie brown cameo, intoxication, blowjobs, spit, fingering, handjobs, piv sex, minor voyeurism, references to past voyeurism, masturbation, slight dubcon re multiple orgasms as there isn't a discussion but it's consensual, references to reader's clothing – they wear clothes described as 'short' and 'tight', and 'slutty' at one point (not degradingly), mention of reader wearing a hair towel, presumably after a shower, use of 'cunt', arguments, miscommunication + reader and jason are both petty and imperfect !! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason just about falls over himself laughing when you open the door and immediately you scowl. He doesn’t say a word, teal eyes taking in your outfit before his beautiful face screws up, a loud guffaw punching out of him. The force of his amusement is strong enough that he sinks to his knees, clutching the door-frame to steady himself.

“Oh–” you scoff, and he has to yank his fingers away before the door slams on them. “You’re so insufferable!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You hear a pause before he dissolves into laughter again, and you resist the urge to stamp your foot.

“No you aren’t. What the fuck do you want?”

“I can’t talk to you through the door, can you open up?”

You pout. “No.”

“Please? I swear I won’t laugh.”

You make a face at that, disbelieving. “You’re full of shit.”

Another muffled snort through the door. “Okay, I swear I’ll try not to laugh,” Jason amends.

You open the door and he struggles to keep a straight face. You know what you must look like, the hair towel, the pair of pink, heart patterned, fluffy pyjama pants and your bed socks.

“I’ll close this door again,” you remind him when you catch him eyeing the print on your socks, crossing your arms impatiently and he nods, biting his lip to compose himself.

“I thought you were going out.” Jason voices this out loud and you cut an unimpressed look his way when his voice wobbles with the weight of keeping his amusement at bay.

“I am.”

“Oh. Is that the look for tonight?”

You sneer at him. “Is this what you came to ask me?”

“It’s all I wanna talk about now,” he admits, shrugging. He points at your pants and you bat his hand away, hissing. “Where on earth did you get these from?”

“They’re comfortable–”

“I’ll say.”

“–and I got them from my parents, ass hat,” you finish pointedly, hands on your hips.

“Do they hate you?” he drops his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, eyes widening into faux sympathy and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever, man. What do you want? You’re interrupting my getting ready time.”

He lets out a breath obnoxiously, leaning into the door frame.

“Yeah, for bed, it seems.” You stare at him blankly, fighting the urge to strangle him with your bare hands. “Anyway, do you have my charger? Think I left it in here last night.”

Briefly, you consider telling him that you haven’t actually, despite knowing exactly where it is, having been plugged into the outlet between your bed and the wall during your marathon of Gilmore Girls last night. You end up opening the door, waving a hand dismissively at him to check for himself before you move further into your room, returning to your walk-in to contemplate your outfit for the night.

Jason enters the room and you see him move around in your periphery as you push the hangers around. He lingers in your room after he finds the charger, twisting the cable around his fingers absentmindedly.

“You should stick with that outfit,” he remarks, taking a seat on your bed. You look over your shoulder and he elaborates, helpfully, “I think it’ll be a real hit at the club.”

“I’m sure,” you say dryly. “The men’ll be falling all over me.”

He cracks a delighted smirk, nodding. “Exactly.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” you inform him, emerging from the wardrobe and tilting your head to the door. “C’mon, you found your charger. I need to get ready.”

He boos you but stands up anyway and you push him out, palms pressing into his shoulder blades. Jason, ever resistant to making anything easy for you, ever, leans his weight into you, slowing down to a crawl. “So mean. You don’t wanna hang out? You’re breaking my heart, here. I thought we were best friends forever.”

“We’ll be best friends forever if you get out,” you retort, shoving him over the threshold and he cackles.

He’s still laughing long after the door slams behind him.

Jason becomes your roommate on a Wednesday morning. You remember this because you have a full day of classes on Wednesdays, and you’d spent the night before anxiously cleaning in preparation for his arrival. He moves in while you’re in class, and sends you a text as you’re getting out at 5 that he’s getting takeout and did you want anything from the Korean restaurant a few blocks away?

You get home to the smell of tteokbokki, fried chicken and japchae on the counter. Your return home, usually greeted by the sound of silence, is met with quite possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever met in your life in your kitchen, looking up from his phone and nodding a casual ‘hey’.

It isn’t as though you aren’t expecting this. You’d met him several times before, at gatherings and mutual friends’ birthday parties. Still, Jason’s beauty manages to leave you reeling every single time. You stare for a moment, startled, before rushing out a jerky, “Hi!”

He’s silent for a moment before he parts his lips. You track the motion, feeling your throat dry at the awkward, lopsided grin he shoots you.

“Wasn’t sure if you wanted to eat together, or...”

Your eyes widen and you take a few steps forward. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you to start without me, I didn’t think I’d take this long, there was construction on the road and we had to go a different way–”

“You took the bus?” he questions, eyebrows creasing and you nod.

“It’s easier, there’s a stop a block away and it drops me off five minutes from campus,” you tell him, and he nods slowly. “Anyway, I’m sorry, you’re probably hungry, you didn’t have to wait for me.”

He shakes his head, disappointed. “You know, our relationship’s already off to a terrible start, Roomie. I really don’t know how you’ll come back from this.”

You stare for a moment before it hits you: he’s making a joke. You let out a laugh, moving further into the apartment. “You’ll survive a few more minutes, I’m sure.”

“I’m withering away as we speak,” he calls out after you.

You break in your newfound coexistence over rice cakes and stir fried noodles, sweet and sour sauce staining your fingers, sitting at the coffee table while Jason goes through the things he needs to get done, reruns of an old show playing on the TV that neither of you pay much attention to.

“We can go together,” you suggest, when he mumbles something about picking up his groceries, typing out a list on his phone. He looks up in surprise, as though he hadn’t expected the offer.

“You sure?”

You shrug, spearing a rice cake onto your fork. “If you want. I need to get a few things anyway.”

He considers it a moment longer, before nodding. “Okay.”

It takes some getting used to, having this man in your apartment. A week in, you nearly scream when you walk into the kitchen half asleep to find him at the stove – the lack of a shirt is no help in calming your racing heart. But the weeks pass by, and Jason becomes less of the attractive man you share a living space with, morphing into something else entirely as he gets comfortable. By the time you hit the three month mark, his looks are the least of your concern – he’s the bane of your fucking existence.

Kind of.

The two of you settle into your routine and you find out that Jason has a mouth on him. He delights in riling you up, tourmaline eyes flashing with barely constrained glee when you react in kind – bitching at him for coming into the kitchen when it’s your turn to make dinner and offering unbidden suggestions, or squabbling over who got it wrong when you forget to tell him to take a turn on your way to go grocery shopping. You maintain the last one is his fault. How can you forget the route to the store when we’ve gone nearly a hundred times by now?

He somehow manages to draw it out of you, the bitchiness you’ve been carrying with you since middle school and have tried to bury down–nobody likes a smart mouth, after all. But he doesn’t flinch from it.

If you didn’t know any better, you might even say he liked it.

– You do know better, though.

(That one night spent with your hands under the blankets and thoughts of ultramarine eyes is nobody’s business but yours.)

You meet his family. He meets your friends – the ones he doesn’t already know. You somehow end up watching a show together. His sweater lays at the foot of your bed. You’ve slept in his bed and vice versa. You’re sure he’s one of the closest friends you have. He irritates you to no end.

Bit by bit, Jason worms his way into your life and settles comfortably there.

It’s probably why your girlfriends feel so comfortable calling him on your night out and how the ensuing mess occurs.

Jason gets the call around 2 in the morning, the ringtone blaring through his skull just as he’s about to fall asleep. He jerks up, glaring groggily at his phone. He contemplates leaving it to ring, but he spies your friend’s name on the screen and he sighs, wiping a hand down his face.

They’re playing loud rap music when he gets inside, descending the stairs into the dark club. He passes girls supporting their drunken friends on their way out and gently shoulders his way through a group lingering by the double doors leading to the actual club. More than once, he feels an appreciative stare on the back of his neck but he’s preoccupied.

It takes him a moment to spot you over the crowd, squinting his eyes to make out your form through the dim lights. When he does, his throat dries.

He hadn’t seen you after he’d been shepherded out of your room, pulled into a phone call with his younger brother who’d decided that nearing midnight was the perfect time to complain at length about their father. Damian hadn’t let him go until long after you’d left the house, your voice echoing through the walls with a “I’m going! Bye!” that he’d distractedly replied to in between making the appropriate listening noises to his increasingly agitated brother.

You’re holding your friend’s hand at the bar, smiling dreamily and swaying in place when the song abruptly switches to something slower. The clothes you wear leave little to the imagination, short, tight, sinful. He bites his cheek hard, swallowing roughly as he makes his way over. Something green curls in his vision when someone gravitates closer to you, yelling something in your ear. The guy is all leery smiles and appreciative eyes, gaze lingering on the dip of your neckline.

Much to Jason’s displeasure, you don’t back away in disgust, only frowning in confusion and tapping your ear – I didn’t hear you. He repeats himself and Jason watches you process whatever it is that he’s said before a smile breaks out and you laugh, shaking your head. Your eyes glitter, and jealousy burns low in his gut. You don’t seem to realise you’ve ensnared the other man in your orbit, staring up at him over the rim of your drink.

Jason breaks through the crowd and calls your name. Miraculously, it isn’t lost to the crowd and you look away. He finds smug pleasure in the way you startle in surprise, the shape of his name on your lips. He ignores the other guy, leaning an arm against the bar and between the both of you, effectively blocking you off. God, if Dick could see him now. Just the other week, his brother had been giving him shit for the apparent territoriality over you, and he’d gone blue in the face denying it, despite the knowing look on Dick’s face.

“What are you doing here?” you reach up on your tiptoes to ask him.

“Here to take you guys home,” he shouts, leaning in to get his words across. And he doesn’t need to, but he rests his hand on your waist as he does, and you press closer, tilting your face up to pout at him.

“What?” you protest. “Nooo, it’s still early!”

He grins at you unsympathetically. “It’s nearly 3 am, baby, c’mon. You look like you’re going to fall over.”

He only realises he’s made a slip up when your eyebrows crease but you say nothing, only staring up at him with moony eyes before smiling and placing your drink down to put a hand in his, mouthing an ‘okay’. He signals to your friend behind you, who’d called him earlier and watches the exchange with interest. She turns and shouts something over her shoulder, waiting for the third of your party to finish her drink before tugging her along. The three of you hold hands and follow him through the club in single file, a sight that he’s robbed of finding any amusement because he’s trying much harder not to pop a blood vessel at having to stop every few moments. The cause is, of course, you: each time he looks over his shoulder, another man has stopped you to flirt with you. He sends up a prayer for patience, hopes anyone is listening, and continues to pull you along.

The third time, he whirls around to tug you firmly into his side, barking out a harsh, “Fuck off.” at the guy and cutting a scolding look your way for answering his advances. It’s a waste of time, because you’re just grinning up at him in amusement, giggling. He sighs, steering you in front of him and nodding for your friend to take the lead. By the time he ascends the stairs to the exit, he’s sure his blood pressure is through the roof.

“Get in the car,” he sighs and you unlatch yourself from his side – a consequence of simultaneously risking twisting your ankle a block back and falling into oncoming traffic. He’d near grabbed you by the scruff of your neck in pulling you away from the kerbside and further onto the pavement, keeping an arm around your shoulder tightly.

“Okay.” You draw out the word playfully but sink into the passenger seat obediently, your friends following suit.

He shuts your car door, and sighs once more.

The door to your apartment opens quietly closer to 5 in the morning than he’d like, and he’s glad he’s not working the next day as he trudges through the threshold with you in tow, cradling a bag of takeout carefully as you toe off your shoes.

He throws his keys carelessly onto the counter, where he knows you’ll find them when you wake up and move them to the bowl in the entryway – where your keys are meant to go, a fact you’ve reminded him of unhelpfully when he’s running late and his keys aren’t where he left them. Between now and then, he’ll forget this fact, he always somehow does.

Now, you place the paper bag next to his keys and wander away – he looks over his shoulder and finds you shoving your feet into his house slippers, a shaking hand pressed against the wall to steady yourself as you put them on. The sight sends a bolt of affection through him and he turns away, focusing on washing his hands. He calls your name once he’s done, jerks his head to the tap. You don’t protest, only leaning into his side and sticking your hands under the stream of water.

He doesn’t know why he’s not moving away. Your vantage point makes it a little awkward to wash your hands, and it’d be easier if you switched places. Still, he stays, privately, guiltily admitting that the weight of you is nice against his side. Your bare arm is soft against his, and he can smell the perfume you’d used tonight, faint but sweet. If he looks out of the corner of his eye, he can see the glitter of your necklace, thin chains resting against your collarbones and décolletage.

You bump your head against his shoulder, and he blinks, drawn suddenly from his thoughts. Your stare is unnerving, and he almost wonders for a moment whether you can read the shameful attraction in his eyes.

“Come eat.”

He hopes you don’t notice the relief in his sigh as he follows you to the table. The two of you eat in silence for the most part, Jason picking at the edges of the burger he no longer wants and you stealing his fries in between bites of your wrap.

He gets up to go pour you some water – he isn’t sure how much you drank tonight, but he’ll sleep better once you’ve finished a few glasses – when you suddenly break the silence.

“I kissed a guy tonight.” Jason pauses his rummaging through the cupboard for a glass, and hears you muse to yourself, “It wasn’t very good, but I kissed him anyway.”

“Did you.” He keeps his back to you, fingers closing around the glass gently before he takes a breath and turns around. Mechanically, he pours you a glass of water, watching the liquid fill the cup as you stand from the table to pad over to him. He can feel you at his back and when he turns to face you, he thrusts the glass at you.

“Drink.” You take the glass, and he watches you down it. When you’ve finished, he pours you another and nods at you in instruction.

“You okay?” you ask, once he’s satisfied. His gaze catches on the sheen of water on your bottom lip.

“’M fine,” he bites out, forcing himself to relax when you reach out to touch his shoulder, but he only ends up curling his fingers into fists, pressing them into the laminate counter behind him. Your hand flattens against his shoulder, palm resting just above his heart. He can hear it beat in his ears, picking up further when you move into his space. Your chest brushes against his, and he remains still, backed against the counter.

He could move you right now, he knows he could. You’re off-kilter, and he’s much larger than you. He’s picked you up before, for a laugh. It’d be easy to move out from under you. But there he remains, with you drawing closer.

“You’re drunk,” he breathes out against your lips when you’re a hair’s breadth away, moving to press forward. Your lips are parted slightly, and he tracks your tongue as it darts out to wet your lips, flicks his gaze back up your pupils, dark and blown out.

“Not really,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Not as much. I’m just tipsy.”

A breathless sound punches out of him, and Jason feels his lips twitch. Somehow, his hands have migrated to settle against your waist. He runs his finger over the edge of your top, feeling your warmth sear through it. It’s a flimsy thing, thin and slutty – meant for darkened corners and wandering hands. No wonder you’d garnered the amount of stares you had tonight. He flicks his gaze down, and his fingertips have skimmed underneath its hemming, pressing lightly into your sides.

Had the guy you’d kissed tonight held you like this? Jason, envious, swipes his thumbs over your skin and delights in the shiver that rolls down your spine. Your eyelids flutter, and in the dark your eyes are covered in a sheen of liquid moonlight, the universe bottled and staring back at him. He bites back a swear, feeling his jeans tighten.

“You should get to bed.” It takes an effort to force the words out, and they come out hoarse. You stare at him for a few moments longer, unknowing that with each passing second, the thread of his restraint is steadily fraying. Alcohol and drunken desire weigh your eyelids down, and he grits his teeth at your lingering touch before you step away, turning on your heel in the direction of your room.

A single, solitary light in the hallway remains to keep him company in the kitchen, rooted to spot as he hears a muffled sigh of frustration through the walls. Then, the sounds of a zipper, and the rustle of your bed sheets. He curses his keen sense of hearing then, blood turning molten when, a few moments later, you whimper.

He knows the sound. It’s burned into his memory, the day he’d come home early and inadvertently overheard you touching yourself. Hearing it again has him dizzy and unable to move, clutching the counter tops as you try, pitifully, to muffle your moans.

Several minutes pass by. You fall silent after that. Jason thinks he must’ve done something awful in another life, and that this must be his penance, to have you so close yet be unable to do anything about it. He remains in the living room until he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep. Only when all movement in the next room ceases does he move.

You wake up a little past ten in the morning, to your surprise. The light pours in through the open blinds and you squint, rolling over to bury your face in your pillow. Your entire body cracks and you groan at the sensation, stretching across the expanse of your mattress. There’s grit in your eyes from the mascara you’d put on last night, you can feel the coarse flecks of it clumping your lashes together, and your face feels gross.

When you get up, you don’t bother to pull on a pair of pants – you’d discarded your bottoms last night before falling into bed – but switch the top for something looser, a t-shirt of Jason’s you think must’ve gotten mixed up in the laundry.

Your mind stutters over this name when you step into your shared bathroom, and you pause, hovering over the sink with your facial cleanser in hand.

Jason.

The memory of last night makes your face warm, recalling the sharp look he’d pinned you with, marbled features burning from the inside out as he’d let you draw closer and closer, eyes blazing. The ghost of his touch on your skin throbs, something like a live-wire threading itself alongside your every nerve.

You wash your face with careful movements, watching the makeup from last night swirl down the drain. Little else exists in your mind, save for the lingering desire of last night – and all the nights before that had led to it.

Where do you go from here?

You step into the shower, wondering if the two of you will pretend it never happened and continue as normal. You resolve to do as Jason does, nodding to yourself as you smooth your moisturiser into your skin. Judging by the sounds in the kitchen as you step out, you figure he has no intention of avoiding you. That, at least, reassures you and you walk out half an hour later with less hesitance.

“Morning,” you yawn and he looks over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing, bemused.

“How the fuck are you awake?”

“What do you mean?” You take a seat at the counter, propping yourself up on an elbow. There’s a slice of toast on a plate, covered in melting butter and unabashedly, you reach for it.

“Just that you knocked out at like, 6 – that’s mine, you thief,” Jason explains, looking over his shoulder before sputtering when he catches sight of his toast in your mouth. You mumble an apology around the bread and he grumbles, turning back to the stove. “Yeah, you sound real sorry. You couldn’t wait a few more minutes to make your own?”

You grin to yourself, dusting your hands off and leaning forward on the counter. “Aren’t you making me breakfast? I thought that’s what this was. You know, feeding your poor, hungover roommate who you love so much?”

He shoots a flat stare at you and you know you’re right – there’s twice the amount of hash-browns in the pan that he would make for himself, and there’s a carton of juice on the counter waiting to be poured, a plate waiting by the toaster near him.

“You keep that up and I’m giving your share to the neighbor’s cat,” he says mildly and you pout, settling back into your seat.

“Whatever,” you murmur. “Why are you awake, if you fell asleep after me?”

“Because the universe hates me.”

“Bruce called?” you guess and he shakes his head, plating your hash-browns and toast and turning to place it in front of you.

“Dick. Wanted to catch up. Why he chose at 8 in the morning is beyond me, but what the fuck ever,” he mutters, handing you a fork and taking a seat next to you. The proximity makes you shiver when his shoulder brushes against yours and you catch a whiff of his cologne. You cross your legs beneath the counter and hope he doesn’t notice, leaning in to take a bite of your food.

“You hungover?” he mutters and you shake your head. “You drank a lot last night, didn’t you?”

You hum in affirmation, letting him steal a bite of your toast. “Don’t think so. I’m a bit achy, but that’s it.”

He makes a noise in his throat. “Lucky you.”

The way he’d tugged you into his side last night flashes in your mind and you duck your head, warm all of a sudden. “Yeah.”

You stand up to put your plate away, and only when you’re at the sink and Jason makes a choked noise do you realise what you’ve wandered out in. You stiffen.

“The fuck are you wearing?”

You blink, not expecting him to be so incensed. You set the plate down in the sink and turn, looking down at the shirt you wear– the shirt you’re only wearing – and back up at him. It hangs off your frame, somewhat, but you can admit it’s a little on the shorter side as far as oversized shirts go, just skimming below the tops of your thighs. Still, it doesn’t explain why Jason’s expression has gone taut.

“A shirt?” you offer, tentatively.

“Are you serious?” You pause when he gets short with you, eyes narrowing.

“Yes?” You don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry I forgot to put pants on. Why are you mad?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“Whatever.” He wrinkles his nose, and you can see his leg jumping as he taps his foot, agitated. “You should go put some clothes on.”

Your mouth tugs down into an unimpressed frown. “So you are mad about my clothes,” you say flatly. “You’ve never had a problem with what I wear around the house before.”

And you know that he knows it’s true. You’ve accidentally come out in your pyjamas when he’s had his friends over, not seeing the text he’d sent to give you a heads up and he’s only ever laughed it off. You know he’s seen you like this before, too. You’ve grown so used to Jason it no longer occurs to you to cover up – it’s only Jason. He’s used to it.

But then you look at the agitation on his face. You’re beginning to think that maybe he isn’t.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to say anything about it,” he says. “In the interest of keeping the peace.”

You shoot him a withering stare. He’s so full of shit. “So you’re not interested in keeping the peace anymore. Why are you saying something now?”

He lifts a shoulder, churlish. “Maybe I think it’s time. It’s not really appropriate, is it?”

If you weren’t growing madder by the second, you’d laugh in his face at the twitch of his eye as he says that, as though the words coming out of his mouth are pain to get out.

“I pay half the rent,” you tell him hotly. “There’s no one around and you know what, I don’t think you even care about what I wear.”

He looks startled when you say that and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. You continue.

“All I’m hearing right now is a lot of ‘maybe’ and I’m not buying it. You’re a shit liar, Jason. What the fuck is your problem? The truth this time.”

He blinks, momentarily stunned. Anger like the tide, it washes away to make room for the truth before rushing back in. He stands up, breakfast abandoned, and your heart thrums in anticipation as the chair screeches backwards.

“My problem is you,” he says finally, and your mouth drops open.

“Me?” you squawk, indignant and he nods.

“Yeah, you.”

“What did I do?”

You wrack your brain, trying to come up with a reason he might be picking a fight with you. You hadn’t forgotten to take your clothes from the bathroom after you’d showered in a while, you’d been pretty good about replacing the liner in the bins when you noticed it was full – had you left your dishes in the sink yesterday before you’d gone out? Still, it didn’t warrant this level of a fight. This was beyond petty roommate squabbles – neither of you hesitated to get snippy about pulling your weight, and you forgave each other just as fast, too.

Jason was genuinely pissed off with you. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

“Is this some sort of game to you?” he asks you, instead of elaborating and you’re left more confused.

“I’m not playing any games with you – what are you talking about?” you demand, exasperatedly and he rounds the counter, stepping close to you. Absently, you’re reminded of last night. (The beat of his heart under your fingers, angry thrumming that echoed the rush of your own in your ears.)

Blue-green eyes narrow at you and he scoffs. “You know how many guys I nearly got into it with last night because I had to come get your drunk ass? The entire time, you’re just smiling–I don’t think you even knew where you were at that point.”

“I knew where I was!” you argue but he continues.

“Then I finally get you home and you decide that wasn’t enough, you have to tell me you kissed some guy, try to put the moves on me, and then pretend like nothing’s happened this morning which – whatever, fine, but then you walk around in this? And I’m not supposed to think you’re playing games?”

You stare at him, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“You are so stupid,” you breathe out. “What are you, jealous?”

“Yeah,” he huffs out, and you freeze. “Yeah, maybe I am.”

“What?” you mutter, barely audible.

He crowds you into the sink, until you can feel the edge of it pressed against your back. “You flirt with me, and I’m not supposed to do anything about it, because we live together. I have to watch you walk out of the house when you go out in your little outfits, and I’m not supposed to do anything about that either.”

He leans down and you’re nose to nose. “You accidentally send me something meant for someone else, and I’m not supposed to do anything about that, except all I can think about is how it’s meant for not me. Isn’t that a little unfair? How am I supposed to just move on from that? But I did. I made peace with the fact that you’re here, that you’re close enough for me to touch but I’m not supposed to.”

You go hot when you remember that, remembering the horror when in the heat of the moment you’d accidentally sent a photo meant for a hookup to Jason’s contact instead. It did little to comfort you when in response to your harried, apologetic explanation, Jason had simply sent you:

don’t worry i deleted it seriously it’s fine

He hadn’t acted in any way the next day to suggest that you’d ruined things or made it awkward, but you’d  been mortified. The way he looks down at you now, you think he must be better at hiding it than you thought. Barely concealed lust darkens his eyes, pupils blown wide. It coaxes your own want out of you, your hands beginning to shake as you rest them on the counter behind you. Water flecks your palms but you’re uncaring, staring back at your roommate.

Jason stares down at you, waiting.

Well. You had resigned to doing as he did.

You tilt your head, scrutinising him with narrowed eyes. The edges of your mouth twitch in an effort to stifle the urge to smirk.

“Maybe you should do something about that,” you challenge, leaning in until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. From here, you can count every eyelash that frames his eyes, can notice the scar just beneath his eyebrow, barely a quarter of an inch, a nick he must’ve gotten in his childhood. You add in a steady, derisive tone, tamping down the excitement that’s already begun to itch underneath your skin in anticipation, “instead of being quiet about it, like a coward. At least those guys had the nerve to try.”

His eyes flash and the breath he lets out is the only warning you get before you’re being kissed to within an inch of your life.

Your first thought is: why the fuck hadn’t you egged him on sooner?

Jason kisses like he might die if he doesn’t get to. You go boneless under the grip of his hands when they settle around your waist, tugging you into him urgently until your chest is pressed tight against his. You scramble for purchase, reaching to tug at his hair while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip and neither of you expect the breathless groan he lets out, but it goes straight to your gut, desire pooling low and driving you to tug again. Your noses bump and he lets out a wrecked laugh into your mouth.

“You’re seriously ruining it,” you mutter between kisses and he pulls away, much to your displeasure. You’re madder still at the way you chase his mouth, leaning in before blinking up at him.

“Yeah, what would you rather I do?”

Insufferable, even after having his tongue in your mouth. You tug his collar and pull him back down. He meets your height with a self satisfied smirk, laughter in his eyes. You’re not so amused.

“I’d rather,” you tell him, “you not laugh in my face while making out with me. It’s really making me reconsider letting you take this off me. I’m not wearing anything under this, you know.”

You want to laugh at how quickly his smirk drops at that but you’re too busy slipping out from the tight space, darting to the mouth of the hallway where you pause grin at him teasingly, tilting your head questioningly. Well? Are you coming or not?

He lunges forward and you squeal, taking off to your room with him hot on your heels. You’re just shy of your door when you’re flung over his shoulder, the world abruptly tipping as he grabs you. He laughs, victorious, and then a moment later he’s inside, you’re being thrown onto your bed. He stands at the foot of your bed for a moment, just staring and you feel a prickle of nervousness roll over your skin, ensnared in his gaze and the anticipation only made worse by the waiting.

And then he’s moving, a knee pressing into the bed as he climbs on, but you stop him, a hand flying to his shoulder. He goes still under your touch.

“Wait, can you–” you pause, feeling your face grow warm. “Can you close the blinds? I don’t want the neighbours to get a free show or something.”

He blinks, eyelashes fluttering before he snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, sure.” He looks back at you as he pulls them firmly shut, throwing the room sharply into dimness but not before you catch sight of that teasing grin. “And here I was thinking you were so bold.”

“Not that bold,” you mutter, before you grin. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Not with me,” he mutters, climbing back onto the bed. He doesn’t waste any time in putting his mouth to your neck, teeth barely grazing against the skin. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering under the touch. Jealousy colours his words when he says, “Don’t want anyone else seeing you like that.”

“N-no?” you barely manage to eke out, fingers digging into your sheets. You don’t want to admit his tone sends a thrill down your spine. You’re lucky he’s preoccupied, arching into his touch when his fingers find your sides again, rucking your shirt up your thighs.

“No,” he says firmly, before kissing you again.

When he pulls away you’re a little dizzy, breaths coming out heavy. It takes you a moment to realise your shirt lays over your stomach now, pushed up – showing off the underwear you’d lied about not wearing. He raises an eyebrow at you, unimpressed and you shrug, unrepentant. A finger skims over the band on your hip, hooking underneath it to snap it against your skin. It makes you gasp, and his lips twitch.

“Not wearing anything under this, huh,” he mocks.

“How else was I gonna get you to take it off faster?” you provide by way of explanation, grinning and he shakes his head, looking quite as though he doesn’t know what to do with you. When he pauses, staring, you roll your eyes, pushing up to pull your shirt off. His eyes widen as you settle back into your pillows, and you tell him archly, “There. Now you still get to take off only one thing.”

You watch him swallow you with his gaze, blue-green lingering on every inch of skin bared to him, breathing out heavily. Knelt between your legs, his hands remain hovering by your hips and you push them up, shifting until you brush against him. Impatience makes you petulant, slinging a leg over his hip and reaching out to coax his hand to fucking touch you.

“Do you want to do this?” you ask, when he only brushes a hand over your hip once more, and he frowns.

“Why’re you asking me that? Do you want to stop?”

“No!” you protest. “It’s just – you’ve got me naked and you’re not doing anything about it. It kind of feels like you don’t want to.”

He grins then, incredulously. “God. You’re so whiny. Is this how you are with all your hookups?”

You scowl at him. “You really wanna talk about my hookups? Now?”

His nose wrinkles in disdain and he leans in. “No. I’m gonna make you forget about them, though.”

You don’t know what it is about Jason that draws it out of you – you speak without thinking, dryly telling him, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

He shuts you up with a glare and lowers himself down, settling on his stomach between your legs. You swallow nervously when his breath skims over the seat of your underwear, the lace already damp. Jason grins to himself when he nudges against the crease of your thigh with his nose and you tremble, biting down a gasp when his fingers hook into the lace and instead of pulling them off entirely, he only tugs them to the side.

He sighs, eyes flicking up to where you stare at him. “So fucking pretty.” He reaches a hand up to press to your mouth and you blink, letting your roommate part your lips with his fingers, pressing them flat against your tongue. It makes your head spin, and you drool over his fingers, wrapping your lips around them and sucking. You delight in the way he watches you do it and emboldened, you reach a shaking hand to encircle his wrist, keeping it in place.

Eventually he pulls himself out of your mouth, but not without shifting against the mattress, and you give him a smile, spit smearing down your chin. He curses under his breath, and you grin when you hear the words, “Fucking brat.”

Thoroughly soaked, he takes his fingers to your cunt and your eyes roll back when he spits onto your clit before attaching his mouth to you. Very quickly, Jason makes a mess of you under his fingers and tongue, pressing inside with ease and curling his fingers to hit the spot you can never quite reach yourself. You see stars, squealing when he bands his free arm over your stomach, pressing down and only intensifying the scale of your pleasure.

Sinking into the mattress, you lose sense of all else but the slick sounds of your sex and Jason’s ministrations, eyes fluttering closed as you whimper. He steadily increases his pace and you’re curling your fingers into the sheets, feeling the knot in your stomach twist and tighten. One twist of his fingers, the tug of his mouth on you, and you’re coming apart with a gasp of his name, hips straining upwards against his arm to ride out your high.

 “Fuck,” you breathe out, stunned and staring at the ceiling and he laughs, laving your cunt with another look before he pulls away, delight on his face at the whimper you let out.

“You still wanna talk shit?” he questions, pushing himself up to come into your line of vision. You blink blearily at him.

“Give me a minute. Then, maybe,” you mumble and he snickers.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out now. All that attitude, and you didn’t even last ten minutes.”

You frown at him, sitting up and he falls back on his haunches to give you room. “I’m not tapping out, you asshole. When did I say that?”

He holds up his hands. “My bad, sweetheart. Must’ve misread that look on your face.”

“You’re insufferable,” is all you can say back to him, rolling your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, before a shit-eating grin curves his mouth upwards. “But you want to fuck me anyway.”

God help you, you really do.

You look down at him instead, and tug on the hem of his t-shirt. “Take this off.”

“Bossy,” he intones playfully, but pulls it off anyway, revealing the torso you’re guilty of having admired on several occasions, all powerful muscle and tanned skin. A thick pattern of hair trails down from his belly button into where his pyjama pants hang low on his hips, and you think maybe you’ve come on the spot again just at the sight of it, pressing your legs tight together.

He snorts above you, but says nothing, letting you push yourself up onto your knees, pressing a hand to his chest. He’s warm under you and just like last night, the beat of his heart is fast. You do what you’d longed to last night, sliding your hand up from his chest to his neck, tugging him down to press your lips against his. He inhales sharply through his nose, as if surprised, and you smile against his lips. You remain like that for a few moments, mouths slanted against each other and panting.

When you pull away, it’s with a fire burning in your gut, flames high and setting your skin alight.

“Those too,” you breathe out, nodding to his pants and not a moment wasted, they join your shirt on the floor. The both of you left in your underwear, you pout at him, brushing a hand over where he strains against the confines of it.

“I want you in me,” you tell him and he swears, screwing his eyes shut. You lower yourself back down, kneeling, to mouth over his hipbone. Tilting your chin up, you watch him shudder when your fingers ghost over the band of his underwear. “Can I?”

“Fuck. Yeah – yeah you can,” he grits out and you grin, pulling them down greedily. You move backwards as he kicks them off, and your mouth dries when you take in the size of him.

He’s bigger than any of your hookups, and your lust is dashed by the worry that suddenly overtakes you.

“Jason,” you say nervously and he hums. “I don’t think that’s going to fit.”

You try to appreciate that he attempts to muffle his laugh but immediately you’re looking back up at him, indignant. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m being serious.”

“Sweetheart, it’ll fit,” he reassures, smoothing a hand over your cheek, uncharacteristically tender. You find yourself leaning into it, a silent you promise? in your eyes. You believe him, though, you realise. “C’mon, let me take that off you.”

You sink back down into the sheets, pushing up your hips as he finally pulls off your underwear. And even though he’d been nose deep between your lips only a few minutes ago, he lets out a low breath at the sight of you, fully bared to him, a curse that skitters over your skin, stomach tightening as he shuffles closer.

He tightens a fist over his cock, smearing his pre over it as he gives it a few strokes before settling in the cradle of your hips. You shiver when he rests himself against you, sliding his cock over your cunt. Your mess clings to him, and the both of you groan when the tip of him catches against you, taking a sharp breath when he bumps against your clit.

“Don’t tease,” you murmur, reaching out to tug him down. He meets your mouth in a messy kiss, supporting himself on an elbow beside you, his free hand pushing your leg apart before guiding himself to your entrance.

You tense at the intrusion before he mutters at you to fucking breathe, baby. Inch by inch, with a thumb guiding tight circles over your clit, Jason pushes inside. The stretch of him is one you’ve not ever experienced, and you feel winded when he bottoms out, fully seating himself within you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. He grins, leaning down to kiss your jaw.

“Told you it’d fit,” he muses smugly, and you let out a dazed breath, pinching his arm. “Ow!”

“Don’t be a dick with your dick in me,” you mutter crossly and he lets out a laugh.

“Sorry. You okay?”

You blink a few times, wiggling your hips – Jason lets out a hiss – before nodding. His fingers haven’t stopped on your clit and slowly, the stretch has begun to feel a little pleasurable. When he pulls out a little before thrusting, you sigh, bringing your arms up to loop around his neck.

“Feels good?” he asks and you hum. Pleased, he begins to move.

Your senses dissolve quickly. The room slips into a cacophony of moans, the air thickening with urgency with every second that passes. Jason had kissed you like it was life or death; it had only been a precursor. Every nerve in your body feels like a live-wire, thrumming with electricity and so utterly sensitive to his every thrust, and touch, and kiss. His hands are bruising on your waist, your hips, your thigh, when he lifts your leg to sling it around his hip. His mouth seeks yours, all teeth and tongue, exchanging panted breaths and moans, mumbled swears spilling from his lips like a broken dam –

So fucking perfect.

Been waiting so – fuck, so long.

So good for me.

Yeah, just like that.

You can’t keep up with it, sinking your head back into the pillows beneath you. He takes advantage to lave his tongue against the exposed skin there, too, teeth working at you until you’re sure he’s left a mark to accompany the others.

Time passes thickly, your sense of it obscured by the man over you. He fucks you right through your first – technically second – orgasm, and works you up all over again, coaxing you through the next one with breathy laughs and a mean smile when you shake your head, tears budding at the corners of your eyes. You fall apart though, you couldn’t not, with the way he touches you as he angles his hips. Absently, you think, if your sheets weren’t already ruined from your makeup last night, they will be now.

“Thought you couldn’t,” he goads you, rolling the both of you over so you’re slumped on his chest and pushing back in you. You curl your nails into his chest and he gasps, “–Fuck!”

Jason doesn’t seem to mind that he’s worn you out too much to do anything beyond lay on his chest. He holds you easily, thrusting upwards. The change in position makes you cry out, tightening around him once more.

He lets out a startled laugh. “You have one more in you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head once more and he pouts, a hand taking your chin and directing your gaze to him. He’s pouting mockingly at you. “No? Are you sure?”

“You’re–” you stumble out, face screwing up under the weight of your building orgasm, “such a bastard.”

He just grins at you, but it’s strained, too, starting to slip around the edges. He tips his throat back, and you can feel his thrusts beginning to stutter. You take the chance to lean down and latch your mouth to his neck, tired hips rolling against his as you return his favour. His hands tighten around your hips and he groans. “Fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come, where do you want me?”

And because he’s stolen away with him your ability to reason, you whine out needily, “Inside. Need you, fuck, please, I need it inside.”

He swears loudly, hips bucking frantically. You keen as you feel your fourth orgasm of the morning roll over you, and not a moment later Jason follows suit. You feel the warmth of it slide down your thigh and his grip around you tightens as he rides out his high, face buried in your hair. His breathing is ragged, and you close your eyes for a moment against his neck, resting. The room falls silent for several moments, only your breathing to be heard as it evens out.

“Gonna have to get you the pill,” Jason mumbles into your neck and you hum. “Fuck, I should’ve gone to the store or something.”

You hug him a little tighter, shaking your head. “It was perfect.”

He laughs wearily, but his arms tighten around you briefly, too. “Not gonna be so perfect if I accidentally knock you up, baby. ‘M smarter about this, usually.”

You grumble, biting his neck gently. “I don’t wanna talk about your hookups with your dick still in me.”

“Should I pull out, so we can discuss them?” he offers, laughing when you try to pinch him.

“You’re so not funny,” you tell him, and he scrunches his nose playfully.

“Yeah, but you need me so bad,” he repeats, leaning in to steal a kiss before you can snap at him. It doesn’t save him; once you recover, you’re reaching to squish his face between your palms.

“You’re the biggest dweeb on the planet, I really hope you know that,” you tell him matter-of-fact-ly. To your annoyance, he doesn’t seem too chastised, beaming up at you when you let him go. You slump back down onto his chest, sighing loudly. “I’m so tired. How do you have that much energy? You slept less than me.”

He shrugs underneath you, a hand settling on your back and trailing up and down. The movement is soothing, and you find your eyelids growing heavier. “Think I’m kind of used to running on no sleep.”

“Freak,” you mumble, and he snickers. “You know, I really wasn’t teasing you when I came out.”

“Hm?”

“No pants. Just forgot,” you slur.

“Go to sleep,” is all he says, but you’re sure you hear a muffled laugh before sleep overtakes you.

You don’t know what you expect to happen from sleeping with Jason. When you wake up, you find that he’d dozed off around the same time as you, but not before cleaning you up and pulling your blanket over the both of you. It makes something in your heart twinge, and you have to avert your eyes when he wakes up not longer after you do. The both of you order an early dinner, having slept through most of the morning and afternoon – “Work tomorrow, too,” Jason had grumbled when you drew the blinds open to a late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky.

“Classes tomorrow,” you pout, as you strip the sheets in your bed. “And I slept through the whole day.”

“Your fault for not sleeping in this morning,” Jason mutters, still in your bed with his face pressed unhelpfully into a pillow. You swat his leg and when he lifts it to shoot you a beleaguered scowl, you gesture to the pillow. He grumbles, sitting up and taking off the pillowcase, throwing it at you. It unfolds halfway through and the both of you stare as it sadly flutters on top of the duvet between you.

“Sad,” you tell him. When the bed’s been stripped, you make him take it down to the laundry – “You have better luck with the machines, they’re always full when I go.”

“That’s such bullshit,” he grumbles, but he takes the basket anyway and heads downstairs to the laundry unit in your apartment building. He’s back five minutes later and unwilling to admit that you’d been right, mumbling a whatever when you let him in because he’d forgotten his keys.

“You wanna watch something tonight?” you ask him as he’s wrangling a fitted sheet over your mattress. The pillowcases and duvet cover replaced, you sit on a chair waiting for your sheet to be changed.

Jason mumbles out a, “Yeah, sure.” and you nod decisively.

Neither of you end up being able to choose a movie. The both of you take turns showering and by the time the clothes have been washed and the food comes, you can’t think of anything you want to watch. You resign to put on a few episodes of your show and call it a night. Though, you worry over your noodles – are you meant to sleep in his bed tonight? Is he going to sleep in yours?

Jason saves you the awkwardness by standing up at the end of your Gilmore Girls episode and heading to his bedroom. There’s no difference in his departure either. He doesn’t kiss you, or hug you or do anything out of the ordinary – he knocks the side of your head with his knuckle and heads off, calling over his shoulder, “Night.”

You’re left there to ponder over it.

You’ve made a disastrous mistake by sleeping with Jason.

You decide this upon waking the next morning and shuffling out into the kitchen to make yourself something to eat before your classes and finding a box of pastries waiting on the counter. You hadn’t expected to have much for breakfast – you were due to go grocery shopping with Jason soon, the fridge growing ever emptier by the day. The sight of it makes you stop short, and you feel that twinge in your heart again, only it’s immediately followed by horror – because you know what it is.

You like him.

You have no time to contemplate this bitter pill, forced to swallow it alongside a few bites of the unforgivably good pastries before getting ready to leave the house – you curse that he’d chosen your favourites, too. You like your roommate. The world goes on. You sit on the bus feeling shell-shocked, sure it must show on your face that you’ve come to terms with a life-changing revelation.

How long have you felt this way, how long have these feelings been blooming inside you, you wonder – feelings that go beyond the basic attraction you’re sure Jason is used to dealing with in his every day life. This isn’t lust, you realise miserably. That would be much too easy.

You like him. You want to strangle him most days, but you like Jason. You like his company, like his stupid sense of humour and despite your better judgement, like his attention. You like that he nags you about pulling your weight, like that he doesn’t care when you mouth off to him, like that he likes you with no pretenses.

Fuck.

There is nothing to suggest in Jason’s behaviour that what’s happened between the both of you actually happened. You feel like a bit of a creep for watching him the way you do, sneaking glances at him over the counter when it’s his turn to make dinner and reading into every syllable of every word he says to you – it begins to feel like you’ve slowly started to go mad. There’s no sign of anything.

Stephanie looks at you oddly when a few days later you both meet up with your mutual friends, pushing a few tables together and ordering nearly everything off the menu – it’s on her, tonight, thanks to the promotion you’re all getting together to celebrate. She drags you into the bathroom before your food arrives and you find yourself spilling the details to her, unable to keep it a secret any longer and almost regretting it when her face screws up into disgust.

“I mean, I knew it was bound to happen but gross,” she squeals, pretending to gag and you glare at her.

“What do you mean? You knew?”

She tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and leans against the bathroom counter, giving you a pointed look. “Are you serious? You had to have known. It was so obvious.”

What you suspect to be an incoming rant is interrupted by the swing of the bathroom door and the call of your names – “The guys told me to come get you before everything’s gone.”

The apparent inevitability of your getting together with your roommate is filed away for later as you exit the bathroom. No sooner than you approach the table do you notice your seat has been claimed, and you look over at Steph when the culprit – a friend she’d brought– smiles at you and apologises, gesturing between her and Jason.

“Do you mind switching with me?” she asks and you blink at her. She tilts her head and you can’t help but notice the shine of her hair, water-like in its movements as it sways. Next to her, Jason eyes you curiously and you smile tightly.

Logic reasons that you have no reason to say no. Jealousy sinks your fingernails into your palm behind your back as you shove your hands into your back pockets.

“Sure,” you tell her, and shove yourself into the seat next to Steph, waving a hand at Roy when he returns from the pool table across the bar and complains about you stealing his seat.

“I don’t see your name on it,” you tell him archly and turn firmly back to the conversation at hand – something about a coworker and someone’s boss that you’re guilty of not paying any attention to. Try as you might, you can’t focus on anything but the laughs from across the table, Steph’s friend leaning in and joking around with Jason.

Stephanie looks over at one point and pinches you under the table, ignoring your hiss to lean in and whisper, “What’s wrong with you?”

You pinch her back, but she simply raises her eyebrows, waiting. You glance over at your roommate, catching his eye before you mutter into her ear – and really, you’re thankful for the ruckus that your table and the dinner crowd provides, otherwise you’d never hear the end of it for ‘keeping secrets’–

“Why’d you invite her?”

She looks back and forth between the two before she raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re seriously pissy because you’re jealous? If you wanted to sit next to him, you should’ve just said.”

You frown at her. “Why would I do that? We haven’t even talked about it, I can’t just tell her to fuck off. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Do you want him to be?” she asks, reaching for the untouched slice of pizza on your plate.

You sneak a look at Jason, who’s bringing a glass of beer to his mouth, smiling over the rim at not you. The answer is too humiliating to say out loud.

Envy clings to you long after everyone parts ways, waiting on the sidewalk and staring down hard at a piece of gum that’s lodged itself between the cracks in the pavement while Jason says goodbye. You don’t like how thankful you are that neither of them exchange numbers – or the possibility that it will come later.

The routine after a night out is usually like this – Jason tends to linger close by as you wash your face and get changed, sitting over the ledge of the closed toilet lid while you run through the events of the night. Normally, you don’t mind it so much. You’ve even found yourself mirroring him when it’s his turn to come home after a night out, standing outside his bedroom door while he changes and talking through the wall. You like the company, and the mutual dissection of your shared gatherings. It feels domestic.

Tonight, you close the bathroom door on him once you both get home and you can tell from the surprised sputter that he hadn’t been expecting it. But the drive home has given your jealousy time to fester, your blood running hot at the thought of all the shared glances and attention paid to someone that wasn’t you. It’s irrational, and mean, and completely crazy, but you find yourself angry with him for letting it happen and angrier still at yourself for feeling this way.

Jason, unaware that he’s back on your shit list, knocks on the door, demanding to be let in. You liken him to a cat, yowling at your doorstep. There’s a shit eating grin on his face when you open the door that drops the moment he catches sight of the look on your face.

“What.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice lilting in uncertainty and you huff.

“No, I just want to go to bed. I’m tired.” Lying through your teeth, you look away from where he’s trying to meet your eyes.

“Did something happen tonight?”

You hate the way his voice turns a little soft, truly, earnestly worried. His hands come up, hovering by your sides as if to turn you over and make sure you haven’t been hurt. It should make you melt, but all it does it make you madder.

“Nothing happened, don’t worry about it,” you tell him curtly, and his brow furrows for a moment, thoughtful.

“Is this about Steph’s friend?” he says and your face grows hotter when he says her name.

“No,” you say baldly, turning around and reaching for your cleanser. You work it between your palms with more force than necessary and the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. “But you know what? I hate her. You shouldn’t talk to her.”

There’s a silence before he replies, and you hate the way he’s somehow found amusement in all of this. Amused, always amused when it comes to you. You wonder if he ever takes anything you say seriously. “You can’t tell me who I can talk to.”

You come up from the sink, water dripping from your lashes and chin and he pauses, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Fine, whatever. Go talk to little miss–” Your jaw closes with a clack and you purse your lips, reaching for your face towel. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He stops you from reaching for the next product in your long routine, a hand circling around your wrist and tugging you a little closer. When you refuse to look up, his other hand tilts your chin up, and you hate him once more for ducking his head to meet your eyes.

“You mad ‘cos I didn’t sit next to you?” he asks, quiet and you scoff, pushing him away.

“No, have you lost your mind? Why would you think that?”

He doesn’t let you go very far, hands settling on your hips and holding you in place. You lift your chin stubbornly, glaring at the cracks in the tile over his shoulder. At the edges of your vision, Jason shuffles closer, bending his head to press his nose into your cheek.

“You know you can’t lie to me, right?” he murmurs, affection colouring his words. Then, voice dipping, he says softly, “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you protest weakly but his resounding laugh skitters over the line of your neck and you sag against the counter.

“Yeah you are,” he says brightly, and you’re surprised when his lips press chastely into the swell of your cheek. “It’s okay.”

The frustration that’s been simmering in your veins all night boils over when he tilts his head to kiss your jaw. You reach for Jason, guiding his mouth to yours.

He kisses you sweetly tonight, and you squeeze your eyes tightly shut as his lips slide against yours, knuckles bumping against your jaw. There’s this feeling in your chest, champagne fizz-like, a cacophony of bursts, ever rising and rendering you giddy in his arms. It lasts only for a second before you’re pressing further into him, fingers tangling into the thick of his hair and tugging him closer, harried.

The sound of surprise he lets out is muffled, settling against your tongue and swallowed greedily while you press your hips into his. Jason quickly sets you against the edge of the counter, half-hard in his jeans where he stands between your parted legs. Desperation and anger line your movements, pressing closer, closer, impossibly closer to him until every inch of you is near flush against him, separated only by layers of clothing. There’s an urgency to your actions, mapping out his mouth and squeezing your legs around his hips in a bid to relieve the growing pressure.

He pants against your mouth, the hands at your waist kneading your skin through the fabric of your top, fisting it tight and rocking you closer against him.

“Want you,” you demand, breathy and shameless and he groans, eyes screwing shut before he’s nodding fervently, moving away slightly to help you tug your pants off until you’re left only in your underwear. Your hands reach for his belt as his slide down your waistband, spit-slicked fingers sliding against you with ease. You keen under his touch, fingers closing around his length and pulling him out.

You lean over, spitting onto his cock and the curse he bites out echoes in the bathroom. He’s warm in your hand and you delight in the moan he lets out when you pass your fist over his length, echoing it not a moment later when he circles your clit.

Half-dressed and pawing at each other, you rock against his fingers with one hand gripping his shoulder for dear life and the other passing broad, firm strokes over his cock. His hips buck into your fist and you catch his laboured breaths in a messy kiss once more, feeling pleasure coil tighter and tighter in your stomach. A well timed twist of his fingers draws a high-pitched gasp out of you.

“I’m–” you cry and he nods, face twisting.

“Me too.”

Only a few more strokes and the two of you cry out in unison, moans muffled in each other’s mouths as you come. Jason spills over your wrist, his own slowing to a stop beneath the band of your underwear as you let out a ragged breath, pressing your sweaty forehead to his.

His eyelashes flutter against your cheek and you let out a breath through your nose at the tickling sensation. Blue-green eyes meet yours, so close you think you can count the stars in his pupils, and Jason grins, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

Moments pass as he slowly dots kisses to your face, trailing over the corners of your mouth to your jaw and chin, sweet once more. You sigh, letting your eyes shut under his touch and leaning into press of his mouth, your limbs loosening under every baby-soft touch until you’re pliant in his arms.

“C’mon,” he tells you quietly, nosing at your jaw. “We gotta clean up.”

You tip your head tiredly, letting him maneuver you around to wash your hands in the sink while he takes care of himself. By the time he comes up behind you again, you’re watching the soap bubbles wash away down the drain.

“You still mad at me?” he mutters into your temple, and you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror. His arm hangs loosely around your shoulder, drawing you back into his chest. He’s shucked his jeans, left in only his t-shirt and underwear. You can feel the press of his skin against the back of your bare legs, the heat of him through his t-shirt.

You shrug, feeling oddly vulnerable. His lips seem to turn down for the slightest moment before he’s turning you to face him, a hand coming to rest against your jaw.

“Tell me,” he asks. The bite of tiramisu he’d had at dinner still lingers on your tongue and you can smell the lingering notes of his cologne. You press up on your toes to kiss him once more, a gentle brush of lips that carries with it the weight of your entire heart before you’re pulling away.

“Don’t talk to her,” you say quietly, too cowardly to say what you really feel. He regards you with a stare that feels too scrutinising for your liking, before he finally nods.

“Okay.” His thumbs sweeps across your cheek. “I won’t.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze as you nod. “Okay. Good.”

You fear you might have revealed more of yourself than you’d intended when, following the events of that night, Jason softens a little. Only infinitesimally, but you notice it – the way he begins to seek you out a little more, the ease with which he settles by your side in the kitchen when it’s your turn to make dinner, taking advantage of the proximity to steal bites of the food from the pan over your shoulder. Still, amongst the feelings that that particular thought evokes, you don’t find regret.

You dare to think that maybe, even, it was for the better when, twenty minutes into a gathering for one of your friend’s birthdays, Jason drags you out to the car under the pretense of going on an ice run and you find yourself making out with him at a red light, his thigh squeezing at the flesh of your thigh as he whispers filthy promises into your mouth. When you return, it’s with a bruise sucked into the hollow of your throat, hidden in the shadowed collar of your hoodie and kiss swollen lips that you can only hope goes unnoticed.

It gives you something of a thrill, kissing in darkened corners and returning to your friends with the taste of each other on your tongue, a secret shared only between you and Jason. You find yourself biting back grins when he meets your eye from across a room, tamping down the excitement of following him into the bathroom and letting him coax you into just one more kiss.

At home, the air is charged with an undercurrent of electricity, thick with the weight of all that has, and could happen. Your movie nights hang on a razor’s edge, the threat of devolving into something else looming between you at all times. Tonight, you give in, sinking to your knees twenty minutes into the movie and taking Jason’s length in your mouth.

He sinks his head back into the couch as you suck his cock, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You hum around him, half lidded eyes gazing up at him.

“Fuck...”

His voice is hoarse, a husky groan spilling from reddened lips, and he runs his other hand through his already messy hair, tousled from where you’d run your fingers through it only moments ago.

“Just like that,” he moans, head tipping back down to look at you, blue-green eyes swallowed by the dark of his pupils. “So fucking good, baby.”

You drag a fist up the end of his length, spit and pre-cum smearing over your fingers. It’s messy, quickened movements and wrecked sighs, Jason’s hips taut as he tries not to buck into your mouth. His grasp on his control slips a little when you dig your fingernails into the skin of his hip, nails scratching over where you know him to be sensitive. Startled, he lifts off the couch, hitting the back of your throat and drawing tears to your eyes.

“Shit,” he says, a half moan as he runs a hand down your face. “Sorry, you okay?”

You blink up at him, tears sticking your lashes together, and hum. The concern in his expression bleeds into realisation and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a smirk.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, dropping back into the couch cushions. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You pull off him to give him a smile, letting out a little laugh. “Yeah? Feels good?”

The hand on your face presses into your cheeks in warning when he lifts his head to glare at you tiredly, and you snicker once more before wrapping your lips around him.

He comes soon afterwards, pulling out of your mouth and making a mess on your face, spend smearing over your lips and chin. You squeeze your eyes shut as he finishes, the sound of his ragged breathing and the salt on your lips coaxing out your own need, wetness quickly growing between your legs. You think it must be obvious on your face. Jason, after carefully wiping your face, pulls you onto his lap, settling a muscled thigh between your legs and gazing up at you with blazing eyes as if to say, well? Your turn now.

The movie remains long forgotten.

“You okay?”

You purse your lips, fiddling with the straw in your drink. The cafe you’ve met at for lunch is one of your favourites, but you find it hard to focus on your food when you keep meeting someone’s eyes over Jason’s shoulder. The man grins at you when you look back, and your frown deepens.

Sat in front of you, Jason taps your foot under the table. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“There’s some guy behind you that keeps looking over here.”

His brows furrow and he leans in over the small table. “You don’t know him?”

You shake your head. “He doesn’t look familiar.”

He considers your answer and nods, before rising from the table. Startled, your hand flies out to clutch his sleeve, already imagining the blood on his knuckles. “What are you doing? Sit down!”

He looks at you like you’re crazy, and you feel your face grow hot. “Would you chill? I was going to tell you to switch seats with me.”

Your rehearsal of the explanation you’re going to have to give to his older brother that you were partially the reason Jason was in a police station comes to a screeching halt. “Oh.”

Flustered, you awkwardly slide out of your seat and into his. Jason passes your things over as he settles into your previous seat comfortably, and you watch his eyes scan over your shoulder, lingering only once, briefly, on something before he’s meeting your gaze with a small grin. His face doesn’t betray his annoyance, features set in a pleasant, neutral expression – except for the minute tightening of the skin around his eyes.

You squirm in your seat, still feeling the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of your head. “Is he still looking?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, shaking his head before, as casually as he would if he were brushing a leaf out of your hair, he extends a hand to curl around the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss over the table. Your sound of surprise is lost to his mouth, and Jason lets out a quiet laugh against your lips. When he pulls away, he lingers for a moment, a hair’s breadth away and bright eyed. “If he was still staring, he won’t be anymore.”

“Oh. Okay,” you murmur, dazed, settling back into the metal of your chair. The feel of his lips on yours lingers for the rest of lunch, and long after you part ways, you for your next class and Jason to work.

“See you at home,” you tell him quietly, as the crossing light turns green at the corner where you’re due to part. He grins down at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You half-heartedly bat his hand away, and he laughs, dropping it back to his side. You have the urge then, looking up at him, to hug him, but the seconds are counting down and bravery evades you, still.

“Yeah. See you.”

You wait there at the intersection, long after he’s crossed the street and disappeared around another corner. You aren’t quite sure what you’re waiting for. You aren’t sure how to explain your resulting tardiness to your teacher, either.

How do you explain the twist of your heart when you think of tourmaline eyes, the phantom brush of tender fingers over your cheek? You can only smile apologetically and hurry to your seat, face warming in both embarrassment and longing.

Jason lingers even when he isn’t there, the ghost of him stood in the doorway of your mind, a constant companion to your thoughts. You’d often thought of love as hues of rose, but you feel as though your vision has been wrapped in a sea-glass film, the world around you now cast in glittering jewel tones.

He draws out a different part of you now, you find. Still teasing, he’s the same Jason he’s ever been. And yet...

There’s a softness to your interactions that you wonder if you only see because you want it to be there. Silence between you now settles with a weight behind it, but it feels like the comfort of a down blanket, soft, and grounding, it feels like contentment. There’s a quality to his voice, to the way his mouth forms your name, something wrapped around every letter that makes you burn, hope flickering dangerously in your heart. You dare to let yourself wonder in the darkness of your room, hidden under the blanket – could he?

Hope, dangerous hope. It does away with any sense you have left. Hope turns you sweeter, displays your love-sickness for all to see across your face, eyes always searching for his in a room, smiles turned shyer. You don’t know who you’ve become, gentle and yearning, the cutting remarks you reserve for him now dulled. Hope pulls the words from your lips when you’re watching Jason make to rise from your bed, moonlight spilling across the floor of your bed through a crack in the blinds.

“Do you -” you falter, and he looks back.

“What?”

Your fingers twist in the bed sheets, nervous and you feel a little sick as you say, “Do you want to just sleep here, tonight?”

And you think you’re going to die, then, when he says nothing for a very long moment. It stretches out into the vast nothingness, and you feel shame heat your face, the weight of what you’ve just asked pressing down on your chest. You wish it would be quicker about finishing you off, you wish you could turn back time, you wish –

“Are you -” he falters. “Really?”

It isn’t a no. “Only if you want to,” you say quietly and the silence returns, before you hear the rustle of your sheets.

“Okay,” Jason whispers, and in the dark you think you hear him exhale shakily but you’re too relieved to pay attention, hope’s flickering flame roaring brightly once more.

It isn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. You’ve fallen asleep next to each other on movie nights, and when you’d been too stubborn to call it a night while nodding off watching your show. You know the softness of Jason’s bed, know the warmth of his shoulder against yours. And still, your heart races when he returns from the bathroom and climbs into bed beside you.

This isn’t a first. And yet it feels entirely novel.

His arm finds you in the darkness and he draws you closer to his chest, but he pauses. “Is – is this okay?”

He’s warm, heat bleeding through the thin shirt you’d pulled on. You settle a shaky hand over the one on your stomach, squeezing it briefly. Your throat feels dry as you rasp out, “Yeah. Yeah it’s okay.”

“Okay.” A silence, and you feel the ghost of a kiss being pressed into your hair. “Night.”

“Night.”

You wake first in the morning, turning over and blinking open bleary eyes to the sight of him still in your bed. Your heart stutters at the sight of him, and you feel shame wrap you in its grasp once more as you take him in.

He’s beautiful, you think mournfully. There’s a white hair hidden in the depths of his temple, you notice, and a freckle below his left eye, thick lashes fanning over it. You trace the line of the scar in his eyebrow once more, the subtle cleft in his chin, the shape of his mouth.

He shifts a little in his sleep and it makes you tense, but all he does is curl closer to you, the arm beneath your head flexing as he presses his nose to your temple. His other arm comes to sling over your hip. Affection comes in thick waves to you then, rising in your throat like the tide and threatening to drag you beneath its depths forever. Overwhelmed and in love, you press your face to his chest and hope he doesn’t feel the tear that slips down the side of your face, sliding against the skin of his wrist.

Jason wakes not long after you do, mouth curving into a tired grin when he opens his eyes and Hope, dangerous and fickle thing that it is, burns bright through the morning.

Your name makes you look up from the covert game of not-quite-footsie you’ve been playing with Jason on the couch, trying to keep your giggles to a minimum as you kick his feet away from yours while the others linger in the kitchen, arguing about pizza toppings. Jia bounds over to the adjacent armchair and you get one last kick in before you straighten your expression.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!”

You grin at that, pointing teasingly at her. “That’s because you’ve been flaking on us! When was the last time I saw you?”

Her mouth pulls up into a grin and you’re drawn into a conversation with her, but it’s difficult to pay her your full attention. The press of Jason’s thigh against yours makes your head spin a little, even though he’s busying himself with something on his phone.

Hope has left the both of you teetering on the precipice of something the last week or so, and you’ve started to wonder whether it isn’t entirely implausible that you’re not reading into it. Jason had kept his arm around your shoulder when you’d gone grocery shopping the other day, snickering and leaning in over the console in his car to steal a kiss before you carried the shopping in. He’s been stealing bites of your food off the plate you’d balanced on your knees only a few minutes ago, now empty and set on the coffee table, your drink in his hand as he texts back his brother.

It takes only a few words from Jia for you to lose your footing. You feel Jason stiffen next to you and you pause, registering her words.

“How’s that guy you were seeing? Are you guys still together?”

“What?” you ask and she grins at you, oblivious.

“C’mon, you remember. It wasn’t that long ago. I thought you liked him.”

The precipice of something does not overlook what you had thought it had – you fall, fall, fall, and hope, delicate thing that it is, gutters out before your eyes. You feel Jason draw away from you in the seconds it takes you to reply, only shifting in his seat and already an abyss yawns between the both of you.

Jia, ignorant to the upheaval her words have caused, directs her attention to Jason.

“Did they not tell you?” she laughs, and you want to shake her, but you’re silent. “Oh my gosh, didn’t he show up after your class with flowers?”

Jason looks at you in surprise and you can tell he’s remembering the flowers you’d brought home months ago, bright and red, they’d taken up a spot on your dining table for a week before they’d wilted. You hadn’t bought any flowers home since then – it’d been months ago. Months before you’d ever even come close to touching him, an age before you’d reached whatever weird middle you two were in, playing house like you’d been. Months ago. You want to scream at Jia for even bringing it up but you know she doesn’t mean any harm and really – more than anything, you’re mad at yourself.

It’s your fault, you think, grief and panic curling tight in your chest as Jason mumbles an excuse about having to use the bathroom and rises from the couch. You’re the one who hasn’t made it clear to him, cowardly and comfortable in the in between. All the things you should’ve said slam against the roof of your mouth. You like him, he’s the only one you want to cuddle with on the couch and bring flowers.

The smile on your face feels like a painted grimace for the rest of the night, and you don’t ever seem to get within a few feet of Jason before something comes up and he’s whisked away into conversation. You’ve never seen him so social.

“Oh, by the way, man-” Alex says, when you’re gathered in the living room, swallowing a mouthful of the cruiser that only he can stand to drink. “Steph’s friend, what’s her name – she asked me for your number.”

You can’t help yourself from turning your head, stomach twisting itself into knots, and you meet Jason’s gaze for the briefest moments as he looks over, biting the inside of his cheek contemplatively before nodding his head. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine, I guess.”

Well.

You remain rooted in your seat for what feels like the longest five minutes of your life, watching the movie with unseeing eyes before getting up with a half-hearted excuse to Jia.

“I’m gonna head home,” you whisper, pulling up a ride app. She turns to you with a pout.

“What? Noo.”

“I just remembered I’ve got a paper I have to turn in,” you grimace at her. “I’ll see you later.”

You whisper a bye to the host, crouching to your knees beside their chair and squeezing their arm with a promise to catch up later before you retreat, toeing your shoes on hastily and shutting the door behind you as softly as you can before rushing to the elevator.

In the car on the way home, you listen to the radio with the blood roaring in your ears. There’s a different kind of burning in your chest now, and by the time you reach your apartment, it threatens to leave only ash in its wake.

You lock your bedroom door when you storm inside, slumping onto your bed face down dramatically until it becomes hard to breathe, at which point you roll over. Staring at the ceiling, you feel the tears you’ve been holding back all night crowd your eyes, angry and leaving burning trails in their wake. You slam a fist against your mattress, letting out an aggravated sigh.

“Whatever,” you muse out loud stubbornly, ignoring the tremble in your voice, the lump in your throat that makes it difficult to swallow. “What the fuck ever. I don’t care.”

It’s a difficult thing to convince yourself of. When you hear the sound of the front door, nearing an hour or so later, your chest tightens in anxiety – far from uncaring, you sit up and watch the shadows in the hall move.

Footsteps pass outside your door, pausing only for a moment before you hear Jason’s door open and close. Your eyes burn once more.

You find it uncomfortable how quickly things turn grey in your home. There are no movie nights after that, no Jason peeking his head through the door of your room to ask you if you want to come with him to run errands, or to try the sauce he’s making for dinner, or if you have any clothes you need to throw in the wash because he’s got room in his basket and he needs to do a round. There isn’t much of anything, actually. Silence, thick and tense, hangs over the apartment and makes every noise all the louder.

You make your own meals, and Jason doesn’t look at you when you take your plate into your room. The groceries dwindle down and you go to the store after your class, only to come home and find bread already in the pantry when you go to put it away. The sight of it makes you grit your teeth, but you have no time to stare at it when you hear the click of Jason’s door opening, hurriedly stuffing the bread away before storming to your room.

There are times when you think Jason might break first on the cold war between the both of you out of pure frustration. It comes in the form of disapproving frowns when you return home late from classes, taking the bus instead of calling him – spite keeps you warm enough to make the short walk home as the weather cools – or leaving your dishes in the sink for the morning because you know he’s too stubborn to break first to yell at you about it. Still, he remains silent as you pass him in the hall.

“You guys need to kiss and make up about it,” is all that Steph has to say about it when you tell her, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “Seriously. He’s been so insufferable, I’m begging you. When he gets in a mood, I have to listen to Tim complain about it and I just don’t have the time to listen to him right now.”

“He can do whatever he wants,” you tell her frankly, curling into the corner of her couch. You pull at the sleeves of your hoodie, scowling at a thread that’s come loose. “I don’t care. He’s the one being childish.”

“Wrong.” She shakes her head, making a buzzing noise, as though the subject of your failed love life is as serious as a game show.

“He is,” you insist, nudging her thigh with a foot.

She shrugs, rolling her eyes skyward. “I never said he wasn’t. I just said you were wrong.”

It clicks for you, then, and you frown. “I’m not being childish, I’m just returning his energy.”

Steph’s face contorts into an expression of disbelief and you falter. “Why would you ever do that? Have you ever considered that just ‘cause he’s book smart doesn’t mean he’s love smart?”

It doesn’t make sense to you. Jason is whip-smart – it’s how he landed his job after graduation in the first place. You didn’t get to work at a leading firm without the credentials, and you’d been to his childhood home enough times to see the various certificates and medals filling a trophy case. Half the space in his room and your living room was taken up by the sheer amount of books in his collection, the spines worn and aged, spanning from romance to philosophy. You think he might be the smartest person you know – it doesn’t occur to you that he’s capable of occasionally making a mistake.

You tell Steph as much and she looks weary as she gears up to explain it once more to you.

“Does it feel right that things are like this between you?” You open your mouth to reply and she shoots you a piercing glare. “Be honest.”

Your shoulders slump. “No,” you admit, meekly.

“Then it doesn’t matter how he’s dealt with this,” she says, slapping her hands over your shoulders to give you a little shake. “You might as well try to fix it. And soon, please. I don’t think I can deal with the fallout from your lover’s spat again in this lifetime let alone this week.”

You apologise mentally to Steph when, going on a week later, you haven’t found the courage to approach Jason. Your temper wavers, constantly, as if unable to make its mind up. You go from shyness, hesitant to even leave your room for fear of bumping into him outside, to indignant, your pride demanding that he be the one to lay his armour down first. He’d accepted the other girl’s number to spite you.

Jealousy curls around your throat, tight, unforgiving, and fills your mind with thoughts of Jason, taking her out, looking at her in the way you want to steal all for yourself, eyes half-lidded and sweet; you imagine his fingers curling around hers, his shoulder brushing against hers on the couch. It makes you feel like you’re going insane, pressing your face into your pillow to let out silent screams, thrashing around on your mattress in the world’s quietest temper tantrum.

Spite drives you to sit in the living room on your day off and put on Gilmore Girls after Jason leaves for work, parking yourself on the couch and starting from the beginning of the series. You reason, despite the kernel of guilt that sits in the pit of your stomach, that even if you were watching the show without him, you a) had watched the show long before the two of you ever had officially started watching it together and b) hadn’t continued without him. The excuses feel pale to you, but you’re stubborn and it’s a harmless slight – one he won’t even know about.

Except, as it happens, you fall asleep in the afternoon and Jason happens to return home just as a new episode begins. You blame it on the tension of the last few days – you’d never slept better than when the two of you had been toeing the line of something more, but fighting with Jason steals sleep from you and you find it difficult to close your eyes without being met with the urge to stand at his door and make him hear you out. Pride and shame war within you at night in place of dreams, and you leave for your classes poorly rested.

You wake at the slam of the front door – you really need to speak to your landlord about replacing it, too heavy to close normally, but you’ve got your hands full being mad – and come face to face with a fuming Jason. He looks between you and the T.V, mouth dropping open.

“Are you serious?” he spits. It’s the first words he’s spoken to you in a week and you draw yourself to your full height, rising off the couch and planting your hands on your hips. His tone lights a fire within you, and you’re itching to let him have it.

“Excuse me?”

He narrows his eyes at you, scoffing. “You’re so...”

“I’m so what,” you sneer and he blusters for a moment, almost apoplectic.

“You’re so childish. What, we don’t talk for a few days and you’re gonna watch it without me?”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re the one that started ignoring me!”

“I didn’t see you trying to talk to me, either,” he retorts and your lip curls in anger.

“Why would I talk to -”

“Oh, I knew you would-” Jason cuts you off, but you’re unwilling to back down, raising your voice higher until the both of you are arguing over each other.

“Yeah, because you know everything – you’re so annoying -”

“I’m annoying-” he sputters, lifting a hand to point at the dishes. “I’m not the one leaving my dirty dishes in the sink. You’re disgusting.”

“Whatever, I don’t care. You wash them if they bother you so much! I’m not the one who forgets to wipe the counter in the bathroom after I use it!”

“That’s because you’re too busy leaving your clothes everywhere!”

On and on it goes, every petty grievance met with a complaint in turn. You argue until you’re heaving breaths and Jason is blue in the face, but none of it means a single thing to you, carrying the anger of a far bigger, unvoiced slight. And then, you don’t know how or why, but in a matter of seconds it is no longer unsaid. You’ve spilled it into the air between the both of you and Jason’s staring at you with a glint in his eye as if to say, finally.

“I can’t believe you took her number!”

And you hate the way your voice hitches on the last word, throat constricting as you stare at him reproachfully. You don’t let him reply, stepping closer angrily with your nails pressing into the palms of your hands, upset and hurt. “I told you not to talk to her and you just took it like-”

“Like what?” he challenges, and you can feel your eyes beginning to sting, humiliation washing hot over you. “Tell me.”

But you don’t know what to tell him. All you can do is stare, chest heaving and eyes wet. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he nods.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He lets out a breath, wiping a hand over his face wearily. “Whatever, I’ll talk. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt, playing like I’m your boyfriend and thinking maybe that’s what you want too–”

Your mouth opens helplessly, heart gripped in a tight vice at the hurt in his voice, his nose screwing up in upset.

“–and then I get the biggest reality check of my life, because I guess it isn’t what you want, but I just figured–” his voice cuts off then, and his eyes are ultramarine as he stares at you. “I just thought you’d be straight up with me.”

Panic engulfs you then, at the resignation in his face and you see it then, the profile of his back as he leaves, the packed boxes and the silence of an apartment too big for just one, the emptiness of the room next door, an ever clear mirror – you’re lurching forward before you can lose him.

“It is what I want!”

He doesn’t leave – yet. Your fingers grasp the sleeve of his hoodie tightly, and you can feel a few errant tears in the hollow beneath your eyes, marking a trail down the curve of your cheek as you stare at him.

“It is what I want,” you repeat yourself. Jason exhales shakily, but doesn’t make to remove your hand.

“Then – the guy?”

“I’m not seeing him,” you tell him, shaking your head fervently. “I haven’t -” Face warming, you duck your head. “For a long time...It’s only been you.”

He blinks slowly, lashes heavy as they flutter, eyes rimmed red. The tip of his nose is pink, too, you notice. Jason sniffs, looking away for a moment.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” his voice is rough, and you take a step closer. Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, and you blink back your grief.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was scared. I guess I thought maybe I’d explain at home, but then...”

You trail off and above you, you can hear him kiss his teeth, face contorting into a grimace.

“I–” he blows out a breath. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you, ‘stead of assuming.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” you tell him sullenly. He grimaces, and you sigh, squeezing his wrist gently. “I should’ve told you, earlier, though – I was too chicken to talk to you, I didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“You should’ve,” he echoes you, lightly, a hesitant grin on his lips. “It wouldn’t have ruined it.”

“I know that now. I thought..” you trail off, embarrassed. He turns his wrist over in yours, your palms kissing, and squeezes your hand encouragingly.

“What?”

“I thought you just wanted no-strings, I thought maybe I was just reading too much into it. You never said anything, either, I thought I’d just be wrecking it if I brought it up,” you admit, averting your eyes. When you chance a look back at him, he looks dismayed.

“I did want it,” he says, lips curving downwards into a frown. “I thought you wanted no-strings, ‘n I was the one being selfish, wanting you to myself.”

The both of you stay there like that, in the middle of your living room, hands linked and an abject feeling of disappointment weighing your hearts down.

“It’s not what I want,” you whisper, desperation lining your voice. “I – I feel crazy, that’s how much it isn’t what I want.”

“What do you want?” he asks, a tremor in his voice.

There’s that feeling again, that choking fear that closes your throat up and roots you to the floor. There’s terror at the thought of being known – but stronger still is the fear of walking away from him at the end of this and it being forever. You struggle, forcing the words out.

“You.” You feel your eyes water once more. “I want you. For me, only. I want you to look at me and steal food from my plate and want me and – and be mine. I don’t care that you nag me about the dishes and I don’t care that you never put your shoes away properly–”

At this, he lets out a choked laugh.

“– and I know we argue all the time, I know I get on your nerves, but I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. Properly, with all the strings attached,” you finish, letting out a shaky breath.

Seconds pass.

“Say something,” you whisper, hand still in his.

Jason offers you a wobbly smile. “I want you to be mine, too,” he says, voice wrought with longing. “It’s all I ever wanted. God, I thought I was going to lose it when Jia started talking about that guy, I kept thinking about him getting to see that side of you, make you smile – bringing you flowers, I want to be the one to do that.”

“You’re the only one I want that from,” you murmur and his lips curve downwards into a rueful smile.

“We’re both pretty stupid, huh?” he remarks. Then, looking away, he clears his throat. “Look, I’m not – I don’t like her like that. I told Alex later not to, uh, y’know. I don’t – I didn’t get her number. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but – yeah.”

You stare at him, feeling pressure behind your eyes. Your voice comes out wobbly when you reply, a congested, “Good.” that has his face dropping, moving to curl his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, and you shake your head, pressing your face into his chest. The smell of coffee clings to his shirt, and you breathe it in, comforted by the feeling of his arms holding you tightly to his chest. You cling to him, unwilling to part too soon after the ugliness of the last week, and it’s only when he laughs your name against your temple, curling inwards to meet your height, tall as he is, do you pull away to look up at him.

“Can you-” your face grows warm. “Will you..kiss me?”

The expression on his face is immeasurably soft. You think, a week ago, if you had asked him this way, he might’ve laughed at the tone of your voice, needled you a bit about being so shy. You understand his gentleness now, though, as he murmurs a,

“Yeah, sweetheart. Come here.”

Your wounds remain tender, and Jason kisses you as though you’re something delicate, something to be treasured, lips slanting over yours, feather light, before he presses closer. He’s syrupy sweet, kissing you slow. There’s a newness in every touch, every shared breath and sigh. Hands that have trailed your waist and hips so many times before now squeeze your palms, fingers intertwined like a promise. He breathes your name against your lips, nose pressing into your cheek, still sticky with tears.

“I love you,” you tell him, and he kisses you once more.

In the middle of your living room, you begin anew.

fin.

author's note: holy fuck. here is 17.6k words of what i thought was going to be 80% smut 20% emotion and ended up being whatever this is. i said i wasn't going to start a longfic during the semester and then this would NOT stop bothering me so. here we are...that content warning looks like an ingredients list for real.

anyway i'll post an author's note on ao3 that doesn't sound like brainrot. probably. idk this fic isn't that deep. reader and jason r extremely unserious and also probably a little shitty but it's okay. it's the roomie verse! we didn't come here for innocent angel characters. let's be serious! also i tried to fit in every single roomieverse hc that i could sorry they r something like easter eggs to me. swifties have t@ylor swift you have ME! i was gonna say something about that woman but let me not speak ab her too much with a folklore inspired username LMAO