#this is all genuine and from the bottom of my heart i carry SO MUCH real loathing for that piece of shit OH MY GODDDDDD

[daegudrama]

Title: Suck It Part 1

Pairing: Reader/Jung Hoseok

Summary: What starts as lingering glances and offhand touches turns into something neither of you can ignore. You're not supposed to fall for someone on tour, especially not him. But between stolen moments and rising tension, it's only a matter of time before everything changes.

Word Count: 13.1k

Part 2

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The room stills as Hoseok walks in, his confident aura palpable. His easy smile and effortless cool seem to draw the air toward him, like gravity bending to his presence. It’s always fascinating to see the way he commands a room without saying a single word. Your breath catches, despite having rehearsed with him and the rest of the dancers for weeks now. That spark of awe hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it's grown, fueled by the moments he’s given you. The encouraging nods,  and the praise he doesn’t usually offer lightly.

Hoseok’s gaze sweeps over the group, and when it lands on you, his grin widens just slightly. “Alright, team. Let’s go hard today. I want the energy up, no holding back,” he says, his voice warm but firm. 

The room bursts into motion, everyone eager to match the energy Hoseok expects. The rehearsal is grueling but electric, every step and every movement carrying weight and purpose. You throw yourself into the choreography, pushing your limits, aware of Hoseok’s eyes occasionally flicking in your direction. The senior dancers seem to notice too, their expressions tight, their movements sharper than usual as if they’re trying to outshine you. Good luck. 

The tension lingers in the air, but you keep your focus. You’ve worked too hard to let their jealousy rattle you now. Every move, every count, is an opportunity to prove yourself, and to everyone else, why you belong here.

By the time Hoseok claps his hands, signaling the end of the rehearsal, your muscles ache, and sweat clings to your skin. “Good work today, everyone,” he says, his voice carrying genuine approval for once. “Let’s keep building on this energy. Get some rest and stay hydrated. We are just a few weeks out now.”

The team disperses, some dancers chatting in low voices while others grab their bags and file out. You linger to stretch, avoiding the sideways glances from the senior dancers as they leave in a cluster. Their whispers trail behind them, but you block it out, focusing instead on your breathing as you pack your things. 

Feeling the need to clear your head, you wander into an empty practice room down the hall. The space is quiet, the mirrors reflecting the stillness. You drop your bag by the wall and start running through a few sections of the choreography on your own. The rhythm grounds you, each movement a reminder of why you’re here. 

“Still working?”

The familiar voice makes you freeze mid-step. You turn to see Hoseok leaning in the doorway, his expression soft but unreadable. He steps inside, letting the door close behind him. 

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here,” you admit, your voice a little shy. 

“I could say the same to you,” he replies with a faint smile. “You already gave everything in rehearsal. What’s keeping you here?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lips. “I guess…I just needed a minute to breathe. To clear my head.”

Hoseok crosses the room, his movements unhurried. “I noticed the way some of them were acting today,” he says, cutting straight to the heart of it. “I wanted to check in with you after rehearsal, but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone.”

Your chest tightens, embarrassment and frustration swirling together. The things you overheard earlier reply in your mind, stinging like fresh wounds. You’d walked into the changing room mid-whisper, and though they stopped when they saw you, the smirks and knowing looks said it all. The other dancers' whispers were sharp, accusing you of things so far from the truth they almost felt laughable—if it didn’t hurt so much. They assume you’ve slept with someone, blackmailed staff, or even bribed Hoseok to get the opportunities you’ve earned. None of it is true. You pour everything into this, long nights perfecting choreography, pushing through exhaustion, and showing up with relentless determination. All you want is to be accepted and appreciated. But it doesn’t matter to them. They refuse to see your effort, dismissing it all as underserved favoritism. Now standing in front of Hoseok, the weight of those baseless accusations feels heavier, but the steady warmth in his gaze offers a sliver of relief. Without needing to hear the details, he seems to know exactly what’s on your mind, and the sincerity in his presence alone reminds you why you’ve fought so hard to be here. 

“I’m fine. Really,” you say quickly.

Hoseok’s eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to gauge how much of that “fine” is genuine. His expression softens, and he steps closer, his tone careful but firm. “You don’t have to say that. I know what it’s like being in the spotlight, having people assume the worst just because they don’t know your story or don’t want to see your talent for what it is. It’s not fair, and it’s not right.”

Your throat tightens, the effort to hold back the emotions you’ve been bottling up threatening to break. You nod, lowering your gaze to the floor. “I’ve worked so hard, Hoseok,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. “Every single thing I’ve gotten, I earned. But no matter how hard I push myself, they don’t see that. They don’t want to see it.”

He exhales softly, a look of understanding crossing his face. “They’re threatened,” he says simply. “By your talent, your energy, and the way you carry yourself. That’s not on you, that’s on them.” His voice drops slightly, more serious now. “But I need you to promise me something: don’t let their insecurities dim your light. You’re here because you deserve to be here. Nothing anyone says can take that away.”

You blink, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. For a moment, the weight on your chest eases, and you feel seen. Not just as a dancer, but as someone who’s been fighting for their place. “Thank you,” you whisper, the sincerity in your tone matching his.

Hoseok smiles gently, his hand twitching like he’s considering reaching out but stops himself. “Don’t thank me for telling the truth,” he says with a wink, his tone lightening. “But if you need to talk, about this, about anything. I’m here. You don’t have to shoulder this alone.”

The warmth in his words stays with you as he steps back, giving you space. He gestures to the empty room with a small grin. “Now, let’s see what you’ve been working on. Show me that fire they’re so jealous of.”

The silence in the practice room becomes a melody of its own as you reset to the opening pose, your heart thundering as you meet Hoseok’s gaze in the mirror. You take a steadying breath and let the music in your head guide you. With each movement, you channel everything—the doubts, the whispers, the quiet anger, and the determination that keeps you moving forward. You’ve rehearsed this choreography countless times, but tonight, it feels different. Hoseok’s presence sharpens your focus, pushing you to dance not just for yourself but for the truth of your abilities.

As you finish, your chest heaving from the exertion, you finally look at him. His arms are crossed, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes tells you everything. He takes a step forward, clapping once, slow and deliberate. “That,” he says, his voice low but filled with certainty, “is exactly why you’re here. No one can take that away from you.”

You don’t trust yourself to respond, simply nodding as you gather your things. Hoseok doesn’t say anything more, giving you a parting glance that lingers just long enough to leave you wondering.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next rehearsal is nothing short of brutal. The room pulses with intensity as bodies move in perfect synchrony, sweat painting the floor beneath them. Each beat of the music is met with sharp, deliberate motion as the group drills the choreography again and again, the echo of sneakers and stomps filling the mirrored space. You’re dancing like muscle memory has taken over, fluid, focused, determined, barely noticing the burning in your limbs anymore. 

After a full run-through, the choreographer finally calls for a break. Everyone collapses to the floor or grabs their water bottles, panting and grateful. You grab a towel to dab the sweat from your neck, catching your breath when the lead choreographer suddenly steps forwards again. 

“Alright, listen up,” he says, his voice slicing through the hum of low conversation. “J-Hope choreographed a new section that will feature three pairs. He’ll be choosing who gets the spotlight tomorrow. Until then, you’ll be working with assigned partners to learn the duet. Learn quickly and show me you want this.”

You sit up straighter as he begins pairing dancers. There’s a flicker of anxiety in your chest, this section is important. It’s not just about technique anymore. It’s about chemistry, presence, making people feel something. 

Your name is called alongside Heeseung’s, and relief washes over you. He’s one of the few who doesn’t treat you like an outsider. Maybe it’s because he’s newer to the team too, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t get involved in the drama. Either way, you’ll take it. 

The music shifts to something lower, grittier, slower. You both watch as the assistant choreographer demonstrates the duet. It’s bold, sensual, and more intimate than anything you’ve done with this group before. Hands sliding over waists, synchronized steps that pull the dancers close before sending them apart again, dramatic pauses that demand eye contact. It’s not raunchy, it’s electric, and it’s meant to make the audience feel something. 

You glance at Heeseung as the demo ends. He just raises his brows with a quiet smirk and says, “Ready?” And just like that, you fall into step. 

Heeseung matches your energy beat for beat. His movement is clean, sharp, but when the music calls for it, he melts into the flow like honey. His facial expressions are deadly. Confident, teasing, completely in sync with the mood. Rehearsing with him doesn't feel like work; it’s fun, even a little thrilling. For the first time in days, you’re reminded why you love this. 

But not everyone is thriving. You notice Mina and her usual crew struggling to grasp the rhythm and comfort of the pairing. Some of the girls look visibly uncomfortable, hesitating at the close contact or fumbling through transitions. There’s a mean spirited satisfaction in watching the girls who usually whisper about you now floundering under pressure. Maybe it’s petty, but it feels like karma is right on time. 

“YN and Heeseung, come to the front.”

You both step forward, brushing past someone who audibly sighs and rolls their eyes behind you. The choreographer ignores it, gesturing for you two to demonstrate. 

“Watch them,” he says to the rest of the room. “This is what I’m looking for.”

The music kicks in and you lose yourself in it. You give every step your full attention, every beat your best expression, letting the tension and chemistry between you and Heeseung do the work. When the final pose hits and the music fades, the room is quiet before the choreographer claps once, satisfied, but only with you and Heeseung.

“Again,” he says simply. And so you do it again. And again. Until you stop counting.

By the time rehearsal ends, your shirt is sticking to your back and your thighs ache with the effort of hours spent pushing yourself to the limit. You’re grabbing your things when a familiar voice calls your name. 

“Hey!” Yunjin jogs up beside you, practically bouncing. “You killed that duet. Like, seriously—if Hoseok doesn’t pick you tomorrow he’s blind. That section is so good. I love it.”

You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

Yunjin narrows hers. “Okay. What’s up? You’re not freaking out about Mina again, are you?”

“I’m not freaking out,” you say quickly, but the look on her face tells you she doesn’t buy it. You sigh. “I just…we cannot mess up tomorrow. Hoseok is going to be extra critical. We have to be perfect.”

Yunjin giggles. “You sound like you’re about to audition for the Olympics or something.”

“We kind of are. The duet is a big deal.”

A mocking voice chimes in from behind you. “As if he would pick you.”

You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. Mina.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one hip cocked like she owns the hallway. Her perfectly arched eyebrow is raised, her lips curl into a smug little smirk. There’s no denying she’s talented, probably one of the best dancers in the crew, but her jealousy has always poisoned her shine. 

You turn to face her slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “You should focus on your own part before worrying about mine.”

Mina’s smile tightens, but she doesn’t reply right away. Her gaze flicks to Yunjin and then back to you, eyes narrowed. “We’ll see who he picks tomorrow.”

She walks off without another word, her ponytail swinging like a warning behind her. 

Yunjin scoffs beside you. “She’s just mad you were asked to demonstrate. Again.”

“Still,” you murmur, staring down the hallway. “Tomorrow is going to be a war.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next day, the rehearsal room buzzes with nervous energy before anyone even steps onto the floor. There’s an edge to every voice, a sense that something important is about to happen. You can feel it in your bones. Today matters.

You’re already stretching in the corner when thet door swings open and Hoseok walks in, sunglasses perched on his nose, a cap pulled low, and that unmistakable aura trailing behind him like static electricity. The room seems to exhale all at once, tension morphing into something else. Anticipation, maybe. Respect. He’s calm but focused, nodding a silent greeting to the choreographer and a few dancers he passes on the way in. Then his eyes sweep the room. 

When they land on you, he gives a small smile, barely there, but enough to make your stomach flip for a second before you snap your attention back to your warm up. He’s always been kind, professional, but tough. Hoseok doesn’t hand out praise easily. You have to earn it.

“Alright team,” he says, clapping once, his voice sharper than the last time you heard it. “I’ve seen the footage from yesterday. Some of it was promising. Some of it…needs work.”

A few dancers shift uncomfortably. Mina stiffens beside you.

“We’re going to run all the pair choreo. I want to see full energy, no holding back. Expressions. Intensity. Chemistry. Everything.” He pauses. “At the end of rehearsal, I’ll be choosing three pairs to feature.”

There’s a murmur through the group, some excited, some anxious. Hoseok doesn’t reveal the last part of the plan, but the stakes are already high. The chance to be in a featured pair for a section he choreographed? That’s already enough to make people push past their limits. 

You and Heeseung watch from the sidelines as the first duets go up. Some are good, technically clean, and well rehearsed. Others lack a spark. Mina’s routine is sharp, but her partner feels like an afterthought. You can almost see her trying too hard to win instead of just dance. 

Finally, your names are called.

You move into position with Heeseung, exchanging one quick glance before the music hits.

And then, it’s all instinct. 

You both dive into the choreo like you’ve done this hundreds of times, like you were made to move together. There’s tension, heat, and a boldness to every step. Your hands slide into places like muscle memory, your eyes lock when they need to, and your movements match so seamlessly it barely feels like performance, it feels like connection. 

When the final beat hits and you hold the last pose, the silence in the room feels different. 

Then Hoseok claps. Just once. Crisp and deliberate. 

“That,” Hoseok says, a smile creeping onto his face. “That’s the energy I want.”

You pull back slightly, catching your breath as the music fades. Heeseung subtly bumps your shoulder with his, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. 

“Take five,” Hoseok says. “Then we’ll run it one last time with the final picks.”

You step off to the side, heart still pounding, when Yunjin beelines for you with wide eyes. 

“He clapped,” she hisses, gripping your arm like she might explode. “You know what that means.”

You shrug like it’s no big deal, but you’re still buzzing. Hoseok never claps for the group unless something really hits. The look in his eyes when you're finished…there was something extra there. Something calculating. 

Across the room, Mina stares daggers through your reflection, arms crossed so tightly it looks painful. You ignore her.

When the break ends, everyone regathers, tension thick in the air.

Hoseok stands at the front again. “I’ve made my decisions,” he says. “These three pairs will be featured in the sections.”

He starts calling names—Heeseung and your name first.

Your stomach flips. You don’t look at Mina, but you can practically feel the steam coming off her. 

Hoseok finishes naming the other two pairs, then adds, “One more thing.”

The room stills.

“There’s another slot. Not a pair.” He pauses just long enough for everyone to start glancing around. “One dancer does the duet with me.”

You blink.

A duet with Hoseok? A sharp, electric silence stretches through the room as he scans the group again, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll decide after one final run through,” he says, stepping back. “So if you’re holding back…now’s your last chance.” 

The final run-through feels heavier, like everyone is pushing beyond their limits. The chosen pairs are locked in, but that solo duet spot is still up for grabs.

You give the routine everything. Every movement, every look, every shift of weight is intentional. You know Hoseok is watching—really watching—and there’s no room for mistakes. Heeseung matches your energy, and for a second, you forget about the stakes, about the competition. It’s just you and the music, your body moving like it belongs in this moment.

When the last beat lands, you hold your final pose, breathless, feeling the weight of Hoseok’s stare.

Then, after a long pause, he exhales and nods.

“Alright.” His voice is calm, but the decision is final. “The featured three pairs are set. And for the solo…”

The tension is thick. You swear you hear someone’s breath hitch.

“…YN.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

There’s a ripple of reaction around you, some hushed murmurs, a sharp intake of breath. Mina stiffens, her arms crossing, jaw tight.

Hoseok continues, his voice steady. “It’s a shame to separate such a strong pair, but YN is the best pick for this.” His eyes flicker to Heeseung for a brief moment before returning to you. “You have the control, the expression, and the versatility this role needs.”

You barely register Yunjin’s hand squeezing yours in excitement before Hoseok speaks again.

“Heeseung, you’ll be with Yunjin.”

Yunjin lets out a tiny squeak, trying, and failing, to keep her composure. Heeseung just grins, giving her an encouraging nod.

That’s it. That’s the final lineup.

You and Hoseok in the front. Three pairs behind.

Mina…nowhere.

The realization sinks in across the room, and you don’t miss the way her hands clench into fists at her sides, but she says nothing. Doesn’t make a scene. Just lifts her chin slightly, as if daring anyone to pity her.

Hoseok claps his hands together. “That’s it. Rehearsal’s over. Get some rest and we run full-out tomorrow.”

You exhale, the adrenaline still pulsing through you.

As the dancers begin filtering out, Yunjin throws an arm around your shoulder, practically bouncing. “Are you kidding me? With Hoseok? Front and center? You’re about to be iconic.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe it.”

She grins. “Believe it. And be ready because if he’s dancing with you, he’s expecting perfection.”

You already know that. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel terrifying.

It feels like a challenge you’re ready to take.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The room empties out slowly, dancers murmuring their goodbyes as they head for the exit. You start to follow Yunjin, but before you can take another step, Hoseok’s voice calls out behind you.

“YN, stay for a minute.” Just beyond the doorway you see Yunjin pause. Hoseok notices and addresses her. “Yunjin, I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”

You pause, turning back to face him. He stands in the center of the room, rolling his shoulders out, an easy confidence in his stance. Your heart kicks up slightly. You take a slow breath, stepping back onto the dance floor as the last of the others disappear down the hallway. The door swings shut, leaving just the two of you in the massive rehearsal space.

Hoseok tilts his head, studying you for a beat before speaking. “I wanted to run through a few things. It’s important that we’re comfortable with each other before we start full rehearsals with this.”

You nod, shifting your weight slightly. It makes sense. Dance, especially a duet, is about trust.

“I know you can handle yourself,” Hoseok continues. “You’re an amazing dancer. But I also know it can be intimidating dancing with someone like me.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he raises an eyebrow, and you know he’s right.

It’s not that you doubt your skill. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. But Hoseok is Hoseok. Years of experience, endless stage presence, and an almost supernatural ability to make every move feel effortless. It’s impossible not to feel the weight of that.

Still, you refuse to let nerves show. “I’ll be fine,” you say.

He grins. “Good. Then let’s start.”

You move into position. The choreography isn’t foreign anymore, but the difference is immediate—this isn’t Heeseung. He is a few inches shorter than your previous partner and Hoseok moves with a fluidity and confidence that makes every step feel like second nature to him.

But when it comes time to place your hands on him, you hesitate. It’s just for a fraction of a second, but he notices.

Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Pretend I’m Heeseung.”

You blink.

“It’s the same thing,” he says easily. “Same hands, same pressure. No difference.”

No difference. Right. You swallow, nodding, and this time, when your hands find their place, you commit to it.

Hoseok hums approvingly. “Better. But—” He shifts, taking your wrists in his hands, adjusting them slightly. His grip is warm, firm but not forceful. “More weight here. Less here. Feel the difference?”

You do. He guides you through it, step by step, his touch light but precise. The smallest corrections, pressure, angles, breath control and as you move, something shifts.

The hesitation melts away, replaced by something new. Tension. Not the bad kind. The kind that makes every movement electric, every glance charged. Hoseok notices it too, but he doesn’t acknowledge it outright. He just meets your eyes for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away.

“Good,” he says simply. “That’s enough for now.”

You exhale, feeling something unravel inside you.

For a while, neither of you says anything. You both just sit on the floor, catching your breath. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say, “I danced from when I was three until I was fifteen. I don’t know how they got the idea I just started a few years ago. Dance was my whole life for most of my life.”

Hoseok turns his head slightly, listening.

“I had to stop because I tore my ACL.” You glance down at your knee, absently tracing a pattern on your leggings. “I recovered pretty fast, but when I tried to come back, my peers had already gotten too far ahead. I felt like I couldn’t compete anymore.”

You don’t look at him, but you can feel him watching you. 

“So I quit.” You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I didn’t dance at all for years. Until about three years ago.”

Hoseok leans back on his hands. “What changed?”

Your lips curve slightly. “I saw a BTS dance practice.” His eyebrows lift in surprise. “I don’t even remember which one it was,” you admit, shaking your head. “But something about the way you guys moved made me want to move again. I started learning choreography for fun and before I knew it…I was back.”

A beat of silence passes before he speaks again.

“That’s crazy,” he murmurs. Then softer, “In a good way.”

You finally glance at him, and there’s something unreadable in his expression. A flicker of something behind his eyes, like he’s processing more than he’s saying. And then he smiles, slow and knowing. 

“Well,” he says, pushing himself to his feet and offering a hand. “Guess that means this dance is a full-circle moment, huh?”

Your chest tightens just a little. You take his hand.

And as he pulls you up, you think—yeah. Maybe it is. Your hand is still warm from his as you gather your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You expect him to head out first, maybe give a casual “see you tomorrow,” but instead, Hoseok lingers near the door, waiting for you. 

“You ready?” he asks.

You blink. “Uh…yeah.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

You give him a sideways glance. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I said I would,” he cuts in, gentle but firm. “Told Yunjin I’d get you home safe.”

You’re not sure if he’s doing it out of politeness or something else, but you nod anyway. “Okay.”

The night air is cool when you step outside the building, still warm from rehearsal. Hoseok walks beside you, his hood pulled up again, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He doesn’t say much at first, and neither do you. It’s a comfortable kind of quiet, the kind that settles in when something meaningful just happened.

You expect him to point you toward the train or call a staff car to take you home.

Instead, he falls into step beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to walk me,” you say gently, glancing over.

He shrugs. “I know.”

You pause. “Then why are you?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer right away. He keeps his gaze forward, but you catch the faintest lift of his lips. “I said I’d make sure you got home safe, didn’t I?”

You smile softly, heart fluttering. “You didn’t have to actually do that. People are gonna talk.”

“They already do,” he says, voice light, teasing. “Might as well make it worth it.”

You laugh, and he grins at the sound.

As you walk, the sharp edges of the professional Hoseok, the perfectionist, the dance leader, the choreographer, start to fade away. Instead, something else emerges. Softer. Warmer. This is the version of him you’ve only seen in clips. The one who makes dumb jokes on Run BTS, laughs with his whole chest, and gets way too into silly games.

“You know,” he says, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, “you looked like you were gonna pass out the first time I corrected your placement.”

“I was not,” you protest, bumping your shoulder lightly into his. “Okay, maybe a little. You’re kind of a big deal.”

He laughs. “Nah. I’m just a guy who never stops dancing. Kind of annoying, actually.”

You shake your head. “You’re really not.”

There’s a pause, and when you glance over, he’s watching you with that same unreadable look from the studio. It’s not intense or overwhelming, it’s just steady. Thoughtful.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he tells you. “You’re a good dancer and you feel the music. That’s rare.”

Your cheeks warm. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I said you inspired me.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he replies. “You’ve got something.”

You walk a few more paces in silence before his voice comes again, this time quieter. “And hey…I meant the other thing, too.”

You glance at him.

“If something’s ever messing with your head, whatever it is, you can tell me.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”

The memory of that conversation in the empty studio flashes through your mind, the way his voice had softened when he told you he knew what it was like, the way he saw straight through you without prying. You swallow the sudden lump in your throat.

“I’ll remember that,” you say quietly.

He nods like that’s enough. You reach your building quicker than you thought. When you stop in front of the gate, you half expect him to wave you off and leave. Instead, Hoseok lingers.

“This is me,” you say, turning to him.

He nods, taking a step back but not quite leaving. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be brutal.”

You smile. “Looking forward to it.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, then gives a small salute and turns to go. You don’t move until he disappears around the corner.

Inside, the lights are on. Yunjin is waiting, perched on the edge of the couch, a snack bag in her lap and a look of pure, concentrated mischief on her face.

You don’t even get your shoes off before she pounces.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

You blink, taking a step away from her. “I—”

She stands. “Nope. Don’t even try to play it cool. You stayed late with J-Hope. You walked home with J-Hope. And you’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” you mumble, which only makes her laugh harder.

“You so are,” she says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the couch. “Spill. Every little detail. Right now.”

And you do. Eventually.

But as you tell her the story, there’s one part you leave out. A moment too small to explain, but impossible to forget:

The way Hoseok looked at you when he said, “You can tell me anything.”

Like he meant it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The studio is quiet now. Most of the dancers have filtered out, the buzz of today’s rehearsal replaced with the faint hum of a speaker left on low volume. You’re sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of you, rolling out your calves with a foam roller. The mirror reflects the tired set of your shoulders, your hair sticking to your neck, and the slightly dazed look in your eyes.

You’re not sure when Hoseok came back in, but you hear the door click shut and the soft shuffle of his steps before he drops onto the floor beside you.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just sits close enough that your arms could brush if you leaned a little to the side. Then he speaks and it’s quiet, but direct.

“You good?”

You glance at him, blinking like you hadn’t expected him to actually sit down.

“Yeah,” you say quickly. Too quickly. “Just tired.”

Hoseok doesn’t look convinced. His expression is steady, unreadable like it always is when he’s being careful with his words.

“You danced like you were somewhere else today,” he says, not unkindly. “Still sharp, but…distracted. Off. It wasn’t physical, it was in your head.”

You press your lips together, pretending to focus on the roller beneath your thigh. “It’s nothing serious. Just some…catty stuff.”

He tilts his head. “Catty like ‘someone wore the same shoes as me,’ or catty like ‘people are being assholes behind your back’?”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

Hoseok shifts his weight, leaning forward a little. His voice softens, but there’s an edge of seriousness under it. “It clearly does matter. If something’s going on that’s affecting how you feel here, I need to know.”

You glance at him. His brows are drawn in concern, not in a nosy way, but in that quiet, careful way of someone who’s watching more closely than he lets on.

You try to smile, but it feels tight. “It’s just some girls being salty. Nothing new.”

“Was it Mina?”

You pause. That alone tells him everything.

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “What did they say?”

You shake your head, grabbing your water bottle and taking a long sip to stall.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, gentler now. “I’m not asking because I want drama. I just don’t like the idea of you being put in a bad spot because of me.”

You blink. “You?”

He meets your gaze, expression open. “I’ve been around long enough to know what people say when they think attention isn’t fair. Especially when it comes from someone like me. I shouldn’t have pulled you aside yesterday without making it clear to the group why. It gave them room to assume things.”

Your chest tightens. “It’s not your fault.”

“But they’re whispering about you, aren’t they?”

You look down. “Yeah,” you admit softly. “They said I must’ve begged for the rehearsal. Or offered something in return. That I don’t deserve the spot.”

There’s a heavy silence. Hoseok doesn't respond right away.

When you glance up, his jaw is tight, eyes unreadable.

“I can talk to them,” he offers.

You shake your head instantly. “No. Please don’t. That would just make it worse. If they think I ran to you, they’ll hate me even more.”

He doesn’t argue, but you can feel the tension in him.

“You shouldn't have to deal with this,” he says finally, quieter than before. “None of this is your fault. You work hard. You earned your spot. And anyone who can’t see that, who chooses not to see it, doesn’t deserve to be taken seriously.”

You nod, barely. He watches you for a moment longer, then shifts slightly, bumping your knee with his.

“You can tell me anything, you know.”

You look over at him.

“I mean it,” he says. “Even if we’re not close or whatever yet. If stuff like this keeps happening, please don’t carry it alone.”

You nod again, this time more sincerely.

“Thanks,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He gives you a small smile, then gets to his feet and holds out a hand.

“C’mon. Show me where you got stuck earlier. Let’s work through it before we call it.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, and before you can say anything, he’s already stepping back toward the center of the studio gesturing for you to follow.

“Let’s go from the beginning,” he says, sliding his foot across the floor into position. “Just our duet. No pressure…feel it out.”

You nod and move into place, facing him, your heart still a little tight from the conversation, but lighter than before. The music kicks in low from the speaker, just loud enough to hear the rhythm, and you both fall into motion.

You mirror each other for a few counts before stepping into the partnered section, his hands catching yours, the turn, the lift, the slow lean-in that has your breath catching for a reason that has nothing to do with the choreography.

His eyes flick up to meet yours for just a second, the barest glint of mischief in them.

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” he asks mid-spin, voice teasing as you land.

You blink, confused. “What?”

“Your grip is kind of intense,” he jokes, laughing softly.

You scoff and roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush all the same. “Maybe I am mad at you.”

“Damn. I knew it,” he says dramatically, tossing his head back in mock despair before resetting for the next movement. “Guess I’ll go cry in the corner. Alone. With my incredible sense of rhythm.”

You huff a laugh, the tightness in your chest easing just a bit more.

The next run-through goes smoother. Your timing aligns perfectly, and the tension that’s been coiled in your body all morning starts to melt away. Between counts, Hoseok slips into goofy-mode. He’s pulling exaggerated faces during transitions, pretending to wobble like a baby deer when you jump, and fake-swooning when you land a tricky turn.

“You trying to show me up?” he asks between breaths, hands on his hips. “I thought this was a partnership.”

You smirk. “Sounds like someone’s feeling threatened.”

He gasps. “Okay. Wow. I’m being disrespected in my own studio.”

You giggle, covering your mouth. “You started it.”

“Me?” He points to himself with wide eyes. “I’m innocent.”

“You’re literally never innocent.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Yeah, but I’m cute.”

You hesitate just long enough for him to notice, your brain scrambling to process whether that was flirting or just…Hoseok being Hoseok.

He grins like he knows exactly what he’s doing and spins toward the mirror, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair in exaggerated slow-motion. “Okay. Again from the top,” he declares dramatically. “This time with ten percent more flirtation and twenty percent more sass.”

You snort. “Is that the official note?”

“Yes. I’m very professional.”

He catches your eye in the mirror, and you smile without meaning to. He returns it, softer this time, a little more real.

“Seriously,” he says, tone dropping just a bit, “you good now?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Hoseok just nods, like he expected nothing less, and lifts a hand toward the speaker. “Then let’s dance.”

And this time, when the music starts again, you really let yourself move.

The music flows around you, the rhythm pulling you back into your body as you and Hoseok move together again. Everything sharpens, the way your hands connect, the heat of exertion building under your skin, the way he smiles when you hit the counts just right.

You’re in the final eight, the part where your bodies come close—close enough that your breath catches and you almost forget you’re supposed to keep moving. Hoseok’s palm slides to the small of your back, guiding you through the turn. His voice is low but playful.

“See?” he says. “Told you we’d get it.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift. “You’re not always right, you know.”

“I am when it comes to this,” he grins. “And also when it comes to—”

The studio door creaks open with a soft click.

You both freeze.

He’s still close. His hand is still on your waist. Your breath still feels just a little too loud in your throat.

Sana stands in the doorway, blinking like she didn’t expect to see anyone. Her brows lift a fraction as she takes in the scene, your closeness, the music, the fact that you’re both very clearly in the middle of something.

“Oh,” she says, smiling a little too wide. “Didn’t realize there was still rehearsal going on.”

You step back immediately, your body going stiff as you reach for your water bottle, suddenly hyper-aware of how this must look.

Hoseok clears his throat, casual but a little clipped. “Private practice,” he says evenly. “We’re running duet sections.”

Sana’s eyes flick between you two. “Right. Of course.” Her tone is perfectly polite, but there’s something just beneath it. You know she’ll twist this. She doesn’t need evidence, just the image.

She lingers a second longer before turning toward the lockers. “Don’t mind me,” she calls over her shoulder. “Just grabbing my sweatshirt.”

You glance at Hoseok, but he’s already looking at you.

“Ignore her,” he says under his breath. “This is our time. Let her talk if she wants.”

But your chest has already tightened again.

You nod, trying to keep the knot in your stomach from growing. “Let’s just finish the run.”

He hesitates, eyes scanning your face, then gives a soft, reassuring smile. “Okay. From the top. Let’s kill it.”

The music starts again, but it’s harder now to ignore the whispers that you know are coming.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The studio is already humming with quiet chatter and the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor when you walk in the next morning. Your duffel hangs heavy on your shoulder, but not as heavy as the pit in your stomach. The last rehearsal before tour. The final run of the full program. It should feel exciting.

Instead, the energy feels…off.

You’re barely a few steps inside when you catch it. Low whispers, the kind that stop just as quickly as they start. You glance toward the mirrors, where Sana and Mina are stretching with two other girls. One of them, Momo, smirks and leans in closer to Mina, who’s pretending to focus on her split stretch.

“Must’ve been a late night,” Mina says under her breath, not looking at you.

Sana hums thoughtfully. “Mm. Guess some people need the extra help.”

The girls snicker, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks. Yunjin, walking just behind you, hears it too. She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “I swear to god,” but you gently tug on her arm before she can say anything louder.

“Not worth it,” you murmur.

Yunjin shoots you a glare, protective and fiery. “They think they’re slick, but they’re just sad.”

You give her a small smile, but the edge of it wavers.

You take your usual spot on the floor to begin warming up, trying to stay focused, but the tension in the room is palpable. Everyone knows this is a big day. The full run-through. All eyes will be on Hoseok’s final decisions who shines, who doesn’t, and who might get more spotlight once the tour kicks off.

Your nerves were already frayed, but now the added scrutiny. The stares, the fake laughter, the whispered theories about why Hoseok chose you for the duet, it makes your stomach churn.

You stretch in silence, headphones in, trying to block them out. You know you earned your place. You know. But it doesn’t stop the noise.

Hoseok walks in fifteen minutes later, ball cap low over his brow and a coffee in hand. The room shifts instantly. Everyone straightens, energy tightening like a wire pulled taut.

His eyes flick across the studio as he greets everyone with a quick, “Morning,” before his gaze lands briefly on you.

It lingers for just a second.

You don’t smile. You don’t react.

You can’t. Not with every pair of eyes watching.

“Alright,” Hoseok claps his hands together. “Let’s run it top to bottom. No stops. Treat it like a real show. Find your focus and give me everything you’ve got.”

People start moving to their places, but the whispers haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve just gone quieter slinking under the surface like snakes in tall grass.

You swallow hard and exhale through your nose. One more rehearsal. Then the tour begins, and maybe hopefully you’ll finally be too busy proving yourself to hear them at all.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The first few shows in Seoul go off without a hitch. Every cue lands, every formation clicks, and the energy in the KSPO Dome is electric. Hoseok commands the stage like he was born on it, and somehow, being beside him under the lights feels more natural than nerve-wracking. You move in sync, you hit every mark, and the crowd responds with deafening cheers that echo in your chest long after you leave the stage.

But the online reaction? A different story. 

Korean fans aren’t exactly thrilled about the close choreography between you and Hoseok. Some accuse the creative team of pushing too hard for attention, as if this wasn’t his idea. Others aren’t shy about voicing their discomfort, dissecting every interaction between the two of you with brutal intensity.You don’t let it get to you, you’ve worked too hard to be shaken by faceless usernames and half baked speculation.

Brooklyn night one is just as electric. The crowd is louder, rowdier, and when you step off stage soaked in sweat, there’s a fire in your blood that you don’t want to put out.

Then comes night two and the day starts to unravel just a few hours before showtime.

You’re in the dressing room, tying your hair back, when the stage manager walks in looking like she’s carrying a live grenade. “Wardrobe issue. One of the interns hung your outfits in the wrong place and they are ruined,” she says, holding up her phone. “Customs seized the backup costumes when they came into the U.S. The shipment paperwork was flagged.”

You blink. “All of them?”

“Everything. Yours, the duets, even the encore outfits.”

Your stomach sinks. “So…what are we supposed to wear?”

She disappears behind a garment rack and pulls out a hanger. It holds a cropped jersey with the tour logo in silver glitter across the chest. On the back, it reads in huge block letters:

HOPE’S GIRL

You stare. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“They were from a scrapped number. We have a full box of them in the truck. They’re clean, they’re pressed, and they fit the aesthetic.”

You eye the jersey. It’s cute. Actually, it’s really cute. But it’s also really cropped, your stomach will be fully on display. And the name on the back? Way too bold.

“Isn’t this a little…” you gesture vaguely at the lettering. “Much?”

“Do you want to fly to Newark and sweet talk the customs agents yourself?” the manager asks, half-joking, half-panicked. “Because call time’s in thirty.”

You don’t have a choice. You change.

The jersey fits like it was made for you. Snug in all the right places, sleeves cuffed just above the elbow, hem hovering above your waist. You check yourself in the mirror, trying to ignore the lettering burning into your back.

When you step out, conversations stall. A few dancers glance over. One of the stylists lets out a low whistle. Then Hoseok turns, mid-discussion with a crew member, and his eyes land on you.

He freezes.

Then, slowly, he grins. Not the polite stage smile. The real one. The one that makes his eyes crinkle and your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the jersey. You glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of just how much skin you’re showing, and the text stretched across your shoulder blades.

Still, the moment passes. The music starts. The show goes on. But the mood sticks with you. A little unsettled, a little unsure. You look amazing. The crowd will scream. The performance will be flawless.

So why do you feel so weird inside?

The lights dim. The roar of the Barclays Center swells around you like a wave, and the opening VCR flickers to life on the screens above the stage. You’re already in place, heart hammering in your chest, fingers twitching at your sides as you wait for the music to drop.

The crowd is louder tonight, maybe it’s the weekend energy, maybe it’s just New York. Maybe it’s the jersey.

Your jersey.

The one that reads HOPE’S GIRL in massive silver letters across your back.

You try to shake it off. Focus. Breathe. You know the routine inside and out, muscle memory will take over. But as the spotlight hits and the opening beats explode through the arena, you can’t help the flare of heat that climbs your neck when you and Hoseok hit your first mark center stage.

He’s already smirking when he looks at you.

You swear it’s a little cockier than usual.

The crowd loses it when he reaches for you during the duet section. His hand grazes your waist, right where the cropped jersey ends, and you hear the collective shriek ripple through the venue like a current. You don't falter, not even for a beat, but your pulse skitters. You wonder if he notices. (He does.)

The chemistry tonight is different. Tighter. Sharper. Every move is crisp, charged, laced with something just below the surface. Hoseok doesn’t break character once, but there’s something extra in the way he watches you, like he’s feeding off the crowd’s energy, and you're the spark.

At one point, he leans in for a choreographed moment—faces close, breaths shared—and you swear you catch him whispering, “They’re gonna riot.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

Instead, you snap into the next move, heart pounding, mind focused, eyes locked.

When the last beat hits and the lights go black, the arena erupts. It’s deafening. Screams echo through your bones as the two of you jog offstage, breathless and slick with sweat. You’re grinning, high on adrenaline, already tugging your in-ear out when Hoseok turns to you in the wings.

“You crushed that,” he says, still breathless. “That jersey…” He whistles, grinning. “Might have started a war.”

You roll your eyes, breath hitching on a laugh. “Don’t even.”

But he just flashes that infuriating smile again. “Hope’s girl, huh?”

You shove his shoulder, but your cheeks burn, and even as the crew moves around you resetting for the next set, he lingers a second longer, eyes lingering like he’s memorizing you all over again.

The show ends in a blur of lights and music, the crowd's cheers still ringing in your ears as you make your way backstage. Your body aches from the intense performance, sweat dripping down your back as you strip off the jersey, feeling the cool air hit your skin. You’re breathing hard, but there’s a high buzzing through you, an energy that doesn’t quite fade yet.

Yunjin is there in an instant, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Okay, first of all,” she starts, eyes wide, “what was that?! You were literally on fire tonight. You looked so hot, I almost couldn’t concentrate! Like, how does that even happen?”

You laugh, wiping your face with a towel. “It was just the jersey, Yunjin.”

“Just the jersey?” She places a hand over her heart dramatically. “You’re telling me you don’t know what you were doing out there? The way it clung to you, the way you moved, if I were in the crowd, I’d be screaming my head off. Hoseok probably had to be holding himself back from jumping off stage just to catch you.”

You try not to grin, but the thought makes your chest tighten. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not. Babe, I don’t even know how you stayed so calm. I was practically hyperventilating on the sidelines watching you. You’re like…a goddess.”

Before you can reply, the sound of footsteps clicks through the hallway, and you know who it is before you even turn around.

Mina and Sana.

“Well, well,” Sana says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “look who’s enjoying the spotlight.”

Mina crosses her arms, eyes narrowing at the exposed skin of your stomach. “Must be nice. Wearing a jersey with ‘Hope’s Girl’ on it. Subtle.”

You don’t respond immediately, but you feel the tension creeping up your spine. Yunjin, however, isn’t having it.

“Really? That’s what you’re gonna focus on?” she shoots back, eyes flashing. “I think we all know the story behind the jersey, and it’s not like she went around asking for this attention.”

Sana smirks, a little too pleased with herself. “Sure, it’s just a scraped costume item. But only one of us got assigned that particular one, didn’t we?”

Mina’s gaze sharpens, her tone fake-sweet. “Yeah, just be careful. You might get too comfortable being everyone’s center of attention, those things don’t last long.”

Her words sting, but you keep your face neutral. You want to tell them to mind their business, but you hold back, not wanting to make a scene.

Yunjin steps closer, her voice low and cutting. “You guys are real classy, huh? Try not to be so obvious.”

Mina and Sana share a look before walking off, their footsteps echoing down the hall like a statement.

Yunjin exhales sharply, her fists clenched at her sides. “Seriously. Do they ever stop?”

You shrug, trying to shake it off. “Let them talk. They don’t get to decide what’s true.”

“Yeah, but damn, it’s hard not to hear them when they’re that loud,” Yunjin mutters, her eyes still on the retreating figures.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next few stops of the U.S. leg flow like muscle memory. Rehearsals, shows, after-show hangouts in hotel rooms or wherever you can find food that late. Everyone slips into their own rhythms. Little cliques form, some loud and chaotic, some quieter and tired. You and Yunjin are the latter, always rooming together, always ending the night whispering half-asleep jokes under hotel comforters, letting the adrenaline of performance burn off slowly.

Hoseok is kind to everyone, but there’s something a little softer in how he treats you. Even when he’s obviously exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and a  gravelly voice. He'll still toss you a grin in passing, a warm “good work today,” or a brief shoulder squeeze as he walks by. Nothing intense. Nothing you can’t explain away. But still, it lingers.

Mexico City feels different the moment the plane touches down.

The crowd is electric, louder than anything so far, and the setlist tonight gives the dancers a chance to shine, one particular number puts the girls front and center, a line of you holding onto each other’s hips, all sweat-slick skin and sharp movement, hip thrusts and rhythm pulsing through the floor.

You barely even register it when Mina’s fingers dig into your waist. Not at first.

But then she digs. Sharp nails through the thin fabric of your costume, pressing so hard it feels like they’re carving into you.

You flinch, barely, but your body keeps moving like it’s on autopilot. You smile, you hit every beat, you power through. There’s a camera somewhere. Fans screaming. You don’t miss a step. But when you hit the wings, adrenaline drops all at once, and the pain settles in.

You rush toward the wardrobe first thing, heart thudding in your chest. “Hey, do we—do we have any backup options?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level. “Like...something with more coverage?”

Thankfully, they do now. You swap out the crop top and slip into something looser. The scratches burn, but at least they’re not visible anymore.

You don’t think anyone noticed.

Later, the green room is quiet. Most of the dancers have drifted out, some heading to the hotel, others grabbing food or showering off the performance high. You stay behind to grab a hoodie from the top shelf of the wardrobe racks, reaching up on your toes.

The door creaks open behind you.

“Hey—” Hoseok’s voice cuts off. “Wait.”

You pause mid-reach, glancing over your shoulder.

He’s standing just inside the doorway, brow furrowed, eyes locked on your waist.

You look down.

Your shirt has ridden up just enough to show the angry red scratches along your skin, faint but clearly there. His expression shifts instantly, quiet concern turning sharp.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer.

You tug your shirt down quickly. “It’s nothing. Costume just rubbed me the wrong way.”

He gives you a look, one that says he doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Can I see?” he asks gently, his voice low, eyes searching yours.

You hesitate, then nod once, slowly lifting the hem of your shirt just enough to show the marks along your side.

His breath catches. “Jesus,” he mutters, kneeling slightly to get a closer look. “These are from nails.”

You lower your shirt again, already bracing.

“I have to tell management,” he says, voice calm but firm.

“No.” You shake your head. “Hoseok, please. You can’t.”

His jaw clenches. “She drew blood. You don’t do that by accident.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “But if you report her, she’ll know it came from me. She already hates me enough.”

“I don’t care if she hates you. She crossed a line.”

You look down, fists tightening at your sides. “And if she gets reprimanded? Cut? Then every girl on this tour is going to think I’m trying to get people fired just because I’m close to you.”

“You’re not close to me,” he says without thinking, then winces. “I mean—not like that. I just mean, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

���Exactly,” you say. “So don’t make it worse.”

There’s a long pause. His gaze softens a little, but the tension’s still there, tight in his shoulders.

“I won’t go to management,” he says finally. “But only if you swear to tell me if she touches you again.”

You nod slowly. “Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He exhales through his nose, clearly still not thrilled, but lets it go, for now. Then, a little softer, “You didn’t even flinch out there. No one would’ve known.”

You offer a small shrug. “Didn’t want to mess up the show.”

Something flashes behind his eyes—pride, maybe. Or something warmer. He doesn’t say it out loud, but you can feel it settle between you.

“Still,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “you shouldn’t have to bleed for a stage.”

Back at the hotel, it’s just past midnight. You and Yunjin are in your room, both freshly showered, your hair still damp as you sit cross-legged on your bed scrolling through messages. She’s across from you, stretched out on her stomach and picking at a protein bar with barely-contained boredom.

“God, we should order fries or something,” she mumbles into her arms. “I know it’s late, but I’m still wired.”

You laugh softly, about to answer then you stretch.

Your shirt lifts just enough to reveal a faint red line on your side.

Yunjin sits up like she’s been electrocuted.

“What the hell is that?” Her voice is sharp, alarmed. She scrambles over the bed toward you, pushing your arm up before you can react. “Wait—is that a scratch? That’s blood.”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to pull your shirt down again. “Seriously.”

She isn’t having it. “Don’t lie to me. Who did that?”

You go quiet.

“Who.” Her voice drops into a dangerous whisper.

You sigh. “It happened during the performance. Mina. She dug her nails in during the line choreo.”

Yunjin is already off the bed.

“Absolutely not.” She’s halfway to the door, hair wild, grabbing her hoodie off the chair. “I’m going to drag her. I’ll knock on her door and rip her fake lashes off one by one—”

“Yunjin!” You scramble up, grabbing her wrist before she reaches the handle. “Please. Don’t.”

“Are you serious right now? She injured you in the middle of a live performance!”

“I know. But if you storm down there, it just gives her what she wants. More drama. More fuel.”

Her jaw clenches so hard you can see the muscle twitch. “She wants you humiliated. She’s been whispering garbage since Seoul and now she’s physically hurting you? And you’re the one worried about drama?”

You squeeze her wrist gently. “I’m tired. You’re tired. Just…let it go. For now.”

Yunjin glares at the door like she’s imagining it’s Mina’s face, but finally, finally, she exhales sharply and slumps back against the wall.

“I swear,” she mutters, “if she so much as breathes in your direction wrong again, I’m not stopping at lashes. I’m coming for her extensions too.”

You smile faintly, despite the sting in your side. “Noted.”

She walks back to you and flops down beside you again, grumbling under her breath, “Next tour, we’re getting roommate requests and I’m making sure we’re in a different hotel wing.”

You laugh. “You’d miss me.”

“Shut up and order the fries.”

You reach for your phone. The tension still lingers in the air, but it’s easier now, the weight of it softened by the person next to you who’s always ready to go to war, no matter how small the battlefield.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The fries are gone, Yunjin is out cold, and the hotel room feels too warm, too cramped with everything that happened still buzzing in your head. You need to get out of here. 

You slip on a hoodie, grab your keycard, and make your way up to the rooftop lounge. It’s quiet at this hour, just past 2 a.m., and the Mexico City skyline stretches around you, lights glittering in the distance like stars fallen to earth. You sit down on one of the loungers, tucking your knees up to your chest, letting the night air cool your skin and settle your thoughts.

You don’t expect anyone else to come up.

Which is why your heart jumps a little when the rooftop door creaks open.

Hoseok steps out, hoodie pulled low, hair damp like he just showered. He spots you immediately and pauses, his expression unreadable for a second before he walks over.

“I figured I’d find you up here,” he says softly.

You give a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” he nods, settling into the lounger beside yours. “Me neither.”

There’s a brief silence, comfortable, somehow. Then he turns his head to look at you, eyes catching faint light from the city below.

“How’s your side?”

You blink, still surprised that he seems to care. “It’s fine.”

“Can I see?”

You hesitate for half a second, then pull the hoodie up just enough to show the bandage, a thin sliver of red peeking out underneath.

His jaw tenses.

“She really did that during the choreo?” He asks again, like he can’t believe that it was true the first time you had this conversation. 

You nod. “It wasn’t that deep. Just enough to be petty.”

He exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You didn’t even flinch on stage.”

“Can’t flinch when there’s seventeen thousand people watching.”

He shakes his head. “You’re tougher than most people I know.”

You snort, trying to brush it off. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he says. “You don’t complain. You just keep working.”

You glance over at him, a little startled by the quiet sincerity in his voice.

“You notice that?”

He looks at you, the edges of his mouth quirking up. “I notice everything.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck. “Smooth.”

“I’m not trying to be smooth,” he says, laughing now. “If I was, I’d say something like you danced so well tonight I almost missed my cue.”

You giggle despite yourself. “That’s terrible.”

“Right? I knew it,” he grins, then leans back against the lounger, staring at the sky. “You know, people ask me the same questions in interviews. Favorite food, dream collaborations, stuff like that. But no one ever asks the weird stuff.”

“Weird stuff like what?”

He hums, making his thinking face where he looks up. “Like the first time I ever forgot choreography on stage. Or the first time I realized I liked dancing more than rapping.”

“You forgot choreo?” you ask, eyes wide. 

He groans. “Yes! 2016 we were in Osaka. I completely blanked. I played it off, but I wanted to die. I still think about it sometimes when I’m in the shower.”

You laugh, and it feels easy, light in a way you haven’t felt since this tour started.

“You ever think about quitting?” you ask, quieter now. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Twice, but I didn’t. I stayed. And then…people like you came along. Reminded me why I loved this in the first place.”

You’re stunned into silence for a beat, and he just smiles, leaning back again like he didn’t just drop a weight into your chest.

The air shifts, warmer now. More charged.

You stay up there with him until the sky starts to tint pink at the edges, trading quiet stories and silly jokes and tiny truths you’re not sure either of you mean to share, but don’t regret. Not even a little.

You and Hoseok sneak in your naps earlier in the day, quick, quiet moments of rest that leave you both looser and lighter. You haven’t spoken since the night before, but when your eyes meet across the green room as everyone starts getting into costume, there’s something wordless exchanged. A kind of mutual grounding.

When it’s time to run the show, everything clicks into place. Mina’s been shifted out of your proximity in all the formations. She’s still there, but now her energy can’t touch you. You don’t have to brace yourself. You can just dance, and you do.

The crowd is louder than night one. They are wild, alive, feeding you energy from the second you step out. Every cheer feels like it’s vibrating in your bones. Your body moves like it’s never known hesitation, hitting every count with precision and power. Every hair toss, every hip hit, every spin. You’re on fire.

The numbers flow one into the next, and soon enough, you’re side-stage again, waiting for the duet. Everyone else clusters on the other side, but Hoseok finds you right where he did the night before. You’re both smiling this time.

“Better night?” he asks with a little raise of his brows, already knowing the answer.

“The best,” you say, and you mean it.

He steps in close, just like yesterday, but there’s no hesitation now, only warmth. His hands come to your face again, thumbs brushing the tops of your cheeks as he leans in until your foreheads touch.

“You were glowing out there,” he says, voice low and playful. “Like, full-on radiant. Crowd’s obsessed.”

You laugh, heart hammering in your chest. “Pretty sure they’re obsessed with you.”

“Nah,” he grins. “Tonight, they’re yours.”

It sends something giddy fluttering in your stomach. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. “Let’s go own this. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you too,” you say, and you’re both smiling like you’re about to get away with something.

The cue hits. The lights flare, and then you're dancing together.

This time, everything is free and full. Hoseok’s energy wraps around you, not protective, not careful, just completely in sync. Hoseok dances with the kind of presence that makes people forget to blink. He still avoids the spot where your cut is healing, but it doesn’t feel like he’s pulling back. It feels like he knows you. Like you’ve built something real in all those hours of rehearsal, tension, and trust.

When the duet ends, the crowd goes wild, and as you hold the final pose beside him, Hoseok glances your way with that same dazzling smile. Only now, there’s something a little different in his eyes. Pride. Mischief. Maybe even a spark of something more.

You feel unstoppable.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The post-show adrenaline lingers like glitter on skin. The performance high, the crowd’s roar, the perfect execution, it’s all still pulsing through your veins as you sit with the other dancers and crew at a lively restaurant tucked into a buzzing neighborhood just beyond the venue. The energy’s infectious. Laughter pours from every table, drinks clink, and someone orders another round before you can blink.

Hoseok shows up a little after the rest of you, wearing a baseball cap and a plain white tee, the kind of casual that still somehow makes heads turn. He slides into the seat beside Yunjin, across from you, and when your eyes meet over the rim of your glass, you can’t help the quiet smile that rises.

He toasts you later with a simple, “To killing it two nights in a row.”

Eventually, most of the dancers rally into a louder crowd, talking bar hopping, clubs, “just one more,” and “we’re in Mexico, come on!” But you, comfortably buzzed and warm from the tequila and laughter, decide to head back. Yunjin stays behind, swept into the tide, and you’re happy for her.

Back at the hotel, you take your time. A long, hot shower. Moisturizer. Your favorite oversized tee and soft shorts. Then you pad barefoot down the hallway with a hotel-bar cocktail in hand and head for the rooftop lounge.

The air is cool but gentle, and the view stretches out like a glittering painting. You settle on a lounger, legs tucked under you, drink cradled in both hands as you sip slowly and let yourself feel everything. The ache in your muscles. The thrum of triumph. How far you’ve come.

And then—

“Thought I might find you up here.”

You look over your shoulder. Hoseok steps out onto the rooftop, holding a drink of his own, something dark and neat in a short glass.

He’s changed, too. Into joggers and a hoodie, hair still a little damp from his own shower. He looks tired, but content. You wave him over.

He settles beside you on the same lounger, close but not crowded, and for a while, you just… talk. About nothing. About everything. About how wild this whole thing is: the tour, dancing, fans screaming your name.

And then a song starts playing through the rooftop speakers. Something upbeat and groovy, with a smooth, bouncing rhythm that makes your shoulders sway almost instinctively.

You glance at him.

“Dance with me.”

He chuckles. “Right now?”

You stand, offer your hand. “It’s tradition now, isn’t it?”

Hoseok hesitates for half a second before taking your hand and rising to his feet. “Alright, tradition.”

The two of you fall into rhythm easily, bare feet sliding over the rooftop tile. It’s loose, playful. No choreography, no mirrors. Just movement. Just you and him. You laugh when he tries a silly body roll and laugh even harder when he copies your spin with exaggerated flair.

One song blends into the next, and somewhere along the way, it shifts. You’re still laughing, still dancing, but the space between you shrinks. His hands linger longer. Your breath comes quicker.

Then he twirls you.

Your back presses gently to his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist. He turns you again, catches your hand in his, and dips you.

Time stops. You’re suspended in the moment, his arm strong around your back, your hand resting on his shoulder, and he looks at your lips.

Then, almost guiltily, his eyes flick away. Up, off to the side.

You look at his lips. Then back up at his eyes and you nod. Just once.

He kisses you.

One hand cradles the small of your back, holding you in place as the other comes to your jaw, tilting your chin up just right. The kiss is warm, slow, exploratory. His lips move like he’s learning the shape of you, like he’s been waiting for this longer than he realized. Your heart is slamming against your chest trying to understand what is going on. The kiss ends gently, like a breath, but the moment it does, Hoseok steps back like he’s just come to his senses.

“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” he blurts, voice hushed and panicked. His hand flies up, fingers brushing his mouth like the kiss might still be there. “God, I’m so sorry. That was…totally unprofessional. You’re my dancer. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You blink, still half-drunk on the feeling of his lips against yours, your body still tingling from where he touched you.

“I mean—” he keeps going, running a hand through his hair. “You’re just… you’re so pretty. You’re funny, and smart, and you’ve been killing it every single night and then tonight you looked at me like that and I just—” He breaks off with a frustrated groan. “Shit. I let my feelings get ahead of me. I shouldn’t have—God, I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Your thoughts are moving like molasses. You’re trying to process what just happened, what he’s saying, how this spiraled so fast from soft rooftop magic to this flurry of regret.

“I just don’t want to make things weird for you,” Hoseok says, already backing away, voice rough with self-recrimination. “You’ve worked so hard to be here and this is your moment to prove yourself. I don’t want to mess it up because I can’t control myself—”

“Hoseok—”

But he keeps rambling, barely hearing you. “Seriously, just forget I did that, okay? I’ll keep everything professional from here on out. You don’t need to worry about me, I swear.”

And before you can even figure out how you feel or how to respond, he’s turning to leave.

“Hobi—” You yell desperately. “Wait!”

He freezes. You’ve never called him that before. His favorite nickname hangs between you delicate and real. He turns just slightly, looking over his shoulder, eyes wide and searching. Now it’s your turn to be breathless. 

You take a deep breath, gathering whatever courage you have left. The tension is thick, the air crackling between you both. You step closer, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying every ounce of confidence you’re trying to muster.

“If they’re going to whisper about me anyway,” you start, “might as well make it true.”

Before he can react, you reach out, catching his wrist in your hand, turning him back toward you. His eyes flash with a mix of surprise and something deeper, but before he can say anything more, you lean in, kissing him again.

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t pull away. He melts into it, his lips soft against yours, his breath steadying as he lets the moment wash over him. You can feel the tension leave his body, how he’s relaxing into you, like he’s been holding it all in for far too long.

You tug on the excess fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest pressing against his. You feel the heat between you, the softness of his body as he leans in further, his hands moving to your back, tracing the curve of your spine. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, the world outside disappearing as the music plays softly in the background.

For a moment, there’s no tour, no pressure, no expectations. Just you and him, and everything feels right. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling in the air between you, Hoseok’s eyes are dark, lips parted as if he’s trying to catch his breath.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice quiet but filled with the same uncertainty he had before.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “If they’re gonna talk anyway…might as well give them something to really talk about.”

Hoseok chuckles, low and breathless, before pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it’s full of quiet promises, no words needed. The rest of the world can wait.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The morning after, sunlight creeps in through the curtains, warm and golden across your sheets, but it doesn't soften the twist in your chest. You wake up slower than usual, almost like you’re trying to delay facing reality. There's no knock at your door. No message. No sign that anything happened last night at all.

You see him in the hallway a little later, just outside the elevators. You weren’t expecting it, so your smile catches you off guard before you can stop it. He’s walking with a couple of stylists, laughing at something someone says. His eyes pass over you like you’re a stranger.

Not even a nod. It stings more than you'd like to admit.

Back in your room, Yunjin is packing up her things, humming softly to herself.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with us today?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder. “San Antonio’s got good food and my college friend’s letting a few of us crash at their place.”

You give her a half-hearted smile and shake your head. “I think I’ll stay behind a little. Be a tourist for a day. Last chance and all.”

“Your loss,” she teases lightly, dragging her suitcase toward the door. “Don’t forget sunscreen.”

She doesn’t press further. She doesn’t notice anything is wrong. No one does. You’re still smiling. Still functioning.

Just…quieter.

You spend the day wandering through the city, letting the sun soak into your skin and the colors of Mexico City blur into a kaleidoscope. You try mezcal at a street-side bar, buy a handmade bracelet from a vendor who compliments your earrings, and stand still in front of a cathedral until the bells chime and make your chest ache.

Hoseok stares at his phone like it might answer all the questions for him.

It doesn’t.

It just glows with the time. Too early for this kind of spiral, too late to sleep it off. He rubs a hand over his face and sighs, reaching for the only contact that might give him something useful.

He hits call. It rings three times before Jin answers, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hyung,” Hoseok says before Jin can even get a proper greeting out. “I messed up.”

Jin groans. “Hello to you too. What did you do?”

“I kissed her.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Who—wait. Her her? YN?”

“Yes.” It’s almost as if Hoseok can hear is hyung silenting judging him.

“Well damn,” Jin says, a little more awake now. “That’s…unexpected, and kind of bold. How’d it go?”

“She kissed me back. It wasn’t like—I don’t know. I didn’t plan it. It just happened and now I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“That checks out,” Jin mutters. “You’ve had a crush on her for a while, haven’t you?”

Hoseok winces. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to anyone with eyes.”

He groans again, collapsing back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t think I’d actually do anything about it.”

“And yet here we are.”

There’s a pause.

“I don’t even have her number,” Hoseok admits, his voice small. “I thought about asking someone on staff, but that feels…I don’t know. Weird?”

Jin snorts. “Yeah, kind of creepy. Don't do that.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you get her number last night?”

“I was distracted. I didn’t think—there was this moment, and it felt like everything in the world narrowed to just her, and then it was over.”

“Well,” Jin says, “it’s not over if you don’t let it be.”

“I saw her in the hallway this morning. She smiled at me. I didn’t smile back.”

Jin groans. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I panicked!” Hoseok snaps. “I don’t know what she’s thinking, and I don’t want her to regret it. I’m her boss. I should’ve never—”

“You already did,” Jin cuts in, firm now. “So the whole ‘I shouldn’t have’ ship? It’s sailed, capsized, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Thanks for the imagery.”

Jin huffs a laugh. “Look, I get that this is complicated. But you’re allowed to feel things, Hobi. You’re allowed to want something good. If you’re serious about her—really serious—then don’t let protocol be the reason you ruin it.”

Hoseok is quiet for a long time. He watches a crack of sunlight stretch across the floor of his hotel room and thinks about how your smile looked under stage lights. He thinks about how he made you feel like you weren’t alone in it.

“…I am serious,” he says quietly.

“Then find a way to show her.”

🧡part 2🧡

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ THE BREAKUP

cw. fratboy!isagi, so so so angsty, isagi really gets his feelings hurt :(

“i think we should break up.”

isagi gives a slight huff, “it’s not funny when you say things like that.”

you breath in, “i’m not joking, isagi.”

he turns around to face you, currently sat on his bed with your brows pinched together slightly. it was clear you had been thinking about something.

“what’s going on, baby?”, he asks, his tone more concerned.

you debated telling him the truth, making yourself look like a fool and having isagi so easily convince you that you’re wrong. he’s too reassuring like that.

ever since you heard everyone say you weren’t good enough for him, that you were too mean, too much for someone like isagi, it just kept playing on your mind like an endless loop, causing you to second guess yourself over and over.

because as much as you hate to admit it, they were right. you were mean, way too mean for a guy like isagi. he’s so sweet and genuine with not a nasty bone in his body. he deserves to be treated like a king, to have a girlfriend adore him just as much as he adores you.

but were you really that? are you really giving him everything he truly deserves?

“i just don’t think.. we’re really working out.”, you sigh.

he frowns, “you don’t think that at all. why’re you saying this?”, the hurt evident in his voice.

and that hurts you.

“isagi, stop.”

he doesn’t.

“no. tell me why you’re saying this. you’re not throwing our whole relationship away because in your eyes we’re suddenly ‘not working out’.”, he explains with air quotes, “you don’t get to say that without some explanation, it’s fucked up.”

you wish he just made it easier for you, to just accept this. but now having to rip the bandaid off you say, “fine then. i just don’t want to be with you anymore.”

there’s a long pause where isagi just processes what you say, “you don’t mean that.”, he whimpers, his eyes glossy.

of course you didn’t mean that. god, the look on his face hurt you more than anything, your own heart heavy. that’s when you knew you had really hurt his feelings and that’s the last thing you ever wanted to do. but, this was in isagi’s best interest.. right?

“i do.”, you whisper, you eyes down as you fiddle with your fingers, sat cross cross on his bed.

“why? what did i do? i can fix it, baby. whatever i did, i can fix it.”, isagi pleas frantically, scurrying closer to you by sitting on the edge of his bed, “please, just tell me.”

“you can’t, isagi. just stop it, okay?”, you sigh, getting up from his bed before grabbing your bag and packing up the few essentials you had in his room, “we just aren’t working, that’s it.”

“no- i just, i don’t understand what i did.”, he swallows, “i thought- i thought you loved me. i love you.”

you feel your bottom lip tremble. this felt like kicking a sweet puppy who kept running back to you.

you don’t say anything, in fear of losing composure and crying your heart out. so, you carry on packing your things, muting out isagi’s frantic pleas and breaking voice despite how hard it was, before rushing out of his room to get back to your own dorm, leaving him alone where everything felt too silent besides his thumping heartbeat.

and that’s when he felt the tears fall from his eyes, and down his cheeks. isagi wasn’t a crier, not at all. but, here he was, crying over you as you leave him with no closure, no nothing. without the answers you couldn’t give him, all he could do was wonder what the hell went so wrong. what the hell made you leave him so suddenly?

with all of his thoughts going rampant in his mind, isagi mutters, “fuck, man.”

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Darling You

Nico Hischier x reader, Mob Boss!Nico

Warnings: Snippy reader, panic attack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

____________________________________________

It may have been years since Nico’s made the trip to Switzerland, but it’s a hangover he’ll never forget. Body sore from being on a plane for six hours, hungry for real genuine food but sick from eating airline food, head aching from the roar of jet engines and the altitude changes. It’s just fucking exhausting.

He remembers the first time he made the trip with Timo, Jesper, and Jonas. They’d all spent a few days in the new apartment sleeping it off. And even when they got to work they were dead on their feet for a while.

He thinks of that as he helps you out of the car, the garage door clanging and grinding as it shuts. Timo, like him, doesn’t look too bad as he moves to gather the carry-ons from the back. The other luggage can wait until tomorrow.

“I can stay here, yeah?”

Nico gives him an exasperated look, almost tipping over when you fall out of the car into his arms. You’ve got your feet under you, but your knees are lazily bent and from the way your worming into his ribs, Nico’s certain your not even carrying half your weight.

“Course you can.” You mumble to Timo, blinking blearily from under Nico’s arm. He laughs under his breath, moving you out of the way so he can close the car door and then he’s dragging you towards the house.

Fighting with the bags, Timo shoves his way into the house. It doesn’t take long for Nico to hear them thump to the floor, Timo obviously giving up on doing anything productive with them.

“Step baby,” Nico instructs you, and you begrudgingly wake yourself up enough to follow him up the couple stairs and into the door. He lets you slump against the wall while he closes and locks the door, the sounds of the other boys coming in the front door floating into the laundry room.

Hands under your arms, Nico walks you into the kitchen, dodging the abandoned luggage. “I’m so tired,” you say through a yawn, “why won’t my legs work?”

Timo snorts a laugh at you, leaning heavily on the counter with a bottle of water in his hands. It’s too early in the morning for Johnny to be up, but it only takes a few seconds for pattering paws to come down the staircase.

As if an electric shock had gone through you, you spring to life in Nico’s arms, already shaking him off as you scramble for the bottom of the stairs.

“My baby!” You cry as Moose barrels down the stairs, paws sliding on the tile floor and you wrap him up in your arms before he can fall forward. Huddled on your knees, you bury your face in the dog’s neck and pet at his ears, mumbling sweet words. “Oh I missed you so much, Moose.”

He licks at your face, tail wagging in a frenzy behind him and Nico’s heart stings with guilt. He should’ve let you take the stupid dog to Switzerland. They wouldn’t have needed to ask the boys to house-sit and you would’ve been far more comfortable with Moose there. Hell, the dog would’ve done what he was trained to do and saved you from fucking Lena.

Giving you another second to say hi, Nico finally makes his way to stand behind you. He lays a hand on Moose’s head, digging his fingers into the thick fur there and pulling just slightly.

He whistles and Moose shoots up straight like an arrow, tilting to look up at Nico with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. You climb to your feet, petting his ears again and mumbling a quiet “good boy,” when Moose remains still, waiting for Nico to say something to him. You wonder off to the fridge, Moose watching you with big puppy eyes and he shifts on his feet.

Taking in pity in how overwhelmed the poor dog is, Nico crouches down in front of him. “Musli,” he says sadly, petting at the side of his face and Moose leaps into Nico, tackling him to the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry we left you,” Nico apologizes through a laugh, Moose sniffing and licking at his face and neck. The dog is heavy on his chest, nails digging into Nico’s stomach uncomfortably but Nico simply wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly. “I know, I’ll never do it again.”

Like he’s speaking to him, Moose barks and yelps at Nico, his whole body vibrating with excitement to the point that Nico can’t even hold him still. He curls into himself on the cold tile, shielding his face and laughing as Moose darts between barking in his ear and nipping at his hair.

Moose doesn’t let up until the younger boys mosey into the kitchen, giving Nico a break as he runs over to smell their hands and feet with suspicion.

Panting, Nico groans as he climbs back to his feet. You help straighten out his shirt once he’s upright, dusting off his shoulders and chest before curling into his side, arms wrapped lazily around his waist.

“I’m going to bed,” Jack announces after he’s done petting Moose, stretching his arms over his head. He moves to the stairs, pausing at the bottom one and looking to Nico.

“Work tomorrow?”

For a moment Nico thinks about telling him to be in by 8 as usual, just to see what he’d say or do. But the kid did good work in Switzerland, was on guard 24 hours of the day and didn’t whine once so he gives him a break.

“Nah catch up on your sleep tomorrow,” Nico waves him off, then gestures to the other boys too. “All of you. Come back in when you feel up to shape, yeah?”

It’s like watching them run down the stairs on Christmas morning, Jack whipping around with wide eyes to stare at Luke, Mercer, and Holtz. They all exchange similar looks of excitement, acting like Nico is come cruel and usual boss, and Nico rolls his eyes.

They all take off up the stairs, a renewed energy in them now that they know they can sleep in tomorrow and Nico has a feeling they’re all already planning on squishing into Alex’s room to stay up and play video games.

“Don’t know what room Johnny is in,” you mumble, wincing. “I hope they don’t wake him.”

Nico shrugs, pressing his fingers into the small of your back. “If the dog didn’t wake him I doubt they will.”

Moose trots over to rub against your legs, pushing his butt up when you start scratching by his tail.

“Some house sitter you got there.” Timo snorts, rubbing at his eyes. “Do I get the dog or are you hoarding him now?”

Peering up at Nico for an answer, you bat your eyelashes at him, pleadingly. You’re cute, pressed into his chest with your puppy dog eyes, sleep still evident in every corner of your features. Any other night and he’d relent, even if it meant him sleeping terribly because Moose loves to lay on his feet.

But he’s exhausted and you’re exhausted, and he’s got ideas that don’t involve the dog sitting at the bottom of the bed.

“Aww,” Nico pouts, running his fingers through your hair and your lips begin to perk up, thinking he’s going to agree. “No, he sleeps with Timo.”

“What? Nico!”

Smirking, he pecks a placating kiss to your lips while Timo laughs, giddily. Moose, recognizing Timo’s excitement gallops over to his uncle T, circling his legs a few times.

“You and me bud,” Timo tells him, scratching at the top of his head. Nico did send Moose with him because he wants alone time with you, but now watching his friend fawn over having a cuddling buddy, he thinks it’s probably for the best for Timo too. The guy is good at being chill and happy, easy-go-lucky Timo but Nico knows he’s upset. That underneath the sleep ridden eyes and lazy smile, he’s thinking of Amelia and how yet again he’s had to make the trip back to Jersey without her.

“Go say goodnight,” Nico tells you, nudging you towards Timo. You sigh through your nose, dragging your feet over and he watches with amusement as you dramatically crouch down and wrap your arms around Moose. He can’t hear what you mumble into the dog’s ear but Timo can if the short laugh he lets out is anything to go by. You then wrap yourself around Timo, muttering a goodnight and “please snuggle my baby for me” with sad eyes pointed at Nico.

“I will, I promise.” Timo assures, sharing an amused look with Nico. Then he’s kissing the top of your head and sending you back to Nico, cutting across the kitchen to head for the downstairs bedroom. Moose pads after him happily, tail wagging ever so slightly as they go.

Petulant, you accept Nico’s outstretched hand, letting him tug you into his chest. He wraps you up tightly, squeezing his biceps around your shoulders until you make a choking noise of complaint.

“Hey,” he murmurs, squeezing your side. “Don’t make Timo sleep alone tonight. He just had to say goodbye to Amelia…again.”

“He could come sleep with us too.”

Nico scoffs. “No, I had my years of sharing a bed with Timo.”

You sigh, dramatic as ever. “Ok.”

Taking that as an agreement, Nico walks you towards the living room, wanting to double check that the boys locked the front door and to set the alarm. You follow him easily, sleep catching up to you again and all he has to do is keep you from running into walls as you navigate the dark house.

He turns the deadbolt at the front door, punches in the code for the alarm system and now just has to get you upstairs, out of your traveling clothes and preferably into nothing else.

You get to the base of stairs, shoes hitting the bottom step with a low thump, and then you’re looking up at him, eyes half closed.

“Carry me?”

“I think you can make it,” he says, just to make you even more whiny.

“You gave away my dog. The least you could do is carry me.”

Shaking his head in laughter, Nico scoops you up into his arms, wincing when your foot bangs into the wall. You don’t seem to care though, smiling contently and curling into him with a little sigh.

Nico’s tired and his muscles complain the whole way up, but all he can think about is how he’ll get to do this for the rest of his life with you.

~~~~

Nico wonders how long it’s physically possible for two people to stay in bed.

He remembers practically living under the sheets with you after Philly. It was like you were always hiding from something, shielding yourself behind him and the oversized duvet on his bed. It wasn’t hard for you either, to stay there. You didn’t get stir crazy, didn’t have to force yourself to stay tucked into his side in the mornings.

You craved it almost.

It’s almost funny how similar the past couple days have been to that time. Different circumstances of course. You and him aren’t hiding from anything, you’re preserving it. The bubble you didn’t get to enjoy in Switzerland. Between his father and Lena, there was never no chance to bask in the engagement like he’d originally planned. Even after he officially asked you, there was always something. A house full of boys demanding your attention and time, his siblings trying to repair bonds that had been broken before Nico even hit puberty, and pushing Timo into chasing love.

Now though, the house has gone empty. The boys returned to the loft, Johnny went back to work, and after a full nights rest you came to your senses about Timo’s aching heart and let him take Moose for as many days as he needs.

And Moose gets his own little vacation across town, gets to live it up at the bachelor pad with Timo. A treat for him to make up for the trip you and Nico went on without him.

“I love our home,” you whisper so as to not disturb the mid-morning stillness. Nico can’t see your face but he can imaging the peaceful look on it, the sun filtering in through the currents bathing you in glowing light.

He pecks a kiss to your bare shoulder, flexing the arm he has thrown over your waist. “Me too,” he agrees, but the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes this morning feels the same as the mornings in Switzerland.

Home was never the house, it’s you.

“I love my ring,” you say, the hint of a smile in your words as you fiddle with the silver band. Nico hasn’t seen you take it off since you got it, and even though it’s probably not smart to sleep with it on, he can’t bring himself to tell you.

He shifts forward, pressing another kiss to the curve where your shoulder meets your neck. “Me too,” he agrees, yet again, wondering where you’re going next with this. How long the two of you can lay here and name the things you love.

You hum at the feeling of his mouth, arching back into a beautiful stretch that elongates your neck and curves your hips towards him. All warm and soft and inviting.

“And I love you,” you preen, left hand slipping under the blankets to grab at his bare thigh. Almost encouragingly you pull at his leg, hiking it over your hip.

“I love you darling.” He says into the base of your jaw, goosebumps rising on his skin as your fingers play with the hair on his leg. Kissing at the corner of your mouth, Nico pushes himself up, your body falling back in the warm alcove he’d previously been occupying. “So much,” he says, settling between your parted thighs.

“Darling,” you hum, looking so beautiful with your hair fanned out across his pillow, the sun dancing on your bare skin, glinting off the necklace lying between your naked breasts. “I like that one.”

Nico leans in, kissing down the column of your throat, following the line of the gold chain. You cup the back of his neck, thumb mindlessly stroking back and forth. “Yeah?” he asks, kissing chastely at the underside of each breast, where you’re the fullest and your skin the hottest.

“Like all the names you give me,” you continue, fingers sliding across his skin to cup his face, drawing him back up to your face.

Your cheeks are flush and full of life, your eyes more content and happy than he’s seen them in weeks. He nudges your nose with his. “Giving you the most important one.”

A girlish giggle bubbles out of you, warm against his lips and his heart throbs in his chest. He never in a million years thought this is where New Jersey would get him. He ran away from his family, from his home, from everything he’d ever known. He expected to just be here, just him and his work, practicing isolationism probably.

Instead he found the one person in the world to ever love him, unconditionally and unselfishly.

“Kuss?” You request, tilting your head to give him a better angle and Nico happy obliges. His lips find yours for a slow and sweet kiss, your legs coming up to wrap around his hips.

Your hands tangle in his hair, threading through his knotted bed head. Nico, half-hard since you pulled that move of stretching back into him, shifts more of his weight on to you.

“Are we ever going to get out of bed?” You ask after tugging on his hair, him groaning delightedly at the way it sends tingles through his scalp.

He kisses you again. “No,” his smile touches your lips, sweet and tender. “S’our honeymoon. We get to do what we want.”

Your eyes light up with laughter, big and shiny and beautiful as you look up at him. Afraid his heart is going to beat right out of his chest if he keeps looking at you, Nico ducks down to mouth at your neck.

“I think you’re jumping the gun there,” you say with mirth, and Nico nips at you in retaliation, subtly grinding his cock against the soft pudge of your stomach.

“Engagement honeymoon,” he reasons, breath hitching when you press up into him, encouragingly, “And I want to celebrate by fucking in the bed we’ll be fucking in for the rest of our lives.”

You laugh, your body curling into him until you’re wrapped around him like a vice. “Oh how romantic Neeky,” you say dreamily, and he smiles at the nickname.

Tugging him back up to your lips for a chaste kiss, you cup his jaw. Unknowingly he bites at his bottom lip and you pull at it with your thumb until he lets up, releasing the full force of his boyish smile. “I don’t think we’re supposed to have the same mattresses for that long.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, “and how long will that be?”

You purse your lips, humming as you contemplate. “100 years.”

Your thumb traces his bottom lip, fingertip soft and tender, and he moves to press a kiss to the pad of it. “Not long enough,” he whispers, and then because there’s not much else to say, you draw him in for another kiss.

Nico lets you have control of it, holding his face and teasingly licking into his mouth. Tracing his hand down the curve of your side, skin so soft and warm, he takes ahold of his now fully hard cock. Tilting his hips, Nico lines himself up at your entrance, humming in satisfaction when he feels how wet you already are.

“Can I have you, baby?” He mumbles into the kiss, and you nip at his bottom lip in agreement.

“You already do.” It’s just a breath against his face, warm and sticky, and it leaves him aching for more. He captures your lips with his again, guiding his cock through your folds and pressing in when the head catches on your hole.

Your lips part from his, just enough to whimper beautifully against the plushness of his mouth. Nico holds the side of your thigh, hitching it higher up his hip and you go with, pliantly accommodating the extra space he’s demanding between your thighs.

You do so effortlessly, like it’s nothing to make room for him, to accept him. Like after all this time he’s an extension of you.

Nico fucks you slow and filthy, bodies sweat-slicked and hot from being pressed so close together. He kisses you messily, like your lips are his last meal on death row, unrelenting even when you’re panting for air against his desperate kisses. You cling to him, left hand finding his and locking your fingers together above your head, so tightly his knuckles grow white and ache.

The whole time, the band of your ring, now warm against his skin, reminding him that he does in fact already have you, and you have him.

~~~~

Nico’s barely slid into the backseat of the car, slamming the door shut against the biting wind outside before he’s letting out an affronted scoff. In the two seconds it took him to peek at you through the crack between the front seat and door, he knows you’re not even remotely dressed warm enough.

Leaning his elbow onto the center console, he looks you up and down with judgmental eyes.

“Where the fuck is your coat?”

Timo chuckles, shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb without even waiting for Nico to buckle up. Mockingly, you turn to him with your jaw dropped.

“Where the fuck is your seatbelt?”

Unamused, he huffs and settles into the backseat. Ignoring your giggling, he buckles but not even two seconds later he’s kicking the back of your seat.

“It’s -1 outside and slushy, where is your coat?”

Immediately he knows he’s messed up, catching the teasing look on your face as you glance the dash where it’s glaringly obvious displaying that it’s 30 degrees right now.

“Wrong side of the pond there, Neeky.” You say, in that tone you always use to annoy him and push at his buttons. It’s never in a truly mean way but a part of him wonders if you’re sharp tongue is back because today was his first day back at work since you’ve returned.

You were just as taunting with him after he returned to work post Philly incident. Sure he’d been attached your hip for a much longer time period than the trip to Switzerland so he expected some bite from you, but this is feeling just as bratty.

Nico decides he’s not even going to try to entertain you, too upset with the fact that it’s freezing temperatures outside and the light rain from earlier is slowly turning to snow. Meanwhile you’re dressed in a white sweater from his side of the closet and a skirt.

“I’m not asking you again.” He gruffs, arms crossed over his chest and you sigh. Then, as if it’s the most perfect excuse in the world, you run your hands over the sheer black fabric on your thighs.

“I wore fleece lined tights.”

Nico huffs in disbelief, knowing there’s no way in hell you actually thought that’d be warm enough except that you do. He can already hear the excuses in his head, the same one you give him every time you want it to snow.

If you dress like it’s not going to be a blizzard, it will in fact be a blizzard. It’s your own form of washing the car just to make it rain the next day. Somehow it always works too.

He doesn’t say anything, settling back into his seat and staring out the windshield as Timo navigates through Newark. Nico has no idea where this new restaurant you were dying to try out is, and he’s about to ask Timo how far away it is but you’re slipping your left hand over the console, wiggling your fingers at him.

The diamond ring on your finger twinkles prettily, reaching for him and he rests his hand on his knee, lacing his fingers through yours and all thoughts of lunch leave his mind. Soothingly, he traces the band of your ring with his thumb, admiring how perfectly your hand looks in his, feels in his.

“Wait where are we going?” You ask and Nico looks up, not sure what direction Timo is supposed to be going in.

“I gotta stop at the loft real quick.” He explains and you pout, slumping in your seat a bit. Stroking his thumb over the back of your hand, Nico and you sit silently the rest of the ride, Timo humming along to his playlist until he’s pulled up to the curb.

“Why wouldn’t you park in the garage?” You ask, a bit snotty and he has to bite back a laugh. Timo should’ve known this unannounced detour would make you crabby, no doubt annoyed at having to wait longer for food you’ve been craving.

“Because we’re just running in real quick.” Timo sasses back, staring at you challengingly as he takes the keys out of the ignition.

“We?” You scoff, “I don’t have a jacket. I’m not getting out.”

As if proving your point, you take your hand back from Nico and cross your arms over your chest, staring out the front windshield like you’ve got all the time and patience in the world.

“Bro,” Timo sighs, looking to Nico with pleading eyes. He doesn’t particularly want to take his friend’s side over yours but it’s looking like this whole thing will go a lot quicker if you just get out of the car. And the quicker this is, the sooner they can get some food in you.

Nico huffs, unbuckling and sliding forward until he can peer around the seat at you. Encouragingly, he wraps his fingers around your bicep and squeezes. “Come on baby, it’ll be quick and I’ll give you my coat.”

Petulantly, you undo your seatbelt and climb out of the car, shutting the door on both of them. Nico sighs, shooting Timo a glare as he reaches for his door handle. “Gee thanks for pissing her off, T.”

“Me?” He squeaks, “you did this! She’s been a monster all day because she misses you.”

Nico can’t help but smile, endeared by the fact that you ache for him so much when he’s gone you turn into a little demon. Maybe he shouldn’t be basking in joy that you’ve been making Timo’s day hell, but it’s sweet how much you want to be around Nico all the time. He’s missed you today too.

Slipping out of the car and knocking it shut with his hip, Nico peels off his warm wool coat, and finds you shivering on the sidewalk, arms hugging your body. You’re still glaring at Timo, but when Nico steps up beside you and wraps his coat over your shoulders, you blink up at him with that pretty Bambi look in your eyes.

Putting your arms into the sleeves, he button the top loop for you, huddling you under his arm. And then just because he missed you and because he can, Nico kisses the top of your snow spackled hair, not caring how cold it is against his lips.

“Hurry up you big babies!” Timo grumbles over his shoulder, rushing towards the front door of the building. He begins impatiently hitting the button for the top loft apartment, insistent buzzing filling the air.

Following after him, you and Nico step up to the door and you wait until you’re in earshot of Timo to mock his words in a high-pitch mumble. Luckily the door clicks open before Timo can say anything else, and Nico yanks it open to usher you inside.

The ride up to the top floor is tension filled. Timo pointedly ignoring you, eyes practically stuck on the ceiling of the elevator as you watch his every move through a squinted glare. And yet Nico is painfully biting at the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too much, throughly entertained and surprised by how petty and childish you can be when hungry and upset.

He’d forgotten that despite your achingly sweet personality, you can get even meaner than Nico under the right circumstance.

The elevator opens and Nico guides you down the hall with a hand on your neck, nudging Timo with his elbow when his friend falls in by his side. He' trying to tell him to lighten up, that you're literally just hungry and while regressing to a five year old when you haven't eaten isn't the most attractive characteristic of yours, it's not that big a deal.

Except Timo is just as touchy as you right now, probably still dealing with the heartache of his long distance girlfriend and Moose was no longer at Timo's for sleepovers. The guy is just a little lonely, Nico thinks.

It's a tough situation for him to be in the middle of.

"After you," Timo sighs with faux politeness, motioning to the front door of the loft. Crossing your arms, you look Timo up and down, popping your hip out patiently and again Nico is fighting back laughter. It's not often he sees you and Timo like this, but it is hilarious.

"It's your errand, you go first."

If this were one of those old cartoons with the cat and mouse, steam would be rolling out of Timo's ears. As much Nico wants this to go on, wants to see if you and Timo will go as far as swatting each other, it's better if this just rolls on so he can get some food in you.

"Alright, relax," he says, ducking around you to open the door. He's barely turned the knob, walking in backwards and dragging you with him by the hand when Timo sticks his foot out to make you stumble. Nico's steady hand keeps you from falling but it does nothing to stop you from shaking the sleeve of Nico's coat over your free hand, whipping the sewed edge of it at Timo's arm and chest.

"Ow!" Timo complains, swatting at your hand "Nico your wife is being a child!"

Harshly, you shove him into the edging of the door. "Nico your best friend is being a little bitch." You mock, sticking your tongue out at him.

Finally, he breaks, cackling in amusement as Timo bullies his way into the loft and kicks the door shut behind him. He stands over you, eyes narrowed in irritation, but you simply glare back up at him, sleeves hanging over your hands, and even drowning in his coat you seem more menacing than Timo.

"For the love of god there has to be snacks here," Nico mumbles, taking ahold of your elbow and dragging you down the entryway. Huffing, you pliantly follow after him, Timo's heavy footfall trailing behind you.

Nico's just rounded the entryway into the the living room/kitchen when he notices the large white and gold balloons framing the walk way. Before he can ask though, you're all coming face to face with every Devs member, girlfriends and wives included.

"Surprise!" They shout, Jack's screech louder than everyone else and Nico thinks no one should be able to sound that shrill when wearing a button up and tie.

The place is decorated to T. White and classy, elegant tablecloths on what looks like catered Italian food filled tables. The furniture has been swiped out for tall, round tables, all centered with white flower arrangements and candles in the center. Hanging from the ceiling above the balcony doors is a banner, beautiful calligraphy writing out Nico and Y/n Forever in black with gold detailing.

He smiles, looking over to find that the fight has drained out of you, instead replaced with a look of awe. You're eyes are wide and glossy, that most perfect smile of your stretched across your cheeks and you laugh emotionally.

"Yeah surprise," Timo says dully, peeking over your shoulder before ducking around to join the party. You roll your eyes, shoving him as he goes but you're still smiling so Nico doesn't worry too much.

"Are you gonna hug us or what?” Jack demands, barreling forward and wrapping his long arms around you. You squeeze him back, giggling and thanking him.

“I just let you guys use my place,” he says, then looks to Nico with an innocent gleam in his eyes, arms spread wide.

“My place, technically.” Nico corrects, but he accepts the hug from the elder Hughes boy. He’s quickly followed by Luke who you happily wrap up in a hug.

“Yeah well anyway,” Jack continues, “Nicole and Nola pretty much did it all. With permission of Jesp and Jonas of course but yeah the girls are better planners.”

Caught entirely off guard, you look to Nico with wide eyes. Like the idea of the girls doing something nice for you is so foreign, so unknown to you. Maybe you’re expecting to hear that Nico had a part in it, but he didn’t.

The surprise was as much his as yours, though probably not as personally as it seems to be touching you.

You go oddly quiet after that, letting Luke take the coat from your shoulders to put in Alex’s room, looking Nico over in disapproval. “No coat? Come on man, it’s snowing out there.”

Nico doesn’t even bother defending himself. The two of you bounce around the room greeting everyone and thanking them, letting them look at your ring for nothing longer than a moment and it’s cute, how protective you are over it. Cute until Nico thinks that maybe you’re guarding it, hiding your hand in the crook of his elbow so that they can’t take it, or even imply it shouldn’t be on your hand.

Like you’re worried someone here will say you don’t deserve it.

He can’t help it after that, watching you far too closely. His hello’s and thank you’s come off as dismissive, his attention on you and how you slowly keep shrinking even further into his side.

Even when Jesper and Jonas approach, the girls flanking them, you don’t melt into your usually bubbly personality, don’t offer big hugs like you did Alex and Luke and the younger boys. An awkward side hug with the girls and a wave to the boys, lips in a tight smile as you thank them. It sounds genuine, even if you appear as if you’d rather be anywhere but here right now.

Nico doesn’t even know what to do, what went so wrong that as greetings went on you felt more and more unwelcome.

“How was Switzerland?” Jonas asks you, eagerly “Did you like it?”

Heart dropping in his chest, Nico runs a hand his face. Unbelievable, of all things to ask at a time where you look like you’re walking on eggshells.

“It was beautiful,” you respond, a genuine smiling pulling at your lips, a bit strained but it’s something. You don’t say anything else about it, gaze shifting from Jonas to the table food behind him and Nico thinks that maybe you’re just hungry still.

“I’m starving,” Nico complains, patting at his stomach for dramatic effect. Then, as warning to drop the subject of Switzerland and to give you an out he adds, “And I’ll lose my appetite if I have to talk about my family again so we’re gonna go get plates.”

“Yeah of course!” Nola jumps in, waving you towards the food with a friendly smile. “John was on catering duty, said only the best pasta for his amanti.”

You snort at the nickname, clearing your throat to hide the little snicker. “Thank you guys again. This is all really sweet.”

Offering another little smile, you look up at Nico expectantly and he doesn’t waste a second before leading you towards the catering, your arm wrapped tightly around his.

Luke, with an already dirty plate in hand, is plopping more spoonfuls of Alfredo onto his plate, sandwiching it between two pieces of garlic bread. He looks up when you approach, pointing the serving spoon down towards the dish.

“This shit is so good,” he practically moans, setting the spoon down and placing his other piece of bread on top until a towering pasta sandwich takes up the plate.

You gape at him, blinking a few times in awe before shaking your head. “You might be a genius Lukey,” you breath and then your wiggling out Nico’s hold to get you and him a plate, not sparing him a second glance as you shove his plate into his hands and go about serving.

Luke follows you dutifully, leaning over your shoulder and offering mumbled pointers as you serve your own arrangement of pasta and bread. Deciding that you’re comfortable enough for the moment, Nico starts serving his own pesto, realizing that John has picked your favorite Italian restaurant. You don’t eat there very often, at least not inside, but you always order delivery or takeout. It was a place you used to eat at with your parents when you were a child, but ever since falling out with them, you don’t go inside.

Nico’s not sure if you’re more afraid of seeing them in there or not seeing them in there. Of realizing that they’ve got a whole different life now, one that doesn’t include the place you all shared.

“Thank god she’s eating,” Timo suddenly says, appearing by Nico’s side and picking up his own plate. In tandem, the two of them switch off serving from the numerous different platters.

“Yeah she’s not in the best mood,” Nico agrees, quietly. “She’s not a big of surprises either though so you might’ve pissed her off even more.”

Timo’s mouth falls open. “What? Are you serious? She’s more mad?”

Nico shrugs. You’re not mad exactly, more annoyed maybe but even that doesn’t describe it entirely. You just look…uncomfortable and defensive.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he finally explains, glancing down the table to where you and Luke are digging through the garlic bread for the biggest piece. “I’m hoping she’ll talk to me after she eats.”

“Weird,” Timo hums, thoughtfully. They sit in brief moment of silence before Timo looks around as if realizing something.

“Do you think it’s everybody?” He asks, hushed. “I mean she’s close with the stooges that live here and Johnny but everyone else…”

“Not so much,” Nico adds, a lightbulb going off in his head. Technically they’re his friends, at least in your eye they are. You’re putting up walls because you feel like the odd one out, surrounded by people that have been in Nico’s life for years but barely scratched the surface in yours.

You’ve always had a hard time letting people in for real, letting them see more than just the surface. You’d been taught from a young age how to present yourself, what others should see and Nico has seen first hand what that upbringing has done to hurt you.

Sighing softly, Nico shares a knowing look with Timo before they follow you down the line of the table, grabbing their last few items before crowding around the round table you followed Luke too.

Nico takes the seat next to you, left hand finding your thigh in what he hopes in a comforting presence. You glance at him, smiling softly in thanks before turning to Timo on the other side of the table.

“A quick errand huh?” You tease, “you’re lucky I didn’t hit you harder for this.”

Timo scoffs, a smile playing at his lips. “I should’ve hit you harder for calling me a bitch.”

Pleased with yourself, you giggle, all beautiful and bubbly, twirling your fork in your pasta. Jack, lazily picking at the label of a beer bottle, snorts.

"The whole place heard that, by the way-" he must kick Timo under the table because he flinches, glaring over at Jack "you little bitch."

Suddenly offended, you scoff and jostle Nico's hand as you kick Jack in this shin even harder than he kicked Timo. "Hey, only I get to call him that!"

The meal seems to ease you. You've still got a little bite to your attitude, snarky comments directed at almost all the boys and then you slink back into Nico's arm, batting your eyelashes at him when the boys whine. He knows the game, knows exactly what you're doing. Lucky for you, Nico has always been down to play your games, knows that he'll always end up on the receiving end if he aids you, so he keeps quite and broody, silencing the boys with a look when they start to bitch at him.

What can Nico say except happy wife, happy life, right?

And you are happy, at least you look like you’re trying to be happy but eventually the food is cleared away and Jack is setting up his switch for everyone to take turns playing Just Dance and Nico can see the moment you look around and panic.

No one has volunteered to go first yet, no one fighting over spots but he’s certain Nola and Jonas are about to spin around and pin first game to you and Nico. You must know it too because you’re slow to move from the table, cautious eyes watching everyone else get up and for a second, it’s like you’ve forgotten Nico is even there. Sly, like you’re going to follow behind Timo to the dance area, you get up from the table and Nico follows suite, prepared to follow whatever path you feel like taking today.

Except you pause, hanging back behind everyone and then you’re moving for the hallway to the bedrooms, quick like you’re trying to make a getaway. You only get a couple steps before freezing, turning around with wide and glossy eyes to meet his confused gaze.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

Wordlessly, you hold your hand out to him and he takes it, letting you lead him down the hall and into Alex's room. You drop his hand and he locks the door, turning to you at the choked sound of your breathing.

It's been awhile but he knows that sound. Remembers listening for it every time the sound of glass clinking or shattering filled the air. Remembers waking up to it in the middle of the night, listening to you gasp and wheezy against his neck while he held you, begging you to focus on him, to follow his lead.

"Baby," he calls, carefully and softly. He should've known this would happen, should've known that it was adrenaline keeping you going in Switzerland, that as soon as you were home with no distraction it would all hit. You were hurt, badly, twice by his family and he should've done something. He should've been told about this party, given a warning so that he could tell Timo no, that you're not ready to be in this environment.

But he was too caught up in everything, blinded by the rose tinted glasses, by the engagement honeymoon with you.

"M'fine," you say, but you're holding a hand over your heart, choking in shallow breathes, and he's knows you're not fine.

Nico does what he knows best. He gathers you up in his arms, a hand on the back of your neck and you bury your nose in his shoulder, rigid and trembling as he squeezes you as tightly as he can.

“I’m ok, really.” You mumble into his shirt, and he nods. You’re ok, here with him. He knows you’re ok, because you’re always ok with him. Even when you’re panicking like this, when your fear of something has clawed its way into your lungs and is suffocating, he knows you’ll be ok.

But he likes to hold you through it, to hold you steady, to be there to fight for you if you need him to.

He waits until your breathing has leveled, the muscles of your back and neck relaxing under his hands.

“Please talk to me baby,” he begs, resting his chin on top of your head. “What happened? I mean, you haven’t had a panic attack since-“

“Switzerland,” you cut him off, meekly. “I had one in Switzerland.”

Nico hesitates. You had one in Switzerland? He hadn't been told, hadn't been there for that. It couldn't have been when he was sleeping, because he always wakes up when you do, has ever since Philly. So when was it? Why did you hide it from him?

"When?" He asks, and then he suddenly has the devasting thought that maybe it was that night he left you in the hospital by yourself, hoping you'd simply sleep through all the bad things.

"At the party," you whisper, "when I said I went out for fresh air it."

You were lying, in a way. Maybe you were going for fresh air, hoping it would curb the attack, or maybe you were running from the party to fight through it alone. Either way, it happened right under his nose and not only did he miss that, it lead to Lena getting her hands on you.

This is even worse than him originally thinking it happened in the hospital. At least then he was doing something productive, not just distracted by poker and beer, and at least in the hospital you would've had doctors and nurses and Nina.

Nico hides his face in your hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to find off the wave of guilt making his head spin.

"What happened?" He begs, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was too hard," you respond, not much of an answer but he doesn't have to prod anymore, because here, in his arms, you let the words pour out of your mouth freely. Things you've been holding in for weeks. Things that he missed.

"I couldn't make friends with those girls Nico, even when I tried. I didn't get their jokes and I don't get Swiss German and I was nobody to them. I just-freaked out I guess. All of sudden everything was too much.

"I was being watched and didn't know by who, and I was so mad at you but I couldn't say it and you were mad at me too, and I just didn't know anything."

Stupid, Nico thinks, he's so fucking stupid. For this whole thing, this whole trip. He should've just mailed the ring to the states and proposed to you here, somewhere safe. Instead he tried to play the whole boy-next-door bit, taking you to his childhood home to meet his family and his friends, to try and be the carefree and social teenager he used to be. Stupidly, he thought maybe you'd see that his life at least had some love in it, that he's capable of loving you forever.

He should've known that after everything he did, he can't be his old self in his old home ever again. All he did was let you get hurt.

"I tried to look at you, to look for you but then I couldn't breathe and I was just running. It wasn't until I was outside that I realized what I did but then-"

"I know," Nico interjects, not wanting to here this again. He'd heard it one too many times already, saw the footage one too many times already.

The room goes still. You wrap your arms around his waist, step further into his chest until your clinging to him like a lifeline. He holds you like he's trying to hold every little piece together.

"Why is it so hard?" You whisper after a moment, sounding so small. "Making friends? Why can't I just talk to them? Even Nola and Nicole, I don't-"

You don't finish the sentence. You don't have too. Nico already understands. All this time it's been you and him, you and Timo. He cushioned you after your friends and family rejected you, surrounded you with him and Timo and the boys he knew loved you because he never wanted you to feel out of place again. But he also made it harder for you to step away, to let more people into your life. There was no room, no need for anyone else because he was trying to be everything for you.

He can't speak. His throat has gotten choked up with every stupid little mistake he made that got you to this point. It like a huge snowball, building up and up until it turned into an avalanche pouring down on you. And at the center of it all is him being the one that took you away from your family, that divided you and your friends.

"You're my best friend Nico," you say, certain and proud, tone stronger than before. "You have been for a long time."

He can feel your smile against his neck, the way you squeeze him just a little tighter and it rattles something lose in his throat, gives him enough space to speak. "You're my best friend too."

It's different than with Timo and the boys. Obviously Timo is his best friend too, has been since they were kids and Timo moved into his neighborhood. And he'd still say Timo is his best friend, just as you consider him.

But his friendship is different with you. He doesn't even know how to explain it. You know him so deeply, inside and out, and have always loved everything about him. He doesn't really believe in soulmates, never saw any evidence in the world of two people belonging so wholly to each other, but you might be his. How else would the universe explain how he feels about you?

Because best friends doesn't feel like enough even if it's true. And girlfriend doesn't either, so he made you his fiancée, yet that's not enough either, so he'll make you his wife. Somehow he knows that won't encompass everything the way it should either.

Your his soulmate.

"Maybe I was just meant to have you," you say thoughtfully, "like the world used up all my friendships in you."

It's a somewhat sad thought, even if it's sweet.

"I think what we have is something else entirely," Nico tells you, "And I think sometimes it's just hard to find real friends, especially with the life we have."

"What if it's just me? What if I'm unlikeable?"

Nico almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. You and unlikeable shouldn't even be in the same sentence. He's never seen anyone dislike you. Even your shitty college friends. They liked you so much they hated him. It's always been obvious that they weren't exactly concerned for your safety running around with him and the mob. Even if that was the excuse. No, they were upset because he was sending private drivers and cars to pick you up whenever you asked, reserving you VIP spots at clubs and bars in Jersey, letting you bring them along even if his boys never showed an interest in any of them

The problem was never you.

"It's not you baby," he swears, "Everyone loves you, especially the boys. Look at how they tripped over themselves to get to you first today. How they dropped everything and went to Switzerland for you, no questions asked."

You make an unconvinced noise. “They’re loyal to me because you told them to be.”

He shakes his head, wondering how you can be so smart but so oblivious at the same time. “Mercer is for sure on your side. He bit my head off in Switzerland for letting you get hurt.”

“He only went with me to get rid of Rino because you told him to pick me." You insist, "And yeah Timo is my friend but he was really yours first.”

Nico doesn't even know what else to say. It's like he's holding a bright neon sign in front of your fac but you won't open your eyes. Baby…”

“Remember when Jack said I only have friends you pay to hang around me?" You ask and Nico scowls. Yes, he does remember that. And he remembers giving Jack the worst shifts and jobs for a whole week after that, because even if it was a joke made during a stupid TikTok, it was too far. "Maybe he was right and that’s fine because it hurts less to have to have to pay for my friends than have them just never choose me.”

You say it so casually, so innocently. Like it's the only right answer, the only thing you fully believe. You've actually accepted this crazy idea that you don't deserve friends. Nico wishes he could track down every painfully moment that led you to thinking that and wipe it from existence.

Instead, he focuses on what he knows he can prove to you, on the things happening right in front of you.

"The girls are choosing you," he says, gently because the last thing he wants to do is scare you away, to make you shut down by insisting you're wrong. "They threw his whole party for you-"

"For us."

"For us," he amends, "but it's still for you too. They're trying to be your friend. I think they just don’t know how.”

You hum, unimpressed. "What do you mean?"

"It's different for you in the Devs, they know that. They know you have to be more careful, have to not be so trusting and I think they don't really know how to get around that."

He's caught your attention with that one, can tell by the way you start to mindlessly fiddle with the hem of his sweater behind his back, thinking. “I don’t know how to either Nico. The only person I’ve ever won over is you.”

Oh, you're so sweet and beautiful and dumb sometimes, Nico thinks lovingly. You didn't win him over because there was never any competition. From the very second he saw you at the Rock, when that perfect smile of yours caught his eye, that was it. He couldn't even put up a fight.

He moves to peer down at you, warmth alighting his chest when you rest your chin on him, look up at him with curious and vulnerable eyes.

“You somehow got Katja to be a mother so you’re a lot more impressionable than you think.” He assures. You get that flustered look on your face, cheeks tinging red and he can't help but trace the little splotches with his thumb.

"I know people sold you short your whole life baby, but you shouldn't. We all love you here, all want you here. It's just hard for everyone to know how to get you to open up. After everything with Philly and then me basically hiding you away, they're just afraid of doing something wrong."

"Probably more scared of you then me." You mutter, a teasing glint in your eye. Nico eases up, muscles relaxing at your playfulness.

"Maybe," he agrees, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can peck a kiss to your cheekbone. "You going to be ok?"

You nod.

"Are we still giving Timo a hard time?"

You hum, thinking and he laughs. "No I guess not, but I'm not saying sorry either."

"You don't have to." He assures, "you weren't mean, just teasing."

Knowing he's lying you giggle, rising to your toes and catching his lips in a kiss. Nico lets you have a few minutes of just kisses and giggles, easing you as much as possible before going back out to the party.

You rejoin the party and if anyone notices your absence, they don't comment on it. He thinks maybe Timo covered for you, because he catches his friends eye across the room, nodding when Timo simply raises an eyebrow.

Just Dance has turned into some kind of Nintendo Sports Golf tournament, most of the boys and kids entertained by the video game on the giant TV. But the girls are still lingering around the tables, chatting idly and sipping flutes of champagne. Nico catches you watching them, sees the nervous rise and fall of your chest.

You can do this, he says internally, sends the good thought your way because he knows you've always had a way of reading his mind. Squeezing his hand, you look to him with pleading eyes. Nico just barely has to smile, tilting his head as if to say go ahead, I've got you baby.

You let out a calming breath, lips curling just the slightest bit and then you're letting go of his fingers, making your way over to the table with Nicole and Nola and some of the others. They greet you eagerly, making room for you around the table and Kristen pours you a flute of champagne.

Nico watches you for a moment, notices the still nervous shake of your hands and the way your smile has gone shy, but you make no move to run. In fact, your letting them tug on your left hand to see your ring, leaning in to talk excitedly with Nola and then he lets himself wonder over to Timo and Jonas.

"Can't believe you gave my best friend away," Timo teases him, holding out a beer for Nico to take. Jonas laughs too, looking over towards the girl and then giving Nico an impressed look.

"Thought it'd take a few more tries to get her to leave your side."

Timo snorts. "More like get him to leave her side."

Nico thinks of maybe defending himself but he can't because he does feel oddly lacking without you. Even if you're just across the room, it's weird to not have you looking at him from time to time, or running over to tell him something, or just to give him a kiss. Not detrimentally so, but enough the he feels a bit awkward, doesn't know what to do the hand that's usually thrown over you shoulder or resting on your lower back.

It's a welcome ache though, worth the slight discomfort, because that night when it's just the two of you again, you tell him all about Nicole going to the rival high school, how she didn't grow up too far from you actually, and Nola wants to try yoga but won't go alone and hates going with Jonas so she's gonna try it with you and Timo.

And he practically kisses you silly when you curl into side under the covers, peeking up at him with wet eyes and a watery smile when you whisper, "I made friends Nico."

~~~~

An overwhelming amount of papers lay across his desk, the cute little knickknacks and framed photo of you and him at a concert last summer wiped away and stacked off to the side to make room for everything.

Nico doesn’t know how you’ll react, if you’ll even want to read through all this stuff but he laid it out for you anyway. You like reading, like analyzing numbers and information like this. He remembers how well you did it with what you so fondly called the Steel Deal. The acquisition of Johnny from the Penguins.

The memory of you, proud and confident when you presented him with that deal -more like surprised him with it actually- because he hadn’t even thought about trying to bring Johnny to Jersey. And he hadn’t thought you’d want to be doing deals for the Devs after Philly. He thought you’d want to keep a low profile.

Instead, after the initial recovery, you jumped head first into training with Timo, into learning anything and everything they were willing to teach you, into tagging along with Nico on routine check ups around the city.

He thinks of that girl, by his side for everything, so certain in her place. It took work but you seemed to find your spot, to find the things you genuinely liked doing for the Devs. He could see the way it eased you, you smiled easier, went through the day happy, knowing you found somewhere you belonged.

And he thinks of the girl he saw at the engagement party a few days ago, how unsure she was, how defensive. He hasn’t seen you like that since those few months stretching between him breaking up with you and coming home from Philly.

You weren’t happy then, weren’t yourself. It was like a shell of the person he knows and loves. You looked small, felt small, and Nico swore then and there he’d never let you feel like that again. He’d always show you that you’re worth a lot more than you think.

But he coddled you too much, and while it’s kept you pretty safe so far, it’s also hurt you. He wrapped you in a safety net and tied it tight, didn’t leave room for you to grow under his protection. Nico didn’t encourage you the way he should’ve.

He’ll spend the rest of his life being your biggest fan.

Starting here. In this mess of papers and contracts and legal documents.

His biggest deal. His smartest decision. This is what he’ll be remembered for. At least he hopes.

Nico doesn’t know where in the house you are, he just knows that you and Timo got back a little bit ago with hoards of grocery bags on your arms. Staring there, he lightly closes the door to his office and makes his way to the kitchen.

He pauses outside the living room, finding you on the couch in a surprisingly darker environment than he thought it’d be. Maybe it wasn’t just a little bit ago that he saw Timo because it’s well past five judging by the darkness outside the windows and his friend is no where to be seen.

You’re laying in the corner of the couch, nestled in the cushions that have gotten overly soft from you and him always favoring that spot. A fluffy white blanket is thrown over your lap, bunched up against your torso but not enough to hide that fact that you’ve got one of his crewnecks on, a soft grey one that has St. Moritz stitched into it with a little embroidered Swiss flag underneath.

Nico’s had that thing for years. Luca had bought it for him when he was about 13 during a birthday trip for Nico. It was on sale because all that was left in size was a 2XL in US sizes but the fabric was soft and Nico kept rubbing his fingers on the sleeve when he walked by it.

Luckily he grew into it and a decade later the thing is still hanging on, even if Nico doesn’t wear it anymore. You wear it plenty though, especially around the holidays and he wonders what about it makes you pull it out every November.

Moose, curled up at your feet on couch lifts his head when Nico moves into the living room. You pull your gaze from the television, looking to Nico and he smiles at the way your eyes go starry.

“Done with work?” You ask, biting at your bottom lip and he feels a little bad for not paying attention to the time, for working late when he didn’t mean to. It’s obvious by your expression that you’ve been patiently waiting for him, not wanting to interrupt him working.

He leans over you, hands sinking into the couch cushions and presses a kiss to your lips. “Need you to come look at something real quick,” he says, then kisses you again.

“Then you’ll be done?”

You’re so sweet, trying to be subtle about wanting his attention. It’s funny that in moments like this, when it’s pertained to work, you’ll be polite, but any other time you get demanding and whiny.

Or mean, he laughs to himself, thinking of you with Timo earlier this week.

“Then I’ll be all yours.” He confirms.

A slow smile takes over your face. Taking that as an agreement, Nico tugs the blanket off of you, tossing it over Moose. The dog doesn’t budge, remaining curled up in the warmth.

Taking your hand, Nico leads you down the hall and to his office. You pause in the doorway, taken aback as you look over the state of his office.

“Did you work from home all day?”

Nico hums, ushering you in with a hand on your hip. “Started the morning at Sötis,” he explains, leaning back against the doorway as you trail further into the room.

“And then came home to do some light reading?” You tease, rounding his desk. Just as he expected, you trail your fingers over the top papers, glancing at all the information laid out.

Briefly, you look up at him through your eyelashes, innocently awaiting his reaction. He wouldn’t ever stop you from knowing important information about the Devils, wouldn’t deny you the knowledge of the business.

Especially not a business that is half yours.

“Go ahead,” he encourages. Not needing to be told twice, you drag his chair over and curl up in it, shifting through the stacks. He’s patient, watching you greedily read every word laid out before you.

He’s not sure which stack you’re currently on but he knows exactly which one is going to make you jump from that chair. The one littered with your name, signed and authorized by him and made legal by his lawyers.

Nico wasn’t exactly keeping it from you. If you ever asked, ever sifted through his desk just for the hell of it, he would’ve been fine with you knowing. It’s taken him months to get it all written up, properly laid out.

But it wasn’t until the engagement party that he officially signed the last bit of his plans. The papers dividing the Devils organization into two halves.

“Nico,” you mumble, a hint of disbelief in your tone. A sly smile curls at his lips, seeing the pinch between your eyebrows and the confusion in your gaze. Under it all though, is a hint of awe.

“What is this?”

He pushes off the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and he plays the fool. “I don’t know. What does it say?”

You blink, look back down at the papers and then up at him. “It says I own Hischier enterprises.”

Trying not to laugh, Nico hums and looks over your shoulder, ignoring the way your craning your neck to look up at him, to find answers in his features.

“Would you look at that,” he says, running his hand through your hair, settling it on your neck. “It sure does.”

He does laugh when you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up from his chair and placing the contacts back on his desk. Taking a hold of his shoulders, he lets you steer him into the chair, kneeing his legs apart so you can settle in his lap.

You collect the papers again, holding them in front of him. “Explain. Now.”

So he does. Yeah he could wait and make you read through it all on your own, realize what he’s been working on for the past few months, but it’ll mean more from him.

Reading it makes it seem like business, like he’s forcing this change upon you. Hearing it from him though, is how it should be. He can explain that it’s not just because, that it’s not just a deal. You’ve earned this, you deserve this.

After everything you gone through with him, this is yours. And come what may, it’ll always be yours.

Nico has officially turned the Devils into a legal entity under the name Hischier Enterprises. The official parent company of the Rock, Sötis, Red Rose Flower Boutique, and more. Every business the Devils have stock in, have partner ownership of, is now under Hischier Enterprises.

Starting January 1st, the newly appointed CEO is none other than Y/n Hischier.

He can see the moment it hits you. When your eyes go all moony and look to him like he might be crazy, like he maybe made the worst decision ever but you still love him for it.

“That’s crazy,” you say, as if your face wasn’t already telling him that. “I can’t run the devils, I mean where are you? Your name isn’t on any of this anymore Nico.”

He pries your left hand off the contract, bringing it up to his lips to press a calming kiss to the back of it. You let out a slow breath at the action, sinking into the arm he’s got wrapped around you.

“No my name isn’t on it. I’m in charge of the other half now.”

Before you can so much as take another breath, he continues, all the while soothingly trailing his thumb up your ring finger until it meets the cool metal of your ring, and then down to your freshly manicured nail.

Your name is on everything because he’s just made the Devils legal through Hischier Enterprises, and he’s done it under the name of someone with a squeaky clean record, someone who has no trace back to organized crime. You.

As for him and the boys, the Devils will remain operational just as they had before. Instead of him juggling both the welfare of their protected companies and the Devs activities off the books, he’ll simply do the latter. You’re now in charge of managing books, expanding investments, and protection. The legal face of the Devils.

Nico and his boys will keep up their under the table deals, their Jersey contracts, the buy offs and bribes. Everything illegal will be kept away from you. In fact the only time Hischier Enterprises will ever technically be doing business with the Devs, will be when Nico feeds money through the businesses to make it clean.

“You’re giving me all of this?” You ask in disbelief. “What about the others? I mean Jesper and Jonas have been around this whole time. Even Timo, he should be doing this-“

“He will be,” Nico interjects “if you want him too. You’ll need a team to join you, and all of the boys know they’re available to you. So whoever you choose will be working under you now.

“I’ve got some recommendations of course. Keep Timo obviously. You two work together better than him and I ever have. I’d like to offer up Mercer too though, give him a bigger role. I think we both know after Switzerland that he’s ready for it.”

Nico gives you a moment to think, to take it all in. It’s a lot, he knows that. You do looked a little more shocked than he thought you would, like you never imagined you’d be this important to the Devils. It almost makes him laugh, how you still don’t get it.

Maybe he’ll be spending the rest of his life still trying to convince you that you’re the heart of the Devils.

Finally, a look of acceptance washes over you. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you sit up straight, taking on an air of leadership.

There she is, Nico thinks. This is the girl that he’s put in charge, the one that knows herself, is sure of herself. The smart girl that took his breath away from the moment she opened her mouth.

“I’ll take Mercer,” you agree, eyes looking at him with so much warmth he already knows he’s going to agree to whatever comes out of your mouth next. “If you keep Jack.”

“Okay,” Nico agrees easily, but you’re not done. Holding up a finger to stop him.

“As your second hand.”

He already knows where this is going. You’re going to take Luke, train him under you, and Nico will keep Jack. They’ve been at each other’s sides since the moment Luke got here, and then he got lost in the mess of cleaning you up after Philly.

Luke’s abilities have taken a back seat, tucked away by his brother acting as boss for the first few months of his time in Jersey. He hasn’t been able to grow and Jack has been held back making up for it.

Separate them and they’ll have room to grow.

Most importantly though, you trust Jack to have Nico’s back. If you and him are going to be running things separately now, if you’re going to be taking some of his men, you’re going to leave the one you know would protect him the way you would. And Jack is that guy.

Just to be sure, he asks, “Jack? You believe in him enough to do that?”

There’s no hesitation in your response. “Yeah I do.”

He nods and that’s that. Come the new year and Jack will begin training to back up Nico.

Pleased, you smile and tuck the papers back into a pile, sitting back into his hold. He presses his thumb into the dimple on your back, tucking you under his chin and giving you time to let it all hit.

He can’t bombard you with the rest, not until you’re ready.

“I can’t believe you did this Nico,” you say after a while, a hint of giddiness in your tone. Chuckling, he flexes his leg to jolt you. Your hand grabs at his stomach, using him to steady yourself.

“You didn’t think all that training with Timo and me was for nothing, did ya?”

It’s out there now. This was always the plan. For years it’s been the plan. The universe threw the smartest, most determined woman in the world in his lap and he didn’t take it for granted.

You were always meant for this.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just trusted you and Timo. Knew it would all work out.”

Nico presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Smart girl,” he compliments, then pats at your hip to get you to sit up. “Something else here for ya, baby.”

He presses his chest to you back, leaning over the desk with you and he points out which files are for which businesses, which stack holds all the information on the boys in case you want to study up on their numbers before choosing. Just as you’d done so beautifully with Johnny. He shows you the folder with potential future investments, the ethical studies and profit profiles on them. All things he knows you and Timo are capable of doing. Will happily do.

Eventually, he gets to the last folder. Slides it across the desk until it sits in front of you, begging to be opened.

Assets.

Nico squeezes your side encouragingly, and your nimble fingers flip it open. Inside lays every document listing every one of his personal assets. The vehicles in the garage, the Suite at MetLife, the jet, the penthouse apartment he lived in when he met you, the house you’re currently sat in, and the one you stayed at all the way in Switzerland.

At the top of every single one is your name.

Signing that last one over was a trick, because he needed another Hischier witness to sign alongside him. But Luca was more than happy, even if he did grill Nico a bit about sighing all his property and worth over to you.

Add it all up and it’s still not worth her, Nico had said in explanation. It went unspoken but they both knew his intention.

You get it all and Nico gets you.

“You didn’t,” you gasp, slamming the folder shut. Like it won’t be true if you can’t see it. “Nico you did not take your name off of everything.”

You shove the file back across the desk, tucking your hands between your thighs and he laughs. He didn’t really know what he was expecting reaction wise but wigging out like this wouldn’t have been high on the list.

“Sure I did,” he says, casually. “As soon as we get married it’ll be half mine again anyway.”

Shaking your head, you lean back into his arm to get a better look at him. Nico smiles, ignoring the judgmental gleam in your eye.

“Why did you do this?”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why did you do this? We’re getting married and like you said, it would have been half mine then. So why sign it over now?”

You’re not angry, not upset him but there’s something there he can’t quite place. Almost like you’re waiting for a bomb to drop, for him to admit there was some ulterior motive here.

In a way, there is, though it’s not in the way you so obviously think it is.

“Everything but the house in Switzerland was under your name since the moment we bought this one.” He admits, meeting your unwavering gaze. You’re waiting to see if he’s lying, if he’ll give away something else. There’s nothing to give away though, and you tilt your head with curiosity when you realize he’s not hiding.

“After Philly, I wanted you to be safe. I told you that I’d always take care of you, and I did.”

You blink, unrelenting and he smiles a bit. He wasn’t lying when he said you’re the smartest person he knows but once again, you won’t look at what’s right in front of you.

If there’s one thing he’s learned to do since meeting you, it’s how to speak his thoughts. It doesn’t always come easy, but when you’re looking at him with those Bambi eyes, it’s simple.

He explains that the little work he did in the months after Philly was signing his assets over to you. He knew it would all be yours one day anyway so why not now? It was what’s best.

Because him putting your name on those papers provided you with everything you’d ever need. In the event that something ever happened to him, that he wasn’t fit to be boss anymore, that he somehow didn’t make it home to you, you’d never have to worry. You’d have the homes, the card, the money, and most importantly the Devils.

In the event of Nico doing something stupid like dying, you’re the new head of the family.

“You’ve been thinking about that?” You ask incredulously, “Since then?”

Nico nods, like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t. This whole time, the endgame was you. Everything he is, everything he has, it’s always been yours.

“I told you when I got you back that I was making sure I was ready for you, prepared for you.” He says, fingers finding the chain on your neck. Pulling it out of his hoodie on your frame, Nico fiddles with the pendant and ring. “I don’t live the safest life, I know that. So if something ever happened to me, I had to make sure you’d be taken care of.”

You’re silent and Nico looks up to see your reaction, pauses when he realizes you just watching him with glossy eyes, bottom lip bitten between your teeth

Finally you blink, shaking your head softly. “You’re stupid if you think you could just up and I die and I wouldn’t have any say in it.”

It’s impossible, not that either of you say that. Actually if Nico thinks about it, you might just have a say in it. You’re so stubborn, so capable, maybe you could drag him back from the afterlife.

He leans in to touch his lips to yours, smiling against them when you run your fingers through his hair, cradle his face so gently. “No need to worry then.”

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, the words hot on his mouth “I worry about you all the time.”

Nico pulls back at the heaviness of your tone, searching your face to see what happened to the sweet girl that was holding him just a moment ago. Instead you look concerned, lips drooped in a frown and eyes rounded with sadness.

When he doesn’t say anything, you press on. “I don’t want any of this stuff if I don’t have you Nico. It’s not-“

He kisses you, locking his fingers around your throat in that way he knows makes you go boneless. This conversation wasn’t meant to make you teary, to make you upset at the thought of him not being here with you. But he can’t not have a plan in place.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, knowing he left you unprepared. Vulnerable.

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere then,” he says into your lips, your fingers pressing in tighter on his scalp, hanging onto his every word.

Nothing could ever take him away from you, not without a fight.

Hours later, with the documents on his desk forgotten and the office door locked tight, you bring it up again.

It’s too early to be watching a Christmas movie but you’ve got a Charlie Brown Christmas playing on the tv, the only light in the living room coming from the flickering flames of the fireplace and the flashes on the screen.

Moose is sprawled out on the carpet, too close to the fire for how thick is fur is and that’s evident in the way he occasionally pants and squirms to a new cool space on the floor.

Laying against his chest in that corner of the couch you two love, you tilt your chin to look up at him. Nico thinks about making a joke, teasing that he can see up your nose or that you’re gonna get a crick in your neck.

The serious look in your eye stops him.

“What about the boys?” You ask, quiet and Nico strokes his hand up and down your arm.

“What boys?”

“The Devs boys,” you explain “The ones that have been with you since the beginning. You wouldn’t give it all to them instead?”

Nico had the talk with them, wanted to give them all a chance to plead their case. Jesper didn’t have one, just wanted to make sure Sötis was still his. Jonas only wanted to keep his job and his home with Nola.

As for Timo, he asked for nothing. His friend that had every right to demand it all, didn’t demand anything. He just smiled at Nico with that knowing look, like he knew this whole time that Nico would give the Devs to you.

“They agreed,” he says carefully. The last thing he needs is you panicking again, realizing that all these people have your back and freaking out on him. He’s still working on easing you into being real friends with them.

“They just agreed?” You ask, shifting to look straight at him instead of upside down. He already knows what you’re thinking. The boys know the business better, helped him build it. Why shouldn’t they run it?

“They all know and agreed that you’re in charge after me. Even if you didn’t know what you were doing at first, they all agreed they’d follow you.”

Timo’s condition to Nico signing everything over to you. It wasn’t so much a condition as it was a promise, but him and Nico one by one made sure all the boys were okay with the plan.

They’d teach you everything, and Timo would make sure you stayed safe and protected.

You don’t say anything. Just settle back into his chest, tugging his arm so that it rests heavy over your chest, your arms hugging his bicep. He’s not sure how much of the movie you actually watch, that thoughtful wrinkle between your eyebrows the whole time but when he takes you up to bed, you sleep soundly.

Knowing you’re protected and safe. Always.

~~~~

“Nico,” you whine, annoyed and begging. Your tone, on the edge of alarming, has him setting his phone down and looking up to you in concern.

Across the island, you stand with both hands held out in front of you, a kitchen knife hanging limply in your fingers. At first he thinks you’ve cut yourself, especially when he gets a good look at your face and sees tears trailing down your cheeks, eyes angry and red.

“Baby,” he gasps, jumping up from the tall chair and rushing around the counter. You drop the knife, let it clatter to the cutting board where a half chopped pile of onions lay.

“What?” He asks in confusion, because there’s not a drop of blood anywhere. Getting a better look at you, noticing his sunglasses haphazardly pushed onto the top of your head, he realizes what’s going on.

“I can’t cut the onion,” you pout, another tear rolling down your cheek. Your fingers reach up to swipe at it and he yelps to stop you.

“I got it,” he says, shooing your hands away and wiping at your cheeks with his own fingers. “Close ‘em,” he instructs, then carefully swipes at your wet eyelashes to dry any remaining tears.

Bleary, you blink your eyes open and he nudges you towards the sink. He waits for the sound of the water running before taking up your spot at the counter, fingers diligently swiping the knife through the remaining chunks of onion.

“You’ve got eyes of steel or something,” you grumble, fingers tangled in a dish towel as you come over to watch him. His sunglasses slip down your forehead, catching crookedly on your nose and he snorts in amusement.

“S’mental game,” he says gruffly, standing up taller and flexing his arms and chest. The move makes you giggle, tossing the towel at the side of his head and he ducks, letting it fly straight over him and onto the far counter.

You roll your eyes, his sunglasses now tucked in your hand. “You just have to be good at everything, don’t you?”

Turning your back to him, you return his glasses to their spot on the counter by the garage door, right under all the car keys. He laughs at your dramatizing, scooping up the diced onion and dropping it into the pan you’ve got warming on the stove.

“Not dinner,” he says, swiping away any remains of the vegetable and going to wash his hands. “So you can take over again.”

Not needing to be told twice, you go back to the cutting board, wrinkling your nose at the lingering burning scent of the onions.

“Will you start making a list of groceries for Thanksgiving?” You ask him sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him when he slumps back into his chair with a huff.

The holidays have always been a big deal to you. You plan them for weeks, every little detail from seating cards to the layout of the table. He never really cared for them too much, at least not Thanksgiving since he doesn’t really understand the politics of the holiday and whether or not he should be celebrating it. But you’re American and you enjoy it so he goes along with it.

It’s about family, you always told him. Traditions and being together is what makes you all a family. Nico didn’t have a lot of that until you came around so if making lists and cooking for hours and hanging leafs and placing cornucopias and eating chocolate turkeys is about family, then sign him up.

He’ll still grumble and huff about it though, mostly just to get to you.

“Don’t be like that,” you beg him, laying slivers of chicken into the sizzling pan with the onions. “You love Thanksgiving!”

“I love all the food,” he corrects, which is true. Between him and Luke, there’s never many leftovers for you guys to choke down the whole week after Thanksgiving. And while you’ve never had a problem with how much Nico eats, this is one of those holidays that he doesn’t have to feel too bad about consuming twice as much food as everyone around him. It’s the spirit of the holiday.

“Which is why you’re in charge of writing it all down,” you chirp, hand on your hip as you peer down at the stove with a pair of tongs in hand.

He always teases you for being weird about cooking chicken, but you have some phobia of getting salmonella and insist on watching the meat cook thoroughly with your own two eyes.

“You’re better at planning, ya know?” He says, but he’s already making a new shared note on his phone, listing the basics; turkey, stuffing, potatoes, etc.

“Ok, Mr. I-Already-Have-My-Will-Written-Out,” you mock, shooting him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Besides, you better get used to it because I am not planning our wedding by myself.”

The words just slip out. “I already started that.”

The kitchen goes silent for a moment, only the sizzling of the stove breaking the silence. Nico blushes, looking up from his phone and to his horror you’ve abandoned your watchtower overlooking the chicken.

“What?” You ask, lips curling into a shocked smile.

He shrugs, playing it cool. “Just small stuff. Some color ideas and like flowers. Maybe the time of year, that stuff.”

“When did you start doing that?”

Nico doesn’t want to admit that he’s had his mind on this for months, worries that maybe you’ll admit you hadn’t thought about it. That you’ll think it’s weird for him to have thought so much about it.

Dropping his gaze, he rushes out an explanation. “I uh saw something on Pinterest that made me think of you so I saved it and then all of sudden I just kept adding stuff.”

He hears the stove click, looks up from his phone again to find you crossing the kitchen towards him. You’ve got that moony look in your eyes again, cheeks just a little pink and warmth blooms in his chest, shy and sweet.

“What colors?” You ask carefully, stepping behind him. He’s about to complain, about to pull you into his lap but then your hands are rubbing over his shoulders, slipping down the front of his chest and you lean heavily into his back.

It’s a nice feeling, shielded. Almost how you hold him that night in Switzerland, after his brain warped his old childhood nightmare into something worse. Warped him into his father.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, tilting his head into yours when you press an encouraging kiss to his temple. “I thought maybe light blue and white? I know white like a wedding basic but the blue looks nice with it.”

He can feel you smile. “Yeah it does,” you agree, “baby blue? Like the hydrangea flower?”

Nico doesn’t know what flower that is. It is a baby blue though, more inspired by one of the pretty summer dresses you have. You wore it to brunch with him once, brand new and so perfect it looked like the designer had you in mind specifically when they made it. And you just looked so good he couldn’t help it, picturing you holding a baby blue bouquet in a white dress.

Then Pinterest read his mind because two days later he had baby blue wedding themes on his dashboard. He saved it, took it as a sign.

“Yeah I guess,” he says, enclosing his hand around yours, pressing them into his chest. “Is that-do you like that color?”

You kiss right beside his eye, a fluttering touch of your lips that makes his skin tickle. “Yeah I do,” you agree, “you look good in those soft colors too.”

Heat crawls up his neck, blooms in his face and he chuckles, flattered. “Thought you liked me in black?”

“I do,” you hum, “s’not my fault you look in good in everything. And nothing.”

Nico snickers, turning to press his nose into your cheek. “Nude wedding out of the question?”

“With all the boys there?” You say with mirth, “are you sure?”

Nico makes a face. Maybe just you and him then. An elopement, something small and intimate.

No that doesn’t sound right. The people you love should be there, the people that love you too. You deserve to walk down the aisle with every eye on you, knowing that today, it’s all about you.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “you can just flash me real quick before you walk down the aisle.”

A happy laugh bubbles out of you, girlish and giddy, so contagious it makes him laugh too. You bury your giggles in his shoulder, hair tickling his face and he strokes over your hand until you look at him again.

“Deal,” you nod, gaze shifting over his face like you’re trying to memorize everything about him, like you’re seeing something new there. Something better. Suddenly, something serious settles over your features.

“Nico,” you whisper, timidly “What if I have no one to invite? My side of the church will be empty.”

A church? Nico didn’t think you’d care for getting married in a church. He certainly doesn’t. He could use that to change the subject, to deflect away the dampened mood brought on by this question.

But this isn’t something he can ignore. You don’t talk about your family very much either, not that he ever wants to hear about them. To him, they’re scum, lower than scum. They’re the worst of the worst for the way they treated you and they don’t even deserve to be on your mind let alone spoken.

He’s wants you to be open though, to be accepting of love from people other than him. He can only do that by sorting through this. Through the much.

“Are you kidding?” Nico replies, keeping his words light. “No way the boys are picking my side over yours. Let’s see how many of them ask to be in your bridal party.”

You’re not deterred.

“Who will walk me down the aisle?”

Quick questions, quick answers. He doesn’t even have to think about it. It’ll always come down to whatever you want.

“Whoever you want to baby. If you want it to be me, I’ll do it. If you want it to be one of the boys, they’ll do it, if you don’t even want the fucking aisle I’ll get rid of it. Whatever you want to do.”

He can see the beginnings of a smile curling at your lips, amused at the idea of him removing an aisle from the wedding. You could do it too. Just come from around the crowd with him, meet in the middle in front of everyone. Just you and him.

“And my family?”

“We’re right here with you baby,” he promises, knowing that’s not exactly the family you’re asking about. He just needs you to know that no matter what, the Devils are family. “But if you want to invite them we can do that too.”

You make a face, like you don’t really want to but maybe you’ll think about it. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, he’d imagine. Not letting your parents know their only child is marrying. Even if they don’t show up, you can still invite them. That way they at least know.

“Really?” You whisper and he nods, squeezing your hand.

“Whoever is supposed to be there for you, will be there. I’m sure of it, baby.” He’ll make sure of it.

You lean in, place a grateful kiss to his lips. “I love you Schao.”

“I love you darling.”

Nico’s tilting his head to kiss you again when his phone buzzes on the countertop, the sound synching up with the chime of your phone in your pocket. Confused, you both pull back to check his screen.

It’s a text from Jack, sent in a group message with both you and Nico, as well as Luke. They never text just him when it’s out of work hours, knowing he’ll likely not check his phone. Unless it’s a phone call to his work phone, he doesn’t need to talk anyone but you.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, and Nico gets a good look at the text, echoing your words.

Quinn invited us to Vancouver after the holidays! And you guys too because Luke said he won’t go without Nico :)

[itaipava]

— habits f1 boys developed in your relationship.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

the first thing he does in the morning is open his phone; since he started dating you, nothing is on his mind but you. you’re the one constant he can’t get rid of and he thinks you might be the death of him. even when he’s working, all he sees is your face, which always leaves him with a bright and passionate look followed by a silly smile on his lips that always makes others smile and joke about how in love he is. when he starts his day, he wants the first thing he sees is you; so every morning when he wakes up he picks up his phone to admire his lock screen; which is you smiling hugely at the camera as he kisses your cheek. and smiling, he sends you a cute and genuine good morning message.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

he always looks at you first when he makes a joke or sarcastic comment; since you two were just friends he always liked your laugh and your smile, so he’s always making some joke or sarcastic comment about something or someone and, without realizing it, he turns his face to look at you and can’t help but smile. and when you’re in crowded places, he always pulls you close and whispers in your ear something he’s noticed or some inside joke. everyone says he gets even more talkative and funny when you’re around, but he doesn’t mind the teasing because your smile is the best thing he could ask for.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he always takes a moment out of his day to be with you; no matter how busy his day is or what’s going on, he always wants to take a moment to lie with you and be able to talk, feel you there. he traces the details of your face while asking about your day and what has been going on in your life and mind lately. he loves and appreciates every second with you and those little moments are the most important to him; he hugs you on the bed and expresses his love in every way he can.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he likes to do things together; he loves your presence and he loves to share the same happiness and peaceful atmosphere with you, so everything he is going to do he calls you to do with him; mainly taking a shower. he loves the feel of the intimacy of rubbing each other’s bodies, washing each other’s hair, and laughing at the silly things only the two of you do. he also loves to hug you after a shower, he puts something on the television but he doesn’t care at all, he’s too busy getting lost in your body and the delicious smell of soap and lotion that exudes from you. he loves these little moments with you, he loves you.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he texts you every day; he can’t go too long without talking to you or making sure you’re okay and taking care of yourself, so whenever possible he texts you or even calls you. he also likes to send you pictures or videos that he saw and ‘remembered you’ just to brighten your day a little. you always wake up to texts from him, saying something like ‘good morning my love. i hope you have an amazing day today. please take care. i’ll always be here’ and his messages are also the last thing you see before you go to sleep. even though it’s such a simple gesture, you can see his love and adoration for you and how much you mean to him.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he always carries extra stuff for you; in his backpack, there is always an extra hoodie in case you get cold, medicine, your favorite snacks, hair ties, and anything else you might need. he readily helps you pin your hair up - because he’s seen enough tutorials on the internet to learn how to style your hair perfectly - or helps you put on the hoodie; he always gives you a kiss on the forehead as if he’s glad he could help you. he has always promised to take care and protect you from anything and he shows it through small gestures and you appreciate it from the bottom of your heart, which makes him even more in love with you.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he decorates all your favorite things; he always makes breakfast the way you like, you often wake up to the smell of ready-made coffee; he leans against the doorframe with a cup in his hand and smiles lazily at you when you wake up. he loves to learn your quirks and mannerisms; he ends up taking all of them and just realizes he’s doing the same thing as you when you point it out. he also loves to please you so he often brings home your favorite flower in your favorite color, or cooks your favorite dish, or plays your favorite music at random times. he always smirks when he realizes how happy those little things have made you, and he couldn’t be more in love.

[teojira]

Really enjoyed your headcanons on Caeser and Proximus, do you mind doing the same with Noa?? 😊🙏

[Noa and day to day life with him!] [Headcanons!]

Summary: Noa takes you back with him to his home, and the clan accepts you as one of them. Even if you're concerned otherwise.

Word count: 1k (Jesus christ)

Warnings: None that I can think of! Can be read as Platonic or Romantic! You and Noa are attached to one another. (Yes, this is me projecting.)

A/N: Noa is so near and dear to me, I literally did not mean for this to be so long, and I STILL cut myself off. This is 1k words worth of headcanons for him, and it is not enough. I'm Noa's #1 fan, I am sorry to all my friends and family who have to hear me talk about him constantly.. Ask me for Noa anything, and I will give you the world.

Do me a favor and strap the fuck in for this it's alot.

I am so glad someone asked about Noa bc I got ALOT to say.

Noa has had it with humans, Mae put him, his clan, and countless others at risk, he should not trust humans, really he shouldn't, but he can't help it. She also betrayed you in the process, and now you're alone.

You agreed to help him and Mae against Proximus, you're the only one who actively goes up against Proximus as well.

Swinging and trying your best to try and get Proximus off of Noa, yelling and crying while the other apes just stare in fear. (Later on they apologize, but you don't hold it against them.)

It's a huge risk to invite a human with them again, but then he remembers Rakas words, Caesars words, and decides he can't told another's decisions over you.

So when he gently grabs your hand in his, looking down at you with a strained smile, blood seeping from his lips, you follow, back to his clans land.

Now on to the good stuff, it's kinda awkward finding your place among the eagle clan, the elders are gone, his father Koro is gone, there really is no guidance as to where to place you.

You drift mostly, either helping Dar or helping with the young ones, teaching them how to read and write, helping fish, farm, the basic tasks.

Dar loves you by the way, doting on you and making sure no one messes with you in a harmful way. She teaches you their customs and traditions, all the while playfully teasing you about Noa. She's a mom, she knows.

You're happy with your work, happy with your place among the clan. It's genuinely shocking how much they were willing to forgive and to not hold any grudges against humans after one ruined everything.

It helps that Noa takes accountability for you, somehow so trusting that you will not cause harm. His faith in you speaks volumes and you remind him everyday that it won't go to waste.

All he does is send you a sweet smile and ruffles your hair.

You find yourself helping Noa alot with crafting new tools and contraptions, being a second pair of eyes that can catch onto things he can't.

"Very smart." "Thank yo-" "For an Echo." and he does that stupid cute little sniff afterwards and it makes it tremendously hard to hit him.

He's such a little shit I fucking hate him.

You're his shadow when his duties permit, he's taken on a higher role of the clan, sometimes going out for days at a time but you're always at the edge of the Village waiting for his return, anxiously working your bottom lip until you see him in view.

You're both extremely attached to one another, Soona and Anaya become attached to you too, dragging you along in everyone's free time to go climbing, to eat, to hunt, just about any group outing has you as their fourth member.

Noa was worried about them accepting you, but they love you just as much as he does.

It makes his heart swell when he sees you and Soona together, giggling about something surely only you both understand while Anaya groans and complains about being left out.

It's like you've always been meant to be with them, to round out their group.

Soona and Anaya will offer to be the one to carry you this time, they do want to, genuinely, but Noa won't let them 99.9% of the time, He's used to your weight, he trusts that he can keep you safe the best. (Says the ape that literally almost died multiple times doing stupid shit)

"Noa worries too much, they will be fine." "Anaya is clumsy. Can't trust you to carry yourself, much less echo."

He tries not to carry you everywhere, but it is so much more convenient than waiting for you, so he scoops you up often enough that the stares don't bother you anymore.

Remember how in the movie, all the apes sleep together communally? Well you're at first extremely nervous about that, not wanting to ask what exactly are your accommodations because surely they don't want you there with them.

Actually, Noa does, so jot that down.

When you shyly move away, he raises his palm up at you, nodding to the space besides him.

When you don't move, he gently tugs you down, laying on his back and shutting his eyes. The clan hasn't really fully rebuilt and started to gather things needed for shawls and coverings, so it's not strange to him that you cuddle up to him to steal his warmth, peeking an eye open to see your face squished into his side, knocked out.

He wraps an arm around you, incasing you in more warmth.

This is a nightly routine until you finally take it upon yourself to throw yourself on him, he chokes out a breath as you make yourself comfortable.

Soona and Anaya usually join in, he cannot fucking breathe but he's so happy that it outweighs it.

When Mae inevitably shows back up, she sees you out in the distance, you look so genuine happy, so at peace with where you are. You even have some eagle feathers in your hair, integrated into their life that it shocks her.

It's enough to make her put the gun away, grasping at Rakas necklace like a lifeline, sucking in a deep breath to stop her from crying.

Maybe apes and humans can live at peace with one another after all. She hopes you prove her wrong.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[dollfacefantasy]

Video Games

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral (f receiving)

summary: you're playing video games when leon feels a little needy

word count: 1.9k

a/n: hi everyone, i'm back with another piece. thank you so so much to everyone who supported my last post (especially if you reblogged and/or left a comment, hugging you through the screen rn). And if you followed me, hi! happy to have you here :) it means a lot to me, and i hope people find some enjoyment in this post as well. this post has nothing to do with the song video games, but i love lana and wanted to use that picture so idgaf. also, all the games mentioned are ones i really loved when i was younger. i'd love to hear some you guys like if you want to share. again, feedback, likes, follows, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

You were so excited when your parents called you and told you they were bringing by your old Playstation 2 today. They were cleaning out the garage and found the dusty, old box that contained the system and all your favorite games from when you were young. Leon was sitting on the couch, watching you wander around as you spoke into the phone. He had returned from a difficult mission recently and your joyful presence alone made everything seem brighter. He smiled at the ways your eyes lit up when you laughed and recalled old memories. He’d gently reach out and stroke your hip when you’d walk past the sofa, lost in your conversation.

About an hour later, you were rushing out the front door to retrieve your box of nostalgia. Leon trailed behind with his eyes full of love for you. He takes the box of stuff as you briefly talk to your mom and thank her for making the stop. He carries the box back into the house for you. It wasn’t that heavy. You definitely could have done it yourself, but he couldn’t get enough of how that sweet smile would spread across your face when you said thank you and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

The two of you set up the console together in your living room. His strong arms hold the tv at an awkward angle as you snake behind it to plug in the cords in all the different ports. His eyes can’t help but run along your body. He can’t help but notice how your shorts ride up as you bend over or how your back arches while you strain to reach the back of the screen. He’s snapped out of his lustful daze when he hears you say “Got it!” and pull back from behind the tv. He puts the monitor back in place and you hug him from behind, pressing soft kisses to his back while thanking him again for his help.

“It’s nothing, Baby,” he says softly, turning to face you and kissing the top of your head.

You smile up at him before eagerly pulling him to sit on the couch with you. You rifle through your box of old games, pulling out your beaten-up copies of Sly Cooper and Silent Hill. Your eyes sparkle with excitement as you gush to him about your favorite parts and all the fun you used to have playing them with your friends. His heart aches with the love he feels just from hearing you speak with such passion.

“Why don’t you show me some?” he suggests as you continue looking through the box on your lap.

“You want to watch me play video games?” you ask as if it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be bored.”

He laughs slightly like even the idea of being bored while spending time with you was ridiculous. “C’mon, you’re all excited over this stuff, and you’re not gonna play?” he asks, “I’ll be fine. Maybe you can teach me your tricks.”

“Yeah, I’m a real pro,” you joke sarcastically, but your smile remains genuine. You decide on playing Tomb Raider and hop up to put the game in. Again, Leon can’t help how his eyes are drawn to the fabric of your bottoms tightening around your ass as you squat to insert the game. You return to your seat and get comfy against his side with his arms around your shoulder.

You start playing, your smile widening as you hear the familiar music and begin remembering the controls like the last time you played was only yesterday. Leon watches the screen as much as he can, but his real focus is on you. The way your fingers frantically mash at the buttons while fighting an enemy, how you tense and press against him when you think you’re going to die, your half-assed justifications for mistakes you make, blaming the age of the controllers. He loved you so much that his limbs nearly trembled with want for you. Everything about you drove him wild. You smelled so good and your body was so warm nestled against his.

He keeps watching you, and it’s becoming overwhelming, his desire for you. He leans his head down, brushing your hair away, and starts gently kissing the open expanse of your neck. You bite your lip as a knowing smirk rises on your face.

“I knew you’d get bored,” you tease, tilting your head a little to give him more room. He takes the invitation and moves his lips with more intent. 

“I’m not bored. I just need to feel you,” he defends between kisses, “You keep playing.” He adjusts on the couch so he’s lower and has a better angle on your neck. His arm that isn’t around you caresses your stomach slowly.

You try to focus on your game, but it’s difficult when you have his hands and lips coasting over you, his hot breath on your neck. Your own breathing hitches when his hand on your stomach slides up to fondle your tits. Your fingers start feeling useless on the controller, fumbling between buttons as you try to continue playing. His teeth scrape along your neck. It’s the last thing you can take before you make too many mistakes and die. The menu comes up to reload the game and your head falls back against the cushion.

“Leon,” you whine playfully, “You’re making me die.”

“‘M Sorry, Baby,” he mumbles, “Just can’t get enough of you.” He continues kneading your breasts and showering your neck with kisses as you try to survive the level you’re playing. Heat spreads through your body and slick begins collecting between your thighs causing you to squirm a bit. Leon smirks against your skin, sensing the effect he has on you.

He kisses your neck a few more times before he moves his mouth down your arm while easing himself onto the floor. He presses a final tender kiss to your hand gripping the controller before settling on his knees between your legs. You know what’s coming, and it causes your cheeks to tint a soft red. The sight only excites Leon more. His fingers tuck beneath the waistband of your shorts and slip them down. He lifts your lush thighs to rest on his shoulders and pulls you closer so that you're slouching against the cushions.

“Leon, I’m gonna have to start all over again,” you say, your voice softer from your arousal. You try to seem focused, but your attention to the game is waning with each of his touches.

He works his mouth along the smooth skin of your inner thighs before dragging his nose along the cloth covering your center, inhaling you. The scent sends his blood rushing to his cock. He lays a kiss to the fabric as he hums in response. “I’ll make it up to you, Sweetheart. Promise.”

He hooks his finger around your panties and pulls them off. You feel his breath against your wet cunt, the sensation sending a chill through you. You take your lip between your teeth again while keeping your eyes on the television. In your peripheral vision, you can see him staring into you, gazing at you like you’re a work of art. He starts rubbing his thumb up and down your folds slowly, not with enough pressure to give you real pleasure, just the right amount to tease.

“You’re fucking soaked, Angel. Gotta have a taste,” he murmurs before swiping his tongue through your pussy. You let out a short moan at the feeling. Leon wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he starts to make out with your cunt. His tongue flattening and dragging against your dripping core, lapping up every drop of you he can.

Your eyes roll back and your fingers spasm on the controller before you put it to the side and grab Leon’s hair. He groans as you tug him closer, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking. You whimper and buck against his face. He knows all your attention is on him now. Knowing he made you feel so good that you had to focus on him had his pants feeling even tighter. He looks up at you, his eyes clouded with lust and your slick coating his lips. 

“Taste so sweet, Baby,” he breathes, thumbing your clit as he speaks, “Could do this for hours if you let me. Have your pretty pussy cumming over and over.” 

He buries his face back into your cunt and fucks his tongue into you. You gasp and writhe above him. Your head pushes back against the couch cushions. Your thighs start to squeeze around his head, and he loves it. He pushes even deeper, nose bumping your clit as he works. You whine and your hands fly up to cover your face as your cheeks feel hot.

He gives your thigh a quick pinch and pulls back. “No hiding, sweet girl. Wanna see and hear everything you give me.”

You slide your hands down and off of your face. Before you can even think of a response, his tongue is back to flicking against you. You moan a bit louder and your eyes flutter as the band of heat in your belly starts to tighten. Your thighs quiver, and Leon’s grip on you gets stronger as your hips try to shift.

Your chest heaves with your heavy breathing as your hands press into the couch cushions. His eyes are fixed on your face, savoring every sweet noise and expression. Your body shakes harder and you know the finish is near. You look down into his eyes, and the sight of his face buried between your thighs with that intense gaze trained on you almost makes you cum on the spot.

“Fuck, Leon. I’m gonna cum. Can’t hold on,” you whimper, your eyes squeezing shut as your voice breaks into moans.

“Look at me, Baby. Let me see those gorgeous eyes while you explode,” he says before working his tongue with even more dedication. You give him what he wants, looking into his eyes as you reach the peak. You cry out and claw at the couch cushions as you release. Your hips sputter against his face and your thighs clamp around his head. Your eyes stay locked on his, letting him see how he unravels you. You hear him groaning and feel his body rolling a bit as he devours you through your orgasm.

He keeps lapping at your folds as you come down, getting a final taste before he pulls away. He plants one last kiss on your clit before rising up and leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly. You kiss back and softly moan as you taste yourself on his lips. You grab his wrist as you pull back. “Need me to return the favor?’ you say and give him another kiss.

“No, Honey. I’m satisfied, trust me,” he hums and kisses back. You notice the dark spot forming on his pants and your blush returns. The thought that he could feel such pleasure simply from pleasuring you made your stomach flutter. He pulls back from your lips and strokes your bottom lip with his thumb, admiring your features. “I’m gonna change my pants, and then you can show me some more of your game. If you want to,” he says.

You glance back at the tv which had been displaying the reload menu for a while at this point. You give him that smile that he loved so much and nod.

[bedoballoons]

Genshin Mens with an S/o that always so happy and bubbly from the outside/public but at home they are actually tired and secretly crying in the bathroom while the shower is on so hoping that They wont hear the reader crying

I have been waiting to write this oh my gosh!! Love this idea, but just in case you're feeling like the reader, know it's okay to cry and if you ever need to talk to someone you're welcome to talk to me and I'll do the best I can to comfort you <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ��𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~All alone~༺}

CW: Angsty: Hidden emotions, crying, depression, some slight yelling in Xiaos and worried characters! Modern AU! (Pet names: Lyney: My love, Zhongli: Darling, Xiao: Flower, Kazuha: Honey, Neuvillette: Mon amour)

(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Xiao, and Kazuha!)

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𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyneys knuckles gently tapped against the wooden door of the bathroom, his voice sweet and filled with love "Mon amour, you alright? You've been in the shower awhile" ...although if you listened closely, you could hear the undertone of worries in his words. No matter how well you hid it in public, he could always sense you were off, he knew when smiles were genuine and yours rarely was anymore and no amount hiding in the bathroom could make your pain less noticeable to him.

Meanwhile you were on the other side of the door, knees pulled close to your chest and tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to breath in the mist filled room, the sound of the shower drowning out your soft sobs to the best of its abilities. You sniffled, trying to make your voice sound normal despite the emotions that were tugging at your throat, "Yeah honey! I'm fine! Just wanted to pamper myself a little!"

The magician sighed, slowly sinking to the floor... he wished so desperately you'd just let him in, let him lighten the burdens you were carrying, " Mon amour...I know that's not true. Please, let's talk.." You could barely hear him over your own mind screaming at you...worries and images of your issues dragging him down with you, drowning any ideas of actually accepting his offer to the bottom of your heart.

"I'm fine."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

You laughed out loud, others laughing along with you like everything was absolutely perfect...while Zhonglis yellow eyes saw otherwise, his gaze never leaving your sweet face. He could see it in your eyes, the way your laughter no longer sounded the same....the way you held yourself differently when others were around compare to when you were home alone with him. He just didn't understand why you weren't talking with him...why you were hiding your feelings.

Of course he wouldn't pressure you, he'd do his best to encourage you to lean on him...rest when you looked tired, do his best to show you how much he loved you, but it didn't seem to stop. You'd still disappear into the bathroom, shower running while he paced back and forth outside the door, wishing he knew more about human emotions, wishing he could just do...something.

"Darling, I'm here if you need me...I love you."

"Just taking a shower!....love you too!"

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao was panicking, all his life he'd never found love till he met you and now you were hurting in a way he didn't know how to solve. He thought you were happy, smiling and laughing like usual...but overtime he would notice that something had changed. You no longer laughed till you cried anymore and even when you seemed at your highest...you still had dark bags under your eyes, sadness clinging to your words.

Now he'd caught you crying behind a closed door, sobs barely audible over the sound of the shower running and breathing messy...uneven, you sounded like your heart was shattering. He couldn't stand hearing you sound so broken, standing there doing nothing to help you when one of the things he loved most was protecting you, so he teleported into the room..hoping you'd forgive the intrusion.

He was shocked at first, to see you curled up by the door crying, barely able to breath as you rocked back and fourth...he wanted to run to you, pull you into a tight hug, tell you he'd make it all okay if you asked, but he didn't want to startle you and make the situation worse, "Flower...I'm here...can I help?"

"Xiao?!? What a-are you doing in here!? G-get out!"

"I'm worried about you, you're hiding your emotions and pretending like your okay when you aren't...I just want to help you."

"You're not one t-to talk! You hide what you're f-feeling all the time! Just leave me alone!!"

"No, I'm not leaving here until I figure out what's going on. I haven't waited thousands of years to find love and let it slip away because I didn't offer comfort when I should have!"

You covered your ears and opened the door, "THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE WAITED L-LONGER!"

𑁍༄Kazuha:

Kazuha sighed, humming against the doorframe while he thought of your wonderful smile that always made his heart race...and your bubbly personality that contrasted so well with his calm collected one, but lately things hadn't had the same magical loving feeling they used to, even his poems barely made a glint in your eyes, you just seemed so put out. Even after sleeping, when he'd try to hold you close and make sure you rested comfortably in the morning, you'd almost instantly pull away...leave to take a shower.

"Hey honey, you doing okay in there? I don't want to bother you...I've just noticed you seemed to be feeling down more often. I guess I just...worry about you. I love you and I want to make sure you're happy..." The shower flicked off as he finished his sentence and for a split second he had hope you would talk with him, but when the door opened, you stood in front of him wrapped in a towel...eyes red and puffy, and that same fake daunting smile on your lips.

"Kazuha honey, what're you doing outside of the door? Were you talking to me? I didn't hear anything..."

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◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[notlhecxzsa]

Never Wield Such Power, You Forget To Be Polite - N.R

Summary: Where did all the time go? Years have passed yet memories are still fresh for both of them, especially Natasha. Would it still be after the rotten smell of the present? Digging up the graveyard of unknown feelings and innocent glances, their story is about the start... or continue?

Author's Note: GOSH! Finally I'm able to updateeee, sorry for making you wait for too long! Might update within this week again or the end of this week if I got free time! Mwa (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

Warnings: Mean Natasha!, asshole parents, cursing, degradation words, angst

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Y/n's POV:

"Oh-... did I interrupt something?" I asked, genuinely worried if I did interrupt a conversation that was going on before I came in.

"No, no, it's fine. We just finished talking." Yelena, whom I learned earlier, said while walking past me, Natalia stayed silent as my gaze caught her figure on my peripheral vision. "If you'll excuse me, I'll head back inside now." I gave her a smile and nod following an awkward wave of my hand.

I gaze at the back of Natalia's head, my mouth agape a little as curiosity filled my wide eyes. "Hello..." I muttered, my voice almost coming out as a whisper.

I cleared my throat when I received no response from the red head, ducking my head as I stepped forward beside her, keeping a certain distance. I turned my head upwards, gazing at her side profile, my mouth still agape as I waited and waited for her to speak to me. To see me.

She grew so much! I remember a very brief and vivid memory of her, she surely does not look so beautiful like this. I wonder what she did to her face, maybe it has some make up on? I don't know much about make up, but it was said to have the power to transform people's faces.

"You won't get anything from looking at me, kid." I jumped a little, blinking my eyes as I closed my mouth. Interlocking both of my hands with one another, I averted my gaze towards our backyard.

"S-sorry... Uhm-... Hi?" I did my best not to look at her as I spoke, my heart started to beat loudly inside my chest.

"What do you need?" I heard her voice that was slightly husky and at the same time heavy. I gulped, fear started to crept up into me. God, I should've just told Dada that I don't feel well when he told me to accompany Natalia, not that it would work. What he says is to be done with no arguments or reasoning.

I tried to find the right words to say, but found nothing as I kept muttering. "I-... Uh..." I fiddled with my hand as my head slowly moved down, looking at the cast that was wrapped around my arm.

"Y/n." My head immediately perked up, but stayed facing away from her at the sudden call of my name after a moment of silence. "Do you know what will happen?" I frowned softly, my mind clouded with so much confusion. Golly, so many things have happened already, I'm starting to feel drained already.

"W-what?" I asked, gazing into the abyss.

I felt her pair of eyes burning holes to the side of my head, making me more nervous. We were once again met with silence, I kept shifting from one foot to another as I fiddled with whatever my hand will touch, trying my best not to meet her burning gaze.  From my peripheral vision, I saw a blurry motion of her head moving side to side as if something had disappointed her, as if I disappointed her.

Gollly! I just want to be eaten whole by a big buzzing bee and fly me away from here! Maybe a dragonfly that will stung me in the back and carry me all the way to paris. Yeah, maybe the second one.

"We came here all the way to New York and you won't give me a normal conversation?" There was a mused tone in her voice, I couldn't put a finger on what kind of expression she was wearing, or what kind of message she was trying to give me.

I bit my bottom lip, once again trying to find words. "I-... What... I mean, I don't know what you're talking about, Natalia..." I confessed with a gentle voice, which is just my normal voice as I tried to cover up the raging storm inside my head. I looked up to meet her gaze that was already on mine the moment I averted my eyes upwards.

I saw a glint in her eyes before she looked away, a smirk visible on her face. "Pathetic... stupid dipshits." I heard her whisper, I know that was what she said. I have a good hearing, Lucy cleans my ear weekly.

I gulped, immediately looking down. My heart is breaking at the humiliation and degradation I had just received from someone I don't even know. I should be used to it already, I got it daily from my parents, but I am not. Lucy always tells me that I am not what they call me. Always reminding me that I am not someone who they pertain to me.

I could accept it easily from my parents, but from someone, I just can't. But, hearing it from Natalia, my stomach did a backflips, it is different from what I have felt from the others. Maybe, it's because I've known her before, or maybe it's because she was my first ever friend to call.

I smiled a little at the vivid memory of her giving me that yummy cupcake! I was devastated that day when I finished my tutoring class and found her gone. Lucy told me I'll see her next time, but that never came. Now, I saw her again. But, she's different. Not just physically. She's just... different.

"Uhm... Did you like the foods? Is there uhm... is there anything I uh... I could entertain you with? Oh, would you like a tour of the house?" I asked, looking anywhere but her, still facing her as I rambled. I heard her let out a sigh, almost like an out of boredom one. "We- we have a music room..." Finally looking up at her face, I saw how her head swayed away from me, as if she was already gazing at mine, I waited for her eyes and mine to meet.

I eyed her pointed nose first, how it widened ever so slightly as she took deep breaths, then down to her sharp jaw, it is so well defined, just like her green forest eyes along with those thick eyelashes and eyebrows. I almost felt like an insecure kid with how perfect she looks, my jaw's not the sharp, my eyelashes may be thick but it looks messy, not like hers.

As the light from the moon and stars cascaded down on us, mixing up with the electric lights that radiate from our house, I could see how smooth her skin is, how freckles littered along the curves of her face.

"Seems like you're the one who's getting entertained here." My eyes immediately snapped to meet her, widening as she gave me an amused look, a smirk appearing on her face as she looked down on me.

Blush crept into my face, heating it up with a crimson red color. "I-I'm sorry..." Looking down immediately, I crossed my arms on my front, finding the atmosphere rather too cold for my liking as goosebumps littered my skin, mixing up with the embarrassment I just fell into. "I didn't- I didn't mean to stare, I'm really sorry." I said,  genuinely concerned. Stupid, Y/n.

"I'm not talking about you." Once again, my head snapped up to look at her, confusion written all over my face as I took in what she said. Did i hear it right? What was she talking about? Am I deaf? "I meant... you're not... pathetic." She continued, sounding so unsure of what she was saying. Hesitation flew by in her eyes, almost wanting to take back the explanation she just made.

My mouth is agape a little in an O shaped, nodding my head as relief flush inside my chest. I wanted to ask who she was talking about, but asking questions is not my forte, especially with what I would usually get from doing it. "You should head back inside..." She started, her head turning away from me as her gaze averted to somewhere unknown. "You're getting cold." She said, still avoiding meeting my gaze.

Without knowing it, I blurted, "Lucy told me it's not nice to not look at people when you're talking to them..." I muttered, slowing down as I realized what I was saying. Her eyes are averted to meet mine, raising an eyebrow as she lets out a small chuckle that I almost didn't hear. "Well, Y/n..." She began, turning her whole body to face mine, just then did I notice how tall she is than me. I must be just under her chin, or maybe her chest since I'm wearing sandals with 3 inch heels. "Let's just say... I'm not nice. How about we start with that?" She finished, her crossed arms were pulled away and down to her sides.

My eyes went down from her captivating eyes, down to her nose, then to her lips. My mouth opened, trying to find the right words to say. "I think..." Averting my eyes up to look at her again. "I think you are." She looked like she was taken aback from my 'bold' answer, if you could call it that. But, it is the truth. I do think she is nice. Maybe, she just did not want to look at my ugly face while talking to me? Or maybe, she just didn't want to strain herself while talking and looking down on me? Golly! I shouldn't have quoted Lucy.

I heard her clear her throat, both her hands going inside the pockets of her pants. "You don't know me." She said gently, but I heard the edge on her voice, as if she wanted to say something more. "It's nice to see you again, Y/n. I'll see you again soon." With that, I was left outside, the cold breeze passing right through me as I was left frozen in time. Oh gosh, oh gosh, did I offended her? Did I say something wrong- oh, maybe I delivered that in the most wrong way! 

I'm dead.

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Natasha's POV:

"Maria, can you go to the penthouse and call the service to do a general cleaning. Restock everything, foods and all the necessities. Also, remember the room at the end of the hall, across mine? Order new furniture, clean especially that room." I demandedly rambled, signing every paper that was presented in front of me by Clint. I saw in my peripheral vision how she and Bucky looked at each other suspiciously, but I chose to ignore it, knowing that they wanted a further explanation.

"Also, uhhh, Bucky, can you take care of the delivery in Philadelphia and Brooklyn? I'll let Clint and Steve handle those ones in Europe." I continued before finally looking up at them.

They looked at me skeptically but nodded. "Good, we'll have a busy week ahead, make sure to give a heads up on everyone." I finished, just then Bucky started talking.

"You never told us what happened with the dinner you had with your parents." I stopped on my track, remembering what happened last the day before yesterday.

After that night, I immediately ordered Maria to book me a flight from Hawaii to New York. I don't know why, but my feet are itching to get as far away as possible from that land. I felt different, maybe it's because of the difference in the atmosphere between New York and Hawaii, maybe it's just my parents.

"There's nothing to be told." I opposed, continuing my work as my mind came running back to that small girl once again.

She's been plaguing my mind, waking me up all night with no resolution. I hated every second of it, I felt imprisoned by those... eyes. Her voice that sounded like a melody kept ringing in my head until I felt like my eardrums are shattering with how angelic it sounded.

She's grown... so much. I still remember as clearly as the blue sky and ocean how she looked back then. I still remember the first conversation I had with her, how I didn't get the chance to meet her again, how I kept something that must have been one of her prized possessions as a child.

Innocent child.

"... Nat? Did you hear me?" The sound of fingers snapping in front of my eyes, almost close to my face brought me back from whatever trance I was in. Looking up, I saw a frowning Maria with Bucky looking just as confused and worried as her.

I faltered for a moment, hiding my embarrassment with how absent minded I became while thinking about a complete random person. I cleared my throat as I shook my head, blinking vigorously as I avoided their gaze and focused on cleaning up my desk, I'm finished already anyway. "Sorry, what is it?" I asked, trying to mask up the raging storm inside my head while putting all the papers together.

"Buck asked if you're up for tonight's night out...? Stark will be there, I bet Maximoff too along with Strange and the others." She explained. I hummed quietly as I thought for a moment. After everything, I think that will be a very much needed thing. My kind of breath of fresh air.

"What time?"

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Tags: @transparentflapfarmsludge @dvrkhcld @esposadejoyhuerta @natsxwife @justspance @cheekysnake-blog @wandasreallover

[ophelia-j]

AO3 commenters: you have no idea how important you are to keeping authors writing. To making us happy. To improving our day, by even the smallest amount.

I've been struggling with my mental health a bit lately and I was feeling more than a little down this afternoon, as life was feeling especially relentless. Then I got this comment, over a year after I posted the final chapter:

I was so touched. Touched that PrincessFi1 had not only read FBD once, but read it TWICE!! Over two parts, it's 387k words! That's genuinely astonishing to me, and it parted some of the clouds that had been over me all day.

Yes, I love it. Yes, it contains some of my writing I'm most proud of, out of anything I've ever written. To find out that other people love it too, even now, over a year after I finished it, means so much to me.

I made myself laugh, cry, sob like a baby, smile like an idiot. I worked through some stuff, alongside our boys, and I just wanted to say here, for the record: everyone who's been on that journey with me, especially those who took the time to tell me in the comments, THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart: thank you. Your investment, your encouragement, your love - for K/S and for FBD, meant I actually finished a work I'm still proud of, and look back on with such affection.

And I'm carrying a fair amount of guilt that there are now hundreds of comments in my inbox that I've read, but not responded to, so I wanted to post this:

If you've ever commented on a fic and didn't get a response, I am going to take the liberty of responding on behalf of all writers: we thank you, we love you, and we are so, so grateful.

[hard-core-super-star]

a kiss to every scar [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: servicetop!hailee steinfeld x [inexperienced] bottom!reader

summary: hailee sets out to show you the ropes of acting on a tv show...unfortunately, your very obvious crush on her distracts her enough to stop being so professional.

warnings: smut -> no minors allowed [this is technically porn with plot but the plot isn't important; fingering [R receiving]; praise + petnames; needy hailee [yes, this deserves a warning]; technically public sex but not really [aka sex in hailee's trailer but she forgets to lock the door]; hailee being overly protective but also very horny; R is technically younger than hailee but the age gap isn't that important, the height gap is though :) [sorry to my tall peeps]]

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: this request comes to you straight from our beloved 🧞‍♀️ anon! i tried to balance the fluff and the smut but well...you already know i always end up getting carried away. i TRIED, though. i'm going to make an announcement soon regarding writing hailee so stay tuned for that because it's going to be important. anywho, hope you enjoy <3

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You’re no stranger to surreal experiences. 

It seems like your entire life ever since being cast in your first TV role has been a series of unbelievable experiences after the other. Most of said experiences have been due to the overall excitement that comes with learning lines, going to outfit fittings, and talking through scenes with amazing directors and producers. 

However, the biggest, most surreal, of all the amazing things you’ve done has been meeting, working, and getting to know Hailee Steinfeld herself. The reasons for that are endless since you’re not only a genuine fan of her but you also have a not-so-small crush on her.

A crush that has thankfully managed to pass by undetected considering your overall awe at the work you get to do every day. It’s managed to be so undetected that you haven’t noticed how mutual the admiration that flows between the two of you actually is.

You’re not totally oblivious so you have picked up on some of the looks she sends your way and on the way she’s so adamant about helping you maneuver through the many obstacles that come with being on set all day. None of that seems like anything more than her being nice since you’re so new to a life that she’s lived for so long so you’ve never questioned it.

Plus, you like the feeling of her hand on your waist way more than you’re willing to admit to anyone. (Especially her)

Which is how you ended up getting talked into staying on set to watch Hailee finish her last scene of the day. It’s not something completely uncommon since you love watching her and the director in action but the brunette promised to buy you dinner afterward, something that’s never happened before. 

Your heart and mind have already made up more than enough excuses to overshadow the very clear intentions behind Hailee’s invitation but nothing can take away the pure joy you feel from being near her. 

A joy that draws in the actress like nothing else.

“What’d you think?” Hailee asks as she approaches you, her face lit up by a smile you know all too well.

“You’re incredible,” you reply the same way you always do and successfully draw a little chuckle out of her. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Practice…and way too much free time.”

She reaches a hand out to you, an unspoken question lingering in the air between you. You waste no time in taking her hand and letting her guide you toward her trailer so she can change back into her normal clothes. 

The walk is spent in the comfortable silence that always seems to follow the two of you and you pretend not to notice the way she keeps looking over at you with every few steps. You know exactly why her eyes keep shifting over to you but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed about it. 

Despite how used to being on set you might be by now, you still admire each and every detail as if it was the first day again. Part of it comes from how unbelievable it all still is and another part of it comes from how cool everything is. There’s always so much to take in and it’s become a habit of yours to be present and grateful for every moment.

A habit that, unbeknownst to you, Hailee finds really adorable.

The list of things she likes about you is quite long but at the top of the list are your wide-eyed looks of wonder and the smile on your face nothing seems to wipe away.

It’s no secret that the brunette has taken a liking to you, especially in her attempts to make sure nothing snuffs out the bright beams of sunlight you carry inside of yourself. She knows exactly what that’s like and she’d sooner lose her role as Kate Bishop than let you fall into any dark spirals.

“So…” She speaks up, gently pulling you closer to her side. “Did anything exciting happen besides watching me?”

Your cheeks flush at her words which makes her grin. “Sort of. Florence and I talked about walking around New York tomorrow since it’s just going to be you and Jeremy filming scenes.”

“Oh, yeah? Where are you thinking of going?” She leads you into her trailer while you launch into the specifics of all the places you want to visit and the things you want to see.

The brunette watches you intently, although her attention slips from the words you say to the genuine excitement your body language conveys. You’re too busy talking to notice the way she’s eying you or the way she keeps licking her lips.

You finish your explanation only to be met with complete silence and Hailee’s tall frame leaning comfortably against the door to her trailer. 

“Lee? Were you even listening?”

The tiniest of pouts tugs at your lips and the actress is quick to make her way over to you, completely forgetting about the unlocked door and her promise of taking you to dinner. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re just too cute, I got distracted.”

The “apology” makes your heart skip a couple of beats and you’re sure she notices your flustered state. “I guess that’s fine. I should probably go anyway so you can change.”

You look away from her and attempt to walk away but she stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. The contact makes you stiffen, not because it’s unwelcome but because it sends an overwhelming amount of feelings through your entire body. “You okay, y/n? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

Your eyes remain locked on the ground below you as you shake your head. The lack of a verbal response only serves to worry the brunette further and her free hand quickly tilts your chin up until her warm eyes meet yours. 

She doesn’t say anything but the question on her face is obvious.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you force yourself to answer. “I just…I think I like it too much.”

The concern in her eyes shifts to something else, something bordering on passion, but you’re far too embarrassed to question it. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous. I like you too.”

The words don’t fully register in your brain at first. Sure, you’ve lived through a lot of unbelievable moments but this is something right out of those dreams you can never tell a single soul about. 

“You…you what?”

Hailee chuckles, taking the smallest of steps forward so your bodies are practically touching. “I like you too, baby. I hate to break it to you but you’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Neither are you,” you blurt out.

She leans in a little and your eyes instantly drop down to her lips. “I know.”

Her whispered words are the only warning you have before she claims your mouth with her own. Whatever shock you feel fades away almost instantly and you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her and pulling her closer.

You’re so caught up in her kiss that you don’t fully register the way she gently pushes you up against the nearest wall and presses herself as close to you as physically possible. You don’t register anything besides the feeling of her lips and the way your hands tangle in her hair so easily.

Hailee’s not as zoned out as you are, though, and her ears pick up on the muffled sounds trying to escape you. She instantly pulls away from you, staring down at you with blown-out pupils. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Your response doesn’t seem to convince her but at least she doesn’t notice the way you’re clenching your thighs together. “We can stop if you want, I’m not looking for a one-night stand or anything.”

The sincerity in her voice is almost too much to handle and the truth slips out of your lips before you can stop it. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She blinks a few times and you practically watch as the wheels turn inside her brain. “You’ve never…oh. Oh, wow.”

Her response isn’t bad but it leaves you flustered all the same so you lean forward and hide your face in her shoulder. “Hailee…”

“Hey, hey, look at me, baby.”

A few seconds pass before you follow her instructions and she instantly melts your worries away with a soft kiss. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

“It’s cute that I have no idea what I’m doing?” You question.

“Yeah, it just means I’ll have to show you. I mean, um…if you want, of course. There’s no rush.”

All you can do is stare up at her while you think things over. There’s no denying how nervous you are but you trust Hailee more than anyone you’ve ever met before. So, maybe it’s time to take a small leap of faith with her.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

The brunette groans in response and the sound goes straight to the growing heat between your legs. She wastes no time in attaching herself to your neck, kissing and sucking every inch she can find.

The sensation is so pleasurable, it borders on overwhelming and your hands grip her shoulders in search of the stability you lost the day you met her.

“You're so pretty,” she murmurs against your skin. “You don't know how long I’ve wanted you for.”

“Hailee-” You gasp as her hands find their way under your shirt.

“I know, let me make you feel good, sweetheart. Can I?”

The answer is more than obvious but you find yourself nodding desperately anyway. You know deep down everything about what you're doing is desperate and yet you can't find it in yourself to want to stop. Maybe it's unconventional but you don't need anything more than the brunette to make your first time unforgettable.

Hailee detaches herself from you long enough to help you shed your shirt, her eyes swooping down to take in every inch of you. Your knees buckle under her gaze and all she does is grin. “You're fucking perfect, baby.”

The words themselves are enough to make you burn a few degrees hotter but then her hands are removing your bra and you're quickly standing topless in front of her appreciative eyes.

Her fingers soon follow the path her eyes trace and you shudder in ways you can't describe. Her thumbs gently rub against your nipples, your back arching almost instantly as you turn into putty in her hands.

“Does that feel good, darling?” All you can offer is a moan and she chuckles. “Gonna need some words.”

“Yes. Feels so fucking good.”

“There you go,” she murmurs, swooping in to litter kisses along your jawline. “Good girl.”

She pinches your nipples right as the words escape her lips and you're sure you almost pass out from the pleasure. “Oh- please.”

“Begging already?” Despite her question, one of her hands leaves your sensitive nipples to trail down the front of your body. “Do you think you're wet enough for me to touch you yet?”

You hum in response and attempt to keep your hips under control. “So wet for you.”

“Look at you,” she coos while her hand slips under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear. “You’re already an expert at getting what you want from me.”

“Lee,” you whine. “Don’t tease, babe.”

“I’m sorry, you're just so cute like this.” She rests her forehead against yours, everything about her seemingly cool and collected while you're burning up and panting. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Tell me if it hurts too much.”

Your inexperience leaves you a little clueless…until she starts to slip one finger inside your tight cunt. You gasp almost instantly, your body tensing at the intrusion.

“Relax, baby. I've got you.”

It's hard to fully relax but Hailee does her best to keep you distracted by murmuring soft praises and keeping up her gentle touches to your breasts. The full length of her finger sinks inside and she gives you a moment to breathe and adjust.

“How’re you feeling?” She asks, warm eyes searching your face for signs of unease or pain.

“Full,” you mumble with a smile.

She lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a whine. “Fuck. That's so hot.”

The brunette leans in to kiss you before you can reply and you happily melt into the contact. You don't realize it’s yet another loving distraction until she starts to slowly pump her finger in and out of you.

You moan against her lips, the sound coming out muffled but no less desperate. Your walls clench almost uncontrollably with every move she makes which only fuels her need to pleasure you.

“You're doing so well for me,” she mumbles. “Taking me so well, aren't you, baby?”

Her words cause an unfamiliar feeling to start to rise from deep within you that only gets stronger once her thumb finds your sensitive clit. Your hips buck into her hand and she ends up burying her face into your neck to stop herself from getting too wild.

She somehow manages to keep her slow pace, fucking you nice and gentle to build up your orgasm and prolong your pleasure. At the end of the day, all she wants is to keep you happy.

“You’re so close, aren't you, sweetheart? I can feel it, the way you can’t stop clenching around me. God, it makes me so wet.”

You don't know what triggers it, maybe it's her words or her thrusts or the tight circles around your clit, but you fall over the edge instantly with a cry so loud, she has to kiss you to drown it out.

It’s impossible to describe how you feel. It's like you're floating and underwater and in the heart of the sun all at the same time. All you know is you've never felt pleasure like this and it's all thanks to Hailee freaking Steinfeld.

Hailee holds you close until your body stops shaking and you slump forward into her. “Hey, welcome back, y/n.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, every muscle in your body feeling absolutely spent yet satisfied.

She doesn't reply. She merely removes her hand from your sensitive center and kisses the side of your head.

“So…are you still up for dinner or…?”

“You're the worst.”

[kingofpopmj]

can i get a request: daddy kink and age gap with him🤭 plzzzz

Oh, you’re naughty!!! Here you go hunni! This one was a challenge. I hope you enjoy it.. 🙈🫶🏻

Won't You Stay With Me Until The Morning Sun

*Michael’s POV*

I woke up, looking around the room with a big smile on my face— a smile that faded once I reached out, finding the spot next to me cold and empty. The ruffled sheets and clothing that littered the floor was now the only tangible evidence of last night. Where is she?.. The phone rang loudly just as I sat up, my legs hanging off the edge of the mattress. I moved towards the noise, taking a deep breath before picking up the phone and holding it against my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, little brother.”

“Jermaine.”

“So, how are you? How’s the lovely Y/N?” I could tell by his tone he wasn’t asking because he actually cared.

“She’s great— I’m great. We are fantastic! How sweet of you to ask!” I responded sarcastically, if only he was here to see what finger I was holding up just for him. “How are you?”

“Alright, listen, mom is on my back, so that’s the only reason I’m making this phone call.”

“What is it now?”

“She’s not very fond of your lady..” he took a deep breath before adding. “She thinks Y/N is using you.”

“Well that’s not true.”

“I know and I told her that, but she insisted I speak to you about it. I mean I understand where mom is coming from, Y/N’s beautiful and young— like twenty and you’re all gross and old— like seventy..”

“I am not seventy! Or gross! You’re older than me you schmuck..” I cut him off annoyed with where this conversation was going. “Do you think she’s using me?” I asked, hurt laced within my voice.

“Honestly, at first I did, but she seems very sweet. I can see that she genuinely cares for you, god knows why. Regardless, she seems like a good one. I have no issues with her— just do me a favor and don’t go sucking face at anymore televised events. Mom nearly had a heart attack.”

“Well, thank you for that. I know how difficult it must be for you to discuss how incredible my life is. Fine. For you, I’ll do my best to keep it PG, but no promises… I mean have you seen Y/N?”

“Shut up. I have… and let me just say—“

“I’m gonna stop you right there before you say something that makes me want to slap the taste out of your mouth.” All I heard was his obnoxious laughter as I hung up the phone. Idiot.

Quickly, I freshened up before heading downstairs, where I was confident I’d find my better half. As I reached the bottom of the stairs the sound of cabinets opening and closing carried me to the kitchen. There, I found the woman of my dreams— she had her hair held up by a clip, a thin shirt covering a portion of her torso and a pair of my boxers gracing her hips and thighs. She looked good enough to eat…

“Hi baby!” Y/N chirped, as she made breakfast for the two of us. I felt a tug at my heart as I admired her every move, she danced around the counter humming along to the radio. I focused on the way her hips swayed, causing me to twitch in my pajamas pants, I couldn’t help but feel hungry again— for anything but food.

“Who was that on the phone?” She asked.

“Morning beautiful, it was just Jermaine, they all caught the VMA’s last night.”

“How is he?” She asked sweetly, genuinely waiting for an answer. I wish they could see this. I wish they could understand her more. She loves me so much— and that love naturally extends over to my family. She cares so much. She’s like no one I’ve ever met.

“Good. He and my mom send their love.” I smiled at the half lie I just told. I know in my heart my mom will come around, so to tell Y/N what the phone call was really about would only hurt her. It wasn’t necessary.

“They are so sweet! We should have a dinner next weekend and invite everyone. I’ll cook—“ I smiled at her enthusiasm, watching as her plump pink lips continued to move, the words lost on me, I was too far gone.

She’s absolutely mesmerizing.

I couldn’t help myself.

Slowly, I made my way over to her, placing my hands on her hips and rubbing small circles into her exposed skin. Oh, her skin, it’s so smooth— so delicate— so delicious. Goodness, I love crop tops. Don’t get me started on Y/N’s love for going braless. I desperately buried my face in her neck.

“Stop it…” she giggled, but didn’t move away, so I continued. Leaving small kisses down her neck and shoulder until suddenly she spun around. “Do you ever think about anything else?” she teased, oh, I love when she teases me.

I didn’t respond, instead I pulled her into me kissing her deeply. She let out a small yelp as she felt my tongue slip through her lips, her breathing becoming uneven as I massaged the inside of her mouth. Her small hands set firmly on my back, I carefully guided her backwards until we the bumped into the counter. With our lips still attached, I slid my hands down her curvy backside taking my time of course, earning yet another giggle from Y/N, I quickly connected my hands to the back of her thighs, lifting her up on the counter top.

“Michael!—” I didn’t give her the chance to continue as I sucked on her neck making her eyes roll back. “The food is going to burn.” She said breathlessly, I tore off the boxers she was wearing, slowly I began spreading her legs.

“I’m not hungry for food.” I answered, positioning myself to touch her where she needed me— wanted me most. I could feel her unraveling— it was a beautiful sight.

“Oh my—“ she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“There you go baby.” I bent down leaving kisses along her hip bones as my fingers danced around her tender spot— I sped up, I was dying to hear her moan my name.

“Mmm..”

“Come on baby. Say my name.”

“Da—Michael! Baby— right there!” I watched triumphantly as she came undone, trying to catch her breath she reached out grabbing a handful of my shirt and pulling me onto her. She became rough when she wanted more— I loved it, I took it as a compliment. It boosted my ego to see that she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. She started tugging at my pants— I smiled at the sight of her hungrily undressing me.

Now, unclothed, I pressed against her again, my index finger leaving a trail of goosebumps across her chest. Oh, her chest— I rested my palm against her cleavage before bending down to leave my mark. I dragged my tongue across her right breast— feeling her squirm beneath me, I wore a smirk on my face because nothing turned me on more than teasing my girl.

“More daddy.” Y/N moaned in my ear. I stopped my movements, looking over her face curiously, unable to understand the effect she had on me.

“What was that?” I asked softly, my eyebrow raised, she finally opened her eyes, my fingers on her chin forcing her to look at me.

“Oh god.” She covered her face, unwrapping her legs from my waist and turning away from me. “I’m so embarrassed.”

I didn’t say anything. I advanced towards her, hovering over her once again, positioning myself in front of her sweet spot, hand wrapped around my throbbing cock I began exploring her folds. I kissed her again— more passionately, if that was even possible. She began frantically grabbing at my hair, as she nibbled on my bottom lip, reaching down and attempting to connect us like we both yearned for. Her delicate hand around me, gently pumping back and forth, guiding me to her entrance, it took everything not to explode right then. Her touch was intoxicating..

“Oh, Michael.”

“Who’s Michael?” I questioned, halting my movements and giving her a teasing smile.

“I- please.”

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

I looked deep into her eyes as I placed just my tip into her, deliberately moving as slowly as possible, she squirmed against me desperately trying to pull me further into her. I held her off enjoying the sight in front of me. She’s perfect— she’s everything.

“Michael! More please.”

“Michael?” I grabbed her chin forcing her to look into my eyes. “Baby, Michael’s not here..” a soft shade of red taking over her cheeks, she narrowed her eyes at me, quickly understanding exactly what I wanted. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her voluptuous chest against mine with purpose, looking into my eyes as she licked her lips.

“Daddy?” Y/N said, batting her long eyelashes innocently, oh, she’s going to destroy me.

“Yes, my love?”

“I want more— I want you deeper please daddy.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Please, I need you daddy..”

“As you wish pretty girl.”

My hands holding onto her sides firmly as I pushed into her, the sound of our skin slapping together filled the air, along with numerous pops as our dishes were rattled off the counter smashing to pieces on the ground. A small appliance across from us, spitting out black smoke as the waffles continued to burn. The pan on the stove crackling uncontrollably, needing to be tended to as the eggs quickly became inedible. And the tea pot screeching to be shut off as hot water shot out of it.

Y/N and I didn’t bat an eye, only wanting to be exactly where we were. We shared a knowing look as we laughed against each other’s lips, refusing to separate ourselves and ignoring the chaos surrounding us.

[pretentious-blonde]

tw: alcohol, drugs

not to alarm anyone but i'm 6 months sober today!!!

and i just want to say to everyone, from the absolute bottom of my heart, thank you!!! you have no idea how much this all means to me!!!

this blog was started last summer when i was on, like, the nth rock-bottom and still using, as a way to escape from the shit show that was my life. i stopped writing at the end of the season to sort of get my life back on track and put real effort into recovery.

after christmas and nye i felt absolutely terrible, i couldn't go out and celebrate in the way i wanted to (without going back to square one), and lost a lot of people in my life as a result. we actually didn't have much in common, apart from substance use.

i picked this blog up again after making it my new years resolution, to actually do something, and have just been blown away by how lovely and wonderful everyone is on here and so so supportive. i have spoken to people all over the world who don't know anything about my life apart from the silly stories i write. and that felt so freeing.

idk, i'm crying and i'm being sappy, but i dont care. this has genuinely brought me so much joy being able to share this with all of you. every message and comment has reminded me that i actually can feel good about something again.

and to all of my mutuals, you guys have no idea the impact you have made on me, seriously. i'm always thrilled to see your notifications.

so now i have made cooking into a stable job, doing a degree in literature which i love, am back at a healthy weight, and carry all these wonderful people around in my phone wherever i go.

this sounds so stupid that writing for fictional characters is what got me through one of the hardest points in my life, but hey, it works so i'm gonna keep it up.

so tonight, i'm gonna go out to dinner with one of my best friends, we are gonna order food that is way too expensive and probably regret it when we see the bill. then i'm gonna wake up tomorrow, without feeling awful, and not panic as i check my phone to see what day it could be.

have a drink for me if you want, because i cant. and once again, i am thanking you all for taking your time to read and interact with this blog. it means the world, truly <3

[magpiepills]

Hey!

It’s been a few weeks.

I miss y’all. I can’t remember now how much I’ve shared about my personal life. I try not to share too much but I think sometimes it can be helpful.

TW grief, loss of a parent, sappiness, my eternal love and gratitude below the cut

Some of you know that last year one of my parents was diagnosed with stage four cancer. They got treatment, but we knew that survival wasn’t likely. For the last month, I got to spend a lot of time with my family and my parent through the end of their illness and it was rough. Really rough at times. Writing was my outlet and distraction until it wasn’t enough any more. I’m grateful for that.

My parent is gone now and I feel like I’ve been spit onto shore after getting thrown around in the waves for a long time. I’m catching my breath. I want to catch up on my reading and reblogging and loving on my friends. I owe you all more than I can repay for continuing to check on me, for tagging me even when I haven’t been able to interact, for reaching out, for being kind and understanding. It really does mean so much to me.

First and foremost, my forever loves- the magic sluts: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @exquisiteserotonin @pink-whiskey-woman

@youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime you eight are the most wonderful, genuine, kind, loving women and I can’t believe my luck that I get to know you and bask in your warmth. When I’ve whined and ranted you’ve let me, you’ve been my soft spot to land when I needed to feel like life was normal and fine, when I just wanted to ignore everything. When I was afraid of being alone at the hospital, you kept me company and reassured me! I can’t begin to express my love for you. I’ve never felt so known and seen and embraced. There’s never been judgement or competition or comparison, just love and permission to be our real selves. All because we were horny over the same dude who doesn’t know we exist. What are the odds? What did I do to be worthy of this? I’ll never know.

@nerdieforpedro @mermaidgirl30 @schnarfer @cvntclip @mountainsandmayhem

@morallyinept @secretelephanttattoo @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl

@sin-djarin @milla-frenchy @vivian-pascal @pascalssbabyy @strang3lov3

@kewwrites @pimosworld @joelmillerisapunk @sheepdogchick3 @bubble-pop-eclectic

I know I’ve missed some of my friends. If you’ve tagged me in you posts, your tag games, messaged me here or on discord, if you send me a sweet ask, or something lighthearted, or something horny, you’re included. You’re all wonderful. You’ve all had a positive impact on the way I’ve gotten through the last seven months. Even when I had a meltdown back in the spring and flounced, you welcomed me back and let me carry on like normal. From the bottom of my heart, thanks. I hope if you’re ever having a bad time, that I can be there for you, too.

In conclusion, I didn’t know that being a fan of one guy and posting shamelessly about it online would turn into something like a lifeline when I needed it most.

When I say I love you I really do mean it.

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Sooooo, I just found this blog and think your writing is just excellent (especially the PJO!Apollo ones)! I would like to make my own request, something sweet and fluffy (maybe smutty?) to counteract the last one.

I'm thinking something like this:

Apollo x daughterofares!reader with wedding/wedding night shenanigans ;) and preparing to spend the rest of eternity together.

IDK. If you want to change/omit something (especially the parentage bit b/c it's admittedly very specific) feel free. You're the one writing after all. Thanks!!!

The feeling is indescribable. Songs, poetry, the gentle weep of a guitar, nothing could ever describe how this feels.

To be close with Apollo like this, having him fully immersed in you. His moans, his toned body, his love. Observing your lover lose himself in your heat is one thing, but to completely lose yourself in him is far more.

The smack of his hips against yours is where his eyes lay, his hands molding the flesh of your thighs as he rests your ankles on his shoulders. You’re full of him, and it’s much more than just sex.

It’s cosmic connection right at your core, you feel it bounce around your blood. The tingling feeling of a god being so intimate with your mortal body causes shudders to run through you. Your toes twitch, torso flexes and your eyes roll back.

“So good, baby…” He’s so loving and doting, always making sure you feel good but there no way you couldn’t. It’s him, he’s where your life starts and ends and with his cock bullying into your wetness, you’re too in love with him to laugh about the irony.

Your hand reaches up to steal his from your legs and hold on to it with all your strength, which is admittedly not much at this point in time. His pupils flicker over to the chunky sunstone that sits on your ring finger and he groans involuntarily. You hadn't taken it off since the day he proposed to you in his chariot and just the sight of it, the evidence that you were his for as long as you lived brought songs of needy cries to his mouth.

He allows himself to be tugged down to your whimpering mouth in a sloppy kiss that's more panting than lip-locking. "'Pollo, I l-love you."

"Sunshine," He's interrupted with your mouth taking his again and as he tugs his head free, you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, "You are the love of my life."

You giggle and choke when his tip kisses your cervix, "And you, the love of my much shorter one."

He grins bright, "We'll have to make you immortal. I'll carry my perfect-" He grabs your ring finger and lays pecks on it between each adjective, eyes locked on yours. "-gorgeous, darling, lovely wife up to the heavens and demand it."

"Zeus won't ever."

"Zeus will if a deadly plague to raze humanity doesn't sound intimidating enough." You laugh and he follows your lead with soft chuckles.

"Apollo on a warpath over a mortal, what an idea." The words struggle out your throat, your mind distracted by the deepness of his strokes.

"Sunshine, you are my world," He makes sure you're looking at him, and continues with love dripping from each word, "Without you, the sun would have no reason to shine. You're the good of humanity, the reason I wake up to cover the world in light in the hopes you enjoy it."

Your heart swells in your chest. The god of poetry really knows how to flatter. Your hands find his smooth, tan face as your eyes well with tears. "You're my goodness, Apollo. You make life worth living. Not just your music, your words or your healing and not even the sun you bring up in the mornings. It's you that's good, just like this."

He's stopped moving now, his shinning eyes trained on yours as the sincerity of your words soaks in. He knows now he'll never get over you. You are his, forever. You have become the parts of him he loves and taken root in both his heart and mind. He kisses you gently and pulls away with a soft, teasing smile contradictory to the genuine vulnerability in his eyes.

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

[celestie0]

If someone looked at me the way Gojo was looking at Y/N after ugly crying I think I’d be carrying their kids tbh…

Poor Y/N is so scared to let someone in she puts up wall after wall the moment things get a bit too real 😭 but I get her. Every meaningful relationship in her life has been “temporary” (for lack of a better word) so far: her father left them, Choso abandoned her the moment he wanted Yuna’s pussy (although he was gone way before that), and her mom can’t really be there for her anymore through no fault of her own. I get why she has walls up when it comes to Gojo, they entered the relationship knowing it wasn’t real so why set yourself up for the inevitable hurt when it’s over.

The guilt of lying to someone you love even though you know it’s probably for the best is so painful, I hope Y/N allows herself some grace. Mourning your parents so young, at any age really is never easy and she’s doing it all alone too. I hope she has the happiest of endings because I feel like she’s going to need all the support she can get as her mom’s illness progresses 😭

Y/N is so much stronger than me because I’d probably have taken him up on that sex to blow off steam option even if he wasn’t being serious (I feel like he’d be so down though) 🤷🏽‍♀️

I’m super excited to see how their relationship progresses. The emotional connection they’re developing is actually extending my lifespan.

Thank you so much for the chapter, this is genuinely one of the best works I’ve ever read so I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your work with us 🥰 I hope you’re doing well and that life is treating you amazingly! Can’t wait for the next chapter, I know it’ll be fantastic

(P.S - his mom’s wedding ring fitting her perfectly had be kicking and blushing 😭 if that isn’t a sign they’re meant to be then IDK WHAT IS)

hi my love oh gosh i could CRY!!!!!!!!!! this ask made me so happy because you 100% hit on like literally every single point that i wanted to emphasize in the chapter and also even managed to predict things that are to come as well??? i ask for your hand in marriage pleaaasseeeee 💍💍

HAHA yes i liked writing the parts where she’s like basically just blowing her nose on him 😂

aaaaaaa yess she definitely has sm walls up bc of how many people have left her and/or betrayed her, i think an additional heartbreak is the fact that she is literally a night shift nurse who saves lives, but isn’t even helped by the very system that she serves (healthcare)…i would be so jaded if i were her too :”( but tysm for having empathy for her!! i think it would take a very patient person to be w her n i def think ihm gojo is that guy hahah

YES ihm will have a sweet ending and we will see as the series progresses that reader softens and starts to reclaim her life once more :) but you’re so right! one of the devastating things about caring for a loved one w dementia is weighing the white lies vs the potential distress over relaying the truth…having grace w oneself is def so important

LOL ya i think he would be so down too 😂 it’s funny cause like? reader? girl? i mean you’re already stressed tf out why not at least get eaten out on a regular basis while you’re at it LOL (the time will come)

ouuu i’m so happy you enjoyed the chapter n thanks so much for interacting so meaningfully w it 🥺 a lot of stuffs u touched on in this ask are elaborated much further in what i have planned for series so i’m so excited to bring that to you!! much loveee (and yes the wedding ring fitting was literally a sign from god LOL)

[scarletwritesshit]

⛵Brant x F!Rover⛵Sincerity Amongst Theatrics

He seemed quite different than usual, Rover noticed. That ever-present smile of his that was so sincere and genuine on the norm now appeared almost forced. And the refection of the sea’s waves rippled with sadness in his violet-flame eyes.

A word was hardly uttered from Brant's mouth the entire time. Not a moment of casual chatter and no theatrics of any kind; it was as if someone had sealed his mouth shut with glue. Hearing only the sound of the smooth waves and occasional croak from the gondola was rather eerie and unsettling. Her beloved annoyance seemed barely present in the moment, so she draped her arms across his shoulder from behind and nudged her head slightly against him.

"You’ve been awfully quiet," Rover said.

"Hm? I am merely enjoying a rare moment of a peaceful sea breeze. Nothing that should be a cause for your concern, my dear," Brant said, his gaze still seemingly lost amongst the waves.

"Peaceful and Brant do not belong together," Rover said. "You hungover or something?"

Brant shook his head. "It has been a... few days since I've last indulged myself in such. I assure you, that is not the case."

"Odd," she said, scratching her chin. "You sure you’re feeling okay?"

"Stellar as always, dear."

"I don’t believe it, you’re a liar."

"Since when would I ever lie to you?"

"Since now, apparently," Rover said, sliding down and sitting back-to-back with him. "You can tell me. You should know that I won’t be upset with you."

Silence was once more laid down thick between the two of them. Brant debated his next words carefully, attempting to figure out how to formulate his thoughts without inflicting too much worry or misunderstanding upon Rover. At the very least, he knew that carelessness was not to be called for in such a situation, as one can break themselves free of jail time and again but cannot escape a broken heart shattered into dust.

Too many directions that he could go. Brant decided to simply be frank with her.

"Do you...believe in anything I say, actually?" he asked.

"Of course," Rover said, briefly looking over her shoulder at him. "What bought this on, all of a sudden?"

"Don’t you find my mannerisms a bit...redundant? Irritating, even?"

"Why do you think that?"

"There’s only so much of a show one needs to put on for another. Overdo it, and an act will become nothing more than, well, just that."

"Act? I thought that you were just like that."

Brant hesitated for a moment.

"Throw around your words too recklessly, and all meaning they once held will be lost. To say one thing to a mere crewmate only to turn around and declare the same to the love of my life, wouldn’t that carry the implication that my words bear no weight?"

"I have no reason to believe that you have been anything but sincere to me. For a performer of your standing, you genuinely suck at faking your emotions."

"Nonsense!" Brant said, turning to look at her with a halfhearted smile. "Had I not said a world, you wouldn’t know any better upon seeing me just now!"

Rover once more turned her head to look back at him. Brant's smile was as big as ever, but there was no denying that lingering glint of sadness in his eyes.

"I know you too well. Those beautiful eyes of yours could never lie."

Defeated right out of the gate, Brant’s smile quickly faded as he turned back around and slumped against Rover’s back.

"Ah...so nothing really does get past you," he said with a hefty sigh. "That must mean that, if you do see everything, then surely you must know."

"Know what?"

"That every little thing I say to you, I mean from the bottom of my heart. My words to you do not carry the purpose of serenading you into a trap, but rather, they serve as a declaration of my honest feelings."

"What’s got you worked up about this all of a sudden?" Rover asked, a little confused. "Was Roccia picking on you again?"

"Oh, I worry not about her. She hardly has a say in such thoughts of mine. It’s more of like...the more that I spend time with you, the more that it solidifies my desire to make you a permanent part of my crew."

"But I’m already part of your crew, aren’t it?"

Brant took off his hat and started fanning himself with it.

"Ah...well...it’s like, different than what you think I mean. Probably. When I say those kind of things to you, the feeling I get is much different than that from the friendly banter with my crewmates. And, I am not going to lie, my dear lady, it has me wondering about the weight that my words truly bear.”

To hear Brant be so thoughtful, yet so distressed compared to his normally flamboyant ways was rather disheartening to Rover. She couldn’t help but wonder if an offhand comment from Roccia triggered this downwards spiral after all, despite his claims.

“You’re speaking theatrical nonsense. Tell me, what’s really on your mind? It’s not like you to beat around the bush like this.”

Hat still in hand, Brant turned himself around and threw his arms around Rover’s shoulders. He nudged his face against hers, like a pathetic puppy begging for attention. There was nothing fake about the look of sadness in his eyes. There was no way one could fake such a blush, either.

“Rover, dear, y-you do know that I really love you, right? Like, I mean it! Every single word! I just wish I could express it better!”

“…Express it better?”

“I wouldn’t even believe myself with such choice of words. But please believe me!”

Noticing that he was on the verge of tears, Rover rested her palm against the side of his face and stroked it gently with her thumb to try and bring some sort of comfort to him. He relaxed against the side of her head, but was still looking at her with desperation.

“Dear Brant, I never for a moment thought that you were faking it. For a dedicated performer, you’re truly a sincere man. I don’t think that anyone who was faking it would turn into such a flustered mess like you are right now.”

“Ah…” he said, the realization of how stupid he had made himself look in front of her just finally starting to hit.

“Cheer up,” she said, “No need to change yourself for me. And it’s not right seeing you look like that. You’re going to make me sad as well.”

With a smile and a tight squeeze on her body, Brant nodded his head. “You do indeed make a most valid point. I deeply apologize if I have caused you any worry, but more importantly I thank you for…for everything, actually.”

“No need for thanks,” Rover said, leaning her head in closer into his. “Don’t you think that the sea is a little too quiet? Isn’t there a show that must go on?”

A glint of light shone in Brant’s eyes. “You’re right…you’re right actually! Ha! How could I be so stupid? All of this grand stretch of water is my stage, and I’m wasting it weeping around? Should’ve thrown this almighty ocean hero overboard to teach him a lesson or two!”

Almost accidentally throwing Rover out of his hold, Brant stood up and turned around, taking a huge step towards the front of the gondola. He flung his arms up and open with such force, causing the Echo to sway. Rover grabbed onto the edges of it for dear life as the Echo screeched in distress, afraid that she was going to be flipped into the seawater. She turned around to see him, unsurprisingly, balancing as perfectly as ever.

“…Don’t flip me overboard!” she said.

“Haha, do you really think I would allow for such to happen? Should this creature find itself belly-up, not a single drop of seawater will dare taint your skin!”

“Now that’s one thing that I don’t believe you on, but also am not willing to test you on.”

“Is that a challenge, my dear?” Brant said, turning around with a smug smile.

Rover shook her head no, but that wasn’t enough to stop him. Brant shook the gondola and signaled for it to flip over at his command. Rover didn’t have enough time to brace herself for what was to come, but before she could realize what was happening, she was whisked out of her seat in a split second and found herself in his arms. Brant looked at her smugly.

“What did I say? Not a single drop.”

On the curved surface of the Echo’s stomach, somehow Brant had managed to balance perfectly without sliding off or once more flipping over the gondola. He held her in one arm, with his other hand outstretched in a most grandiose display.

“Flip your poor Echo over,” Rover said.

“As you wish, my lady,” Brant said, as smug as ever.

With a stomp of his foot, the Echo flipped right side up, screeching in distress. Somehow, Brant had landed perfectly on his feet while holding Rover securely in his arm. How he managed such, she couldn’t quite deduce his methods, and looked at him in complete bewilderment. Brant had nothing to say for himself, and he simply winked at her with a smile.

At least he seemed to be back to normal.