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starkerforlife6969 · 4 years ago

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He’s Just Not that Into You- Starker AU

It's the first week of summer and Peter's got a date.

Jacob is nice, and Peter's changed his shirt three times, and the bar is warm on this June evening, and thriving. Dancing bachelorette parties, the game on the big screen tvs hanging from the ceiling and-

Jacob's twenty minutes late.

But that's fine, Peter's fine, he pulls at his cuffs, tucks a curl behind his ear, bites his lip, refuses the temptation to look at his phone.

Maybe he should call Ned, Ned would know what to do-

"You waiting for someone, gorgeous?"

Peter looks up, feels colour rush to his cheeks. Dark eyes, a mouth that's sinful, smirking, in a tight fitting shirt and- "Oh um, no-yes- I mean." Peter manages a smile. "I might've been stood up? But, he probably- something probably came up. Or maybe I had the date wrong."

Smirk looks at him. Sizes him up. "Let me buy you a drink, bambi." He says.

After two drinks, Peter Parker thinks Tony Stark might be his saviour.

He's twenty two, the same age as Peter, but he's got it all- got it all figured out.

"So- Jacob didn't really like me. The phone number was fake." He realises aloud.

"If the guy likes you," Tony nods sagely, sipping his dakiri, "he'll take your number and give you his. He gave you a fake number, bet he didn't ask for yours, right?"

Peter wilts a little. Sighing at his own foolishness. "Right. I thought we had a good time."

Tony reaches over to nudge him. "You need to know what to look for, that's all. When to reel them in. When to get keen. I know guys like you, sweet guys- no disrespect, but you take every little thing as some sort of sign. Oh, he smiled at me or he picked up my pen-"

"But he smiled at me and he did not smile at anyone else-"

"Pete," Tony chuckles, "romcoms have ruined you. Naive-"

"Optimistic."

"Naive." Tony insists, bright-eyed. "Just because you met in a library and you both reached for the same edition of Harry Potter at the same time-"

Peter smacks him. "You're such a Slytherin." He glares.

Tony winks at him. "Hufflepuff, you gotta know how to play the game."

Peter mixes his drink. Muses. "I didn't think love was a game." He admits softly, deflating. The bar's deflated a little now too. Emptier. The TVs are off. The music is quiet and gentle. Here are he and Tony, cluttered over a small table.

"Love is a game, Peter. And we're gonna help you win."

They stay there for a few hours yet. Going over Peter's past relationships. Flash, MJ, Gwen, Jacob-

Going over Peter's blind date tactics, how to read people, how to know when to cut the chord- but Tony doesn't mind Peter's bumbling idiocy. He likes helping people. And Peter's sweet, the sort of sweet Tony hasn't seen in a long time. That isn't available in the private boarding schools he grew up in. That wasn't allowed through the pristine hard wood front doors.

"Oh, hey," Peter says, slurring just a little. The drinks he'd had were mostly sugar, not alcohol. "It's empty- is it closed?" He gapes, looking around, all fawn-like.

"It's fine, bambi," Tony grins, sliding his arm under Peter's, guiding him to the door. "My dad owns the place. I'll lock up. You all good getting home?"

"I'll call a cab." Peter nods, wincing at the cool night air. Tony locks up, before turning to look down at his new friend.

"It's good meeting you, Pete." He says, grinning, and Peter beams up at him.

"I know you said not to read into anything, but- wouldn't it be romantic if we fell in love? Like, you saved me from being stood up-"

Tony clamps his hand over Peter's mouth, tutting fondly. This kid. "Not that kinda movie, sweetheart. I'll be the mentor. The guide. The Yoda to your Luke."

Peter nods, and Tony removes his hand. Peter smiles beatifically up at him. "Alright. Thank you, sensei. I will resolve to follow your council."

Tony likes him. Wants to see him do well. Had hated the sight of the kid (not a kid, the same age, but Peter doesn't seem it. Full of idealism and princess stories) being stood up. Tony wants to see him happy. In love. Not getting played. Just because it's not for Tony, doesn't mean he doesn't want Peter to have it. "Here, take my number." Tony says, taking Peter's phone, typing in his number and sending himself a text. "Call me whenever you have a question."

Peter takes the phone gratefully. Cradles it in his palm. "Take you up on that I will."

Tony flicks his head. "I'm Yoda, nitwit."

"Hurt that did." Peter pouts, and Tony laughs into the night air, and hopes Peter calls.

Beck is hot, hard muscle, and Peter's only slightly uncomfortable from his position being pinned on the couch- the bony arm rest digging into his back, but that's all fine, because Beck tastes like toothpaste and his hands make Peter shudder-

They'd met yesterday, at a coffee shop. They'd both reached for the pumpkin spiced latte. Had both laughed. Exchanged numbers. It was a perfect meet-cute.

And Beck had called Peter. He's reading all the signs right, he's sure of it.

Peter curses when his phone buzzes. His boss wants his article done by tonight. New deadline. He sighs, pulling out from Beck's grip. "Sorry," he says earnestly, "I've gotta go. My boss needs this."

Beck nods, flushed, half-hard, hair falling attractively into his face. "I get it, but you can do your work here? Hm? I'll order take out, you can spend the night..."

Beck's hands slide up Peter's shirt, massage the taut muscle there. Peter relaxes into the touch, just a little. "That sounds nice..." he confesses, before laughing, "but I would never get anything done with you here."

Beck kisses his neck, bristly, goose-bump inducing. "Would that be so bad?" He murmurs.

"I really can't..."

"It just sucks," Beck sighs, pulling away. "Because I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be in touch for a while. I'll just miss you."

Out of town? Peter's head rings. He's not sure what to make of it. Is it a play? Does Beck like him? Does he just want sex? If Peter stays tonight, will he never see Beck again?

"Can I go to the bathroom?" He blurts, like he's in school and Beck blinks at him, bewildered, but gestures with his hand.

He finds Tony's number under Sexy Yoda which is just- mental images that Peter does not need right now- and he dials.

"Pete, you called." Tony says warmly, answering on the second ring.

"Oh hey, hi- Tony," Peter bleats, sitting on the bathtub and thrumming his fingers. "I'm in a situation- need advice."

"Ah, amazing- one sec." Then, quieter, "Hey, Pep, d'ya mind? I'll be back in 10."

"Hope I'm not interrupting!"

"Not at all. So, where we at?"

"Okay, so, making out- I say I have to go, he says I should stay- I say I can't- then he says that he'll be leaving tomorrow so will be out of touch."

"Run." Tony says immediately, and Peter's face falls.

"What? No," he whines, "What if he really is just going out of town?"

"Peter." Tony says, in that no-nonsense voice, "Where could he possibly be going in the world that would mean he couldn't talk to you over the phone? He wants a hook up. Do you want a hook up?"

Miserably: "No."

"Well then, like I said: Run."

Peter sighs. "So, he doesn't like me?"

"Sure he likes you. Likes the thought of you in his bed. Who wouldn't? You're very cute. But he does not want a relationship. I sure don't respect the guy for trying to trick you into it, I'm upfront with all my one-night stands. It's just sex: nothing more."

"I'm thrilled for you." Peter remarks dryly. "So, run?"

"Run."

Peter runs.

***

In yoga class, the new instructor, Stephen, compliments his form and then asks him out to dinner.

"Run." Tony says, mouthful of something, on his lunch break.

Peter pecks at his own chicken salad. "Why? We haven't even gone out yet."

"Pete, do I have to spell it out for you? Yoga? Bending over, flexibility, bet you've got tight yoga pants and everything."

Peter wipes a drop of dressing off his keyboard. "Not everyone is as physically minded as you are. Maybe he thought we'd get on."

"He's asked you out based on nothing but the way you look doing the downward dog. Waste of time."

"I think you're wrong. I'm going to meet him for dinner."

Tony sighs. It crinkles down the receiver with disapproval. "Go for it. I'll eagerly await your apology."

When Peter does apologise, two days later, Tony is nice enough not to rub it in.

***

Mr Jameson is tough on the edges, but a softie deep down, Peter knows that.

Which is why he tries not to let the very brutal edits on his latest piece get him down. They're all very fair. So, he works through them methodically, learning, trying to improve, and not let them get him down.

It's late afternoon, he's in the zone, when his phone buzzes.

He picks it up absentmindedly, one knee drawn to his chest on his bed, other hand still scrolling through the word document.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pete, how goes the search for love?"

"Tony." Peter beams, warm all over, pushing away his laptop and collapsing back into his pillows. "How are you?"

"Good, good, bar's busy. Dad's happy enough with me managing it. New receptionist hates me, though."

"Pepper?"

"Yeah. I told her it was just sex- she misread the signs. Don't be like her, Peter."

"If a person wants to be with you, they'll ask you out, they'll make it happen." Peter recites: Tony's number one rule.

"Atta boy. What about you? Jameson like your piece?"

"A few edits. I'm working through them now. Actually- the photographer, Eddy, he's nice, handsome, might be into me?"

"Might?"

"Well, I don't know. He's never said anything. Am I allowed to ask anyone out? Or is that against the rules?"

"You can definitely ask someone out." Tony hums, "just make sure you can read their response. Ask him out, if he's busy- he's not into you. If he leaps at the chance, well, you've nailed it."

"Okay," Peter nods, excited. "Where should I ask him to go? Dinner? Is that too boring?"

"Hockey game, a movie, hell, a stake-out, it doesn't matter, just don't read into anything that isn't there."

"I won't. Thanks for the help, Tony, really," Peter says, "And sorry to call you on a Saturday."

"No worries, Bambi. Let me know how it goes with Eddy."

"Let me know if Pepper forgives you!"

Peter falls back into his work. Doesn't realise until just before he goes to sleep that actually- Tony called him.

***

"He said no." Comes Peter's voice through the ear-piece, as Tony debates whether to make himself a kale or spinach smoothie at home later. Both packs of green look equally healthy.

Tony dumps them both in the basket. Ignores the guy leering at him in favour of turning Peter up a little. "I'm sorry, kid. But better you know now than later, right?"

When Peter speaks, his throat sounds clogged "I guess." He says forlornly.

Tony cocks his head. Listens. Thinks. "How far into that tub of Ben and Jerry's are you, Pete?"

A pause. Tony grins: got him.

"I'm not...It's chocolate Fudge. There's um..." a spoon scrapes again soggy paper, "not much left?"

"No wallowing, rule number two, you know that."

"I know." Peter whines, "but I thought he liked me, maybe he did- you know he said, he was going through something right now, a recent break up, but that maybe someday-"

"It's a brush off." Tony insists, "don't read into anything that isn't there-"

"Maybe he did really just-"

"Okay." Tony says, setting his basket on the conveyer belt and pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to get you back on the horse. I know a guy who might be into you: Steve. Wholesome, boring sort. Your kind of guy?"

"Well, when you say it like that, how can I resist?"

Tony shakes his head, smiling. "C'mon now, he's handsome. Very American. Tall, blonde, served in the Army for a bit, now he's some sort of do-gooder activist."

"Well that doesn't sound- so bad."

"And the best part? I think he might like you."

"I was beginning to think that was impossible."

Tony hands over his card, snorting. "No pity parties. You're easy on the eyes. Got those big bambi ones, those little freckles, long legs too, considering you're so short. It's nice. It's a good look." He can picture it, actually, those long legs wrapped around his hips. Peter's slender neck, fluffy hair spread out over the pillow- he needs to get laid today. Again. "I'll invite him to dinner, introduce the two of you. How's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Peter squeals, excited, the sound of an empty ice cream tub being tossed aside. "I haven't got anything to wear."

Tony thinks of Peter's cream skin. Of his honey eyes. "Something tight. Maroon if you have it, anything sheer. Please, for god's sake, not that mustard monstrosity."

"I love that sweater!"

Tony carries his bags out to the car, feels the warm sun beat down on his face. "Oh hey, it's kinda nice out." He realises.

Peter sighs contentedly over the line. "It really is. DJ Ravioli loves it."

Tony stops by his car. Closes his eyes. "Who the fuck," he says, "is DJ Ravioli?"

"It's my cat-"

"Of course," he laughs, getting into the car, turning on the AC. "Of course it is. In every Romcom, what does the main character have? Some ugly ass cat-"

"Hey!"

"And DJ Ravioli! What kind of a name is that?"

"He's such a cutie-wootie, yes you are my little ravioli-cannoli."

"Goodbye, Peter!" Tony yells, hanging up the call.

He can't stop smiling the rest of the way home.

***

Peter's early. That's because he was raised with Ben's if you're not early, you're late mantra, and now he's sitting in a fancy restaurant, fiddling with the tablecloth.

MJ's done his hair. Crimped and weird, but he thinks overall he looks okay. He's taken Tony's tips, in a thin, flouncy maroon shirt tucked into very tight jeans. He better not eat too much. Not sure he could if he wanted to.

"Good evening, Sir," says the waitress, eyes kind, "are you ready to order?"

"Oh um, not just yet," Peter smiles, "I'm waiting for..." he gestures to the two empty seats.

She nods, stepping back.

Oh god, is he being stood up again-

Relief and pleasure seeps through him as Tony appears. He's in a plain black sweater, but he might as well be a model in how it stretches over him. He leans down, pecks Peter's cheek (warm, he's warm, and he smells like cologne) before collapsing into one of the seats and gesturing the waitress over.

"I messed up, Pete," he says, by way of greeting, having a glance through the menu.

Peter blinks, a little dazed. "Huh?"

"Steve. He's not free tonight. I'll reschedule it, I promise."

"Oh." Peter nods, "okay, so-"

"It's just us two tonight, that alright? You can bear my company?" Tony wiggles his eyebrows, and Peter laughs. His nerves leave him, he can relax now.

"I think I can just about tolerate it. How's Pepper?"

Tony winces.

Peter laughs.

***

Tony, for all his playboy moves, is such a gentlemen, Peter thinks. He'd picked up the whole bill, hadn't given Peter a chance to offer half.

And now Peter's full of lobster, warm and sated, and Tony is a warm line of heat against his back as he unlocks his front door.

"Mm, it's cozy," Tony hums into his ear, as they shuffle inside and Peter closes the door, sleepy and a little- excited. To have Tony here, in his apartment, late at night- "Oh, there he is. Little monster."

And to Peter's surprise, Tony leans down and scoops DJ Ravioli into his arms. The fat cat barely protests, using the new position to stretch his spine.

Peter grins, can't help, it and takes a photo on his phone.

Tony glares at him.

"What?" He giggles, "I thought you didn't like cats."

"Never said I didn't like 'em," Tony hums, thumb rubbing beneath DJ Ravioli's ears, "just said they're a cliche, that's all. In every love story, there's the damn cat. And it hates the bad guy- scratches them up- and loves the good guy, because somehow, the cat knows who you're meant to be with."

Peter lifts his eyebrows. "Well, DJ Ravioli likes you."

"Guess I must be the good guy." Tony quips, rolling his eyes. He takes his own phone out then, arranging himself for a selfie. He'll send it to his mom. The cat blinks lazily at the camera.

Just as Tony takes the picture, Peter slides into frame, stretching onto his tiptoes, finger's bunny ears behind Tony's head.

Tony shoves him playfully. "You're a photo crasher, Peter Parker. A photo bomber. A fiend. A nightmare." He sets the cat down, watches his waddle away. "And you're overfeeding that cat."

Peter flips him the bird then, and is rewarded with Tony's loud bark of laughter.

They drink coffee, Tony judges the way Peter organises his kitchen, and then at 2am, Peter pouts and says:

"These jeans are really tight. Do you mind if I change?"

Tony sips his coffee, side-eyes him. "Don't try to seduce me, Parker."

Peter snorts, grateful to shuffle into his bedroom and peel the jeans off him. He pulls on his Hello Kitty Sweat Pants and an oversized science tee, feeling immeasurably more comfortable. He pulls on his fluffiest socks, feels a little bad he can't offer Tony something to wear. They'd all be too tight.

He presents himself with a twirl. "Seduction at it's finest." He teases, and Tony looks him over; something warm and soft in his gaze that makes Peter blush.

"It's not bad." Tony murmurs, turning back to his coffee cup. "Well, it's-" he clears his throat, "late, Pete. I should go."

Peter wiggles his toes in his socks, wants to crawl into bed. "Okay. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for..." Tony looks around, chuckles. "Having me. You should come by tomorrow. See how the other, better half lives."

Peter walks him to the door. Tony stoops down to rub a knuckle along DJ Raviol's back. The tail wraps around his wrist. Tony disentangles himself gently. "Around 6?"

Tony beams at him. "Perfect."

***

When Peter wakes up in the morning, everything becomes clear.

Tony likes him.

He tries not to get swept away in the realisation of it. Tries to be rational, to follow the points.

1) Tony had given Peter his number and taken Peter's.

2) Tony calls him. They talk all night, sometimes. Tony's left dates, make-out sessions, to talk to Peter.

3) The mysterious 'Steve' that never showed up. Or perhaps, never existed at all.

Peter scribbles these into his notebook. Could it be? Tony's so...handsome. Clever. Funny. Why would he be into- but no-

Tony thinks he's handsome. Said so himself. Said Peter had bambi eyes (a pet name- that's a sign, Peter writes it down) and long legs. Said he looked nice in maroon.

They're saved under cute nicknames in each other's phone. DJ Ravioli likes Tony! And there's Tony eyes- something warm and soft that Peter sees from time to time.

And the fact that Tony saved him from being stood up. It's a perfect meet-cute.

Peter squeals. Tony's invited him over tonight. Never pressured him into sex- it must be something.

He spins on the kitchen stool and dreams of happily ever after.

***

The radio plays as they wash the dishes. Tony washes, Peter dries. Their hips bump.

It's nice, Tony thinks, as they hum along. His penthouse- big, empty, most of the times- except when he's having parties loud enough to upset the neighbours, but even those- they don't compare to this quiet company of Peter Parker.

Peter screeches as he hits a high note, so Tony turns the faucet on him, laughing as Peter splutters, slapping him with the rag.

Tony doesn't want to point out he he has dishwasher. He likes this.

Once they're done, he collapses onto the couch, watches as Peter ambles around before coming to stand in front of him. He looks thoughtful. He's wearing that gross mustard sweater that Tony kinda likes now, if only for the way it makes Peter looks soft and cuddly.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, trying to read Peter's mind. He's good at reading people, great at reading Peter, but not tonight. He can't quite gauge it.

Then Peter, in his ugly sweater, beautiful, with a grace Tony suspected but didn't know Peter possessed- straddles him on the couch, and kisses him.

Tony feels those long legs, spread wide over his own knees, feels the heat of Peter's core, those lily hands against his cheeks, that soft, soft mouth against his own.

He moans appreciatively, opening his mouth, taking control. His own hands coming to wrap around Peter's waist and-

"I knew it," Peter whispers, pleased as punch against his cheek, "we're in love."

Tony splutters, a cold wash of water against the pleasing heat that was working it's way down his body. "We're- what-" he pushes Peter away a little, from where those teeth were nipping his ear.

Peter sits back, still fucking straddling him, still looking as innocent as a wall-flower, one hand still poisoned above Tony's denim-clad dick. "We're in love," Peter repeats, beaming. "We're dating."

Tony scoffs, erection wilting. "Well, gee, Pete, was I ever gonna know about any of this? In what universe are we dating?"

"We-" Peter frowns, swallowing hard. "I- you liked me? The signs-"

"What signs?!" Tony fumes, pressure mounting, pushing on his chest. "Jesus Christ, Pete." He pushes Peter off him, gets to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"I..." Peter sits, mussed, on the couch, staring up at him. "You- you took my number. You call me, S-Steve didn't show up- you- you- we talk all night, we made dinner, we washed up- you came over- I thought-"

"What did I say? What did I say?" Tony hisses, raking his hands through his hair. "If a guy is into you, Peter, he will ask you out. Or you ask him out. Did I ask you out?"

Peter eyes are swimming with tears. He looks flushed with humiliation and great, now Tony's a massive jerk. "N-no."

"Peter." Tony can't look at him, turns and bangs his head against the wall. "Why- why do people do this? Read into nothing. There is nothing between us but friendship. And now..." he whirls back to Peter accusingly. "Now you've ruined our friendship. You look for all these tiny, insignificant moments. I gave you my number because I wanted to help you, Steve genuinely couldn't make the day, I invited you over here because we're friends. I've never made a move on you, never asked you out, and you've never asked me out. You know, you know I don't do relationships. Why? Why do people think that they're the exception? You're not the exception, Pete, you're not gonna change me. You're the rule, and the rule is: if I liked you, I would've asked you out. But I didn't, so I don't."

He has to catch his breath once he's done. Peter's still sitting there, eyes watering- but not crying. The air is tense. Thick.

"God, Pete," Tony says gently, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but- no. We're not in a relationship. We're not dating. I'm not into you."

They're mean. Cruel words. But they're true. Tony's a straight-forward, up-front kind of guy. He turns to his kitchen, pours himself a drink. Fuck, what a night.

"I don't want to be like you." Comes the quiet voice from the living room.

Tony sets down the brandy, whirls towards Peter with a scoff. "Excuse me?"

Peter looks up at him, still red-faced, but brave. "I don't want to be like you. Going around, using people. Never finding love, never looking for it. Never getting- excited at a smile, or wondering what your life with someone might be like. I like hoping. I like dreaming and meet-cutes, and big, unrealistic romantic gestures, I like that."

Tony sneers, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll be over here, living in the real world."

Peter gets to his feet, grabs his bag, wipes his face. "You do that, Tony, you live all alone in the real world. You won't find any happiness like that."

"At least I won't get rejected twice a week!" Tony yells, as Peter heads for the door.

Peter turns back, hand on the door knob, angry. "I'd rather get rejected knowing that it means I'm closer to my happily ever after. I'll take rejection after rejection, Tony."

"Well done," Tony claps, "this is another one to add to your dossier."

The door slams and Tony's alone and there's no one to yell at so he throws his glass of brandy across the kitchen. The stupid sturdy glass doesn't even break, the liquid just drips down onto the tile and he'll have to clean it up later.

It's been three days.

Surely Peter's still not angry with him after three days. Sure, Tony said some stuff, but it was- heat of the moment. They're friends.

He rubs his temples, puts down the paper work- can't read the words. He needs to sign off on payrolls, order more stock, sort out the overtime policy-

He takes out his phone. No messages. No calls.

The door opens, and Pepper walks in, professional, the last dredges of her anger with him mostly gone. "Hey Tony, a few more for you to sign." She sets down the papers.

"Thanks," he mutters. No DMs on twitter. Nothing on instagram. He opens Facebook.

"Oh my god."

Tony looks up, startled at Pepper's expression of delight. "What?" He asks, eyes flicking down- nothing on Facebook. Email, maybe?

"Who are they?"

"Who are who?"

"The special someone." She laughs, eyes bright with disbelief. "Who's got you checking your phone obsessively, wondering when they'll call."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony says, putting his phone away. "You may go."

"You haven't been able to concentrate all day," she muses, perching on the edge of his desk, perfectly comfortable. He misses the days she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. "You put Javier on dishes and Rebecca at the bar- rookie error. You keep asking if anyone's called the bar for you- you haven't shaved. And is that the same shirt as yesterday-"

"No." Tony says emphatically, self-conscious and sweaty, "just go. Please."

Pepper gets to her feet, laughs again. "The world of love. Welcome to it, asshole."

When she's gone, Tony sits there. Fingers itching for his phone.

"Shit." He mutters to himself.

***

He sends Peter a message. A text. He says: Pete, I'm sorry about what happened. Can we talk? Brunch, maybe? I want us to be friends.

He doesn't get an answer.

He wants to hurl his phone against the wall in frustration. What the fuck.

He paces relentlessly. Keeps his phone charged.

Peter posts on instagram, it's a photo of DJ Ravioli asleep in a sunbeam, with the caption another nice, sunny day

What does that mean? Tony had said to Peter once that it was a nice day- is this a reference to that? A secret meaning? Should he like the photo? Should he not?

He finds himself driving past Peter's apartment late at night. Sometimes the lights are on. Sometimes they're not.

Tony wonders if he's eating ice cream. If he's in those stupid pyjamas. If Jameson liked the latest revisions. Wonders if he's petting the cat.

Wonders if he's thinking about Tony.

His phone buzzes, and he nearly drops it in his haste to check it.

It's from his mom.

Sorry, got a new phone, didn't see this till just now- what a cutie! Is he yours? (I don't mean the cat), you look so happy, sweetheart. Also, are you eating enough? Your dad says hi!

Tony clicks on it. Sees the photo he sent her. Captured mid-laughter, Tony is beaming, face turned to Peter, who's gorgeous, beaming, lovely-

Tony looks at his own expression. Has he ever looked at someone like that before? The way he's looking at Peter in this photo?

He does look happy. He looks...home.

"-ey Tony. Is this recording? Hey Tony, it's Steve! I just wanted to let you know I ran into Peter- your Peter- at the flower garden in Harlem today. How crazy is that? Must be fate. He's amazing, you're a matchmaker. We've got a date tonight- I'll let you know how it goes!"

Tony listens to the message three times. A voice mail, of course, because Steve might as well be from the 1940s.

There's a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. What does that mean? That the very person Tony thought Peter would get on with is the one he bumped into in Harlem? In a flower garden. Peter was probably surrounded by foxgloves, ridiculously beautiful in his dandelion cardigan, streaks of suncream still on his face.

Maybe Steve had come up to him, said that Peter was a more beautiful view than the flowers. Steve is gross like that.

And Peter probably- probably liked it. Thought Steve was handsome, because Steve is. Probably blushed the way he blushes whenever someone compliments him, like he never received enough. The amount he deserved. Probably said something lame like "you're not so bad yourself."

He wonders how Peter reacted when Steve brought Tony up, brought up their link. Their almost.

Did he ask about Tony? Steve's message hadn't said anything- so Peter obviously hadn't said anything bad. That must mean something.

Going out tonight. Peter's going out tonight.

Tony doesn't want Peter to go out tonight. He wants to lie in Peter with bed, with that fat cat, and watch TV and talk and order Chinese. Wants to kiss Peter- wants to-

"Oh," he whispers, fingers shaking, he presses his hands together. This is love. He's in love. With Peter. He's been in love with Peter since-

He remembers the sight of him at the bar. Beautiful. Sweet. Idealistic like Tony couldn't believe and-

Goddamn it. Tony's loved him the moment he first laid eyes on him.

And he's fucked it all up.

***

He sees Steve on the way up. He hides behind a plant, peeks out behind leaves. Steve is whistling, smiling, pleased. Okay, well, so, they had a good date- but Peter didn't let him in for a nightcap. That must mean something.

Tony hurries upstairs, heart pounding. He knocks on the door of Peter's apartment, tries to control his hair and-

"Oh good, you forgot your coat!" Comes Peter's voice, pleased, and the door opens and-

It's Peter.

He's in Steve's coat. It's draped over his shoulders. There's stardust in his eyes, he's wearing chinos and a hideous flannel shirt and-

"Peter." Tony breathes, wants to kiss him. Wants to pull that coat off him and burn it.

Peter stands firm in the door. Doesn't move to let him in. His face closes off. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"I can't sleep," he blurts, aware of the wreck he must look. "Can't eat. Can't think straight. I keep- driving past this place, wondering if you're up, what you're doing, if you're thinking about me. I keep- wanting to call. To find any excuse to- I keep replaying all our- moments, I'm- I'm becoming-"

"Me." Peter finishes, he looks up at Tony with his huge eyes.

"Bambi," Tony whispers, and Peter flinches away, shaking his head.

"Tony, I just...I just went on a date with Steve-"

"I know." He whispers. Hating himself already. He's left it too late. Should've come sooner, should've realised earlier.

"And I think he- he actually likes me, Tony. He doesn't see love like it's a game, he calls when he says he'll call and he's not scared of relationships-"

"I'm not scared anymore." Tony whispers, taking another step forward, "I can be yours-"

"But you didn't want to be!" Peter cries, shaking his head. Pain etched across his face, and Tony remembers his words. How cruel, how wrong he was. "I threw myself at you, and you didn't want me-"

"I was wrong. I was wrong, Pete, and you were right. About everything. I didn't- I'm so used to doing the same thing, of keeping people at arms length, that when I actually fell-" the words choke in his throat, "-in love- I didn't- I didn't know. I didn't realise."

Peter stares at him, closes his eyes. There's a long beat of silence. "Tony," he whispers, composing himself, "a wise Yoda once told me that if someone wants to date you, they'll make it happen. That I'm the rule, not the-"

He can't take it. Not another moment. Not another unbearable second of Peter thinking that Tony doesn't want him-

So, he kisses him.

It's awkward, and desperate, and then- gentle. He cradles Peter's face in his hands, kisses him long, and slow and endless. Tries to pour all the love, and the hope and the fire he's been carrying for Peter since the moment he saw him.

When they pull apart, Tony doesn't step back. Stays close. Hopeful. Pleading.

Peter's eyes flutter open, like a prince in a fairytale, like the leading star in a romance. "I'm the exception," he whispers, hands on Tony's chest.

Tony's heart thunders with truth. "You are my exception." He breathes, pulling Peter and his gorgeous smile in for another kiss. His hands push Steve's coat from off his shoulders, he steps on it for good measure, and he swallows Peter's laughter, nearly trips over DJ Ravioli, and kicks the door shut behind them.

They spend the next day in bed, watching tv, and they order Chinese food.

Peter checks his work emails, and Tony reaches over and kisses him like he can't help it. Peter laughs, kissing back for a moment, before pulling away. "Am I that irresistible?" He teases.

Tony looks up at him from his side of the bed, eyes earnest. "Yes." He says solemnly. "You are."

"Does that mean I get the last spring roll?"

Tony winces. "I already gave it to the cat."

"Oh well," Peter sighs, collapsing into Tony's arms, tossing the phone away. "You'll just have to make it up to me somehow."

Tony starts to pepper him with kisses. Hands slip under Peter's shirt. "I can do that. I can do that every day for the rest of our lives."

Peter hums, vibrating with glee, "and is this the first day of Happily Ever After?"

"Baby," Tony grins, brushing the cat hair from Peter's forehead, and kissing him again, and again, "I think it just might be."

#starker #peter x tony #young tony #romcom au #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining #he's just not that into you au #precious peter parker #tony stark has a heart

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remcycl333 · 2 years ago

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Hi Rem! I'm spiralling 😭 I've been hesitating about sending an ask because I know I shouldn't be repeating unwanted circumstances but I am really getting triggered these days.

The thing is, me and my SP only talk every once in a while. He's always the one starting the conversations, but it's always boring small talk convos, we catch up and then we stop talking again. We have flirted before and he has expressed that he thinks I'm attractive... but we always stop talking. I want our communication to be more consistent, so I've been revising the part where we stop talking. I've gotten improvement but on saturday we stopped talking again, I revised it, but the he did something that triggered me. He joined telegram, and I got a notification (because I have the app) and initially I didn't think about it, I mean... he installed it and what about it? That's none of my business. But I've been getting so many insta reels in my feed about sus uses of telegram (my mind in action right there) and I started thinking "what if that's why he's now using this app?" And I mean, even if he was using it for sus reasons, like s3xting someone, that's none of my business because we are not even dating and I shouldn't be checking what he's doing in the first place... because even if he is doing something that triggers me, I am the one manifesting triggering situations but stillllllll I feel defensive. Like if he talks to me rn I'd be pissed. I seriously want to snap out at him sometimes (which would be very immature from me haha). Ngl, sometimes I seriously feel very stupid for wanting to manifest him. We are long distance, and I feel used sometimes? Like maybe he gets bored and texts me. Or maybe he just wants to see if I'm still an idiot. I feel like a doormat. And it's kinda dumb, because I don't think this way about my friends with whom I talk with these same dynamics or even less, but with him I get annoyed because I like him and I want more and not just boring ass convos every two months, it's so stupid.

I feel childish writing this but I feel like I need support. Right now that I wrote how I feel, I can see that my self concept is shit right now...😭 like really, when I see his texts I think "does he think I'm an idiot?" "Is he texting me because he's bored?" "Am I a doormat?" "Will he be annoyed if I answer?" Instead of being happy and thinking "hell yeah, if he texts me it's because he enjoys talking to me, and he values me as a part of his life and he likes me, and is happy to see my answers" ugh

hey love!! i was in a situation like this at the beginning of my manifestation journey. i had an SP and i'd manifest him to text me, and he would for a day or two and then ghost me again. it made me feel so awful because i'd be so excited to enter contact with him again just to lose it again. eventually what i did in order to maintain contact with him was i switched from affirming for a text to just affirming that we were already in a happy, healthy relationship. so instead of being like "my sp is texting me 😃" all day long i switched to saying affirmations like "i love my sp he's the best boyfriend ever hes so loving and attentive he makes me so happy!" and then my SP started texting me like crazy, was much more engaged in conversations, was flirting with me like crazy, asking to hang out, etc etc.

also as you mentioned in your ask you would also benefit from working on self concept! you're a catch, you're a prize, you're a goddess, any boy would be lucky to have you, your SP recognizes the fact that there is no one in this world like you!!! <3

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

fashion major!kevin

ANYWAY THERE WAS LIKE ONE PERSON WHO CALLED FOR A FASHION MAJOR KEVIN SPINOFF OF THE COLLEGE MODEL JUYEON AU I JUST POSTED (linked below) anyway! hope you enjoy, please reblog if you did, and check out my other dumb overly long blurbs in the stream of idiocy tag on my blog <3

pairing: kevin x gender neutral!reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing

college model!juyeon

TBZ Scenarios Masterlist | TBZ Drabbles Masterlist

kevin moon is known on campus for two things: 1. his bright personality literally everyone loves him and if you don’t you’re jealous of him like sorry not sorry i don’t make the rules you know i’m right and 2. his.... unorthodox fashion sense. like eric thought his snake patterned shit was weird as hell?? but there are weirder things in kevin’s closet i swear to you. anyway this unorthodox style is what got him accepted into the fashion program at the university and even though there are a few assholes who stick their noses up at kevin’s work the vast majority of people are cool w his outfits even if they personally wouldn’t wear them and kevin is v well-liked in his major and on campus in general bc he knows everyone and is nice and polite and really a v cool person to be around when he’s not being a fucking idiot

and on campus there are fashion shows a few times every semester to show off the fashion majors’ work, and let’s just say that this university if p well know for its fashion major so some famous people sometimes come along to these events so EVERY TIME a fashion show rolls around the fashion majors get nervous as FUCK and there’s a lot of speculation on who will get noticed and whatever and everyone is secretive about what they’re working on and just. everyone goes fucking haywire and kevin is always v happy when the stress winds down after a show

(no one knows it but kevin has gotten offers from several companies to work with them after he graduates. he hasn’t told anyone except a few friends like juyeon/jacob and his family)

anyway you are also a fashion major who secretly really admires kevin’s stuff?? like you just think he’s so daring and creative and all of his work is absolutely amazing even if it’s a little weird and honestly you don’t even feel overshadowed by his talent and hard work you just feel in awe that you can be in his presence at all. you’re p sure kevin has no idea who you are bc even though you have a lot of the same classes you’re always too shy to sit or work near him bc even though he seems so nice and approachable he’s also just.... god he’s so good

BUT THEN. one of your professors announces that for the next fashion show they’ll be modeling projects that he’s assigning right now. which is weird asf bc usually you’ll all take your best clothing and like fix it or tweak it for the next show, like sometimes people will make something completely from scratch but that’s nerve-wracking and not many people do it unless they’re in a real pinch but it gets even WEIRDER bc this is not a regularly scheduled fashion event?? it’s like a smaller event apparently that they’ve organized just for this project AND THE WEIRDNESS TAKES THE CAKE when your professor says that YOU ARE GOING TO BE THE MODELS. YOU ALL ARE GOING TO PICK SOMEONE IN THE CLASS TO MAKE CLOTHES FOR AND THEY WILL MODEL YOUR OUTFIT

and this SENDS EVERYONE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT??? bc oh god you can’t rely on the models you’ve been using all semester now??? and you have to make flattering clothes for someone you might not even know v well and it’s just. holy fuck holy fuck holy FUCK

meanwhile you already know who you want to create for (/ahem kevin moon/) but you’re also chicken so like??? you’re just sitting in your seat looking over at him but not saying anything until your friend chanhee just pushes you out of your seat in kevin’s direction and is like GO ASK HIM BEFORE YOU LOSE THIS CHANCE and you’re like JESUS FUCKING CHRIST CHANHEE but kevin’s noticed your movement and he’s looking over with a smile on his face and you’re like jfc i can’t do this but chanhee shoves you again and so you kinda smile (you really hope it looks like a smile) and your voice is LITERALLY shaking when you go over and ask if it would be ok to use him as a model for this assignment and he’s like.... oh my god yes

because what YOU don’t know is that kevin has been ogling your designs all year?? like he enjoys his own style and is comfortable in it but he loves your work as in LOVES IT. he thinks your designs are absolutely flawless and original and you combine styles so effortlessly that he just wants to look into your brain when you come up with ideas bc what the fuck?? you may have different styles but kevin knows how to admire art AND YOUR DESIGNS ARE ART.

so you’re reeling a day later bc now you have kevin moon’s number and he has yours and he’s now texting you on when you think you’ll have the first preliminary designs ready and when you can meet up so you can get each other’s measurements and all that and when you eventually meet up your hands are shaking so much that you can barely take his measurements and kevin is screeching in his mind as well bc oh my god you’re going to model his clothes YOU’RE GOING TO MODEL HIS CLOTHES

most people are again being secretive about their designs and even though someone in their class is modeling for them this time so there’s a bit less secrecy they’re still working alone so you get a shock when kevin asks if you want to coordinate your outfits. like work on designs together and maybe make something that matches a little though ofc retaining your own styles and you just shriek when you get the text and poor childhood best friend younghoon spills his coffee (you have been friends since basically birth and there are no romantic feelings whatsoever ok it’s strictly platonic like you watched younghoon vomit after eating too much bread when you were like 10 and he watched you get tangled up in a soccer net when you were 13 there are no romantic feelings stemming from any of that)

needless to say you reply yes yes ye sYES and kevin is grinning so wide on the other end that juyeon wonders if he’s gone slightly insane (which he has but we’re not gonna dwell on that) and both of you show up to the work rooms nervous as all hell (i’m not a fashion major i have no fashion sense i still think t-shirts/leggings are the way to go so idk how any of this works do not sue me) but kevin has a natural ability to defuse any tension in the room so within minutes you’re comfortable and laughing with him and wondering why you were so scared to approach him before and THEN YOU’RE REMINDED WHY when he shows you his design for you because... oh god.... it’s unbelievable. like it has a distinctly kevin feel to it but he’s clearly been paying attention to what you wear and what you design because it’s something you would like to wear and something you even think you could look good in. holy shit

and you just blurt out like kevin what the fuck this is so good did you like stalk my designs or some shit?? and you mean it as a joke ofc but kevin just goes beet red and mumbles something about how he really likes your work and how it’s so sharply elegant but also insanely creative and you’re just. open-mouthed like. dude i’m in love with your work too oh my god i’m gonna cry my fashion idol just said he likes my designs i’m gonna screaM

kevin stops you from screaming though even though he also feels like he’s gonna scream and this is the start of a very productive partnership between the two of you like most of the fashion majors are friendly despite the competition but you and kevin are on a whole other level?? and you start hanging out more and more often even when you’ve finished designing and are actually sewing (you ask him if this part can be secret bc you want to add a few things as a surprise - he ofc says yes and winks and tells you he has things he wants to add too which just makes you want to scream out of excitement)

and it’s a week before fashion show day and you and kevin are finished with putting together the designs and you’re excited as all hell and kevin is literally about to burst from his own skin and you insist that he goes first and when he pulls the outfit from the bag you’re just. in absolute awe. the colors match the design you made, it looks like it’ll fit, and even though it screams kevin moon it also has a distinct vibe from your own fashion style and you just yell KEVIN MOON YOU GENIUS as you snatch it from him and go change

(you don’t know obviously but kevin is blushing like a tomato while waiting for you to finish changing)

it fits almost perfectly, kevin marks a few places to fix and is debating whether or not to compliment you bc??? that sounds like he’s complimenting his own work and that’s egocentric as hell but then you say something like does it look fine and he just blurts out more than fine. you look great

AND YOU’RE SO FLUSTERED THAT YOU ALL BUT THROW YOUR OWN BAG AT KEVIN and are like GO CHANGE

so he takes out the clothes and goes silent and you’re like.... oh my god does he hate it i mean we worked on the designs together and he said he liked it then but what if he changed his mind but then he looks at you and his eyes are sparkling and he’s like y/n this is perfect. literally perfect and he rushes to go get changed and when he comes out your eyes are bugging out of your head bc holy hell you pictured kevin in these clothes obviously since they were made for him but he looks so much better than you ever imagined

and then you blurt out something like holy shit you look beautiful

and kevin blushes again

anyway you both take your measurements and run out and then the day of the fashion show rolls around and both of you are freaking out backstage but the instant you two go on it’s like you both are literal gods bc you feel so confident in each other’s clothing and the crowd can feel it THEY CAN FUCKING FEEL IT and they go nuts when you two walk out!!! and even though it isn’t like a huge major fashion show, it’s just for this one project that your professors cooked up, you and kevin are both beaming like the sun when it’s over despite the fact that it wasn’t an important event bc holy shit you two had fun and everyone’s complimenting your clothing and it’s great it’s just great

finally all the chaos is over and the clothes have been put away and the makeup removed and you and kevin are now standing outside the venue in a kind of stunned silence that all of it’s over. it’s all over. and then you suddenly thrust out the clothes you made that kevin wore and tell him to keep it. it’s a present. and kevin takes it but he also forces you to take the outfit he made for you. and then there’s silence again

but if there’s anything you’ve gained over the past few weeks it’s a bit of courage. courage that let you talk to kevin, courage that let you design clothes for him, courage that let you become friends (and maybe something more) with him. you’ve also learned that kevin is a massive dork and a lovely human being and you’d really love to at least stay in contact so in that the moment you smile and say ‘if i asked you on a date, would you wear that outfit?’

poor kevin looks like he’s about to have a fucking aneurysm and you start to lose confidence but then he’s nodding like there’s no tomorrow like yes ye sYE S OH MY GOD YE S and omg you now have a boyfriend whom you like very very much and kevin has a partner whom he likes very very much

you two may not be a pda couple but you ARE that couple that matches every outfit they wear, you make jewelry and accessories for each other and also make each other clothes every so often. everyone is jealous of your combined fashion sense bc even though the outfits might look outrageous, you two both manage to pull them off and look fabulous at it, but also they can’t even be that jealous bc you two are the sweetest couple and are absolutely lovely

both of you do wear the outfits you made for that show on your first date which is to like a musical or smth bc theatre kid kevin is something you can pry out of my cold dead hands and everyone’s staring but you two are in your own little world and it’s amazing

kevin admits at one point that he was afraid to ask you out bc he thought younghoon was your boyfriend and you just snort and tell him everything stupid younghoon’s done and by the end younghoon is done with you, kevin is about to vomit he’s laughing so hard, and you are smirking like no tomorrow

for the end of year fashion show you and kevin fix up and accessorize the outfits you two made for the show that brought you two together and there is absolutely no surprise that several different fashion companies scout both of you (and a couple modeling agencies too since you and kevin decided to model your own clothing again - younghoon whines that you’ve replaced him but you shut him up with chocolate bread)

kevin’s a sucker for romance (you CANNOT tell me this isn't true) so your first kiss is on the roof of the fashion building at sunset when kevin does the cheesy thing where he says you look more beautiful the view and you almost slap him but you’re laughing so hard and kevin’s cackling and somehow it turns into a kiss

you are a dork and kevin is even more of a dork and it just works out beautifully bc you’re so absolutely in love that it makes people fake vomit from the sides (looking at chanhee right here) but it’s also really sweet in that you two trust each other completely and would do absolutely anything for the other except murder. kevin made that v clear but really only bc blood would stain his clothing and he doesn’t need that. you agree wholeheartedly (younghoon/juyeon are looking from the sides like what the fuck is this couple do they need help and you two are like just go away and let us be the weird couple we are ok). the conversation ends in a v soft v sweet kiss and just. ik i said it with juyeon but kevin moon is also best bf ever ok you cannot convince me otherwise.

and that’s how it goes :)

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this weird-ass couple)

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elisela · 4 years ago

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touch has a memory & mine is you buck x eddie, for @buckleysbabe on her birthday ♥️ (ao3)

----

It starts small—just Buck’s hand wrapping around his wrist to tug him close when a crowd of people at Dodger Stadium nearly separate them as they meet in front of the stadium—but when Buck starts to let go, Eddie swings his arm in closer, presses their bare forearms together. It’s been weeks since they’ve spent time together; another earthquake and dozens of first responders injured across the city meant temporary transfers and shifts being changed from 24-72 to 24-48, and they somehow hadn’t found time for anything other than phone calls and texts for nearly a month.

“God, I missed you,” Buck says, and when he swings his arm up on Eddie’s shoulders, Eddie can’t help but lean into it. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, forcing himself to pull back, embarrassed. “I knew you’d be late, Buck, we’re gonna miss the first pitch.”

Buck makes a noise and pulls him closer. “Yeah, yeah, there’s at least 200 more after that,” he says.

“That’s—” he wrinkles up his nose, thinking, “seven pitches per batter on average. Kershaw is starting tonight—”

“Eddie,” Buck sighs, “are you seriously trying to lecture me about baseball already? You know I need a beer before you start in on all this.”

Eddie elbows him in retaliation, but Buck still doesn’t move his arm, so Eddie elbows him harder, until he snatches it away and hits Eddie back, the two of them play fighting like children until they get up to the gate and Buck backs away, pulling the tickets out of his pocket, and Eddie misses the heat of his body even though it’s what he had meant to happen.

----

Eddie had never realized how much Buck touched him until he wasn’t anymore. His new crew at Station 69 (which had made Buck snort milk through his nose when Bobby had given him the—temporary—transfer papers) aren’t a close bunch; they have his number and he’s gotten a few texts on his off hours, but no one is spending their days off with him, sending him pictures of cats available for adoption and whining when he points out how much work an animal is, and certainly no one has shown up at his house unannounced with take-out and a new board game. And they certainly aren’t as touchy as his team; no one squeezes his shoulder as they pass by, knocks their arms together on the way to the truck, or sprawls against his side while they play video games on the couch. They’re perfectly respectful of his personal space, and Eddie fucking hates it.

He makes it three innings before Buck twists in his seat towards him and leans in with an intense look on his face, knee bumping up against Eddie’s. “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Uh, Betts is on first and Hernandez is up to the plate, but he’s got two strikes and—Buck, seriously, haven’t I taught you enough about baseball for you to be able to follow this?”

Buck looks unimpressed. “I meant with you. You’re—weird.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Buck says. “Is something wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You are now,” he says, looking away. “Let it go. And don’t you dare start singing that song.” Buck huffs out a breath next to him, and when he doesn’t move away, Eddie stands up. “I’m gonna go grab more beers,” he says, ignoring the half-full bottles in the cupholders in front of them, and he flees.

----

Chris is going through a phase.

At least, that’s what Eddie hopes it is.

Twelve is apparently too old to be hugged by your dad, to let him give you a kiss goodbye, or goodnight—too old for anything except an occasional bump against the shoulder in the kitchen, or a fist bump a second before he opens the door to the truck to be dropped off at school.

If Eddie holds his arms out, Chris looks at him flatly. If Eddie follows him to his bedroom door at night to tuck him in, Chris draws his name out through several syllables and declares that he’s not a kid and definitely doesn’t need to be tucked in. If Eddie reaches out a hand to place on his back while they go out to dinner, or to a movie, Chris ducks out of his way and shakes his head.

The touch-aversion is killing Eddie.

----

In the sixth, Buck’s fingers brush against his as he hands him a plate of nachos.

In the seventh, Seager hits a homerun and his skin buzzes after Buck gives him a high-give, lacing their fingers together briefly before Eddie pulls away.

In the eighth, he squeezes past Eddie to use the bathroom, one hand on Eddie’s waist when Eddie stands to let him through.

After the ninth, he stays in his seat, looking over at Eddie thoughtfully as they wait for the crowd to thin out before leaving. “You gonna talk to me now? No one’s around.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says. There’s not. So what if no one has touched Eddie outside of calls in a month? So what if that sort of contact isn’t enough for him, if he craves the kind of touch Buck has so freely given him over the years? It’s not Buck’s problem that Eddie is touch starved, and he refuses to make it his problem. He just needs a little distance, because every time Buck touches him, it’s all Eddie can do to not plaster himself to Buck and take the comfort he desperately wants.

Buck groans. “Eds, it’s been a month since we’ve gotten to see each other and if you think I’ve forgotten how to tell when something is wrong, I haven’t. Did I do something? Did we make plans that I forgot about, or—” he reaches out and puts his hand on Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie stands up.

“Come on,” he says, “traffic’s probably died down a little by now.”

----

It’s not that he doesn’t know what his problem is, or that he hasn’t tried to solve it. He’d tried a massage—extremely uncomfortable once he’d realized that he was basically paying someone to make him feel good and couldn’t get the thought out of his head—gotten an unnecessary haircut, tried a pedicure.

Nothing worked.

He doesn’t want someone to touch him just because he wants it, he wants them to want it, too. He doesn’t want fingers digging into tired ankles, he wants someone’s palm to rest against his skin and stay there, to put down roots and make a home inside him.

He wants—deperately—Buck.

----

It doesn’t surprise him to see the Jeep’s headlights sweep across the front of his house a few minutes after he arrives home; he hadn’t bothered locking the door, knowing that ignoring four of Buck’s phone calls meant that he would surely show up.

But Buck doesn’t come in and make himself at home, just opens the door, leans against the frame with arms crossed over his chest, and says, “why don’t you want me touching you? Why didn’t you just say something? I would have stopped, Eddie.”

Eddie waves him in, but Buck stays stubbornly where he is. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “Come on, let’s watch something.”

“It’s a big deal to me,” Buck insists. “I made you uncomfortable, and I—I’m really sorry, Eddie. I just—can you tell me why?”

Eddie tilts his head forward and pinches the bridge of his nose; Buck sounds hurt and small, and Eddie knows without a doubt that if he lets him leave feeling like this, they’re going to go weeks without seeing each other again, and the phone calls will drop off, too. He scrubs a hand across his face, takes in a deep breath and says, eyes still focused on the ground in front of him, “I haven’t—no one’s touched me in weeks.”

Buck is silent.

“I thought I might not be able to stop,” he admits. “I just want—” he stops, shakes his head. “It’s pathetic. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know if you hug someone for twenty seconds, it releases oxytocin?” Buck asks, and Eddie hears the front door closing before Buck’s footsteps sound across the floor. “There’s a surprising amount of health benefits,” he says, and Eddie looks up in time to see Buck’s hands reaching for him.

He goes willingly when Buck pulls him up, buries his head in Buck’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around him, and breathes him in. Twenty seconds—that’s new. They’re quick huggers, usually, lingering for a few seconds sometimes, hands on each other's shoulders or waists, but it’s—comforting. Buck is warm against him, and Eddie loses count when he gets to twenty in his head and Buck still doesn’t move except for the rhythmic sweep of fingertips along the back of his neck. He gives in and lets his body melt against Buck’s, lets his fingers creep up into Buck’s hair and run through the soft strands, gives up his dignity entirely and pushes the arm around Buck’s waist underneath the shirt he’s wearing and places his palm against skin.

“Eddie,” Buck sighs, and a shiver jolts up his spine, and Eddie blames that for the very stupid, very reckless thing he does next: slides his hand further up into Buck’s hair to hold his head still, tilts his own head up, and kisses him. He kisses him like he’s been wandering the desert for days and Buck has handed him water, kisses him like the last bit of air left in the world resides in Buck’s lungs, kisses him like he’s a sinner and Buck is his reconciliation.

His knees hit the back of the couch and he falls, Buck landing on his lap, and Buck only moves away to say, “this isn’t just because—please tell me this—”

“It’s not,” Eddie says, chasing after Buck’s mouth, “Jesus, you have no idea—”

“Kinda think I do,” Buck says, and he dips down to kiss him again. “Hey Eddie,” he says, hands framing Eddie’s face, thumbs brushing over his skin, “did you know that skin to skin contact reduces the amount of cortisol in your body?”

Eddie can’t stop touching him—hands on his waist, stroking up his back, digging his fingertips into Buck’s biceps as they kiss. He hums, reeling in his desperation, the desire that sings through his frantic heartbeat. “Got any suggestions?”

“I can think of a few,” Buck says, and his fingertips dance along the hemline of Eddie’s shirt.

----

Later—hours later—Eddie’s sprawled out on his front, head pillowed on Buck’s shoulder, fingertips counting out the steady beat of Buck’s pulse as Buck sweeps his hand gently up and down Eddie’s back. And he loves it, but—“you don’t have to keep touching me,” he says into Buck’s skin. “Don’t feel like—”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” he says, quietly.

“Then let me keep doing it,” Buck says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #two touch starved fools tbh #soft soft soft #happy birthday elisa!

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exauhstedsunflower · 4 years ago

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How about a scene of Anne messing with Catalina in front of others but without them realizing? She keeps whispering things to Catalina to scare her (playing with her fear that Anne will literally kill her), and when the queens notice Lina is very pale they ask what's wrong and she can't say it because Anne is giving her The Look.

Oh yes. You’re evil, I like that.

Her heart is pounding, surely the others must hear it. Though she’s honestly glad that they can’t, she’s not sure how she’d react if they did.

The restaurant is kind of quiet. There’s some chatter around the room, people speaking to their waiters, people speaking to each other. The queens are among that chatter. Well, at least, the others are. Catalina hasn’t said a word the entire time. Mainly because Anne is sitting next to her in their booth, and the woman is making damn sure Catalina doesn’t.

Every time she opens her mouth, Anne looks at her with a certain look. As if she’s doing something wrong, it’s extremely unnerving. Again, she’s not sure how the others haven’t noticed. But here they are, Catalina in distress again and no one to help.

She feels a foot hit her shin as she reaches for her drink, and she knocks it over instead. Thank god it’s water. Still though, she jumps up to clean it.

“Jeez, Lina. Way to go.”

“Sorry!” She squeaks out, attempting to flag down their waitress.

“Isn’t that your phone?”

Her eyes shoot to the table, where the water has almost reached her phone. She grabs it quickly, then takes some napkins from their arriving waitress. When she finally sits, she puts her phone face up in front of her, determined not to move a muscle.

Her phone lights up a moment later, as all the queens settle back into their usual conversation. She reads the message on her lock screen.

ANNE: you’re an idiot. 😂

Catalina just looks at it, and watches her screen go dark. The waitress comes back and gives her a new drink. She won’t drink it at all.

Her phone lights up again.

ANNE: It’s rude not to answer your texts.

She feels Anne looking at her, so she decides to look up. Bad idea, the glare coming her way is awful. She shrinks into her seat and focuses back on the phone, picking it up.

LINA: Sorry.

Catalina can feel the eye roll, she doesn’t even have to see it happen. Why her? What did she do to deserve this tonight? It’s the only day she’s been able to spend with the others in weeks. Anne has been moving dates around and making it so that every time the queens do something fun, Catalina is busy. And Catalina always tells them to just go without her. Who is she to ruin their fun? The one night she gets to spend with the queens, and Anne ends up next to her.

ANNE: I wish Kit was sitting where you are

ANNE: she’s better than you. Guess this works though, I can keep an eye on you.

The last thing she wants is Anne watching her. But that's what's going to happen because she can’t exactly say otherwise.

ANNE: we can have some fun too.

Catalina’s mind goes into overdrive with that one. Fun? What does she mean, fun?

She needs to get out. She needs to not be next to Anne anymore. Whatever Anne has planned, it won’t be very fun for Catalina. So she stands very abruptly, muttering something about needing to pee, and speeds in the direction of the restroom.

When she gets there she just leans against the counter in an attempt to calm her breathing. Attempt being the key word there, because she is very close to hyperventilating at the notion of Anne doing this to her for the rest of the night. She can hardly handle being near the woman on a good day. She’s been stressed all week, and had been looking forward to tonight, only for the night to be a disaster.

The door opens behind her, and of course it’s Anne. She turns to look her in the eye, and just about brings herself to look at the wall behind Anne.

Anne cuts right to the chase, “I thought I told you to stop leaving whenever I’m around.”

Catalina’s eyes widen. She did say that, but she didn’t leave because Anne was there! Well, she did, but it wasn’t like last time! When she tries to say this the words get caught in her throat. Her chest is starting to hurt with how much speed her heart has picked up.

She presses herself further into the counter behind her. Noticing this, Anne takes three steps forward and stands right in front of her.

“Are you scared?”

Oh lord. Oh no.

She starts mentally praying. Praying for Anne to leave her alone, praying for this fear to leave her.

“N-no.”

Anne hums. Then she replies, slow and quiet, “Maybe you should be.”

Catalina doesn’t respond. Honestly, her mind just goes completely blank. Her first instinct is to run, but she can’t run because Anne just said to stop leaving when she’s there. But staying wasn’t an option her mind was ready for. Wasn’t an option her body was ready for either, judging the amount of tremors running through it.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to! I promise I didn’t mean to I-“ she stumbles over her words, much to the clear amusement of Anne.

“Are you Angry?” Anne laughs at the question.

“Angry?” She questions, like what Catalina is asking makes no sense. Like her concern is completely invalid. “No. You haven’t seen me angry, yet.”

The yet in that sentence is troubling. And she says it as if it’s foreshadowing, like Catalina will see Anne mad very soon. Catalina is torn between asking about it and staying quiet. But then Anne speaks again.

“Listen, I’m going to say this once.” She’s addressing Catalina as if she’s giving a stern lecture to a child, and Catalina finds that she can’t breathe.

“If you ever try that again, you will not like what follows. Do I make myself clear?”

She looks at Catalina for an answer, and all the woman can do is nod minutely. God, why won’t Anne just leave her alone? It’s what everyone else does!

“Good girl.”

Anne brings her hand up to Catalina’s cheek, giving it a little pat. Catalina flinches back a bit but otherwise stays put. Wouldn’t want to upset her anymore. Not when she seems to be placated by the agreement.

Anne pulls away abruptly, “I’m gonna head back to the table. Be careful on your way back.” And with that she leaves Catalina reeling.

Careful? Careful of what? What could possibly happen in the distance from the restroom to the table? Does Anne know something she doesn’t?

She shakes herself, there’s no use spiraling like that. There is no immediate danger here. Making her way through the door, back into the bustling restaurant, she nearly knocks over a waitress carrying three plates. After being sure the woman is steady and apologizing profusely, she walks more carefully toward the queens.

And cant help but look around warily as she does so. Damn, Anne got to her.

Finally she gets to the table, only to see that their food has already been served. Now, Catalina wouldn’t say she is high maintenanced, or picky. But she definitely likes keeping an eye on her food at all times. It’s not that she doesn’t trust the people in the restaurant, no, if she had any trouble with eating out she wouldn’t have come. She is afraid to leave her food unattended in Anne’s presence though.

Catalina knows that she died of cancer. She knows this, truly. But back when she was dying, slow and agonizingly painful, she’d thought it was poison. Not just her, the doctors had confirmed it to be poison. And everyone thought it was the work of Anne Boleyn. She thought it was Anne, proving once and for all that she had won. Anne came out on top. Anne took her crown away, took her family away, and took her life away. So while now with modern medicine she knows she died of cancer, she can’t help but not be over the terror of being killed; even if she wasn’t truly killed. And the person who had ‘done it’ is sitting right next to Catalina’s food.

She sits in silence as the others eat, only barely touching her own plate. What doesn’t help is that Anne is infodumping her latest interest. The latest interest just so happens to be poisons, specifically one’s that go after the heart.

“Arsenic, mercury, thallium poisoning, so many ways to mimic cancer or general sickness. Thallium poisoning kinda looks like a heart attack!”

Picking at her plate and feeling vaguely nauseous, she tries her best to tune out Anne.

“It takes a real psycho to want to kill someone like that though. I can’t imagine how awful that must be, dying slowly and painfully. Not knowing what it was or who did it. I’m just glad my end was quick.”

“Anne!”

“What? I’m serious!”

Meanwhile Catalina is freaking out. This is not her ideal topic of conversation. The thought of her death is enough to send her into a spiral. But this? This is enough to give her an aneurysm.

“-Lina? You okay?”

Her eyes shoot up, seeing everyone’s eyes are now on her. Her heart races even faster, she grips the edge of the table tightly when Anne slightly leans into her. One glance at Anne says she can’t tell the truth. The look on the woman's face is enough to keep her mouth shut.

“M’fine.” She manages. Jane looks a little bit doubtful.

“You sure? You look a little pale.”

Catalina swallows down the knot in her throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

The table hesitantly goes back to normal conversation. You’ve managed to kill the mood for everyone. Great job. She should have just stayed home. This isn’t worth the stress. It’s not worth the terror and mental consequence. And all she’s done in her endeavor to keep the queen's company is make them concerned. How are they meant to have fun if they’re keeping an eye on her to make sure she’s okay?

All she wanted to do was have fun with her friends.

“Should I be scared you have this much knowledge of poisons?”

Anna sounds joking, like that's not a legitimate concern right now. For her it’s not. Anne doesn’t have any reason to want to kill Anna. Anne hates Catalina though, so this is horrible. It feels like foreshadowing. It feels like Catalina is losing her mind.

She keeps trying to convince herself that Anne wouldn’t actually kill her, but she has no reason to believe she wouldn’t. What’s stopping her?

“No! Don’t you trust me?”

No.

“Of course I do Bo!”

They’d never believe Catalina, they’d never take her seriously if she brought this up. She must be crazy, of course this isn’t supposed to be as stressful as she finds it. This fear is stupid, and as if to prove that to her, Anne gives her a look after that response. A look that says. ‘See, they trust me. They’d think you’re ridiculous if they knew what you thought.’

And that’s the truth. Catalina knows that’s the truth. It’s exactly why she hasn’t mentioned her feelings towards Anne to the others. It’s nothing, it’s not like Anne would ever really hurt her. Sure, sometimes she pushes her, or sometimes kicks Catalina’s shin under the table. But to kill her? While it’s something Catalina is afraid of, she hates being afraid of it. It makes her feel stupid. Surely the others would also think it’s stupid.

So she’ll keep it to herself. She counts the minutes until they can finally go home, and tries not to break down in the middle of this restaurant. And she keeps her unsafe feelings to herself.

I DID IT! That was unexpectedly hard. Credit to that one anon, @cynicalrainbows and @kiarcheo, for being super helpful with their examples on what Anne could do or say to be cruel to Lina. You guys are the best!

Thanks for the request though!!! It was really fun.

#six #six the musical #six headcanons #six the musical headcanons #Six the musical Fanfiction #Scared!aragon au

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excelsi-or · 5 years ago

Text

15/11/19 - sick (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 1k (fluff)

A/N: Happy Monday everyone~ I hope you’re all doing well. Typically, you don’t need to read the part before to understand the one you’re currently reading, but you kinda do for this one. It’s linked below. :D xx

Black Lives Support Rec: The podcast Sustainably Influenced (everywhere where you listen to podcasts). It’s a podcast hosted by two British black women: Bianca Foley & Charlotte Williams (follow their IG accounts, Bianca posts about midsized fashion & Charlotte posts about finance, accounting, and lifestyle from my understanding). They talk about ways to be more sustainable from fashion to periods to skincare and litter.

November 14, 2019

November 15, 2019

“Really? That’s it?” Mingyu demands when they meet up for lunch on campus.

She shrugs. “What was I supposed to do? Jihoon wouldn’t listen to me.” She twirls her chopsticks to get her instant ramen together.

Hansol snorts, popping a chip into his mouth. “I thought you’d haul him out of there.”

“That’s what I was hoping too,” Mingyu agrees, looking from Hansol and back to her. “All he said was that he’d try to be home this weekend.”

Her stomach churns at this information. The weekend is four days away. “Huh.” She shovels ramen into her mouth.

“Really, noona, please. You can’t be that petty,” Seungkwan argues.

She straightens up. “Look, guys, we all care about Jihoon, but the man is a workaholic. We got into a disagreement when I tried to get him to leave. He hasn’t texted me all day today. Let’s just leave it.”

“But you said that he said he can take care of himself,” Mingyu says.

“Because that is what he said.”

“But it’s obvious that he can’t.”

“Yes, I know.” Her eyes are sharp when she turns to Mingyu. “I didn’t leave him there, because I wanted to. But Ji will snap out of it when he starts to feel it.”

“Isn’t that… not what we, you know, want?” Hansol stammers.

She shakes her head. “Do I need to lay out my thinking for you?”

“Yes!” they exclaim, exasperated.

She sets her chopsticks down on the table and looks them all in the eye. “Jihoon is a grown man. If he says he can take care of himself, as his girlfriend, I’ll take his word for it. No point fighting a man who won’t listen.”

“Noona, I don’t—” Mingyu starts.

She holds a hand up. “I’m not saying that I don’t love him or that we’re breaking up or any of that petty stuff. I’m saying that Jihoon is going to have to learn to take care of himself and that a few late nights won’t kill him. He’ll be unwell, but he’ll bounce back.”

Mingyu’s eyes squint at her. “That’s weirdly manipulative but also sounds mature.”

She grumbles under her breath about exhausting boyfriends.

She decides that worrying is inevitable, but concedes to doing it his way. She texts Jihoon little reminders to eat and to drink water, and to make sure that he realizes the time she sends him a goodnight text. He responds in kind; short little messages to let her know that he’s reading them. None of his texts seem annoyed with her for checking in on him.

The weekend comes and her brain feels exhausted when she kicks her way into the apartment. Seungkwan is still on campus, but will be home by dinnertime. So it’s on her to sort it out. She looks through their fridge and pulls out all the vegetables and the little uncooked meat they have left. Both of them prefer to eat more meat, but student budgets only allow for so much.

There’s suddenly a knock at the door. Her mind reels as she walks towards it, wondering what her neighbours could possibly want. When she pulls it open though, it’s Jihoon.

She blinks in surprise. “You’re… here?”

Jihoon nods, slumping into her as a hug. She holds him up under the arms and waddles them inside. She closes the door behind him and he straightens up.

“You look like shit,” she states, kissing his cheek. Jihoon holds a bag out to her. It’s the canvas grocery bag that she’d bought him that she’d drilled into him to carry everywhere. Inside is meat and vegetables. In his other hand, he has a bouquet of white carnations.

She takes both from him and he leans forward to press a slow kiss to her forehead. Jihoon’s hands find her waist and he tugs her closer, his head resting against her shoulder. “Don’t say I told you so.”

She chuckles, pecking the side of his head closest to her. “I wasn’t going to. Go shower. I’ll cook dinner. Seungkwanie will be home in an hour.”

Jihoon straightens up again, his eyes drowsy. He always gets sleepy when he comes over.

“Shower, go.” Lightly, she kicks his calf.

Yawning, Jihoon heads to the bathroom. She doesn’t move until she hears the water running. Quickly, she finds a home for the flowers and begins cooking the extra meat Jihoon had brought with him. As she’s cooking the vegetables, Jihoon reappears and takes a seat at one of their bar stools so he can watch her. His chin rests on his arms and he looks like a little kid trying not to fall asleep in class.

“You can go sleep if you want.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I’ll eat first.”

“Did you finish all the songs?”

“Yes.”

“Are they good?”

“I don’t know.” He yawns again. “I need you to listen to them.”

They’re quiet for a while, only the sound of the sizzling meat filling the room. He sniffles and she tosses him a clean dishcloth to blow his nose in. Then he rests his head back down, his nose red.

“You were right,” he finally says.

“About?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he groans.

Chuckling, she stands across from him. She brushes a stray hair out of his face. “You can take care of yourself. I let you do it.”

“I should have gone home with you. I get it, jagi; I get it. Let’s just leave it at that.”

She rolls her eyes. “So now you’ll go home every night?”

“I’ll try to. I feel disgusting.”

“You’re still cute though.”

Jihoon scrunches his nose at that, hating the word and that she uses it with him.

“Oh stop pouting,” she chuckles. She goes to the stove and takes a piece of meat for him to eat. Quickly, she holds it out to him and he eats it right from the chopsticks. Jihoon’s mouth falls open, a bit of steam escaping, as it’s still quite hot. He smiles contentedly, his eyes fluttering closed as he lies his head back down.

Next: December 3, 2019

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi #lee jihoon scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt #tabilrn

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heartau · 6 years ago

Text

Unknown Number | C.HW

Genre: college!au - explicit smut/angst/fluff Word count: 16.8k Comments: this is a revision of an au that i wrote from when i was in a different fandom!! Warnings: graphic depictions of sex: fingering, oral (male and female), insertion, dirty talk, public sex, dom/sub themes.

In which two anonymous people sext each other, neither one aware that the other is their sworn enemy.

Commonly, at the ages of the early twenties, partying becomes an event that is scheduled almost every single week. Crammed bodies that emit heat, slick with sweat, sticking against each other on dance floors packed like sardines and in secret affairs tucked away in random quarters; the turbulent howling of frat boys who have found the beer keg and are attempting to sacrifice their weakest link to down it all in one gulp; almosts and maybes and hindered exchanges that stay sputtering in the stomachs of those who leave early filled with regret. A party is everything aggravating that stirs up irritation put into one area under the façade of something whimsical, and it is all worth it – until the morning after.

The dull, throbbing pain that bangs against your skull causes your eyelids to flutter open, the harsh sunlight that flows into your bedroom through the drawn curtains triggering the torment to grow worse as it fries your retinas, screwing your eyes shut as you let out a groan of agony, sore arms flying up to rest your hands against your forehead and to massage your temples.

“My head,” you hiss in pain, gulping the urge to curse loudly at yourself for deciding to drink so much the night before down your throat. A low chuckle emits from the side of your room which causes your body to jolt in surprise, turning your head and barely peeking out from underneath your eyelids at the origin of the sound, seeing your roommate leaning against the doorframe, trying to suppress his laughter. “Jesus, Kihyun. Knock next time.”

“You’ve been asleep for fifteen hours, I came to check if you were still alive.” Kihyun explains, walking towards you and holding out what you’ve made out to be a single pill of tylenol and a glass of water. “I told you to be careful with your drinks last night, you know.”

You slowly sit up, rolling your eyes as you leans against your headboard, graciously accepting the pill and water and downing it in one gulp. Your esophagus feels less dry and you relish in the fleeting moment of peace before another strike of pain emits in your skull and sends jolts of agony down your bones and nerves. You wince once more, closing your eyes.

“What happened last night?” you ask your roommate, attempting to recollect your memories of the night before in the darkness behind your eyelids but coming up blank.

“You got drunk,” Kihyun answers you, hands shoved into his pockets as if he were looking for something. “Then, after your 5th shot or whatever, you told me you were going to the bathroom. You were gone for, like, 50 minutes, so I tried phoning you to see where you were, but my phone was gone! Luckily, I found you on the floor next to the ladies bathroom,” he pauses and then lifts up his phone - his shattered phone - to your face. “Next to this.”

His eyes are sharp, pointed directly at you as you gulp and shrink down in confused guilt before an apologetic smile attempts to stretch on your face. “I’m sorry?”

“You should say that to the people you texted,” Kihyun shrugs, shoving his phone back into his pocket and crossing his arms. “You messaged every single person off of my contacts list. Your phone’s been going off for the past fifteen hours while you’ve been asleep.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, indeed.”

You reach for your phone on your nightstand and press the circular button rousing the device awake, and sure enough, your lockscreen is decorated with rows and rows of text notifications, each one coming from a different combination of numbers. An array of Who is this?, Wrong number., and If this is some sort of prank, please stop. It’s not funny’s causes your face to redden, putting your phone down onto your lap and covering your face in embarrassment.

“Please don’t tell anyone it was me,” you look back up at Kihyun, unlocking your phone and tapping on your text app, already conjuring apologies to the strangers.

“Your secret is safe with me. Have fun!” he reassures you, before pivoting on his heel and walking out your room, closing the door behind him.

Gulping, your eyes skim the texts that you decided to send from the night before, harsh and erratic words meeting your eyes. You groan in despair as you read each reply, tones of anger and confusion aimed at you - you had a lot to work with, and thankfully, you had the entire rest of the day to contemplate remorseful apologies. But deep within your notifications lies a reply different from the rest, rich words that hold sentiment and persona, lined in several sentences. The reply was from an unknown number, of course it was, but you can’t deny the peculiarity of the message.

And thus, almost apologetically, you leave it unanswered for the time being.

----

“No, dude, I swear on my life, I got the freakiest text message last night.”

Kihyun opens the dorm room to the sound of dispute, Jooheon’s voice being the loudest of all of them. Groans emit from around the corner and Kihyun could practically envision eyes rolling at the boys statement.

“I read the text,” Minhyuk says after a pause. “It wasn’t freaky at all.”

“Yes it was!” Jooheon argues, scrambling to grab his phone from underneath the mountain of review sheets and textbooks, hands practically shaking as he unlocks it, tapping his text app. He holds his phone to his friend’s faces, who lean in to inspect the text, before they all stare at him, deadpan.

“I told you so.” Minhyuk quips, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, so you tell me. If you got a text that just said 5 days. and nothing else - absolutely zilch - you wouldn’t be afraid?” Jooheon narrows his eyes at Minhyuk, but before Minhyuk could even begin to open his mouth to answer back in dripping sarcasm, Kihyun sits down on the floor and slams his books against the carpet, looking at them in curiosity.

“What’s going on?” asks Kihyun as he shuffles his papers around, looking for the review sheet he had been analyzing for the past few days.

“This random number texted us in the middle of the night,” Minhyuk answers Kihyun, before pointing towards Jooheon, who stares directly at his phone. “He’s afraid because the same number texted him 5 days.”

“A random number?” asks Kihyun, brain reeling as he realizes that it must have been (Y/N), but his face stays static at the apparent discovery. “Hm. That’s weird. What else did you guys get?”

“They copy and pasted an entire WikiHow article on how to bake banana bread for me.” Wonho pipes up from beside Jooheon. “It was kinda helpful. I think I might do it later.”

“I got a whole paragraph on how I’m obstructing their education by being loud in our shared class. Like, what does that even mean?” Minhyuk is obviously irritated at this message, furrowing his brows together. “I’m not even that loud. And what shared class?”

A sigh emits from Hyungwon, who has been silent for the past few minutes. He stares at his textbook, flipping through the pages as he talks. “I don’t know why you guys are over analyzing this. It’s just some person pranking us, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Kihyun almost freezes at the new insight, turning his head towards the lanky boy who he knows shares a venomous and strained relationship with (Y/N), internally yelling at the girl for acting so brash through her drunken actions.

“You got a text?” Kihyun asks him, voice surprisingly calm, however, behind the facade lies an expression almost synonymous to hellfire. Hyungwon’s mouth remains closed, eyes tearing away from the printed words of his textbook and towards his older friend. His expression is still, and his eyes are calm, but it is everything Kihyun needs to confirm that he is one of the receivers.

“Really?” Minhyuk questions. “What did it say?”

“What the text said isn’t important,” Hyungwon glances at Minhyuk quickly before looking back to his textbook. “Can we please just get on with studying? That’s what I came here for.”

“Hey man,” Jooheon pouts, practically sending Hyungwon a pleading expression. “You can’t just say you got a text and not tell us!”

“Yeah, he’s right!” Wonho points at Jooheon. “We’re your friends. You’re like… legally obligated to tell us.”

Hyungwon lets out a huff, biting the inside of his cheeks before looking back up at his circle of friends. “They sent me a long, long essay on why they hate me.”

Silence fills the air and Kihyun can sense tension following just behind as they all stare at Hyungwon. It’s only a fleeting moment before they all burst out into roaring laughter, tears threatening to fall from their brightened eyes as they double over on top of each other. Kihyun and Hyungwon watch the two in confusion before Kihyun decides to let out a couple of strained, awkward chuckles.

“Hey,” Kihyun clears his throat and pats Hyungwon on the back as the rest of the boys’ laughter dies down. “Like you said, it’s most likely just a prank, right?”

Hyungwon doesn’t even look at Kihyun in the eye, shrugging as he mumbles out a silent ‘yes.’ Minhyuk takes notice of this, pointing at Hyungwon in shock.

“Oh my god, he’s offended by the text,” Minhyuk says. “It must’ve been personal then, huh? They probably know you in real life. Oh my god, how funny would that be?”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes before looking back at his textbook, letting out a huff of air as he attempts to drown out the sounds of his friends.

Kihyun turns to Minhyuk, racking his brain for excuses. “There’s a low chance they know each other in real life,” Kihyun says. “I mean, that would be impossible.”

“Wait, but Minhyuk has a point,” Jooheon adds. “I mean, whoever this was, they texted all of us, right? They must know who we are. It just comes down to figuring out who it is.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Hyungwon shuts his book, the plop of the hardcovers interrupting Minhyuk and Jooheon. “I came here to study, not analyze and dissect some girl’s cryptic text messages.”

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow. “Girl?”

Hyungwon freezes and Kihyun is almost about to crack, but luckily, Hyungwon opens his mouth before Kihyun could do anything. “She said something about how she hates the ‘girls can’t beat up boys’ stereotype because she claims that she could take me down easy.”

“Well,” Minhyuk says. “She’s got a point.”

“Shut up, Minhyuk.” Hyungwon glares at him, patience already begin to waver thin.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Minhyuk throws his hands up in defense. “But hey. This is strong evidence. Whoever this masked texter is, they know us and they’re a girl. We’re a few steps closer to figuring out who the culprit is.”

Kihyun scratches the back of his neck as he remains silent, searching for a coherent sentence in his brain. “Well. Let’s stu-”

“Hey, Minhyuk,” Wonho looks up towards his friend from his position on the ground, laying on his stomach. “You said that you guys shared a class right? They could be in any one of your classes.”

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Minhyuk agrees. “I’ll question ever-”

Hyungwon interrupts him by noisily grabbing his papers and books, standing up and earning confused looks from his friends. He pivots on his heel and walks towards the door, turning the doorknob and opening it just a crack before looking over his shoulder. “I’m glad all of you have unanimously agreed to fail our finals. Since we aren’t studying, I’ll be taking my leave.”

The door slams shut, leaving the four boys in his wake.

“Geez.” Minhyuk scoffs, before continuing with his sentence prior to Hyungwon leaving.

As Hyungwon walks out the apartment lobby, the crisp cool autumn breeze dancing across the skin of his cheeks after he opens the door, his teeth clench in annoyance as the memories of the text messages he had received flash in his mind. He closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them again, hiking back to his own apartment complex, attempting to push the situation out of his mind.

Yet, no matter how much he seeks to overlook his feelings of irritation, he can still detect the weight of his phone in the pocket of his sweater, where the messages filled of anger and tirancy of an unknown woman linger on the screen the same way they linger in his memory.

He will delete them. After one more message.

----

Your phone emits a loud tone, causing your eyes to widen as heads in the library turn to look towards you. You quickly grab it to silence it, sending everyone apologetic smiles and glances before looking down at your screen at the text notification, raising your eyebrow once you realized whom it had originated from. That morning, while you had been apologizing to a series of confusion and states of anger, you had come across one reply a lot different than the rest; a paragraph filled with words of true irritation, personal anger, and you, in your hungover galore, decided to leave it be, finding entertainment in their message.

From - Unknown Number: so u texted my friends too. who are u?

You furrowed your eyebrows together as you scroll up to find your original text to try and figure out who this person could be - obviously, you must have some sort of connection with them or a similarity for his emotional outburst prior his recent message - but as you scroll up you are only given a dead end when you realized you must have deleted your first text while you was still drunk.

You sent: first of all thx for texting me while im in the library im p sure the librarian is on my ass now. second, i was drunk so it was probably nonsense. third of all thats for me to know and for u to never find out.

You put your phone down and pick up your pencil, finding the paragraph you were last reading, but before your pencil could even reach the lined paper of your notebook, your phone buzzes again. You look at the screen, seeing that the unknown man has replied to your message.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just dont text me anymore. if u got smth personal to say then say it to my face and stop hiding behind a screen like a coward.

You sigh, setting your pencil down and picking your phone up.

You sent: mister u were the one who texted me today first. also arent u basically doing the same thing? if u’ve got something to say then come say it to my face.

From - Unknown Number: i dont even know who u are. just apologize.

You sent: no. goodbye.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just lay off. i already got enough things to stress about.

You sent: i said goodbye.

You stare at your phone for what seems like an eternity, waiting for him to reply, but he doesn’t. You close your eyes almost thankfully, sighing before you delete the entire text conversation and shove your phone into your bag and dismiss everything before you continue to study. You had believed, foolishly, that this man never contacts you again.

You were wrong.

From - Unknown Number: hey should i buy pizza

You hold a spatula in your other hand, the sound of eggs frying filling the kitchen. It’s only the next morning and this unknown man had apparently not forgotten about your number and decided to ignore your farewell. You sigh, the inkling of regret that you had after discovering that you had texted multitudes of strangers becoming even bigger.

You sent: didn’t i say goodbye to u already

From - Unknown Number: yeah but like … im hungry

You roll your eyes as you flip an egg over in the steaming pan.

You sent: then text ur friends

From - Unknown Number: u see…. i got into a fight with them

You sent: wow. im so surprised.

From - Unknown Number: so should i buy pizza or not hurry up i got class in like 30 mins n if im late my teachers gonna bite my ass

You sent: dont buy pizza its still morning … buy a bagel or smth

From - Unknown Number: good idea. k thx.. good bye

You sigh before you dismiss him again, putting your phone face down on the counter as you slide your eggs off the pan onto a plate before stepping into the dining room to eat with Kihyun. You hadn’t seen him since he had left to go to Wonho’s apartment, a burly, intimidating looking man whom he had befriended in his psychology class. He looked down at his plate, taking few, sparse bites out of his bacon before he jumps at the sound of your chair scraping against the hardwood floors, sitting down across from him.

“You seem a bit jumpy today,” you quirk an eyebrow at your best friend. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” he says, far too quickly. “Not at all!”

“Kihyun,” you question after a beat, furrowing your eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Kihyun gulps, staring at his plate of bacon and rice before letting out a short sigh, setting his spoon and fork down and putting his hands in his lap.

“Remember when you texted a bunch off people off my contacts list?” his voice is low.

“Yeah? It just happened yesterday.”

“Well, um,” he sputters. “You texted Wonho, Jooheon, Minhyuk, and-” his voice lowers even more, becoming hushed as if he’s afraid to see your reacton. “Hyungwon.”

You automatically stand up, wide-eyed, jaw slack as you watch your friend’s face turn from fear to worry, waving at you as if to tell you to keep your temper in check and pulling you back to sit down.

It isn’t that you are afraid of Hyungwon, because it’s the direct opposite. The simple sound of his name causes a specific type of vexation to rise up in your bloodstream, and the two of you being in the same area brings concern to other people. It’s known all over campus that the two of you share hostile feelings towards each other, ever since you had caught him so blatantly cheating off your first pop quiz during the beginning of the semester - you weren’t the only person to catch him too, as your teacher called the two of you up to the front, believing you were allowing him copy off of you, and much to your demise, gave the two of you the automatic grades of zero. He never even apologized to you, the blatant difference in your statistics class’ grade so drastic from your other classes thanks to him.

“And what did I send him?” you ask Kihyun.

“He said that you sent him a long paragraph on why you hated him.”

You find yourself letting out dark chuckles, hands wrapping around your spoon and fork as you begin to work on your plate of eggs.

“Maybe drunk me had a point.” you say to a stunned Kihyun.

Soon, you find yourself forgetting about those text messages you shared that morning with the unknown man as well as your conversation with Kihyun, instead directing your focus on a word problem as you sit in your statistics class. The environment is quiet, much to your bliss, as you find that a perfect work setting to analyze problems in. But as they say, the universe only brings you the opposite of what you want, and on the other side of the closed door, someone knocks fervently and loudly, earning gasps of shock from other students are you.

“Mr. Chae,” your professor sighs. “You’re late. Again.”

You look up to see Hyungwon marching into class, a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. He meets eyes with you and you find yours rolling at the direct contact before looking back down to focus on your word problem. Minutes pass by and you’re on your next question, a much more difficult one, and you find yourself stumped as you rack your brain for an answer.

You hear a loud crackling a few desks away, but you ignore it.

You hear it again, this time a bit longer, but before you could turn around to see who it was, it stopped.

Just as your brain figured out a way to solve the question, the crackling continues once more, even louder and even longer. You turn around to find the culprit the sound originates from, and you find Hyungwon, just a few seats behind you, halfway into sinking his teeth into a bagel, the crinkly bag of paper he used to carry it to class now disposed of in a tiny ball on top of his textbook. He notices you turn around to look at him, sending you sharp eyes lined with venom before continuing to bite down into his bagel and chewing rather loudly. You turn back around, attempting to ignore the camel-like sounds from behind you letting out a huff of annoyance, every trace of the answer that was in your mind long gone. How he hasn’t been kicked out of this class yet is beyond you.

You sent: i need an idea for an essay

It’s currently 9:45 in the evening, and you sit at your desk chair with your laptop open on Google docs, and it seems as if you’ve been static since the clock hit nine. Kihyun was out volunteering at an overnight camp for troubled teenagers (“I have to go or else I’ll fail psychology,” he had said before leaving with a small gym bag packed with his clothes. “I don’t even know why I have to take psychology. I’m in the culinary field for christ’s sake!”), thus you were alone in your small two bedroom apartment, the only thing accompanying you is the ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the gentle thrum of the heater.

From - Unknown Number: i thought we weren’t gonna text each other anymore

His reply came rather quickly, you were a bit surprised - but nonetheless, you were desperate. You cursed yourself for leaving your criminology assignment until last minute - it’s due the next day, 8:00 AM sharp.

You sent: i know but its due in like 11 hours and i dont have a prompt so i dont have any idea how to start this and if i dont get it in then im done for

From - Unknown Number: what course??

You sent: criminology

From - Unknown Number: hmm……. prompt?

You sent: theres no prompt my professor said to just write anything. like literally anything that has to do with crim and im having the biggest brainfart

From - Unknown Number: how about police misconduct? or u could write abt the rights of defendants. or like… the concepts of conduct and causation.

You sent: omg………………….ur a life saver

From - Unknown Number: i know

You end up finishing your essay in only four hours, submitting it to your professor and closing your laptop and climbing into bed, stretching out your limbs and letting out a large yawn. You stare at your ceiling for what seems like hours before you sit up, grabbing your phone and unlocking it, your conversation with the unknown man appearing on your screen. You deliberate whether or not you should or shouldn’t, the blinking line next to the body of words almost mocking you, and you think, why the hell not?, before you hit send.

You sent: i just finished. thank you again. good night.

His reply came only seconds later.

From - Unknown Number: of course. sleep well.

You smile at the text for only a second before you quickly wipe it off your face, remembering that this man is a stranger, and no matter how nice he was being to you, he was still unknown. You let out a sigh as you delete the conversation, clicking your phone off and plugging it in to charge it, setting it face down on your bedside table. You stare at the ceiling, sleepiness beginning to coat your eyes, your last thoughts before drifting off are to never text him again.

You find it hard though, because the next morning, he texted you a hearty good morning!, and before you could even stop yourself, you texted him a good morning back. You find yourself replying to every text message he sends you, and even though you remind yourself to never text him again, that this message will be the last one, you still come up with a reply, hitting send before you could stop your thumbs from hitting the cold screen.

By and by, the heated debates that the two of you had started from had evolved into friendlier conversations filled with more personal details. You ask him heaps of questions; whether you should use the last of your paycheck to buy a book or to get more clothes, thus beginning a long conversation on the quality of clothing and store brands. He tells you to treat yourself to a high-end brand, which you found yourself scoffing at - but you find yourself walking to school just a few days later with a new knit cardigan, the designer label almost shining off the collar.

He asks you what your favourite television show is, leading to hours and hours of lists of recommendations and reviews of series and movies both on and off Netflix, conversing over plots, genres and pairings. He tells you that he loves comedy sitcoms, and reality shows, and you tell him your favourite genre, much to his akin. You tell him your favourite genre of music, and he tells you that his is EDM and R&B. He tells you his favourite shade is black, and you tell him the colour that you are most fond of. You learn that he has a deathly fear of spiders, and he learns of what lurks in your brain when your bedroom is dark and silent. He learns that you’ve never gone travelling, and you learn that he’s been to almost all of the continents of the Earth. You tell him your favourite time of day, and he tells you his; nine in the evening, when the sun has gone to rest and the stars decorate the sky in glimmering valour.

You joke, you bond, you laugh for what seemed like only days, to the point where the two of you hadn’t realized how long it had been since you both actually started talking. He’s the first one to text you in the morning, and the last to text you at night. He’s the first you text when you’ve got a problem, and the first to text when you’ve got nothing else to do. And even though he’s never asked for your name, he knows you; what you like, what you don’t like, what you aspire to be, and what you fear.

“Ms. (Y/L/N),” your professor speaks loudly, earning glances towards your way as you tear your eyes from your phone screen and back towards the front of the class. Your professor stands with her hands on her hips. “If you have something better to do, then I advise you to leave my class.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, setting your phone down. “It won’t happen again.”

You hear a snicker not too far away from you, and you already know who it’s originated from, your face already beginning to heat up rage as you push down the urge to turn around, hop over the desks and deck Hyungwon in the face.

“Please answer word problem number four for the class, miss (Y/L/N).” your teacher tells you, looking at you expectantly over the top of her glasses. You gulp, looking down at your workbook as you read the said question, cursing to yourself in your head for not knowing what it means and for not focusing in class. Minutes of awkward silence passes by quickly, but to you it feels like eons before you hear Hyungwon’s arrogant voice cut through the air.

“I can answer it for her, professor!” he says, gleefully. You can almost see his haughty smile lingering in his words. “Of the given data set, the median is 75, the first quartile is 69, the third quartile is 81, and the interquartile range is 81, which you subtract 69 from, which gives us 12.”

“Very good, Mr. Chae,” your professor nods and you ball your hands into fists. “Perhaps you should not only teach Miss (Y/L/N) the foundation of statistics, but also to focus during class.”

And with that, she turns back around on her heel and flips a page, continuing with her lecture. You turn around to find where Hyungwon is sitting a few seats back, a smug smirk on his face before he looks back at his notebook, jotting down notes. You tell yourself to calm down, to not let this situation take over your temper - and you do such as, but your fists stay clenched.

From - Unknown Number: so how was ur day?

You read the message as you unlock your front door, using your foot to kick it open.

You sent: terrible. how was urs?

You hang your keys on the keyholder beside the door and kick off your shoes, walking into the living room and finding it empty - Kihyun must still be working at the cafeteria. You set your bag down on the floor and look through the fridge, letting out a soft sigh of relief after finding a wrapped plate of food your best friend had left you before leaving. You put it into the microwave and punch out the numbers before leaning on your counter as you wait, pulling out your phone and seeing that the unknown man has replied.

From - Unknown Number: oh im so sorry… ah my day was fine! i finally got to prove myself to this girl i detest… i felt super cool

You furrow your brow as you read it, the first thing you think of was of what happened during statistics with Hyungwon. Your stomach drops for a second - what if you were texting Hyungwon? The beeping of the microwave snaps you out of your thoughts, and you shake your head as you click the microwave open, grabbing your plate. That would be impossible - this man is far too coherent, smart, funny and kind to be Hyungwon.

No, it can’t be Hyungwon at all. That would be absolutely impossible.

It was as if he had heard your thoughts though, because your phone buzzed again.

From - Unknown Number: by the way… am i ever going to know your name?

You read the message over a few times, dread setting in your stomach. You had already shared far too much information about yourself to this unknown man, he knows more about you than Kihyun does - you had been using him as a way to vent. You felt terrible thinking about it, but you were far too afraid to take things to the next level, even if it just meant knowing each other’s names; you loathed feeling vulnerable, and it feels much better to do it anonymously.

You sent: hm… i kinda like it better this way. us being anonymous.

From - Unknown Number: good. because i do too.

You smile as you read his answer, grabbing your fork and stabbing the pieces of lasagna off your plate and scooping them into your mouth. You were glad he felt the same way - perhaps he felt the same way because he thought the same way as you did.

You sent: oh yeah btw what was the first thing i sent u? i deleted everything while i was drunk so now i cant read any of the msgs i sent u that first night

From - Unknown Number: like. the very FIRST thing or… the very first few things

You sent: the very FIRST thing.

From - Unknown Number: you sent me “what are you wearing?” were u trying to like.. find me somewhere or smth?

Your scan the message that you had apparently sent before widening your eyes at the sudden realization, your face heating up in humiliation. Quickly, you type a reply.

You sent: oh my god……. i think i was trying to sext u

There was a brief pause before you saw the three dots pop up again.

From - Unknown Number: oh

You inwardly cringe.

You sent: PLEASE IM SO SORRY I WAS DRUNK it wont happen again i promise pls dont be mad at me

From - Unknown Number: omg no!!! im not mad at u.. im just …. beating myself up for being stupid

You sent: you’re not stupid at all omg ! i can see where u thought it sounded like i was looking for u…

From - Unknown Number: BUT THATS NOT A NICE WAY TO PRANK SOMEONE YOU KNOW

You sent: who said it was a prank?

You weren’t thinking when you sent it, but the millisecond after you hit send a wave of panic courses through you. This was it, this is the end of your new-found friendship with this anonymous man; he was going to track your number down and then figure out who you are and show the entirety of the internet about your texts and then humiliate you. You sit there, thinking of the worst, but your vibrating phone brings you back to clarity.

From - Unknown Number: what do u mean?

You blink at his response. But then again, you hadn’t been pleasured in that field for a very long time, and this man is anonymous - he won’t have anything to use against you. You think of having your own fun while he texts you, and plus, if anything goes wrong, you could always just block his number. Plus, sex is a safe-ground; no feelings, no emotions, no ties - just strict, pure physical lust.

Right?

Fuck it.

You sent: what are you wearing?

----

He is half certain that this is a joke, and, the other half is him hoping it isn’t. He wonders just how he got this unknown woman, whom three weeks ago he was just arguing against, to break through his skin defences to make him feel this way. He thinks about lying, telling the woman that he isn’t interested, that he wants emotional ties - but the last time he’s been with someone more than a year ago, and he’s already growing tired of handling things by himself, plus, his roommate, Changkyun, is out babysitting, leaving the house all to himself for the night.

Hyungwon gulps.

Fuck it.

Hyungwon sent: my pajamas

Hyungwon cringes to himself. He’s not the best at sexting, he doesn’t have much experience in it. There is a beat that hangs in the air for a second before three dots appear indicating that the woman has thought of a response.

From - Angry Girl: ………………. is that all?

Hyungwon sent: well…. yeah? u asked me what im wearing n i told u what im wearing… what do u want me to say

From - Angry Girl: dude have u never sexted before????

Hyungwon sent: i mean ….. its straightforward right ??? like …… i mean how else do u describe what ur doin .

From - Angry Girl: no !!!!! jesus … i should have expected this considering u thought i was looking for u when i asked u what u were wearing . the entire point of sexting is to get the other person aroused ….. how do u expect me to get aroused when u just sent me the most unarousing sext in history?????

Hyungwon scoffs at his phone, a bit insulted, fingers moving fast to type a reply, but before he could finish his phone buzzes with another message.

From - Angry Girl: get me to imagine what u look like w like …. extremities here n there. if i told u i was sitting here in shirt stained with lasagna would tht turn u on?

Hyungwon sent: well……………….no

From - Angry Girl: but if i told u i’m wearing a matching set of lacy black lingerie underneath my shirt with panties slowly getting soaked at the thought of you?

Hyungwon sent: oh

Hyungwon is far too busy staring at his phone, jaw slacked and eyes widened, for a few long seconds, that he forgets to sext her back. His phone buzzes, jolting him back into reality.

From - Angry Girl: hey.. we dont have to do this if u dont want to. i dont wanna make u uncomfy.

Hyungwon rushes to type in a reply.

Hyungwon sent: nooonooo!!

Hyungwon sent: no noo… !!!!

Hyungwon sent: its . just … like

Hyungwon sent: r u actually wet?

Her reply comes instantaneously.

From - Angry Girl: yes

Hyungwon sucks in a breath as he reads the text over and over again. He thinks of the fact that somewhere out there is a woman, who he has never met, and how she’s wet for him. The first thing Hyungwon does is screw his eyes closed in attempt to recollect his thoughts, which turns out to be horrible pain, because the moment his eyes shut, he thinks of her - see-through top clinging against her curves, her thighs squeezing together, her eyes filled with lust and her plump lips slightly parted - he thinks of (Y/N).

He quickly opens his eyes, cursing at himself for even conjuring up an image like that in his head, but the soft strain in his crotch area begs him to differ.

From - Angry Girl: so... what r u wearing

Hyungwon sent: white tee, black sweats and black boxers

From - Angry Girl: hmmm...

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?

From - Angry Girl: damn u learn fast

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?, he repeats, upper teeth pressed into his bottom lip harshly as the strain in his sweats begins to tighten.

From - Angry Girl: i have been ever since u told me u were in ur pajamas

Hyungwon grins, shifting positions on his bed.

Hyungwon sent: i thought tht was unarousing???

From - Angry Girl: it was. i just havent gotten fucked in a year

He licks his bottom lip as he types out a reply, his other hand fumbling with the waistband if his boxers before pulling them down. He double checks if his bedroom door is locked before he rests his back against the headboard, hands finding their way towards his cock.

Hyungwon sent: good. save urself for me then.

He begins to pump his hand up and down his shaft, slowly at first, as he waits for her to reply.

From - Angry Girl: jesus

From - Angry Girl: ur touching urself rn arent u? thinking abt how wet i am for yuo hmm??? do u wnat me as mcuh as i want you?

The typos in her sentence only brings more excitement to Hyungwon, picking up the speed of his hand wrapped around his length, biting down on his lip as he thinks of her, with her hands buried into her panties, back arched off of her bed, her other hand finding it just as important to write a reply.

Hyungwon sent: yes ido. i want you so bad

From - Angry Girl: are u gna cum soon? i want ur cum sobad. i want allof it inside me, i want u fillme up until its drippign out of me

That was enough to send Hyungwon over the edge, the straining knot that formed in his stomach untying itself as he releases, his groans reverberating against the walls of his room as his hips jerk against his hand. He closes his eyes, leaning his head against his headboard, reeling from his orgasm before he reaches over to his nightstand and cleans up the mess. Hurriedly, he types his reply, wanting to make things amazing for her as she did for him.

And as he does so, he thinks of her.

Hyungwon sent: god i wanna kiss ur neck and ur jaw and litter it with marks to show everyone that ur mine. i wanna move ur hands away from u and replace ur fingers w mine and have u ride them, hitting the right spot as i kiss u all over ur body and tell u how good u are to me. i want my name to be the only thing coming out of ur mouth. i want u to cum.

He sets his phone down, biting into his cheeks as anxiousness begins to roll over him. He isn’t sure if that sentence was good enough - this is his first time sexting. In addition, he hadn’t realized until now that he had been imagining (Y/N) doing all of this, and what shocked him the most was that he liked what he imagined. Like it a little too much, in fact.

His phone buzzes against his thigh.

From - Angry Girl: holy fuck

From - Angry Girl: shit i literally think i saw god when i came

He chuckles lightly, typing his reply.

Hyungwon sent: im glad to be of service to u!

He sits in silence for a few seconds, unsure of what to say, but then begins to type another message.

Hyungwon sent: what does this make us?

He wasn’t up for a relationship with a person he’s never met, even if they know almost everything about each other. He doesn’t even know what she looks like, or her name - but he does know that he wants emotion. He craves for it, no matter what form it’s given in, and this is the closet he has gotten to any type of emotion in almost a year.

From - Angry Girl: hmmm friends w benefits? but thru text... ?

Hyungwon sent: i like the sound of tht. you wanna do this again sometime?

From - Angry Girl: yes please

Hyungwon sent: good.. me too.

Just as he sends it, Hyungwon hears the front door begin to jiggle, announcing that Changkyun is just now arriving home. Hurriedly, he unlocks his door in case he were to come in and turns off his night lamp, jumping into bed just as he hears the door open and the sound of Changkyun kicking off his shoes. God knows how fast the younger boy would put together what Hyungwon had been doing prior.

Hyungwon: good night. try not to dream of me

Hyungwon sets his phone on the nightstand and quickly pretends to be asleep just as he hears Changkyun’s footsteps bounding towards his door, turning the doorknob and peeking in to check if he was still awake. When the door closes and when Hyungwon is sure that his roommate has fled to the kitchen, he turns over in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Before sleep takes hold of him, he thinks one last thing.

How the fuck is he going to face (Y/N) now?

----

You did dream of him.

Chae Hyungwon, to be exact.

Since putting your phone down the night before, to waking up from a sinful dream and showering and cooking your breakfast, you have been red in the face. You hadn’t realized you were fantasizing about him until the unknown man’s last text was sent, when you arched your back from your bed as you came undone between your legs and whined out Hyungwon’s name. You had avoided eye contact with Kihyun, aware that he knows you far too well and fearing for him to realize what you have done.

“Your class doesn’t start for another h-“ Kihyun’s voice rings from the living room but is interrupted with the click of your front door.

The air is cool, the chilled breeze kisses your cheeks as you walk to campus, hands shoved inside your pockets, playing with the edge of your phone case that was situated inside of them. Last night’s events were amazing - it was the best orgasm you’ve ever had in a long time - yet the fact that he had been in your mind the entire time made your stomach twist in an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint.

You make it to your class, only to be met with a closed door. Of course, it wasn’t starting for another half hour. You let out a tired sigh, taking your backpack off and sitting down in the hallway, back against the wall as you fish your phone from your pocket.

You text him first today.

You sent: good morning

His reply comes quickly.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!! ur up early

You sent: i guess i still have adrenaline from what happened last night hehe

You sent: so what are u up to?

From - Unknown Number: im in the line at starbucks on my uni campus rn ... i might get a red velvet cookie. the class im heading to is like the perfect environment to eat

You sent: i didnt know environments counted in a good eating experience

From - Unknown Number: of course it does!!!! a good environment makes ur food even more savoury.

From - Unknown Number: i have acquired the cookie. im on my way to class now ... absolute dread

You sent: man .... u and me both

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds and you figure it’s because he’s walking or he bumped into a friend or something, so you use this time to get some extra sleep, laying your head against the wall and closing your eyes. Just as you are about to drift off, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat down the hall, and you open your eyes, hoping it was your professor.

Oh god.

Hyungwon walks towards you in his usual gait, full of arrogance, holding a cup of iced coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. This time though, when you look at him, you don’t feel the same irritation that you have always felt - and suddenly your eyes catch sight of his fingers, and your mind flashes to the images that your brain had thought of just the night before. Your face turns red, looking away from him and closing your eyes. You hope to god he doesn’t notice your red face, which he doesn’t, because he barely spares a glance at you.

“Are you kidding me,” he curses upon arriving to the door. “The day I come in early, the door isn’t even open yet.”

Grumbling, he sits down against the wall a few meters away from you, putting his iced coffee and paper bag on the ground beside him as he fishes for his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

You feel your phone buzz.

From - Unknown Number: quick i might have enough time bc the professor isnt here yet...... should i go back to starbucks and buy a muffin

You let out a laugh, earning a glance from Hyungwon to which your face turns flat again, rolling your eyes at him.

You sent: no!!! what if ur running to starbucks n u pass by ur professor?

From - Unknown Number: you’re right you’re right.....ill jus get it later then

You sit like that for what seems like a good half-hour, texting this unknown man back and forth and learning even more about each other. You learn that he loves baked goods, and that recently, ever since you had told him to buy himself a bagel, his love for them had come back. He learns that you cook your own breakfast everyday, taking the time to eat and rest in the morning before the rest of the day ensues.

“Hyungwon!” a loud voice sounds from the end of the hallway. You turn your head, as does Hyungwon, and you find the man the voice originated from, dashing down the hallway.

Lee Minhyuk was in your criminology class, you knew him well because he in front of you, but not well enough to contact him at any time, or to say hi to him outside of class. He was a nice guy, he was friends with almost everybody in your university no matter what year they were in, but he was loud and distracted you from your work - you aren’t sure if you’re thankful for that or if you detest that fact.

“Minhyuk.” Hyungwon’s voice is calm, rivalling Minhyuk’s shout.

Minhyuk comes to a stop in front of Hyungwon, doubled over and his hands on his knees as be gasps for breath - you are unsure as to why, the length of hall he had just ran doesn’t even stretch on for that long.

“Where have you been?” Minhyuk asks between gasps. “I haven’t seen you since our last study session.”

“Oh you know,” Hyungwon replies, “Just studying.”

“Well come back, our study group needs y-“ his voice cuts off the moment his head turns and meets eyes with you, eyes widening and mouth forming a large grin. “Hi (Y/N)!”

You give him a smile back, letting out a gentle laugh. “Hello, Minhyuk.”

He decides to ditch Hyungwon, walking over to you instead as his taller friend watches on in a mix of confusion and shock, and finally, for the first time since you’ve seen him today, his eyes catches yours. You suck in a quick breath before looking back at Minhyuk.

“How’d you do on your paper?” Minhyuk asks, standing in front of you, hands shoved into his pockets. “I feel like I barely made the passing mark.”

“Oh! It was good, I finished it really fast the night before it was due,” you let out a chuckle. “I wrote it on police misconduct.”

“Oh gosh,” Minhyuk says. “You’re gonna get a good grade, lord knows how many times our professor rants about that topic.”

“One can only hope.” you joke, face falling and hand touching your heart before you break out into a smile. You could almost feel Hyungwon’s eyes burning holes into your body.

“Oh, hey, by the way,” Minhyuk pipes up after both of your laughter died down. “I have a question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a few weeks.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Around three weeks ago, did you happen to get a strange te-“

“Mr. Chae, and Miss (Y/L/N)! You’re here early!”

The three of you turn your heads and find your professor striding down the hallway, fishing out the keys to the locked door in her purse. You turn to Minhyuk with a quirked eyebrow as to ask him to continue his sentence, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s alright, I’ll just ask you the next time I see you, alright?” Minhyuk shoots two thumbs-up at you, before pivoting on his heel and patting Hyungwon on the shoulder, narrowing his eyes at him teasingly. “And you. Stop ignoring us.”

Hyungwon nods, a small smile on his face before the two of you turn and walk inside your class. The only people present were the of you as well as the professor, who had also decided to go get something from the staff room, leaving you and Hyungwon alone, once again, in her wake. You almost curse to yourself outloud when flashes of the night before comes forward in your mind, biting down on your lip as you try to focus on doodling on the margins of your notebook. A crinkling sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Hyungwon, teeth half sunk into a red velvet cookie, realizing that you were looking at him. There is a pause in the air, silence filling the air between the two of you for a few milliseconds. The two of you simply stare at each other, something very out of the ordinary, before he glares at you.

You roll your eyes.

Maybe your thoughts last night were just a one time thing.

But they weren’t.

As the nights go by, and as text conversations come and go, you find yourself thinking about Hyungwon more and more, an activity that you would usually always push out of your mind every time he comes close to nearing your thoughts, but your attempts are futile. It’s even more easier for you to think of the tall boy because this unknown man was faceless, and every single text lined with lust only pushes you to moan out Hyungwon’s name.

There was this one time you managed to get the unknown man to describe the item of clothing he’d use to tie you to the bed, which was an expensive silk black button up with white pinstripes, and you went crazy at the thought. Then, just a few days later, when conversing with your desk mate during class, Hyungwon walked in with the exact replica of the shirt, and then suddenly it was more than hot; it was unbearably arousing, and you had to act like everything was fine, tearing your eyes away from Hyungwon and squeezing your legs together.

And then the unknown man decides that sending you paragraphs upon paragraphs about what he wants to do to you during class is a good idea. And now you’ll never be able look at Hyungwon wearing neckties or belts the same anymore. And now you can’t even say Hyungwon’s name in annoyance, nor look at him at all, not when he’s wearing that heavenly smelling cologne that he always sprays on himself every single day, making it even harder for you to not just shove all of the papers and books off of his desk and start riding him right there.

Then there’s the fact that Kihyun has begun to realize how much time you spend on your phone, asking you about who you’re texting all the time, asking if it’s someone he knows, to which you always reply with a quick no. It worked at first, but the more you say it, the more curiosity glints in Kihyun’s eyes, gleaming of mischievousness and knowledge that he actually does know what you’re up to on your phone. He’d continue to pester you to get more information out, but you’d just roll your eyes and push him away.

It’s nothing serious.

It’s not.

It is a half a year later and you had just come home from a third date with one of Kihyun’s friends from work - Shownu, his name was. He was a kind man; soft-spoken, intelligent, awkwardly endearing, and a gentleman. He took you out to an expensive restaurant, one with the most incredible view of all the city, and handed you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. The dinner went smoothly, splendidly, even, and after a few exchanged jokes and laughs, he drove you home. He offered to walk you up to the front doors of your apartment building, which you accepted, and before you could push open your door, he leans in for a kiss, and as did you.

But you felt nothing.

No spark, no ignition of excitement, no eruption of butterflies, and no urge for you to ask him to come inside with you. Zero. Zilch. Nada. You had pulled back, giving him an awkward, but soft smile, but he had seemed to understand the underlying message, and he just smiles at you back, telling you that it’s alright and that he wishes you a good night before walking back to his car. You watched him drive away before pushing into the lobby, hitting the up button on the elevator, your spirits low as you wait for the doors to open.

As they did, you stumble into the elevator, cursing at yourself for thinking so stupidly. You had just rejected a handsome, kind gentleman, who was obviously interested in you, who probably wanted to fuck with strings attached, and who would have given you the entire world if you had just asked for it. Yet here you are, leaning against the wall of the elevator, watching the floor numbers go past one by one, not one ounce of regret. You wonder what the fuck is wrong with yourself, since it’s nearly been two whole years since you’ve gotten laid. Of course, only if you aren’t counting texting Hyungwon.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone beeps in your purse, and, almost agonizingly, it seemed as if all the excitement that you had been anticipating with your date prior suddenly comes out of its hiding place.

From - Unknown Number: i was helping my friend out w their crim assignment. thought of u the entire time.

Your stomach sinks. He thought of you. How disgustingly domestic. He doesn’t even know who you are, nor do you know who he is, yet he thought of you, and you hated it. Doesn’t he know how much those words mean to you?

He thought of you, the young woman who acts as if you’re tough shit but is too much of a coward to reveal your true identity and ruin the bond they’ve created. He thought of you, the girl who always makes it your job to leave a space between you and other people in your life, until this unknown man came around. He thought of you, making space in his life to talk to you, shifted things to give you a permanent space, and now you’re embedded so deeply into his system that it’s almost like it’s his job to see something and be reminded of you.

He thought of you, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.

You finds yourself leaning against the door of your bedroom, locking yourself inside before lifting your phone up to type a reply.

You sent: what- but you freeze momentarily, thumbs lifting from the keyboard. How in the world are you going to finish this sentence?

What are you thinking? You’re starting a deep relationship with someone you’ve never even met! You don’t even know my name! I don’t even know your name!

What am I feeling? Why do I get excited whenever my phone buzzes? Why are you making me feel this way? I shouldn’t feel this way.

What are we doing? This isn’t right. I’m scared.

Your breathing is shallow and shaking, staring at the blinking line that seemed to mock you for your loss of words, and then your thumbs begin to move, falling on the reflex answer.

You sent: what are you wearing?

There is a pause in the air before the three dots show up again.

From - Unknown Number: black tee, black skinny jeans, black boxers.

You sent: thats hot

From - Unknown Number: you find everything hot

You sent: that’s bc everything u tell me is hot

Of course, your first thought is of Hyungwon, sitting on his bed, head to toe in black, forking his long fingers through his blonde hair. You gulp and your thighs squeeze together.

From - Unknown Number: what are u wearing?

You sent: a short red dress and black pumps, red lipstick, my hair is up.

From - Unknown Number: shit

From - Unknown Number: are you wet?

You sent: sooo fucking wet

From - Unknown Number: touch urself for me

You suck in a breath, staring at your screen. The two of you have been doing this for months now, yet, every time he orders you what to do, you’re surprised yet humiliated at how eager you are to listen to him. Obediently, you part your legs open, sliding your hands along the skin on inside of your thighs until you reach your clothed pussy. Letting out a sigh at how wet the cloth is, you circle your clothed clit with the tip of your finger.

You sent: im doing it through my panties

From - Unknown Number: push them to the side darling and once you do, push a finger inside yourself.

Fuck, you love it when he calls you that. Your face flushes as this unknown man takes control, and you loves it when he does; god it makes you go crazy. So you do as he says, pushing a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering too loud, knowing Kihyun’s just on the other side of your bedroom wall, sleeping.

From - Unknown Number: are you doing it?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: good girl. now add another finger for me and fuck urself slowly. can u do that for me?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: now, palm your breasts. tug at your nipples slowly, and i want you to keep finger fucking yourself while you do. keep your fingers sliding in and out of you, ok?

You sent: ok

You are obedient, your breath hitching in your throat as you open your legs wider, pumping your own fingers in and out of your body. You imagine him right beside you, imagining his low voice whispering the words at you, hot breath fanning your body, smooth and commanding, and you begin to feel a knot forming at the bottom of your stomach.

From - Unknown Number: move your fingers faster for me, curl them inside of you and rub the way just you like. i bet ur clit is throbbing and aching, isn’t it? it feels good to press on it while you fuck yourself hm? you’re such a good girl, you do thingsi tell you to do becuase you like it whn i tell u to fuck yourself.

You attempt to mute your whimpers by biting the inside of your cheeks, but your endeavours fall futile as you gently whine Hyungwon’s name far too loudly. Your trembling legs are apart, feet on both sides of your body as lewd sounds of your fingers fill the room. You’re almost sure Kihyun can hear you now, but you don’t care.

From - Unknown Number: ur not answeing me anymore. ur too busy fucking urself hm? ur too busy imagining that its me fucking u. that it’s MY fingers inside of you, pumping in and out of your body, that its my teeth tugging at ur nipples. how close are you to coming for me now? i bet it won’t even take you long to respond, fuck, i can just imagine u now. your hands between ur tremblign legs, biting down on ur tongue so u dont scream. but i dont want that. i want u to scream my name.

Your back arches off the wood of your bedroom door, and you know you’re close.

From - Unknown Number: scream my name when u cum. cum baby. cum for me.

And you do as he says, shaking as a choked back moan escapes from your mouth, barely managing to keep it silent. When you come down from your high, you rest your back against your door once more, trembling legs dropping to the floor. You barely attempts cleans yourself before lifting your phone to reply, fingers quivering against the cold screen.

You sent: fuck that was so hot

From - Unknown Number: did you cum?

You sent: cum is an understatement.

From - Unknown Number: good girl.

You sent: its your turn…

From - Unknown Number: oh no its all good. i already came haha

You sent: aw rly.. without my help?

From - Unknown Number: i imagined everything you were doing to yourself and it was hot… so, i guess u did help me in a way.

You freeze.

You sent: wait. you know what i look like?

From - Unknown Number: no but …. i have this … fantasy of what you look like.

You sent: and what does it look like?

From - Unknown Number: (y/hair/colour), (y/skin/colour), (y/height)....

From - Unknown Number: guiltily i think about this girl i detest. i’ve told u about her before. how funny would it be if you were her?

Your heart sinks into your stomach. This is the first time the two of you had ever talked about appearance, and this unknown man hit everything about you spot on. Dread pools around your heart in your stomach as you type out a reply.

You sent: haha who knows

You sent: im sorry i have to go now

You sent: ill text u tmr. good bye

Your phone buzzes one last time but you don’t look at his message, throwing it into your backpack as you finally get up to clean yourself, walking into your bathroom and changing out of your dress, assuring yourself that you aren’t running away but knowing full well that that’s the only thing you’re doing.

----

You don’t text him tomorrow, you don’t text him the next day, the day after that, the next week, or the next month.

You haven’t texted him in five months, but all he did in those five months was think of you, your phone vibrating constantly due to messages from him. Dozens of them. They came in groups at first, but as the months go by, they come through sparser and sparser. At first, he hadn’t realized that you had stopped texting him, but when the first month passed, he grew worried, then they spiralled to apologetic, accusatory, and then he began to blame himself, and once again, spiralled back to apologetic.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!!!

From - Unknown Number: good mornin!

From - Unknown Number: u havent responded to my texts lately.. i hope everythings ok

From - Unknown Number: hello?

From - Unknown Number: if this is about the appearance thing i genuinely apologize. i dont wanna make things uncomfortable for u.

From - Unknown Number: u dont owe me anything

From - Unknown Number: can you please just respond to me one last time. im worried… i just need to know if you’re okay.

From - Unknown Number: my friend jus finished their crim course today. i thought of u.

From - Unknown Number: its been four months and a half… i graduate in a few weeks. i dont know why im sending this to u… i just thought i should tell u...

From - Unknown Number: i miss you.

From - Unknown Number: i wish i never met you. i guess it’s a good thing i never actually did.

It’s for the best, you would tell yourself, before swiping left to get rid of the messages he’s sent you. Still, you can’t ignore the dull pain each message sent to you cuts your skin and strikes you to the bone, even now, during the graduation afterparty, through the valour and cheers of the graduates knowing you’re about to turn a new page in your life, you cannot seem to let go of the words ingrained in your mind.

“Hey,” you feel somebody nudge your arm. “Is everything ok?”

Turning your head, you see Minhyuk, looking at you in worry. You give him a small smile, shoving your phone into the pocket of your short dress before folding your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m just kinda nervous. We graduated, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand completely.” Minhyuk pouts, nodding his head, but something hidden behind his pupils seem to tell as if he didn’t quite believe you. There is a beat before he begins to talk again. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot to ask you,” Minhyuk starts. “This happened like, a year ago, but it’s always been in the back of my mind.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“There was a random number that texted me, Wonho, Jooheon, and Hyungwon around a year back. They said something about being in the same class with me…” he starts, and your eyes begin to widen, but you force yourself into keeping a calm expression. “I’ve asked almost everyone in all my classes if it was them but they all said no. The only one left was you.”

You look away from Minhyuk, almost cursing to your drunk self for giving him such an obvious clue, and then thinking, why not? It is the end of your college career. After this party ends, you’ll most likely never see any of these people anymore, for the rest of your life. Plus, you were almost absolutely sure he wasn’t the unknown man you were texting the past year, right?

You bite the inside of your cheek before replying.

“Yes, it was me.” you confess to him, feeling as if a big weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. “I was drunk, and I don’t know what I was saying. I’m really sorry, Minhyuk. I apologize for any trouble I caused…”

Minhyuk’s eyebrows lift, his jaw slacking a bit. “Really?” he questions you, before grinning. “Oh my gosh, don’t be sorry! That’s so funny. I mean, I would have never thought it’d be you, at all!”

“Really?” you ask him. “What did I send you?”

“You told me that I annoyed you during class,” he pouts, before throwing an arm around you. “But that’s ok! You still put up with me anyways so that’s all that matters.”

You heave out a sigh of relief before letting out a giggle, throwing your own arm around him as the two of you playfully sway to the edm music coursing through the house, for the first time in the past year, almost feeling free.

But it was as if the universe timed it as a way to mock you, because when you opened your eyes to look at the lounge floor, the graduates dancing against each other in strained duress, almost laughably dividing into two for the tall man standing in between, your eyes meet Hyungwon’s.

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk calls his friend, whose eyes flash from you to Minhyuk. “Come over here!”

You feel your stomach drop at the sight of him and at the sound of his name, seeing him walk over towards the two of you, holding a drink in his hand. He looks absolutely beautiful; his hair flutters over his face in loose waves, and although his roots are beginning to grow in, you can’t help but become slack jaw at how good he manages to pull the look off. His eyes are still trained on you, not one ounce of drunken stupor in his irises. He’s dressed in just a plain white dress shirt and a loosened tie, ditching the black blazer he had sported that morning during the graduation ceremony. As you look him up and down, you begin to remember the messages that the unknown man had sent you, and memories of your fantasies of Hyungwon cloud your mind.

Quickly, you look away.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low. “Congratulations.”

You are hesitant to look up at him but you do so anyways, meeting eyes with him again, his pupils laced with intent, but you cower from him for the first time in the years that you’ve known him, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Hyungwon,” you say, the taste of his name rolling off your tongue begrudgingly identifiable. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too.”

Silence seduces the air between the both of you, unbeknownst to Minhyuk, who still continued to sway back and forth to the future bass music pumping through the speakers. Your eyes are now trained on your hands folded in your lap, and you could feel Hyungwon’s gaze burning into your skin.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” you excuse yourself, standing up from the couch. “Congratulations again, you guys. I’ll see you around.”

You keep your head ducked as you make a beeline for the liquor table, ignoring the feeling of Hyungwon’s eyes on you. Hastily, you grab a can of beer, hissing at the sudden contact of coldness of the metal can, before you begin to chug it down. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around Hyungwon all of a sudden, as he doesn’t know you’ve been whining his name nor does he know of your fantasies, yet, ever since you had stopped replying to the unknown man, Hyungwon’s presence in your life grew more intense, even as you attempted to avoid him at all costs.

You are on your second beer now and you think about looking for Kihyun for him to watch your intake. You had lost him on your way into the party to the lounge floor which housed almost all of the recent graduates grinding next to each other, you don’t want to know what Kihyun is up to in that sweaty crowd, nor do you want to spoil his fun, so instead, you settle to sit in another seat, opposite side and far from where Hyungwon is.

You aren’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol, but you’re almost sure you can still feel his eyes still trained on you.

“(Y/N),” you hear Kihyun call, and you almost let out a sigh of relief at the appearance of your best friend, sliding into the empty spot next to you. “Come dance with me on the dance floor!”

“I’m good,” you smile at him. “I’m fine just sitting here. My feet hurt from wearing heels all day.”

“Are you sure?” he quirked an eyebrow, and you nod your head. He frowns.

“I know when something is bothering you because you act different,” he says, sighing. “And frankly, you’ve been acting different for the past few months. What is it?”

“Huh?” You look at him, panic setting in. “No, no! I’m not upset or bothered by anything at all. Don’t worry about me, Kihyun, go enjoy yourself.”

“I can’t enjoy myself when I know my best friend is wallowing around,” he pushes you playfully. “Come on. Is it Hyungwon?”

You freeze.

“Hyungwon?” your voice is quiet. “Why would it be Hyungwon?”

“(Y/N), me and him are pretty close, and I’ve known you since, like, grade school,” he tells you. “I know when you’re hiding a secret, and I know when you’re lying. It’s fairly obvious that the two of you were a thing, plus… you weren’t really discreet some nights.” He snickers and you punch his arm.

“Kihyun,” you look at him. “Me and Hyungwon were never a thing. We literally hate each other.”

“He looks at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him and you practically look at him like a love-drunk puppy,” he tells you. “People that hate each other don’t look at each other that way,”

“Kihyun, I’m being serious,” you tell him, grabbing his hands and looking him intently in the eyes. “I’m not with Hyungwon. I’ve never been with Hyungwon. And never, in my life, have I ever wanted to be with Hy-”

Your buzzing phone indicating a call cuts your sentence off, and you thank the heavens for a way out of this conversation. You excuse yourself from Kihyun, who only nods and takes a sip from his red cup as you walk to a much more secluded area, away from the bounding music. You don’t read the caller id, swiping right to accept it.

“Hello?” you breath into your phone.

It’s absolute silence for a few seconds, and you think that it may have been a misdial and that they had hung up, turning around to return to the party, but you bump into something warm and tall. Looking up, your heart drops into your stomach.

Hyungwon stands in front of you, his own phone pressed against his ear.

The horribly familiar words roll off his tongue so easily.

“What are you wearing?”

Dropping your phone, you do the only thing you know how to do.

You run.

You run quickly, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the sounds of the party, drowning out Hyungwon’s voice as he calls after you. It’s ironic, how many times you manage to find yourself running away from anything that has to deal with him, but you want nothing else than to never show your face in front of Hyungwon ever again. How could you, when the months you’ve texted that unknown man, the months you’ve texted Hyungwon himself, were filled with revelations of secrets and desires, something you haven’t ever told your own best friend.

The night is cold when you open the door, and you shiver momentarily before warmth surrounds you. You feel the worsted wool cloak around you, smelling Hyungwon’s rich cologne as he walks past you, searching for his keys deep in his pockets. You hear his car beep, signalling that it’s been unlocked, and a dread pools your stomach.

“Get in the car.” his voice is calm, but it sets humiliation aflame in the back of your throat.

“No.” you say, ridding of his blazer and letting it fall on the concrete ground.

Hyungwon pivots on his heel, looking at you with eyes filled with emotions you cannot decipher. He walks closer to you, grabbing his crumpled blazer, before standing up straight and towering before you.

“Get in the car.” he repeats, his calm demeanour less relaxed, voice strained against grit teeth. You listen this time, getting into his car and sitting on the passenger’s seat before he slams the door closed, heading over to the driver’s seat and doing the same. The time it took for him to turn on the engine and speed off into the empty streets is silent, you only wish for the rest of the car ride to be the same, but of course, it wasn’t.

“Why did you do it?” he asks you after a few minutes, his voice hush against the smooth purr of the engine, focused on the road in front of him. His grip on the steering wheel was tight. You gulp. “Did you think it was funny?”

“No.”

“No?” he turns his head towards you momentarily before snapping his attention back on the road. “After a year of making me go crazy, after a year of making me feel something and then tearing me apart, no is all you have to say?”

“N-No.” you answer again. You can see his fingers tense against the steering wheel.

“Evidently, you have a vocabulary,” his tone is venomous. “So use it.”

“Please stop.” your face is red with embarrassment, recalling some of the messages you have sent him, remembering the feeling that washed over you when you whined his name to an empty room accompanied with lewd noises. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” he asks you, voice still dangerously calm. “Stop talking? So I can pull something like what you did and cut all contact we have with each other? Is that what you want? Because I fucking know that that wasn’t what you fucking wanted. Because, hell, you begged me to keep going, you begged me to keep talking, you begged me to stay. Bullshit. You didn’t even stay with me, you didn’t even tell me if you were okay.”

You bite down on your lip, eyeing your fists in your lap. Your heartbeat is beating out of your chest at this point, but you can’t tell of what.

“I know you thought of me, (Y/N),” he says, after a few seconds. “You began to avoid me, and as I did you. I thought I was doing a carnal sin, I was supposed to hate you. I’m supposed to hate you. So why did I keep thinking of you?”

It takes all for Hyungwon to not scream then and there, the frustration finally getting to him, stepping on the breaks as his car screeches to a halting stop on the side of the road, next to a mass of trees. He pushes open his side of the car and gets out, running his hands through his hair, almost stressed, before kicking the tire of his car in frustration. You watch him go through a great deal of emotions before you decide to step out of the car yourself.

“I just wanna hear one thing,” he tells you, turning around, eyes pleading. “One thing. One single thing. An apology. A confession. A proper goodbye. It doesn’t matter. Just one thing, one more thing from you, please, (Y/N).”

“Why do you care?” you ask him, voice hush. “You aren’t supposed to care.”

He pivots on his heel, grabbing the top of his car as he looks at you, boring his eyes into yours, as if he were searching for something in your pupils. He bites his lip before opening his mouth.

“Is it not obvious, enough, (Y/N)?” he whispers.

“What?” you stammer.

“I care, fuck, I’ve always pushed it to the back of my mind but what happened between us just made it all the clearer for me that I do care for you,” he pauses. “I care for you because I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at that confession, freezing in time.

“You can’t just say that to me like it’s nothing.” you whisper, and that’s when the tears begin to tease your waterline.

“I’m not saying it like it’s nothing.” Hyungwon’s voice grows louder. “I love you. I’m in love with you. Fuck, (Y/N), I’m in love with you, and I’ve acted like an idiot all these years trying to get your attention. I’m not saying this like it’s nothing. I’m in love w-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence due to your lips pressed against his, and if it were anything like the movies, you were almost sure you saw electric sparks flying between the both of you. He kisses you, his arm snaked around the small of your back and his other hand pressed against the back of your head, and you kiss him back, arms wrapped around his neck as you pull him closer. Your tongue finds its way into his mouth, hungry for him, pressing his body against yours, the same way the both of you had been imagining for a year.

He backs you up towards the hood of the car and slams you down, lips disconnecting from yours before re-attaching them to your neck, littering your skin with memoirs of him in the form of purple lesions.

“My name,” he whispers in between kisses. “Say my name.”

“H-Hyungwon,” you moan, used to his name slipping from between your lips, but the unfamiliarity of his body against yours causing you more excitement. He sucks on a certain spot on your neck, before licking it to soothe the soft pain. “Hyungwon, please.”

“What is it?” he coaxes you with his words just as much as he is with his lips, hand snaking up your body as he begins to knead your breasts through your red dress. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips at his simple touch, and he smirks to himself. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“I want you,” you tell him, bucking your hips when you feel his hand sliding up your thighs. “I want you, Hyungwon, please.”

“Out here?” he challenges you. “On the hood of my car? If someone were to drive by, they’d see us.”

“I don’t fucking care,” the ache between your thighs and Hyungwon’s touch is the only thing on your mind. “Please just fuck me. Please.”

Hyungwon chuckles, letting his hand cup you through your panties, the wet material causing a strain to build up in Hyungwon’s crotch. He curses under his breath, lips coming back into contact with yours, swallowing your moans as his tongue dances with yours.

“You’re such a good girl, asking so nicely,” he whispers after pulling away, moving your panties to the side, fingers finding your clit, brushing past it as you curse out loud. It was humiliating how wet you’ve become just from his simple touch and his words, an arrogant smirk making its way onto his face. “So wet for me already, and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”

His fingers find their way back to your clit, softly running over your bundle of nerves, too soft for your liking as you whine, bucking your hips. He pulls his fingers away from your pussy, pushing your hips back onto the cold metal of the hood of his car.

His voice is low. “Be quiet or else I won’t fuck you at all.”

You retract your impatience at his words, biting down on your lips as he circles your clit with his middle finger, adding a bit more pressure this time. His eyes are on you, watching your face intently as you try to force back a moan. His free hand finds its way to your face, tracing your bottom lip with your thumb, before pulling his other hand away from your pussy. Gently, he tugs at your chin, signalling for you to open your mouth.

“Wet your fingers for me, darling.”

You oblige, opening your lips, letting his long fingers roam your mouth. Hyungwon watches as you suck on his fingers, tongue dancing across the two digits, eyes boring into his. The strain in his pants becomes tighter, but he wants to focus on you, instead imagining that it was his cock your tongue dances around. He pulls his hand away from your mouth, bringing you closer for a kiss. You groan into it as your spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging him to do something, to which he does, slipping his wet fingers inside of you.

The sensation shocked you at first, his long fingers filling you out well, but as they begin to move inside you all you can do is let out a moan against his lips, the sinful sound is music to his ears. His fingers are slick inside of you, moving in and out of you painfully slow at first, but as your kiss begins to become a little more sloppy, he quickens the pace of his fingers.

“You like that, hm? You like my fingers fucking you like this?” he mumbles against your lips, grinning as he hears you moan loudly. “Shit, look at you. You’re such a mess already, what will you become once my cock is inside you?”

You aren’t even able form words, the pleasure overtaking you and his words the only thing echoing in your ears. It was as if your hand sprung to life on its own, making its way towards his crotch, palming him through the fabric of his jeans. You felt his bulge, how hard he was for you, and knowing you were so close to it yet so far due to the layers of clothing, it drove you crazy.

“I want it, Hyungwon.” you whine, adding pressure to your hand as you pet him. He suppresses a moan, and obliging to your words, he undoes his jeans, pulling his cock free from underneath his boxers. You grab hold of him, already so stiff in your hands as you begin to jerk him off slowly, pumping your hand back and forth around his cock as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He buries his head into your neck as he begins to buck his hips against your hand, moaning into your neck as he does.

“Fuck, this is s-so hot.” you whisper in his ear, beginning to feel the knot forming in your abdomen as his fingers pick up the pace. It is when the tips of his fingers brush against the certain spot inside of you when you let out a gasp, your hips bucking into his hand, feeling him smile into your neck. “S-Shit, I’m gonna cum.” A chain of curses fall out of your mouth, words you aren’t able to comprehend rolling off your tongue much as you come undone with just his fingers. You whine, legs trembling as he kisses your neck, chuckling lightly before pressing his lips to yours.

“It’s your turn,” you mumble against his lips, his cock still stiff in your hand. Precum had already began to leak out of his tip, coating him and your hand in a sheen of liquid. You pull away, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. “I want to taste you.”

Wordlessly, he pulls you off the hood of his car and towards the passenger’s side, standing behind his car for protection in case anyone were to drive by and see. He lets his pants and boxers pool at his feet, before kissing you once more, hands busy grabbing your ass.

“Get on your knees,” he tells you, and you’re obedient, listening to him as you press your knees down into the concrete, hissing at the pain of your knees but thirsting for him to be in your mouth. You lick your lips as you look up at him, waiting for his neck order, and he nudges the corner of your mouth the the tip of his cock. “Open your mouth for me, darling.”

He enters your mouth, letting out a gruff moan as he does, the feeling of your tongue on his cock driving him crazy. He’s waited for this moment for so long, seeing you on your knees in front of him, listening to every word he says is so vastly different from the image he’s used to seeing from you - annoyed at him, nagging at him, telling him off. That thought alone is enough to send him over the edge, but he wants to savour this; he wants to savour you. You start off with a few kitten licks, feeling his cock twitch and rest against your face, smiling as you watch his, normally indifferent facial expression, turn into something sinful.

“You look so beautiful like this,” his voice is hushed, breathy. “With your lips around me.”

He cranes his neck back at the feeling of your mouth around his cock, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. He’s holding onto the roof of the car, using his other hand to comb your hair out of your face to get a better look at you, a mix of adoration and lust in his irises. You grab onto his thighs for balance, your knees already beginning to give out, and just as you do, you hear tires and the hum of an engine just a few meters away.

You widen your eyes, realizing that someone is about to drive past, pulling away from his cock.

“Did I say you could stop?” asks Hyungwon, reaching down and grabbing your chin, looking into your eyes.

“Hyungwon, what if they s-”

“Did I say you could stop?” he asks again, and you bite your bottom lip, a course of excitement running through you, feeling yourself throb at the thought of getting caught, and with that, you take him back into his mouth, licking strips from his base to his head before wrapping your lips around him, taking him to the back of your mouth, ignoring the hum of the engine and headlights passing you by. They had no doubt seen Hyungwon, he towers over his car with his height, but you didn’t care.

“Shit, shit, stop,” Hyungwon grunts as your swirl your tongue around his head, pulling you up, much to your confusion. “I wanna cum while I fuck you.”

And with that, he presses you against the side of the hood of his car, pushing the hem of your dress up to your waist. He bites down on his bottom lip as he teases your slit with the head of his cock, hearing you mewl his name and different variations of begging, wasting no time to find a good pace before slamming into you. The contact causes you mewl to break into a pleasured scream, his cock pumping in and out of you, stretching you out and making you grab onto Hyungwon’s white button up shirt, wrinkling the fabric, loud gasps and pleading escaping your mouth.

“Hyungwon!” his name escapes from behind your lips like honey as he slams into you again and again, lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, grunts and gasping filling the air.

This isn’t anything Hyungwon has ever done before, fucking on the hood of his car like something less of a human, but he doesn’t give a damn. If someone were to drive by and witness the two of you fucking like animals, he wouldn’t give a shit; his thoughts are clouded with pleasure and all that he hears and sees at that moment is you. Your voice, your parted lips, the feeling your fingernails sink into the fabric of his shirt on his forearms, your walls spasming around him. He’s too needy and too desperate for you to care about anything else.

He brushes past your certain spot again, causing you to scream his name once more, widening your legs as he hits it again and again.

“I’m gonna c-cum. H-Hyungwon, I’m g-gonna cum, fuck, please.” you stammer out in broken sobs, the familiar knot appearing in your abdomen once again. You’re almost certain that you’re beginning to see stars lining your vision, words unfamiliar to one-another slipping out of your mouth in strings of pleasure.

“If you cum, I’ll never fuck you again.”

His tone causes you to whimper, trying to keep your high to yourself as best as you can, your breath already beginning to falter. You can’t stop your walls from spasming around him, clenching the muscles in your thighs to try and help yourself from going against Hyungwon’s word, but your attempts fall flat as his cock sliding in and out of you at that speed and at that strength only causes your desire to grow bigger and bigger.

“H-Hyungwon, please, I can’t hold it,” you mewl, letting out short gasps of breath as he continues to rut against you. Your cheeks are red with both embarrassment and agony, your knees already beginning to buckle. He leans over, kissing your neck as his hips move into yours rhy “P-Please, please, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum.”

“I said hold it.” Hyungwon’s breath is warm against the skin of your neck, his hands pulling down the front of your dress, exposing your chest. He moves his face, enveloping your nipple into his mouth, plump lips sucking onto you as his hand kneads your other breast. The feeling of his tongue circling around your nub drove you crazy, his eyes boring into yours. You can’t stand to keep your orgasm under wraps, your entire body trembles now.

“H-Hyungwon, p-please!” you cry out, your hands flying towards his hair, pulling onto his blonde strands as you feel tears tease your waterline. Your grip on his hair tightens with each thrust he pushes into you, as if he were leaving remnants of himself inside of you, a growing smirk teasing his lips as he watches your failing attempts to hold yourself back. You arch your back from the hood of the car, letting out gasps of shock every time you feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying, clenching all the muscles you know of to try and stop yourself.

“Such a good girl,” Hyungwon’s whispers, his eyebrows beginning to furrow together and his eyes glazing over, signalling that he is close to his orgasm as well. “You’re so good… Fuck! I’m almost there, fuck.”

Hyungwon bites down on his bottom lip, leaning back again as he grabs your hips, fucking into your even harder than he was before. At this point, you’ve lost all awareness of your surroundings, you couldn’t care less if someone were to drive by and see the two of you fucking on top of Hyungwon’s car, all you cared about was your release, one that you kept pushing back so many times you’re almost sure it’ll take a toll on your body once you let go. His hand snakes from your breast and back to your pussy, his thumb adding pressure onto your clit, a sensation that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as your jaw turns slack, letting out a moan of pleasure.

“I-I can’t take it anymore, Hyungwon,” you whimper, trying to push away his hand when you know all you want is to bring it closer. “Hyungwon. I can’t hold it, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum,” he whispers, looking down at you through his hooded eyelids. “Cum for me, darling.”

And you waste no time obliging to his word, the feeling of pleasure ripping through your body as you screw your eyes shut, stars behind your eyelids as you moan, Hyungwon’s name mixed with different curses and other lewd sounds. He still continued to fuck you through your orgasm, already sensitive from the amount of pressure that you’ve received throughout the night, and it causes your entire body to tremble and convulse.

“Fuck, fuck, (Y/N), I’m cumming,” Hyungwon grunts, before pulling out of you. He holds onto the side of his car as he pumps himself onto you, staining your pretty red dress and your trembling thighs, your name laced around sinful words and immoral moans rolling off his tongue.

You watch him as you come down from your orgasm, the juxtaposition in the setting almost laughable as you take in his beauty; his blonde hair stuck to his face with sweat, framing his features so nicely; his already plump lips even plumper now from all the body praise, kissing and licking every surface of you he encountered, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You sit up from the hood of his car, a grin on your face before you grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him in for another kiss, he still grunts from sensitivity but still pushes his lips against yours, soft as you snake your hands around his neck.

And the night continued on like that, limbs entangled in one another in the backseat of his car now; the two of you are almost thankful that no one ever really drives on this road. He kissed you everywhere and as did you, making sure you savoured every part of him for all the years that you’ve missed, connecting your body with his - the only thing that divided the both of you was the thin layer of sweat on your bodies that accumulated as the night went on. You’ve lost count of the amount of orgasms he had given you that night, but it didn’t matter; the two of you have waited for this for far too long.

Dawn nearly breaks the night sky when quiet finally takes place in his car, the windows fogged up and chests slowly rising and falling now instead of rapidly panting. You lay your head on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You think back on when he was simply just an unknown number to you, the feelings that you had formed for the unknown man and Hyungwon, and you suppress a giggle when you realize how many times the answer was right in front of your eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks amusedly, hands busy entangled in your hair, twirling strands around his fingers. He smelt of rich vanilla, a smell that you could not stand, once upon a time, but found yourself drowning in rapture now.

“Nothing,” you say, nuzzling your face into his naked chest. Your clothes had been discarded long ago, littering the floor of Hyungwon’s car. “I’m just thinking of all the times I could’ve figured out you were the unknown number. The answers were right in front of me the entire time.”

You think back on it; the first time he had texted you kindly, asking what he should buy for breakfast, and heeding to your word of buying a bagel, and how you ended up glaring at Hyungwon across your classroom that day for being so obnoxious with his bagel, the one you had advised him to buy in the first place. The day after the two of you started sexting, how he announced that he was going to buy a red velvet cookie, and thus, glaring at him again for being obnoxious with it. His friend from criminology had to be your mutual friend, Minhyuk, as well. It was almost embarrassing how many clues you had missed.

“We were literally texting each other even when we were a few feet away,” he laughs, petting your hair down. “We’re both dumb. We’re perfect for each other.”

You pout at him playfully. “Hey, I’m not dumb!” you tell him, to which he smiles at you with eyes that could compete against crescent moons. “You’re mean, I like you better through text.”

He chuckles. “So you wanna go back to just texting huh?” Hyungwon questions you, quirking an eyebrow. “Then I won’t be able to do this.” He leans down and presses his lips against yours for a few seconds, feeling your body ultimately melting into the kiss. He pulls away, grinning from ear to ear as you lay there, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Actually, never mind. I like you a lot better in person.” you say, after a few seconds of silence, to which he lets out a soft chuckle. He stares at you for a moment, eyes softening at your sight as a easeful smile graces his lips. Leaning down, he kisses your forehead.

“I like you a lot better in person too.”

Kihyun was right, Hyungwon really does look at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him.

FIN.

2K notes · View notes

solace-sun · 5 years ago

Text

Not The Typical Way You Meet a Soulmate Chapter Two (Solangelo)

Over the years, Nico had become best friends with Gatorade, Pedialyte, and Ibuprofen, especially after nights like last. Nico used these like shields against his hangovers, but every so often he'd find himself in a drought of Gatorade, or maybe he would get too drunk to remember to hydrate himself. Either way, he always had to face the headache of a hangover once in a while; it was the price he had to pay for his fun.

He regained consciousness on his twin size mattress, with a dim and blurry recollection of the night before. Highlighted in his memory, however, remained Will's impression, his blonde locks, and careful blue eyes. The image made Nico's stomach do flips, but then again, that could just be his hangover.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he became acutely aware of the piercing pain through his skull, the shakes that came in waves from his core, and the faint sense of nausea rising from his throat. He still wore last night's clothes, which now hung awkwardly off his frame; too tight in all the wrong areas and too loose in others.

He felt like shit.

The more awake he was, the more conscious he grew, the grosser he felt. Wrapping an arm around himself, he pretended to be anywhere but the present, wishing he was somewhere other than his besides his shoddy apartment, but the hammering pain in his head made it hard to focus. He ended up closing his eyes and wishing, praying, he could go back to sleep.

Maybe Nico enjoyed the drunken buzz he'd get at parties, but he never came to welcome the pounding hangover that followed. He never learned to embrace the feeling of a twisted gut or headaches like sledgehammers in his skull.

Unfortunately for Nico, last night's wrath didn't stop with a hangover, he wasn't that lucky. Last night's vengeance was about to enter for round two through the door of Nico's room, in the form of a very unhappy Hazel Levesque.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it.

"Nico!" She shouted, "What the fuck man?"

Well, shit. She's mad about something.

Nico rubbed a sleepy eye awake, "Hazel... Please be quiet. My head hurts," He groaned.

"It's because you're hungover, isn't it?" She accused, "Whatever, that doesn't even matter right now. You got in a fight with someone at the party last night?"

"Who told you?" Nico asked, coercing himself to raise up.

"My friend who hosted the damn party, dipshit!"

"Hazel, I didn't even touch the dude. I would hardly call it a fight. Could you please leave me alone?"

"My friend has a hole in his drywall now! You can't keep starting shit at parties or pissing off people, or getting so drunk you can't remember what happened."

"I remember last night. I didn't blackout," Nico reasoned.

"That's a first. How long has it been since that last happened?" Hazel chided, pinching the bridge of her nose "Actually, no. Don't answer that. I'm gonna be late for class. I'll talk to you when I get home."

She spun out of the room and gathered her things. Before leaving, she called to him from the front door.

"I'm still mad at you still, but I love you!" Her tone was detesting, but Nico could appreciate the sentiment. He laid back, boring holes into the ceiling until his interest became fatigued.

After the ceiling had lost its appeal, he decided that maybe it was time to face the day. He rolled over to check his phone, stretching to reach it where it lay charging.

A text from Will was left in his notifications.

Will: Glad you made it home okay :)

Nico couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. He began to type out a response.

Nico: hey i just wanted to say thanks for walking me home last night

Nico: oh and also for not letting my shit get kicked in by a lacrosse player who was a foot taller than me

Will: Lol it was no problem, just returning the favor

Will: How's ur day been so far?

Nico: i mean i just woke up hungover, so not all that great :/

Will: I'm sorry to hear that dude! You know, they say a good breakfast is the best hangover cure

Nico: well thats unfortunate, all i have at my house for breakfast is pop tarts

Will: Are you serious?

Will: Let me take you to breakfast, I'll buy

Will: Call it the final pay back for everything that you did for me yesterday

Nico: i thought walking me home yesterday was payback? not saying im gonna refuse a free breakfast tho

Will: Walking you home was for the party, breakfast can be for the groceries

Nico: will you don't have to do that

Will: I know! I just wanted to show my appreciation :)

Will: There's a cafe I was thinking of. It's usually pretty quiet, and won't be too noisy. I can send you the address and meet you there in 35 minutes?

Nico: alright, see you there

Nico peeled himself from the hold of his twin-sized mattress. He shuffled to a pile of clothes that resided on the floor, scouring for something that wasn't yesterday's clothes to wear. He slipped on a sweatshirt and pulled the hood on; it was a hood-up kind of day. Before he left he swiped a pair of sunglasses laying on his nightstand, his last hope to buffer his headache from the sober world.

He came to find that it didn't help much.

His groggy walk brought him to the cafe doors earlier than he had anticipated, leaving him to anticipate Will's arrival. He stood idly at the cafe entrance with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. His head still pounded, and the talking of strangers passing by became sirens in his head. He had to remind himself this was all worth it for free breakfast.

Just before his waiting turned to worry, Will approached from down the street. The grasp around Nico's anxious heart subsided as he saw the familiar face.

"How are things going man!" He asked as he pulled the cafe door open with his good arm.

Nico couldn't ignore the headache piercing his skull, "Things could be better," he shrugged.

"Hey, once we get a little bit of breakfast, I'm sure things will get much better."

The inside of the cafe treated Nico's hangover much better than the outside had. The cool air and quiet atmosphere were exactly what he needed that morning. He silently thanked Will for being kind of a genius.

As soon as the two settled into their seats, Nico let his head lay on the table. Will gave him a sympathetic smile.

"That bad, huh?" He asked. Nico only nodded in response.

"Let me order for you. I know exactly what will help you out, dude."

"I will do anything, as long as it gets rid of this headache," Nico groaned as he propped himself up, resting his head on his hands, "Thanks for offering me breakfast."

"Thanks for carrying my groceries for me," Will grinned.

Before long, a waitress sauntered over, placing a pitcher of ice water and two cheap plastic cups in front of the two. She asked for their orders, of which Will ordered for the two of them.

Nico tuned their conversation out, getting lost in the scene outside their window. He watched the cars pass by, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses.

Will pushed a cup of water towards him to reel him back into the present.

"You need to rehydrate," he prompted. Nico did as he was told, and took small sips from the cup.

"How's your day been so far?" Nico asked.

"Pretty good. Though, I feel bad saying that to your face," Will joked. Nico shot him a look Will could see even through the dark glasses.

Will chuckled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He put his hands up in defeat.

"How was the rest of the party?" Nico asked.

"Honestly? I didn't stay much longer after you went home. I checked in with my friends to make sure they were fine then called it a night. Guess it was just kinda boring without you there, starting fights and all."

Nico covered his face with his hands, "God, don't remind me about that," he grumbled.

"What? I thought it was sweet," Will responded.

"Yeah, I don't know," Nico started, "Drunk me thought I was doing something great, but my sister totally chewed me out for it this morning."

"Why?"

"I guess she's friends with the guy who hosted the party... And he's not too thrilled to have a hole in his wall, which could technically be my fault? I don't know," He explained.

"Oh, does your sister go to school?" Will asked.

"Yeah, she's a freshman, studies early education."

"Oh, that's cool," Will engaged. Then his eyebrows furrowed, and his expression became confused, "Can I ask a question?"

"That depends. What's the question?" Nico's tone was apprehensive.

"How come you don't go to school?"

Before Nico had the chance to respond, the waitress had returned and plates were being unloaded on the table in front of him. He looked down at the mystery meal Will had ordered for him.

"What the fuck is this?" Nico exclaimed, "Is this spinach in my breakfast?"

"Oh my god," Will rolled his eyes, "You know, everything on that plate is what they recommend you eat to get rid of a hangover."

"Okay, you know what? Fine. I'll eat your weird healthy breakfast, only because it's gonna make me not feel like my brain is trying to rot inside my skull."

He grabbed at a fork and stabbed his omelette with it, and took a bite.

"Oh shit," He spoke behind a mouthful of food.

"What?" Will gave a concerned look, glancing up from his own breakfast.

"This is actually really good," Nico admitted why a shy smile.

"See? It's not that bad. And it's good for you."

"Will," Nico began, "I want you to look at me in the eyes, and recall everything you know about me, which, granted, isn't a lot," He paused to take another bite of food, "And ask yourself if I really seem like the type of person who cares about which foods are good for me or not."

Will raised his eyebrows. For a second, Nico thought he had offended him, but Will erupted into that contagious laughter of his. Nico joined in, giving in to the pull of the laughter.

Will shook his head, his chuckles slowing to a stop, "Man, I guess you're right."

Will looked at Nico and smiled. Nico glanced back, if only for a second, and reciprocated the grin.

Then he felt the phone in his pocket buzzing. He reached down into his pocket and gave a quick 'sorry give me a second' to Will before answering.

"Hello?"

"Nico! Are you gonna show up for your shift? I've told you before man, you gotta give me notice if you're gonna be late."

Shit.

It was his manager.

"I wasn't on the schedule for today, I thought," Nico defended. Will looked up from his plate and gave a concerned look.

"Should have double-checked, I needed you here thirty minutes ago."

Shiiiiiit.

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as possible,"

"How long is that going to be?" His manager's voice rang through the phone.

"I don't know... I'm not at home right now, and I'm walking so... It could be twenty-five minutes. I'm so sorry, I didn't know I had a shift today."

"Do whatever you can to get here, I need your ass down here now. We're having a rush and we're understaffed."

"Right, okay. See you in a few," Nico responded, and ended the call.

"Do you gotta go?" Will asked, disappointment hidden in his tone.

Nico pursed his lips, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea I was on the schedule, but I gotta go now or I am so fucking fired."

"Do you need a ride?"

"Will, no, I can't ask you to do that. You're already paying for my meal," Nico explained.

"Nico, it's totally fine! I don't mind at all," Will insured, "I picked up my car from the shop yesterday, so we're good to go!"

Nico's brows furrowed while he contemplated the offer. After a moment, he agreed.

"I'm only accepting because I needed to be there, like, 30 minutes ago," Nico said, as he began to pack his things and leave. Will left a pile of cash that would cover the bill plus tip, and the two hurried out of the restaurant, and towards Will's beat up SUV.

When Nico walked through the back door of his restaurant job, he was met with several pissed coworkers and his manager.

"He finally shows up!" his coworker, Jason, exclaimed.

"About fuckin' time!" another employee called out. Nico ignored his coworkers teasing, and snatched his uniform from his locker, and threw it on, trying to smooth the wrinkles out while tugging on the sleeve. He clocked in, and rushed to the front of the house, to take his position.

As he sped to his spot, he bumped into his manager, whose only words were a muttered 'glad you could make it.' Nico gave a shy smile and grabbed a handful of menus before settling at his stand.

Working at a five-star restaurant was kind of like maintaining a well oiled machine -- if well oiled machines could be a dysfunctional team that somehow maintained the image of perfection on the surface. It was a stressful job, but it paid decently, all things considered, and sometimes Nico even liked his coworkers. In the very least, they were usually tolerable.

But today, Nico was up against the edge, still half hungover, and in the middle of a rush, he wished he could still be enjoying Will's company. Something about Will made his heart feel still.

Despite his longing to be elsewhere, Nico was, unfortunately, stuck at his job, taking the orders of people who didn't know mediocre, overpriced food if it hit them in the face. His least favorite part of the job was the customers, but then again, Nico was fairly sure if you asked any food service worker, they would say the same thing.

This rang especially true today. He was getting a headache (And no, it wasn't just the remnant of his hangover) listening to an older woman complain about her food. He had tried to tune her out maybe five minutes into the lecture about why her food sucked, and why she deserved a refund with a complimentary meal, but he could still hear the echo of her nasally voice through his dissociative state. After the lady finished her spiel, Nico resumed his customer service voice and assured her she would be satisfied with a new meal, per company policy, and left the table.

He walked into the kitchen, ready to announce that he was going on break when his coworker slammed into him. Now, if his coworker had been empty handed, maybe everything would have been fine. But she wasn't, instead, she had been carrying out a meal, which was now plastered all over Nico's white, formal uniform.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Oh my god! I am so sorry!" She exclaimed. Nico could feel the frustration and annoyance bubbling in his chest, rising up his throat. He shut his eyes, and inhaled, reopening his eyes as he exhaled.

"I am going on break," He spoke in monotone, attempting to disguise any anger in his voice. He dragged himself out back, and slumped onto a crate to sit on. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Today's shift fucking sucked.

He pulled out his phone. In his notifications was a text from Will. The anger and frustration that held Nico's heart began to loosen its grasp.

Will: How's work? Hope you haven't been fired yet lol

Nico: not fired yet, just got angry looks from my coworkers for being 40 minutes late during a rush

Nico: maybe it's deserved though, it'd be pretty mad if i were them

Will: I mean, in your defense you didn't know about your shift, and you seemed like you genuinely felt bad so I wouldn't beat yourself up too badly :)

Nico: thanks, haha

Will: Quick question, do you have a ride home?

Nico: no i usually just walk home

Will: Do you want a ride? I'd feel bad if I just dropped you off with no way to get back home

Nico: you can't keep doing favors for me like this

Nico: I get off late anyway, you probably wouldn't want to drive around by the time I get off

Will: What time is your shift over?

Nico: uh

Nico: seven

Will: That's not even late

Nico: i don't need a ride, i'll be fine, i promise

Nico: thanks for the offer tho

Will: I will take it as a personal offense if you don't accept this offer, Nico

Nico: dont tell me that

Nico: like seriously though, i can't let you do this

Will: I feel bad just dropping you off like that!

Nico: i walk home all the time, its okay! i promise

Will: How often do you walk home hungover?

Nico: i mean, im not even hungover anymore so

Nico: but now that you've offered, it would be nice not to walk home for once

Nico: im only agreeing because you're practically begging me at this point

Will: I'll be waiting out back at 6:50 ;)

Nico shook his head and smiled, replacing the phone in his pocket.

As he smiled to himself, the back door swung open. Jason peered his head from around the door. He gave Nico a funny look.

"I don't think I've seen you smile before," He paused to think, "Ever."

"Oh, come on," Nico protested, "That's not fair."

"What's got you so happy? Surely not work, not after the shift you're having," Jason commented.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Nico taunted Jason.

"Don't be like that," Jason chastised, "Anyhow, boss wanted me to tell you that he wants you back inside, it's starting to get busy again."

"Tell him I'll be back out there in five minutes. Also, do you have a spare shirt I can borrow?" Nico asked, gesturing down to the mess that was now staining his shirt.

"I was just about to offer you my spare shirt. It's in my locker, let me go get it," Jason replied, holding the door open for Nico. He followed Jason inside as the heavy door slammed behind the two.

The rest of Nico's shift didn't improve by much, but at least he had something to look forward to. By the end of his shift, he never felt so welcomed by his hoodie and casual clothes, that hung loosely off his frame rather than the suffocating hug his work uniform gave him.

Clocking out was the best part of his day.

He walked out back, shoving the door out of the way and giving a curt goodbye to his coworkers. Will's car idled in the back alley behind the restaurant, awaiting his arrival. Will waved when he saw Nico emerge from the building.

"Hey, Nico!" Will exclaimed as Nico pulled the car door open.

"Hey Will," Nico started, "Thanks again for picking me up. I know I resisted at first, but like, I'm actually so glad I agreed. Would have been pissed if I were walking home right now."

"Man I don't know how you do it, walking every day" Will agreed.

"I mean you get used to it, but after some shifts I definitely wish I knew how to drive."

"So what, you never learned?"

"I mean, I never really felt the need to? Like some days I'm like 'yeah a car would be nice,' but most days I'm perfectly fine without."

"Have you ever thought about learning?" Will asked, glancing at Nico from the side of his eye as he drove.

"I don't know... I've always told myself I'd learn at some point, but I keep putting it off. Why?"

"I could teach you now, if you'd like," Will gave Nico a smile that meant trouble.

"What? No, Will, I'll total your car."

"It'll be fun! There's an empty parking lot we'll pass on the way back to your place, we can stop there and I can just show you the basics."

"What if I hit something?"

"Nico, dude, this car is worth at very most a total of 500 dollars. I wouldn't be ruined if this thing suffered a few bumps. It's the perfect car to learn in, you can't do any more damage to it than it has already suffered."

"I mean, I guess I don't have anything else going on tonight..." Nico gave a hesitant response.

"It'll be fun, I promise!" Will said as he flicked his turning signal and pulled into the empty lot. He put the car in park and opened the door.

"Okay, switch places with me," He prompted.

"Uh, okay," Nico gave some thought to hesitation, before stepping out of the passenger seat and into the driver's.

"Okay, look at the floorboard. Do you know which pedal is the brake and which one is for gas?" Will asked.

"Uh, the big one's the brake, right? And the small one is the gas?" Nico gave an answer even he doubted to be correct.

"Yeah! Okay, now put your foot on the brake," He instructed. Nico did as he told, gripping the steering wheel so tightly he thought he might break it.

"Great, now grab the gearshift, and put it into drive," Will explained, "You know how to do that?"

"Uh," Nico choked on his own words, "No?"

"That's okay!" Will assured. He reached over to gently hold Nico's hand, as he placed it on the gearshift. With his hand over Nico's, he pulled the gearshift into place.

"Now you're in gear!" He exclaimed with a bright grin. Nico's hand started to shake underneath Will's.

"What you wanna do now is let your foot off the brake, slowly though," As Will began, Nico lifted his foot off, and the car began to roll.

"Oh fuck the car is moving now," Nico cursed under his breath.

"You're doing good! The car is gonna move slowly as long as you don't hit the brakes. Now, I want you to take the same foot you just used the brakes with, and very slowly, press on the gas."

Nico placed a foot on the gas, and the car jerked forward.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Nico groaned.

"Don't be! You're doing good!" Will encouraged, "Try again."

Nico lowered his foot back onto the pedal, and the car lurched once more. Surprised by the movement, he took his foot off the gas, giving Will a concerned look.

"It can be tricky to get the hang of, but you're doing really good so far!" He encouraged.

Nico's foot hovered over the pedal. Carefully, he began to press weigh to the pedal. The car began to move faster.

"Hey, there you go!" Will exclaimed, "You got it! Now, see if you can speed up a bit."

Nico pressed on the pedal, and the car roared, picking up speed. As the car gained speed Nico lost confidence, his chest began to feel tight. He could feel his hands tremor as he gripped the wheel, and he began to feel his throat close up. He slammed a foot into the brakes. The car screeched to a stop, causing both himself and Will to lurch forward in their seats. Nico's knuckles had turned white around the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Nico repeated, "I think... I think I'm done. Let's switch back."

"You were doing so well though!" Will reassured.

"No, I think I'm done," Nico confirmed, placing the car back into park.

"Oh, okay," Will's smile fell.

His shaky hands and nerves calmed once Nico returned to the passenger seat. He let out the breath he had been holding and rubbed his arms.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you," Will said as he slid back into the driver's seat.

"Will, it's not your fault. I've... I've never been good at managing my nerves while driving. My dad gave up trying to teach me years ago because I'd just freak out whenever I was behind the wheel. I guess I thought this time would be different? I don't know..."

Nico felt a hand on his shoulder. Will ran a thumb over the skin on his shoulder.

"It's okay," Will ensured, giving a small smile to Nico, "I just hope I didn't make you feel pressured to do something you didn't want to."

"No! Of course not, I just thought I could actually do it this time. I mean there's a reason why I don't drive."

"You wanna talk about it?" Will asked.

"There's not much to talk about. It's just, like, my nerves... I just get so anxious behind the wheel. It's always been like that," Nico explained, fidgeting with his hands, "Like, I just personally think I shouldn't drive. There are some people out there who just don't drive, and maybe I should just commit to being one of those people."

"It takes practice," Will comforted, "You'll get it if you give it a chance."

"I don't know Will," Nico shook his head, "I can't drive in an empty parking lot, and I can't even imagine how I'd manage on a road with other cars. I don't know how you do it, especially with a broken arm, oh my god."

"I'm telling you, it's just practice. I mean, I guess the arm thing is a little hard to get around, but, I'm doing fine now, I think," Will spoke.

"Does it still hurt? Your arm?" Nico asked.

Will examined his arm, observing the curve of the cast, "No, not unless I move it the wrong way."

"I feel bad, you like, broke your arm," Nico began, "You said you've been playing lacrosse for seven years? And now, all of a sudden you just stopped? Don't you miss it?"

"I mean, yeah, I put so much of my time into it and spent so many years practicing. It was my sport and I loved it. And then, after I left the hospital, after talking to my coaches and telling them I was done... I realized, y'know, that I had put on my jersey, and played for the last time, without even knowing it, and that... That kinda sucked."

Nico nodded, watching Will as he spoke, "This whole thing sounds like it's been pretty hard on you."

Will turned to Nico, "This... may sound so stupid," Will laughed, "But you are so easy to talk to. Like being around you is just easy."

Nico smiled and nodded, "No, I get what you're saying."

He sighed and looked down at the floorboard.

"Guess I should be getting you home though, right?" Will asked as he started the engine. He pulled out of the lot and accelerated onto the road towards Nico's house. Will studied the road as Nico watched streetlights speeding by, their lights beginning to illuminate as the sun began to fall. A hazy shade of grey began to blanket the sky, and stars began to peek out from behind the veil. Will turned his head to steal a glance at Nico. For maybe a second, he let himself admire Nico's profile and the curve of his nose, the bend of his jawline, before pulling his gaze back towards the road.

He pulled into the apartment lot he had left Nico in the night before. As he pulled in, Nico looked like he was about to say something, maybe in protest, but ultimately decided against it.

Nico gave Will a soft smile and thankful eyes, "Thanks for the ride, Will."

"It's no problem, anytime," Will assured. He wanted to say more, but the back of his mind told him to remain silent, despite the pull in his chest. He didn't want this to be the last time he'd see Nico. He also didn't want to return to his empty apartment. He wasn't ready to be his only company again.

"Hey," Nico said, from outside the car, holding the door open and leaning in, "Text me later. Let me know what your schedule looks like so we hang out again. You're a fun guy to be with."

The tug at Will's chest rested, "Oh! Yeah, for sure!"

Nico closed the door, and left with a wave, as Will's car began to roll out of the lot.

Will exhaled a shaky breath, the feeling of loneliness beginning to flood his lungs. It was suffocating. He drove home, trying not to lose himself to the feeling

As he walked into his empty home, he felt a buzz from his pocket. He opened his phone and saw Nico had sent a text.

just caught wind of a party happening tomorrow, any chance you're able to go? ;)

Will smiled to himself and felt some of the loneliness began to fade.

(Big thanks to my beta readers @embooks and @all-this-panic-still-no-disco !!)

#not the typical way you meet a soulmate #chapter two #solangelo #solangelo fanfic #pjo fanfic #Nico di Angelo #will solace #will x nico

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quicksilversquared · 5 years ago

Text

Lost Heart: Chapter 12

Better

Magic can be a dangerous thing to play around with, particularly when that magic is tangled up in a curse. When Nathalie Sancoeur experiments with magic that she doesn’t fully understand, it sends her on a path to become Paris’ most dangerous supervillain and tips the balance between superheroes and supervillain.

But which way will the balance fall?

links in the reblog

For the first time in nearly a week, Adrien found himself smiling without realizing it as he chatted with his friends between classes, the near-constant worrying absent for the time being.

It felt good.

Master Fu had texted him that morning with the news that the last of the potion ingredients were on the way as of the night before, which meant that they would be able to start work on the potion soon. His mom's breathing and heart rates were moving into the normal range- well, normal for a deep sleep or coma, at least- and she was swallowing Ladybug's potions more easily now. Master Fu had even said that she would likely be able to get out of the cavern under her own power once they woke her up. They were coming up with a plan to trap Mayura with minimal fighting, too, which sounded like it should work.

Even though there were two supervillains in his home (or maybe he should just be counting them as one and a half, since his father wasn't actively trying to defeat the superheroes anymore?), Adrien was feeling less stressed. He could actually sleep decently at night. What little homework that he didn't get done with Marinette- at this point, it had already turned into a habit, because it was actually enjoyable- he could complete at home, without being overly distracted.

"You're doing better," Marinette commented happily as they headed for their next class. She linked her arm around his, and Adrien grinned at the easy contact. Not so long ago, he would never have believed that they would get this close, but he was glad that they had. More friends was never a bad thing, and with Nino so distracted by Alya and their relationship at the moment, it was nice to have Marinette to talk to. "More cheerful."

"I'm actually getting enough sleep now," Adrien told her. "And some things that weren't going great have gotten better. And my homework isn't taking anywhere near as long as it usually does."

"Yeah, I had heard that you two have been doing your homework together," Alya chimed in, and Adrien startled. He hadn't seen her lurking directly behind the two of them. "And your father actually allows it?"

"He does!" Adrien grinned, trying not to blush as he remembered just how much his father approved. "He approves of Marinette. I think it would be different if it were more of a distraction than a help, but we study really well together."

"Of course you do, you're both crazy smart." Nino appeared at Adrien's other side. He eyed Adrien and Marinette's interlocked arms but didn't comment. "I was surprised when you started doing homework together since I always thought of that as something that people only did when they were having trouble, but..."

Adrien just shrugged. "This way, we're together to talk over any problems we might be having right away. And we can brainstorm on stuff, or both look for an answer so that there's less chance of us missing something, or..." He shrugged. There were all sorts of ways that he and Marinette could help each other during the homework, even if they could have done it on their own. If one of them had trouble understanding something, most of the time the other person had a decent enough understanding of it that they could figure things out. "It works well."

Nino only shrugged. He didn't look like he was judging or anything, but he didn't look like he understood, either.

And that was exactly why Adrien had gone to Marinette first. She had a talent for figuring out what people needed and being understanding about those needs. Nino was decent enough at school, but he wasn't super serious about it, and he wasn't super-bothered if he didn't completely understand a concept or what a teacher had been talking about in class. Alya already kept herself busy with babysitting and the Ladyblog and besides, she didn't care much about the science and math classes as much as she did Lit and Social Studies. Marinette wasn't hugely interested in those classes either, but she wanted to do well, and from some of the projects she had showed him, she had at least a little interest in small-scale engineering and she had to be familiar with math to make her ideas into reality.

Besides, Marinette had told him, sometimes something that she learned in class sparked an idea in her mind, even if it was something math-y. Her creativity wasn't limited to designing clothes, that was obvious.

She would love to see the miniature Miraculous box in his bag, Adrien just knew it. With all of the hidden gears and latches and locks, it was a serious engineering project. It was also gorgeously designed, the pattern that Ladybug had made curling around the box.

Engineering and art, coming together for something positively Miraculous.

Madam Mendeleev was waiting for them at the door, box in her hand to collect their homework. Adrien handed in his packet, proud that he was able to say that he knew it was well done, despite the week that he had had. Marinette tossed her packet in on top of his, and Adrien caught it with a laugh when he noticed that she had somehow forgotten to put her name on it.

"That's literally the easiest question on there," Adrien teased as he passed packet and pen over to his red-faced friend. "You're supposed to do that bit first!"

"Oh, hush you."

"Good thing you have Adrien watching your back, huh?" Alya teased as Marinette turned her packet back in to an unamused Madam Mendeleev and headed to her seat. "Otherwise Madam M. would take points off of your homework. Again."

Adrien winced. On one hand, it made sense. Trying to figure out which student went with which nameless packet was extra work for their teachers, and extra work meant extra time grading, which was no fun. There needed to be a deterrent to make people remember to put their names on in the first place. On the other hand, though, it did seem a bit mean to take points off when all of Marinette's work was good.

...he might just keep an eye out to make sure that Marinette put her name on all of her assignments when they were doing homework together. It would be a good way to pay her back for all of the delicious bakery treats that she had brought him over the past- well, over the past week for sure, and all of the intermittent treats that she had brought before that. She had been endlessly supportive, and it was only fair that he provide some support in return.

(And on top of that, even, she had probably saved his grades by helping him keep on track and focused when he was still reeling from the discoveries that his father was Hawkmoth, Nathalie was Mayura, and his mom was in a magical coma. So he would only be returning the favor, really.)

"All right, class!" Madam Mendeleev called, setting the box of packets down behind her desk and clapping once to get the class's attention. "As you know, we're on track to finish up our current unit before the holidays. We'll be wrapping up the unit with group presentations on different countries' current events. I want everyone to pair up, though there will be one group of three- one group, I said, not three, that's not going to work out. You have until tomorrow to work out the groups among yourselves. Now sit down, get your notebooks out, put your phones away- yes, that means you, too, Ms. Rossi. It's as though none of you have ever been in a classroom before, honestly."

Adrien exchanged a glance with Nino, trying not to grin again. Their teacher did this every day, even though she knew full well that by the time the bell rang for the start of class, they would all be settled and more or less focused. It was routine, it was normal, and that was good.

"Part of me wants to be offended that Nino and Alya just decided for us that they were going to get paired up together and we would be together for Mendeleev's group project without actually consulting us, but I was kinda planning on it going that way anyway, so I don't know if I really have a foot to stand on."

Marinette laughed as she tucked her Literature notebook away, their homework for that class completed and ready for the next day. "You know that they were going to do that eventually. Besides, it makes sense. We spend a ton of time doing schoolwork together anyway."

Adrien nodded as he watched Marinette sift through her bag to try to find her Civics notebook. She had a point, he knew, and it was nice to mix things up after he and Nino had been paired together so frequently for projects. Besides, Nino always complained when Adrien had to vanish for a bit (for an akuma attack, but he couldn't say that), whereas Marinette hadn't said anything about that yet.

Hopefully he and Ladybug would get the fight all wrapped up before his disappearances started getting another friend annoyed with him.

Marinette finally found the notebook she was looking for and she tossed it onto the table, making a piece of paper flutter free. "Okay! So, do we want to look at the list of topics that Madam Mendeleev gave us now and decide top three so that we're ready to go tomorrow as soon as we get into class?"

"Sure," Adrien agreed at once, reaching across the table to snag the paper and give it back to Marinette. He glanced at it, seeing Party Planning scrawled across the top. "What's this for? Does someone have a birthday soon?"

Marinette shook her head as she took the paper back, spreading it out on the table in front of her. "It's not a birthday party. As class president, I'm in charge of planning and arranging the holiday party for the class." She winced. "The holiday party in, uh, less than two and a half weeks."

"That's, uh, not very far away," Adrien managed, glancing over Marinette's shoulder to take a look at her notes again. They seemed fairly scribbled and sparse so far. "Wouldn't planning for a Chris- sorry, for a holiday party start a little farther out?"

Marinette groaned. "Yeah, but I've been busy. I've not had a lot of time to work on Christmas presents this year, and so I wanted to work on those first because planning is portable, at least, and technically Alya should be helping me with this as Vice President, but she's been busy with her sisters and with Nino and that revamp that she's working on for the Ladyblog, and-"

Adrien blinked. This was the first he was hearing of anything going on with the Ladyblog. "She's revamping the Ladyblog?"

"Yeah, she's trying to make it look maybe a little more professional, and more organized, and maybe add some links or new sections and-oh!" Marinette clapped her hands to her mouth, then sent Adrien a sheepish look as she lowered them. "Uh, could you maybe forget that I mentioned anything at all? She wanted it to be a surprise."

Adrien mimed zipping his lips. "My lips are sealed."

"Thank you."

"Okay, so getting back to the party, what do you have planned?" Adrien asked. He pushed his Civics notebook to the side- they could always discuss topics in the morning, after all- and focused all of his attention on Marinette. "I'll stand in for Alya, since you shouldn't have to do all of this work alone."

The relief on Marinette's face was obvious. "Oh my god, I could kiss you right now." Then she turned red. "Uh, can you forget that, too?"

Adrien couldn't help but laugh. "No promises."

Marinette buried her face in her hands and groaned, then sighed as she extracted her face and considered the paper in front of her again. "Well, I don't want to do anything specific to any holiday, because I know Nathaniel at least celebrates Hanukah instead of Christmas and he always looks so uncomfortable when we have all of these Christmas-focused activities to do all day. So I want to shake it up. So far I have stuff like decorate the classroom with snowflakes, and... that's all, really. And we get homeroom plus final period to actually have the party."

Adrien winced. That...wasn't much. "Okay. Maybe we can focus on one area at a time? So the snowflakes can be our decoration, and maybe we could have glitter or something to decorate them? That makes it more of an art project."

"Glitter," Marinette muttered, but she wrote it down anyway. "Gosh, the custodial staff are going to love you."

"Well, if it's glitter glue, it won't be so bad, right?" Adrien asked. "It would add an extra touch to the snowflakes, but without all of the mess of loose glitter."

"It's worth a try."

"We could do snowmen, too," Adrien added. "Also seasonal, also non-holiday. As a bonus, we can keep them up for the rest of the winter."

"Snowmen," Marinette repeated, adding it to the list. "And I might grab some silver tinsel, just for a bit of extra sparkle in the room. That might be good for decoration and art, and most of that will happen in homeroom, probably. Next category?"

Adrien didn't even have to think about it. "Snacks?"

Marinette giggled. "Why am I not even surprised? This should be an easy one. We've always had a sign-up list for the different stuff- plates, napkins, silverware, cups, cookies, chips, popcorn, uh..." She thought about it. "Aaand I'm coming up blank."

"Something to drink," Adrien suggested. "Punch, maybe?"

"That sounds good." Marinette glanced back at the list she was scribbling down. "I know there's more than that. We usually group plates and napkins together, and same with cups and silverware. And then one or two people sign up for all of the other categories. Sometimes people bring more than one thing, so we have plenty to eat."

"And I remember your Yule log cake from last year," Adrien added. He grinned. "I remember it fondly."

"You and your bottomless stomach." Still, Marinette was smiling. Then she frowned. "Is that too Christmas-y? I mean, I know people love it, but..."

Adrien had to think about that. "I think it's more wintery than strictly holiday. Weren't the original logs- the wood logs, not the cake ones, I mean- more of a pagan holiday thing?"

"Is it?" Marinette thought about it for a second. "I mean, I guess that would make sense."

Adrien leaned over to rest his chin on her shoulder, pulling out his best kitten eyes. "So... are you bringing a Yule log cake?"

"I- yes, okay, fine, I'll bring it! Put those kitten eyes away, Adrien, I'll bring the Yule cake. Now can we get back to brainstorming?"

"School let out some time ago, did it not?"

Adrien tried not to wince as he stepped inside the mansion, only to find his father waiting for him in the atrium, a displeased look on his face as he surveyed his son. Adrien had thought that his father was fine with him staying after to do homework with Marinette, so this sudden disapproval was a bit out of the blue. Had something changed? "I was staying after to do homework-"

"With your girlfriend, correct?"

Adrien very nearly reacted to that- after all, he didn't have a girlfriend- before he remembered what he had told his father. "Right. We worked together on our homework in the library."

"Normally you return nearly an hour earlier. Tonight you made both your driver and the cook wait."

"Sorry, Father." Adrien ducked his head. He and Marinette had been having such a fun time party-planning that they had lost track of time, though at least they had made some really good progress. "Marinette is class president and is in charge of planning the class holiday party, but her vice president hasn't been able to help her and she was really far behind. I offered to step in and assist, and we lost track of time."

For some reason, that made his father's expression shift again, just like it had when Adrien had told Mr. Agreste that he was dating Marinette. "Class president, you say?"

"Yes, Father." Adrien couldn't keep the small smile off of his face. "She ousted Chloe in the class election last year, and she does an amazing job. Alya is supposed to be helping her but, well..." He shrugged. He didn't want to speak badly of Alya, really- after all, she was his friend- but Marinette had apparently reminded Alya about the need to plan the party several days prior and hadn't gotten any help. Even if she hadn't admitted it, Adrien wouldn't be surprised if the same thing had happened before. Alya seemed to have tunnel vision sometimes when she had something else she wanted to do. "She's been busy."

"Perhaps you could run as her vice president next year," Mr. Agreste suggested. "It would look good when you apply to university. Those sorts of positions show leadership skills."

Adrien worried his lip. While he had considered the same thing- except not for uni applications, just because Marinette clearly needed a supportive VP and Alya was a bit too distracted to properly do that- he was worried that he might end up flaking out on Marinette, too, because of his obligations as Chat Noir. But now that he was thinking about it... well, the akuma battles should be ending long before the next class election, so he could stop randomly disappearing. "I'll consider it. If we get lucky enough to be in the same class again next year, that is."

"Considering that the school hasn't seen fit to mix up the class lists for this year, I would say that the chances of you and you girlfriend ending up in same class next year are probably pretty high." Mr. Agreste glanced back at the office, then at Adrien. "If you need to help her more with the holiday party, just text your driver or I to let us know where you are and when to expect you."

"Of course, Father."

"And when will your next date with her be?" Mr. Agreste inquired. "Are you going for every week, every other week...?"

"Uh." His father's interest was, frankly, somewhat puzzling. "We hadn't discussed that yet but, uh, maybe we'll go out to lunch together next?"

Mr. Agreste nodded. "Be sure that you do. You don't want to let too much time elapse between dates, or it can let the relationship cool. Though perhaps you don't have to worry nearly as much, since you hang out with Marinette every day at school."

Adrien was frankly puzzled by the relationship advice (and additionally, he didn't think that it would be the greatest idea to take relationship advice- or any sort of advice, really- from a man who had decided to turn to supervillainry in order to revive his wife), but he couldn't let that show. "I- right, I won't wait too long."

"Good." Mr. Agreste hovered for a second more, then gave a sharp nod and turned back to head into the office. "Clean up for dinner quickly. Your food is getting cold."

Adrien nodded, watching with some level of bemusement as his father left. A pinch at his side reminded Adrien that he needed to actually get to dinner, and he hurried up the steps to his room to drop off his school things before going to dinner. He had just stepped inside the door when Plagg burst out, cackling.

"Oh, hush," Adrien grumbled, blush appearing on his cheeks. "That was weird. He's actually gotten invested now that I've brought up Marinette. I don't understand."

"He's trying to set you up!" Plagg chimed in, cackling. Then, unexpectedly, he settled down, becoming more serious. "Or- well, it's possible that now that he's chosen a different path for getting your mom to recover, he's realized that everything in this timeline will stay the same."

That made Adrien pause. "You- do you think that that's why he got all distant and cold? Because it would just get erased later on?"

"Kid, I can't read your father's mind. But..." Plagg paused, and Adrien waited, getting his things set down at the end of his bet while Plagg figured out what to say. "I mean, it's either that, or he knows that he's going to jail and only has so much time left to actually be a father. Or both."

Adrien swallowed hard. That was true. Even though he could visit his father in jail, it wouldn't be the same. Nothing would be. It wasn't as though his father didn't deserve it- because he definitely, definitely did- but that didn't change the fact that Mr. Agreste would probably be in jail until long after Adrien had left the house to live on his own.

Maybe they didn't have the best relationship- that was an understatement, really- but it would- it would just be different.

"I'd enjoy it while you have it, kid," Plagg told him. "Strange as it is." He sniggered. "And even though you aren't actually dating pigtails. Yet."

Adrien tried not to sigh. It was pointless arguing with Plagg about Marinette. Then he caught sight of the clock and yelped. "I gotta go eat! Otherwise I'm gonna be late to meet up with Ladybug!"

"Oh, yes, pigtails 2.0," Plagg drawled. "You wouldn't want to miss your date with her."

"Oh, for- for Pete's sake, Plagg, it's not a date!"

His mom's hand twitched back ever-so-slightly at the first dab of cool, sparkly blue potion. Chat Noir paused, startled, and then a grin split his face.

"She's getting closer," Ladybug commented, a grin on her own face. "Though Master Fu said that after so long in a coma, she's not likely to be able to wake up on her own without the spell. But she's getting her energy back for sure."

"It's great to see her having reflexive reactions," Chat Noir said happily. He started dabbing the potion on again, trying not to let a silly grin slide onto his face at each little twitch of his mom's fingers. "After we got in here the first time and she was so still..."

"That was awful," Ladybug agreed. "And she's not so pale anymore. She actually looks alive, but just asleep."

He grinned.

The cavern wasn't so depressing these days, now that its occupant wasn't looking quite so dead. He could stand to look at his mom for more than a couple seconds without being worried about her deathly-pale (and deathly still) face working its way into his nightmares.

That didn't mean that Chat Noir wanted to hang around, though. The space was still eerie, and any little noise made him tense up. Considering that there was moving water in the cavern, there were a lot of little noises.

He was tense, tense, tense.

Thankfully Ladybug didn't seem as easily startled as he was, because she was still carefully applying drops of potion under his mom's tongue, her own tongue sticking out in concentration as she worked. It was a delicate process, for sure- she could only give so much at once, to make sure that it all got swallowed- but Ladybug had a delicate touch.

It was a funny contrast, when he normally saw her kicking butt and fiercely knocking aside akumas, but somehow it suited her just as well.

"Only, what, a week left?" Chat Noir asked as they packed up again. He reached back and gave his mom's hand a quick squeeze when Ladybug couldn't see it, unable to resist grinning as her hand shifted in his. "Depending on how long it takes for things to get here."

"And how long it takes for Master Fu to cook up the potion," Ladybug added. She stepped up to his side and together, they gently closed the glass lid before heading out, Pollen and Trixx flying after them. "He hasn't told me how long that will take yet, but my guess-"

"The elevator is moving!" Trixx yelped all of a sudden, making both superheroes jump and yelp. "It's coming down! Move, move, move!"

Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged a look and then they ran, not even bothering to try to make their footsteps soundless as they dashed for the door at the far end of the cavern, praying that they would make it before the elevator made it all the way down. With a final push, they burst through the door at full speed, only barely managing to keep it from flying into the tunnel wall. Ladybug skidded to a stop and turned to close the door behind them, only just managing to keep it from slamming at the last minute. They slumped to the floor in relief as Trixx re-locked the door from the inside, both of them panting.

Chat Noir's heart was racing. What if that had happened only a couple minutes earlier, when he and Ladybug were still dealing with the potions? That was way too close.

"Let's come later tomorrow," Ladybug suggested in a hushed whisper. "Mix up the time a little bit. We probably should have been doing that before, so that no one could track our movements."

"Yeah," Chat Noir agreed. He pushed himself up, then offered Ladybug a hand. "Maybe forty-five minutes later than usual tomorrow, and then we can decide from there?"

Trixx popped back through the door before Ladybug could respond, startling them both. Much to their relief, there was a smile on his small face.

"It was only Mr. Agreste!" Trixx reported. "He definitely didn't hear you guys. We got out just in time."

"So it wouldn't have been terrible if we had gotten caught," Chat Noir said as they started down the tunnel. "Just not ideal."

"I'd feel obligated to completely change up our time if we ran into him," Ladybug told him, glancing back and giving the door a wary look. "After all, he still comes in contact with Mayura every day. The less information he has about where we are and when, the better. Just in case she catches on."

Chat Noir nodded. He hadn't thought about that, but it made sense.

Their path was almost ingrained in his head by now, so Chat Noir took the lead, using his baton as a flashlight so that Ladybug could see, too. They had just made it through their Cataclysmed shortcut when a yell stopped them.

"You two! Stop right there!"

Chat Noir startled so badly he nearly tripped as he spun towards the voice. He nearly slid into a battle stance on instinct, but Ladybug's hand on his arm stopped him.

"It's a catacombs officer," Ladybug commented, sounding a little surprised. "I knew there were some down here, but I didn't think that we would run into them."

"Entering closed sections of the catacombs is strictly forbidden!" the officer continued, apparently having not yet figured out who they were as he jogged towards them over the uneven tunnel ground. "It is against the law, and I will have to bring you two to, uh..." He came to a stop and squinted at them. "Ladybug? Chat Noir? What are you doing down here?"

"We had to come down on superhero business," Ladybug told him, professional voice slipping into place. "It has to do with defeating Hawkmoth. We never linger."

He blinked, eyes still scanning them up and down as though he was still trying to make sure that they were the real deal and not just a couple kids dressed up in superhero costumes. "I- I see. May I assume that you were responsible for breaking open the wall that was here and clearing the debris that had been here before?"

Chat Noir raised one hand. "That was me. We needed a shorter path to our destination, because, uh..." He started floundering. It wasn't a great idea for anyone to know the superheroes' plans, even a police officer. "Um."

"We needed a significantly shorter path, so that we would be able to return to the surface quickly in case there was an akuma attack," Ladybug told him with a small smile. "Our first path was something like forty-five minutes in one direction."

"Yes, yes, of course. That wouldn't be great." The officer looked a bit unsure. "Um, I guess you can continue, then. As long as you aren't just coming down here for fun."

Chat Noir shuddered. "I'd prefer not to be down here at all, honestly, so no worries about that."

"Hanging around underground isn't my idea of fun," Ladybug agreed. "And don't worry, we're not going to need to Cataclysm any more new tunnels. It was just the once."

The officer nodded. With a quick good-bye, the superheroes headed off, wasting no time in getting back up to the surface and onto the top of a building.

"I thought he was going to escort us back up to the surface for a minute there," Chat Noir commented as they watched a few snowflakes start floating down from the sky. "He really didn't seem sure about if he was meant to let us through or not."

"And he seemed torn about us being responsible for the wall down there that we got rid of," Ladybug added. "Since technically that probably counts as destruction of city property. I could probably fix that, though, once we get Mrs. Agreste out. I would just have to think about both the fight and the wall that we got rid of at the same time."

Chat Noir made a face at that. "I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't, since there might be someone down there when you do the Cure and they might get trapped on the other side and not be able to figure out their way out. It's not like they would have cell phone service or GPS or anything down there so that they could get help if that did happen."

"Fair enough. I didn't think of that." Ladybug adjusted the strap of her bag across her shoulders and surveyed the city before returning her attention to Chat Noir. "Well, that was more excitement than we were hoping for. But I guess now we can say good-night, then-"

A scream cut through the night, and in unison, the superheroes' akuma alerts on their weapons went off. They exchanged an exasperated look as they silenced the alarms.

"I guess I'll swing by home first and drop the bag off, and then I'll catch up to you," Ladybug said as she straightened out of her crouch and pulled out her yo-yo. "See you in a couple minutes?"

"That sounds like a plan, my Lady."

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #Lost Heart #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

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averyrogers83 · 5 years ago

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Tangled Dream

Title: Tangled Dream Parring: Stucky x Reader Rating: NSFW 18 Warnings: language, smut, fingering, anal and vaginal sex, threesome Summary: You reveal to your friends Nat and Wanda that you had a sex dream about two Super Soldiers in confidence, or so you thought. Word Count: 2317 Square Filled: Kinky Confessions for @star-spangled-bingo and Stucky for @marvelbingo A/N: Real life reels its ugly head. Sorry for the extremely late submission for #thecap2challenge prompt: “Tell me you didn’t just admit that out loud.” Thanks to @shield-agent78 and @hotoffthepressfics for being my betas. Author: @averyrogers83

You woke up with quite the start, your breathing irregular, your mind disoriented, thinking what the hell just happened. You never had that kind of dream before so you didn’t know exactly where it came from. Well you kinda did. I mean look at the subject matter, two Super Soldiers in your company. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, they are the epitome of Greek Gods, well next to Thor who was an actual god, but these two were your teammates. Captain of the Avengers and his best friend who never saw you more than just another Avenger, another agent fighting the good fight. So where the hell did that dream come from.

You got ready for the day like you normally do, trying to shake off thoughts of the dream, but when you got to the common room where most of the team had already gathered, you couldn’t think straight. Clint and Sam watched as you poured creamer in your cereal and orange juice in your coffee, clearly you had something on your mind, but they weren’t ones to pry. Nat and Wanda noticed that something was off about you as well, when you just sat there staring at the bowl before you.

“What’s going on with you?” asked Nat, “clearly you’re not yourself this morning.”

“Noth...nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired” you yawned still staring at the bowl in front of you.

“Is that why you poured the hazelnut coffee creamer in your cereal.” Nat teased

“It’s because you’ve been….”

“Stay out of my mind, Maximoff!” You cut Wanda off before she could say anything more.

Clint and Sam had since left the table, leaving you, Nat, Wanda, and the two super soldiers left in the room. With much reluctance and prying, you decide to quietly tell your friends what was going on.

“I had a dream last night”, you started

“Oh? What kind of dream?” inquired Nat, her ears perked up to full attention.

“You know, a dream that you don’t just casually bring up in mixed company.”

It took several seconds before Nat and Wanda realized what kind of dream it was that you were referring to.

“You had a sex dream last night?” Exclaimed Wanda

“Really, I don’t think the people at the gun range heard you!” you winced, hoping beyond hope that the two men were too preoccupied in their own conversation to have heard.

“Yes...Now can you keep it down,” you whispered

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Wanda looked sheepishly

“So tell us about this sex dream, I want to hear all about it.” You groaned at the thought of recapping your most intimate dream.

“Oh. My. Gosh, you two are so embarrassing” you let out a sigh, “fine, but you can’t tell anyone. Anyway I had a kinky sex dream about a certain super soldier.”

“Tell me you did not just admit that out loud” Nat chuckled. “ So let me guess, Steve or Bucky. Or Both!” Nat smirked

“Ye...yeah..wait what?! Why would you mention Bucky?!” You stumbled over your words. Nat and Wanda knew you had a thing for the golden blonde hunk, but you never looked at Bucky in that way, that is until your dream last night.

“Oh please, who else would it be about. It’s so obvious that you’re into Steve, and I can’t say that I blame you. He’s a good looking guy. Bucky ain’t half bad either.”

“No one else knows right?” you worried your bottom lip

“The guys are pretty much oblivious to that kind of thing. You have to pretty much hit them over the head and tell them you’re into them.” She had been referring to her relationship with Clint and how he didn’t seem to notice that Nat had a thing for him. That was until she finally came right out and told him. Now they are together and happier than ever.

You proceeded to tell them some of the details of your dream, at least what you could remember and were willing to reveal, by the end the girls were left with their mouths hanging open and you feeling flushed again. You cleaned up your mess and spent the rest of the day either on the range, in the gym, or in your room.

The next couple of days you couldn’t even look at Steve or Bucky. Anytime they came into the room you found a reason to excuse yourself, during mission briefings you couldn’t even look at them and the minute the meeting was over you bolting out of the room. Any chance you got to avoid either of them you did. As much as you tried not to think about them during the day, they were all you could think about at night.

You were just getting out of the showever after a nice long session with the punching bag trying to get your mind off the increasing sexual tension you were feeling when your phone chimed alerting you of an incoming text.

Nat: Hey where are you?

Y/N: Just getting out of the shower, why?

Wanda: Did you forget about movie night?

“Shit.” you muttered to yourself. You had forgotten all about the team movie night that happened every Saturday unless you were either on a mission or Tony had decided to throw an impromptu party.

Y/N: Yeah, I think I’m going to bail tonight I’m really tired.

Nat: Nope, you can’t bail. Everyone is here waiting on you and Steve says we can’t start the movie until you get here.

Y/N: Can’t you just tell him I’m not feeling well?

Nat: You know you can’t keep avoiding the issue.

Y/N: What issue might that be, oh wise one?

You had just sent the text when you heard a knock at your door. You quickly got dressed thinking it was probably Sam or Clint whining about how you were taking too long to get to movie night so when you opened the door the last thing you expected was to see the same two people you had spent the week avoiding standing before you.

“Uh, hey...what are you guys doing here?” you asked averting your gaze from Steve and Bucky.

“Came to check up on you doll.” replied Bucky.

“Wh...yeah, um, I’m fine.” you stumbled over your words. God he looked good, they both did in their sweatpants and shirts that looked two sizes too small showing off each and every muscle of their finely built bodies.

“So then why have you been avoiding us?” Steve’s concerned tone resonating in the air.

“What do you mean..I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just been….” you studdered

“Look, sweetheart we’re worried about you. You haven’t been yourself and you’ve clearly been avoiding Steve and me all week. What gives?”

“It’s nothing, I swear.” You try to get past them, but Bucky and Steve have blocked the doorway.

“Nope, not buying it.” Steve said as he crossed his arms, “you’re not leaving this room till you fess up and tell us why you’ve been avoiding us.”

“Later, right now everyone is waiting...movie night remember guys.” You try to get past them again.

“They can have movie night without us. Now are you going to tell us what’s going on?”

You became flustered and you could feel the heat in your face rising as you tried to figure out what to say. You knew you had to tell them something or they wouldn’t leave you alone. “Fine!” you resigned “I had a sex dream about you, happy now?!” You were embarrassed and mad and all you wanted to do was run out of the room and hide.

Bucky and Steve gave each other a little smirk. They never let on that they had overheard the conversation between you, Nat, and Wanda. Catching every sordid detail of your kinky dream, hoping they would get the chance to make your dream a reality.

“So...a sex dream” Bucky moved stepped closer towards you, causing your heart to race and you take a step back.

“Going to elaborate, sweetheart.” Steve asked, as he stalked his way closer to you.

You suddenly felt like you were being stalked by two fierce animals hunting their prey as they pursued you till you were backed into a corner with no way out.

“I asked you a question Agent Y/L/N” Steve demanded as he pulled you away from the wall and stepped behind you pulling your back flush against his hard chest. Bucky stood before you with lust filled eyes and you got weak in the knees. God what have you gotten yourself into.

As much as you wanted to resist telling them your deepest desire you always wanted them to put your dream into motion. You could also see by the look in their eyes that they weren’t going to let you go without finding out what you dreamt.

When you moved they moved, before you knew it, you were back in your bedroom and Bucky was slowly removing your clothing till you were left standing there completely vulnerable to the both of them. You body had goosebumps from the sudden coolness you could feel from being naked and the anticipation of what could happen. Before you could think about what could happen next Steve had taken the tie from your silk robe and tied your wrists together behind your back

“So are you going to tell us about this dream or will we have to find a way of making you tell us?” Steve growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You could already feel the heat building between your legs as Bucky closed the gap between you and began running his fingers lightly down your check then collarbone, then down to your heaving breasts. He cupped your breast in his hand running his thumb over your hardened nipple, eliciting a pornographic moan from your lips.

Steve gently turns your head to look at him and captures your lips in a searing kiss while Bucky continues massaging your breasts with one had and the other is between your legs rubbing small circles on your clit. You were puddy in their hands. It was like they knew exactly what your dream had entailed without you uttering a word. Slowly torturing you with their hands running up and down your body. Their hot breath on your skin as each man would nip and lick from the crock of your neck, shoulders and all over your body making you melt into their arms. If it wasn’t for the closeness of their bodies you would have been nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

You gasped as you felt Steve move his hand over your ass and squeezed each cheek gently before slipping a finger in her tight hole, pumping in and out as Bucky did the same to your pussy. Your hips moving in rhythm with each thrust, as you throw your arms behind your head reaching for Steve as you wrap your legs around Bucky’s waist, holding on for dear life as you bite down on your bottom lip till the metallic taste of blood was on your tongue. You are so wet, already coming two or three times. In fact you had lost count. Your mind goes foggy causing you not to think straight.

You wanted them, no you needed them. Needed both of them now to fuck you sensless and the two men could sense it. You began to protest at the sudden loss of their fingers inside of you until you could feel the tips of their cocks begging for entrance. You could only manage to nod your head yes telling them you were ready and with one quick thrust the two of them had thrust themselves deep inside of you. All you could hear were their collective moans as they thrusted simultaneously into you over and over again until the three of you came as one.

Your legs felt like jello when your feet hit the floor, thankful that they guys still had a tight hold on your as your breathing regulated and heart began to slow to a steady beat. Steve picked you up and laid you on the bed between him and Bucky cuddling close until the three of you drifted off to sleep.

You woke the next morning as the sun light began to drift through the curtain into your room. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and slowly opened them as you shook the fogginess from your head.

Looking around the room you found yourself alone. Your body ached, but you didn’t think much of it thinking it was just from over exerting yourself in the gym the day before. You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed as you make your way to the kitchenette for a cup of coffee, your mind going through how that dream felt so real, lost in thought you hadn’t realized that Steve and Bucky were already in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Hey sleepy head, was wondering when you were going to get up.” Bucky smiled.

“We made breakfast” Steve chimed in “thought you’d be hungry after last night.”

You looked from one man to the other confusion written all over your face. Were you still dreaming? You opened and closed your mouth unable to say a word.

“Am I still dreaming?”

Bucky and Steve exchanged glances and laughed. “No, sweetheart. You’re not dreaming. Last night definitely happened.” Bucky replied.

Steve kissed your cheek as he sat in the next chair and Bucky sat across from you. You ate your eggs in silence for a moment when it finally dawned on you. “You guys heard me talking to Nat and Wanda didn’t you?” You could feel your cheeks reddening

“Super hearing remember.” Steve smirked. “Now eat up, we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~~~~

@buckysforeverprincess @ellaprime68 @chuuulip @thatfanficstuff @mychemicalimagines @dj-lowkey @hotoffthepressfics @shield-agent78 @bloodiedskirtts @patzammit @drakelover78 @quantumarvel

#star-spangled-bingo #marvelbingo2019 #cap2challenge

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alrightinbed-betterwithapen · 6 years ago

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Clever Little Things — Part One — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: hey guys so this one’s based off an awesome ask! I’m writing my asks a little slower at this time (and taking sometime away from Datalie until inspo comes back) to ensure better quality. I’m also turning this one into a series. Lemme know if you have any ideas of where you want this story to go. Anywho, thanks for taking the time to read, love ya!!

Masterlist

Summary: You don’t like David, and he plans on changing that.

Anon Asked: Hey !! Love you're writing, nobody ever does my requests so hopefully u can break that pattern :-), can u do a david x reader where it's an enemies to lovers sort of thing, where he's really charming and smug to her and like a huge flirt and she kinda just rolls her eyes and tells him to fuck off (maybe it could be a series??) Thanks !!

——

David fucking Dobrik.

Fuck that guy.

Yeah, you said it. Repeatedly and sometimes out loud. You couldn’t give a fuck about YouTube’s resident golden boy. You have lived in California far too long to be impressed with young, ridiculously wealthy men and their expensive cars. David seemed like a guy who fell face first into a vat of luck and wore humbleness like a cloak, hiding who he was underneath.

You were bound to run into him around Hollywood, your job as a freelance editor had you working with a ton of people in the industry he dominated. You had once preferred working in TV and film, but when a girl named Gabbie reached out to you, getting your info from a colleague, you were yanked into the YouTube world. Gabbie loved your work and had given your name out to all her influencer friends. The calls came rolling in.

Hey, it was a paycheck. These viral sensations actually made bank, and you were getting a more steady source of income from them than you did at any other job you’d worked in the city of angels. It even led to a pretty long contract job at a decent media group. Where you had to attend events and mingle and really learn about the world you were working in. It was mostly good.

But David, he fucking annoyed you. Whether it was hanging all over Instagram models for clout, or holding up the entrance line at a club to take paparazzi around his car, laughing and playing it up to an extreme, he fucking irked you. You had made the mistake of following him on Snapchat, one of his stories accidentally rolling over from a friends; he had two bleach blondes screaming about merch and then the camera flips around to his smug face telling you to swipe up. Yeah. Fucking. Right.

In your mind there were the Paul’s, Ricegum and David Dobrik: the premier fuckboys of YouTube.

So, there is no way you’re actually going to call Jason Nash about becoming his steady editor. You tell Gabbie as much over coffee.

“But, it’s a job, like long term and well paying... and he asked me about editors I knew the last time I saw him. Plus, if you last for a while, you can put that shit on your resume. And he’s great, like the coolest, chillest dude ever,” she’s explaining, trying to win you over. She had told you all about his kids and ex wife, how stressed he was. And that he could pay big money because he was racking in the revenue from his relationship with Trisha Paytas. Still, working for one of the vlog squad basically meant working for David, and you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, no. I’m sure he is, but the vlog squad? C’mon. Why would I do that to myself when you noped the fuck outta that mess years ago,” you tell her, sipping on your latte.

“Because I’m not an editor, (Y/N). It’s not like you have to hang out with them. You just hang around Jason and edit his shit. It’s not that complicated,” Gabbie says, looking at you like you’re dumb. You roll your eyes at her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be associated with David Dobrik and his loyal servants when their party comes crashing to the ground. You know it’s coming. He’s the next Shane Dawson expose for sure,” you ramble, “Like, Dobrik is the next Jake Paul. At least that’s what I get from his Snapchat’s, does he do anything but try to sell his shitty hoodies? And prank people until they cry?”

“Yeah. He gives people cars all the time.”

“PR move!” You yell, a little too loudly for nine in the morning at a coffee shop. Gabbie jumps a little and brings her hand to her mouth, shushing you. Ignoring her, you continue, “Yeah, it’s sooo genuine, Gabs. ‘Hey guys, I sent my friend to the hospital last week for a poorly thought out, unfunny stunt. This week I’m buying my assistant a car! No motive, no PR team screaming at me from the sidelines. Nope, I’m just a super awesome, humble guy who appreciates the people who obediently follow me around like a puppy so I can make content that’ll have 16 year olds everywhere buying my shitty merch!’ Gimme a break.”

“Holy fuck, I know you’re a cynic, but you have gone full pessimist lately,” Gabbie laughs at your impression, shaking her head. “They aren’t bad people, (Y/N). David isn’t either, he’s just young and rich and a little dumb. And Jason is probably the most down to earth one of them. Just think about it.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine, just no more talk about it. How’s your book coming?”

You change the subject, firm that the phone number she programmed into your phone will never get any use.

——

Then Defy Media goes under and Clevver, the main source of your rent lately, is done. You are out a decent paying job and next months check, you are royally fucked. Staring at the number in your phone, bent over on your couch, your thumb hovers.

You need the job. You want work, being at home with nothing to do all day makes you stir crazy. But all your points listed out about this still stand.

Fuck it.

You type out a quick message to Jason about Gabbie and his need for an editor with a link to your reel. You press send before you can talk yourself out of it. Then, it’s a waiting game. You’re scouring the internet for job postings when you get a message in return.

Hey! I’m so glad you hit me up. I desperately need help and would love to have you as my editor. Your reel is great! Can you meet for coffee in like 2 hours? I’m behind already and we can talk logistics.

You’re shocked. He must be desperate if he’s hiring you sight unseen and already getting you to work. But it’s a saving grace and more than you could of wished for. You’ll get a paycheck sooner and not have to worry about eviction. You let him know that’s fine and arrange a place.

The meeting goes well, Jason is a cool dude who doesn’t seem as wound up as your usual content creators were. You agreed on a wage (like 35% higher than your last gig, fuck yeah) and got to understand Jason’s edit style and post dates.

What didn’t shock you about the job, but you were hoping you could circumvent, was that you would be working closely with Trisha and David, as Jason often traded footage with both of them. And unlike Jason, they both edited their own vlogs because they had either, fewer responsibilities in their lives (Trisha), or were anal about their edit and wanted to do them personally (David). Great, great, great.

A jobs, a job though. You’ve survived working with some shitty people in your time and honestly didn’t think you’d have any problem on your hands.

——

There are problems though.

Yeah... there are a couple.

——

The first is Trisha. Well, she wasn’t a huge problem, but an obstacle. She was super insecure (you knew this going in) and the first time she came over to Jason’s and you were chilling on the couch, finishing up a vlog, things got tense. She knew you were hired, but she hadn’t met you before. You’d introduced yourself and shook the woman’s hands, wearing your usual editor getup of jeans and a giant hoodie, no makeup, hair not really done up but presentable enough for the public and giant headphones, to tune out the world around you.

You think that helped you because Trisha made a comment about how you were at least not trying to look good for Jason. You laughed at that, and looked her straight in the eyes with meaning behind them, and maybe a little intimidating,

“You couldn’t pay me into retirement to sleep with Jason.”

She’s taken a back for a second and you both look over to the man. You say no offense softly as the man shrugs, but don’t apologize or try to take it back. Trisha just snorts and says she likes you, claws retracting and a calmness returning to the room. Jason looks like a bomb’s been defused and ever grateful for you.

Bullet dodged... hopefully.

——

The next problem is David...

He’s actually the rest of the problems you have with your new job.

See, Trisha got over her bullshit pretty quickly and began texting you once a week for specific footage with Jason. She would describe them well and stay on the phone while you found and verified the clip, and then you’d send them to her. No muss, no fuss. She was an editor’s literal dream.

But, David fucking Dobrik was a nightmare.

Constantly texting you about clips from things that weren’t recorded, but he’s “sure they were because Jason was holding his camera like it was recording”, or waking you up in the middle of night to make sure you weren’t using a certain song for a montage or outro because he was going to use it in the next week.

And that was besides the ridiculous amount of times David was reminding you not to post certain things that were gonna premiere on his channel first. Like, yes, it’s fine to tell you. If it makes David feel better that you’re hearing it from him and not Jason, FINE. But to text you every post day, over a dozen times? It was a fucking joke and has been going on through week four of your new job. And you’d had enough. You’d mentioned it to Jason, but he’d just shrugged it off as David being David.

Well, fuck David.

You’d never even met the man in person at this point in time, but he was living up to every one of your terrible expectations. That’s when the 14th text comes in, as you’re exporting Jason’s latest vlog and just leaning back to relax on the older mans couch. That’s also when you snap, hitting the call button on the text and calling the douchebag.

“Hello? (Y/N)? Why are you callin-,” he starts after a few seconds of waiting for it to connect.

“Hey David! Nice talking to you finally and not just reading your utterly demeaning and demanding text messages!” You start in, just letting loose all the irritation he’s caused you over the last month. “Super appreciate the literally DOZENS of messages you leave me on post day, not to mention in the middle of the god damn night the rest of the week. I’m glad you understand what an invalid I am and how the constant texts actually do help me! It’s absolutely not a slight to my four year education and years of experience in my profession. Or the fact that I do heed your words the FIRST time I hear them, because it’s my literal job. A job I have that actually doesn’t revolve around you. Crazy, I know!” Your voice is just dripping with sarcasm at this point. In your brief pause you can hear a soft, amused breath from his end of the call. It doesn’t stop you at all.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know how productive you’re making me, and thank you! I really don’t know how I would function in my chosen career without your undying, unrelenting, un-asked for guidance. Hope the vlog that just posted meets your standards! Leave a comment if it doesn’t. Just please, please don’t text me about it.”

And you’re slamming the end button before he can respond. You look up and Jason is standing in the entrance way to his living room, jaw dropped. And all he can say after lifting it off the ground is,

“I didn’t know he was texting you in the middle of the night! Yeah... fuck him.”

You’re glad this ends with you both laughing and not you being fired.

——

“Your editor’s got some mega fucking attitude, dude,” is the first thing David says to Jason, picking him up in the Tesla the next day. Jason just starts cackling at that.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t text her in the middle of the night. Most people’s work schedule doesn’t extend to 3am, Dave. And I thought she had quite a few points. Like, she works for me. And she does in fact know how to skillfully edit my shitty vlogs,” Jason’s laughing this out and is glad to find David just as amused.

“I wasn’t expecting to get ripped a new asshole is all. I was in an Uber to some event and Natalie heard the whole thing,” David replied, kinda sheepishly.

“You’re just butt hurt that there’s someone in this world that doesn’t give a fuck who you are and is willing to talk shit to your face. And that now Natalie and I know someone put you in your place,” the older man retorts, pointing at him accusingly before going on, “I’m not reprimanding her for having enough of you. She’s doing great AND Trisha likes her. Fuck off dude. Just text her less.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t give a fuck who I am?” Of course this is the part of what Jason was saying that David focuses on.

Shaking his head, he explains, “Well, she knows who you are and is absolutely comfortable enough to basically call you a dick within the first month of being my editor. Also, Gabbie told me the first time we talked about her that (Y/N) hates working for the bigger creators on the platform, and that she thinks they’re all materialistic and out of touch assholes. So, you know, I thought she would be a perfect fit for me. I’m basically nobody. But you? There’s no love lost there from the beginning, but she’s obviously professional enough to keep from snapping on your ass for like a month. I don’t know, Dave. What? You want me to force her to care who you are?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I guess I just figured-“

“Sorry, dude. Not everyone loves our golden boy. But she’s not a mean person. She’s never even mentioned it. This is what Gabs told me forever ago. Either way, she doesn’t have to be blown over by you to be my editor. Right?”

“No, yeah, right. I guess I didn’t think I was bothering her. I’d always hit you up the same amount.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends. She works for me. It’s different,” Jason’s explaining as David nods along, eyes on the road, thinking.

(Y/N) doesn’t like him? Everyone likes him! YouTube world or not, David was charming as shit. It perplexed him, stirring uneasiness in his chest. This was just going to be a challenge in his eyes now.

She doesn’t like him? That’s fine. She will though.

David guar-an-fucking-tees it.

——

David Dobrik sends you an apology Edible Arrangement. The good kind, all chocolate covered fruit.

There’s a card attached that says,

Jason’s last vlog def met my standards, so you obvy don’t need my help. I’ll stop being such a dick.

(See? I didn’t text you.)

-D

It makes you laugh fucking hard.

You find it a little endearing but also, yeah, you deserve an unhealthy Edible Arrangement. He probably has a contact at the fruit company for appeasing all the people he steps on to run his empire. You’re not special, but the thought is at least there. Whatever. He had stopped bombarding you with texts and had been much more polite in general, so you were more than fine with the whole situation now.

You had hoped this was the end of it.

——

It wasn’t.

——

#david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fluff #david dobrik smut #david dobrik fanfic #david dobrik #vlog squad imagine

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thebeautifulgame7 · 6 years ago

Text

REPUTATION

CHAPTER INDEX

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Iris’s POV:

The first two weeks of Sergio’s preseason tour came and went and I missed him dearly. We talked most days and he really tried his best to send me messages when he couldn’t talk. Occasionally, I would get a selfie of him while he and the team were out doing something fun and then other times they would be pictures of him shirtless, and sometimes pantsless, in case I forgot what my boyfriend looked like. It was cute when he tried to be sexy in those pictures, sometimes it would work and other times, he’d just look goofy and adorable. I saved every single one though, no matter how silly I thought he looked taking a selfie at a restaurant.

I was pretty nervous when he left Madrid that we would hardly talk, but Sergio, ever a man of his word, tried his hardest to make sure we had some form of communication every day. Sometimes it would be a text conversation while he was on the team bus, or a long phone call after training, or a quick, but intimate sext conversation, facetime or call while Iker was in the shower. While those last three were a lot of fun, it just wasn’t the same as being with him. I missed his touch, his taste, the sound of breathing and moaning in my ear.

We tried to keep it interesting with different fantasies. Sergio, I had come to learn, was quite creative when it came to those and he told a sexy story very well when he needed to. Again, however, it wasn’t the same. He did have a solution for that, or something close to it.

***

About a week or so after he left, I got a package in the mail with no return address. Inside was a note from Sergio that read, “I know it’s not even close to the real thing, but since I’m not there, I thought something was better than nothing.” I furrowed my brow as I reached into the box, pulling out a vibrator and dildo.

I laughed louder than I should have at it and called him almost immediately. He picked up after the third ring. “So I got your present.” I smiled as I started the conversation.

“And what did you think?” Sergio’s voice answered from the other end.

“I thought it was hilarious, you are too much sometimes.” I chuckled as I studied the items in front of me. I still couldn’t believe he actually sent me sex toys.

“Well I was hoping you would use them.” He said in a more serious tone than I was expecting. “I thought it would be kinda hot to see you doing that to yourself.” His voice got deeper. I really didn’t think he was dead serious about these. I had never used toys in front of anyone else, come to think of it, I hardly used them at all. I never really thought I needed them,

“You can’t be serious, you wanna watch me?” I asked, still not believing he was into that. He also struck as more of the hands on type of lover.

“Yeah, I do.” His voice sounded almost gravely now. “I thought it would be fun to mix things up this way, you know, since I can’t be there.” He added.

“I don’t know babe, I don’t put on a show for just anyone.” I sighed in another teasing tone, sometimes he just made it too easy to mess with him.

“Not even for your hot boyfriend with a huge cock?” He tried to keep the conversation going in the direction he wanted, but it was more fun to poke fun at him.

“Well, the one you send me looks a little bigger.” I trailed off as I finished, holding the dildo in my hand. I was lying of course, but I knew it would get under his skin.

“Impossible.” Was his only reply. So he wanted to play then did he?

“And how would you know?” I asked him, eager to hear what he would come back with.

“Because I measured myself, and bought one slightly smaller because I knew you would try and tease me about that.” Sergio explained in a serious tone. I could not stop the laughter that followed.

“You- you’re kidding, you actually- you got hard just to measure yourself?” I almost couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard.

“Well I wanted it to be realistic!” He said as he laughed now too. “I’m trying here baby, I thought maybe I’d give you something close.” He giggled a little. “And of course I didn’t get hard just to measure myself, it was the day you sent me those sexy pictures.” He added and I laughed a little.

Now it was my turn to use a seductive voice, “Nothing could come close to you inside me. Not a toy, not another man, nothing.” I responded. “I want you back here in Madrid so bad, and when you do get back, we’re not leaving the house for days.” I added, feeling quite sultry. I wanted him to get a little worked up over this, at least a little hard. What I was saying was true though, he and I had a lot of catching up when he got back.

All I heard on the other end was heavy breathing for a few moments before he spoke. “Hearing you say all that was worth the price of the overnight shipping.” Sergio responded and we both burst out laughing that time.

It felt like he and I were so in sync on things. He could be sexy, funny and witty all in the same conversation and I liked that a lot about him. He was clever and charming and very sweet and thoughtful in his own Sergio way. I liked that about him too. Maybe I even loved him.

***

I’ll admit, we did try out the toys, but Sergio seemed to enjoy it more than I did. I couldn’t quite get into it the way he and I wanted. He seemed a little disappointed, but I did agree to try again some other time when he was back home and it could be used as foreplay.

This second week was even harder than the first, being around Sergio was addicting and I was beginning to seriously experience withdrawals. It wasn’t just in a sexual way either. I was craving his glances, his cozy hugs, his cuddles, the way he always softly snored as he drifted off to sleep. I wanted to run my hand through his hair, to feel his arms around me and to just be around him, whether we had sex or not.

These cravings led to a rather elaborate plan on one sleepless night. I was going to be the romantic one and sweep him off his feet with a surprise. I was going to Los Angeles to surprise him. I knew he had a match there in a day or so, which would give me time to fly out and meet him at the game. I was going to need some help getting into the stadium but that was nothing a call to Iker or Lia couldn’t fix.

***

Sergio’s POV

As we were walking into the stadium before our match against Manchester United at the Rose Bowl my phone buzzed in my pocket. I saw Iris’s name on the screen. It was an odd time for her to be calling from Madrid. It was probably two or three in the morning there.

“Hey baby, everything alright?” I said quietly. We weren’t supposed to be on our phones right now, we had to be focused even though it was just preseason. I had to set a good example so I couldn’t talk for long, but I also wanted to make sure she was okay.

“Yeah everything is good, why?” She asked me.

“Well it’s like almost three am where you are, you don’t usually call me this late.” I said, walking into the locker room.

“Oh uh, right, yeah well I just couldn’t sleep and I wanted to wish you good luck and say-” She started but I couldn’t hear the rest as I was being scolded about being on my phone.

“Sorry babe I didn’t catch that last part, I don’t have good reception where I’m at.” I explained and Iris started again.

“I just wanted to say good luck and that I-” I again couldn’t hear the last bit as one of the coaches yelled at me to hang up the call.

“Babe, I don’t wanna be rude and cut you off but it’s really not a good time, I have to go.” I replied, feeling bad for having cut her off twice.

“Oh okay, well good luck and I love you.” She answered.

“Okay babe talk to you later.” I tersely replied without thinking, before hanging up as I got to my locker.

“Oh my god.” I whispered, leaning my head against the locker and closing my eyes. “I’m such a fucking idiot.” I mumbled, dropping my phone onto the bench.

“What’d you do now?” Iker asked, setting his stuff next to mine.

“She told me she loved me and I fucking hung up on her.” I regretfully answered him.

“Yikes. Why don’t you just call her back?” He asked and handed me my phone.

“Iker I don’t want to now, it just seems forced at this point. I was going to say it to her in person when I got back in a week and a half.” I whined to him, still feeling dumb. I looked down at my lockscreen, a picture of her and I. “Doesn’t matter anyways, I don’t have any service here right now.” I added, dumping my phone in my backpack.

“Don’t worry, you can call her tonight and explain yourself.” Iker offered.

“What if she doesn’t answer because she’s mad. What if I’ve ruined everything before we’ve even really started?” I complained, already nervous about having to call her back. “Iker she knows I used to be a huge playboy, what if she thinks I don’t love her back?” I asked, my mind spiralling at this point, there was no way I could focus on this game now.

“Well do you love her?” He asked me.

“Of course I love her!” I said back a little too loudly, causing a few players to look at us funny.

“How could she be so nonchalant about telling me she loves me?” I questioned in a lower tone now, so only Iker and I could hear. “I mean, she just kinda mentioned it as an afterthought. Also, why did she call me at 3am just to tell me that? Who does that?” My mind was going a mile a minute at this point.

“You need to calm down, we have a game to play.” Iker tried to reel me back in with a calm tone but it wasn’t working.

“Iker, she just said it so calmly, like it wasn’t even a big deal, it’s a huge deal! Love is such a big deal.” I explained, getting myself all worked up. “Unless, unless it’s not for her and that’s why she said it. What if she didn’t mean it? Iker, I mean it, I’m dead serious about her you know that.” I babbled on, not letting him get a word in. “She means so much to me, but what if I don’t to her?”

I had myself so worried at this point that even I was realizing how ridiculous I was starting to sound. I couldn’t let my mind race like this right now, I had a match to play; more importantly, I hadn’t had a chance to speak with her again yet. I couldn’t sit here and worry about what ifs, there were others things I needed to focus on.

“You are being really dumb right now, and we don’t have time for that. I need you to put that out of your mind right now for this match and then I promise you, we can come back in here and talk it out some more.

“You’re right, it’s probably fine.” I responded, but I didn’t really mean it.

***

Iris’s POV:

All he could say was thanks babe, talk to you later; after I told him I loved him. No I love you back, no acknowledgement either really. I felt embarrassed and a little ashamed. I really thought he felt the same and we were there.

I thought it would be cute to call him when I landed and say I love you, then surprise him after his game, but now I was questioning everything. It was too late at this point to go back to Madrid, I had already paid for the flight and made it to LA in time for his match.

I sat in the car, riding to the stadium feeling very anxious. What if he wasn’t excited to see me? I would feel like a fool if I got there and he wanted nothing to do with me. At least I would make it in time to see most of his match.

The ride went smoothly and I made to the game having only missed the first fifteen minutes. I scanned the pitch and finally found the white number four jersey I was looking for. I smiled for a moment before I remembered our conversation. I slumped slightly in my seat, quietly observing him run around the pitch. I was not impressed with what I saw, Sergio did not look good. He was late on runs, his passes were bad and he just seemed unfocused. Had I done all that to him? Did saying I love him really put him in such a funk that he couldn’t play to the level I knew he was capable of.

I needed to have a conversation with him after the game and I wasn’t sure either of us was going to like it, in fact, I dreaded it. If he couldn’t step up with a good explanation than I had something to worry about. I was willing to wait for him, but only for so long.

I was so lost in thought I barely heard the final whistle. The two teams went around shaking hands and I made my way down to the tunnel, trying to muster up a smile. I was after all, still pulling off a great surprise.

***

Sergio’s POV:

I played probably one of the worst matches of my career that night. I couldn’t focus on anything, my passes were erratic and my defense was sloppy and all my teammates noticed. The way Iris was so calm about saying those words to me was unsettling. How could she just say it so easily like it was a passing thought? It was a huge deal to love someone in that way. It wasn’t like how you say it to friends and family, saying I love you to your significant other is a whole other level of intimacy.

Hearing Iris say she loved me worried me, because now I was second guessing whether or not I could handle that kind of intimacy. I had never been in love, and the closest I’d ever gotten is with her.

As I walked off the pitch towards the tunnel I grew nervous about the phone call I was going to have to make when I got back to the hotel. She’d certainly be awake by then and demanding an explanation from me. The hard part about that was that I didn’t have one.

I was scared of my feelings, and of losing her.

I had my head down as I entered the tunnel before I heard a voice, “Hey stranger.” It couldn’t be, no way.

“Iris.” I croaked, hardly recognizing my own voice. My feet were stuck to the ground, like they were covered in cement. It took me a moment to realize she was actually here.

“Fuck oh my god you’re here.” I exclaimed, running over to her and wrapping my arms around her. “I can’t believe you’re here.” I whispered, spinning her around as my face was buried in her neck. All my fears melted away at the feeling of her in my arms.

“Hi baby.” She said her arms around my neck. “You’re all sweaty.” She giggled as I set her down. She brushed some hair out of my face before going on her toes and pecking my lips.

“Wait, wait, wait, that’s all I get after almost three weeks apart?” I teased, pulling her back in for a deeper, longer kiss. “I missed you so much.” I said, hugging her to me again. I knew she loved me because she let hug her even though I was sweaty and gross from the match.

“I missed you too.” She replied with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” I asked her, taking her hands in mine, happy to touch her again.

“I wanted to surprise you, I missed you too much.” Iris explained.

“But how did you get into the tunnel? Who gave you credentials?” I looked down at her badge confused. She held up her badge and it read ‘guest of Iker Casillas,’ I should’ve known.

“Just took a phone call to him two days ago.” She smiled, letting the badge hang around her neck. He knew this whole time, he was sneakier than I thought.

“He’s always up to something, I swear.” I laughed and giggled a little, dropping my hands.

“Can we, can we talk?” She nervously asked. My heart dropped and I felt like I had rocks in my stomach.

“Uh, uh yeah, yeah sure. Just, uh, I have a schedule to keep with the team, where are you staying?” I asked, feeling hot and nervous.

“Your hotel. I booked a room.” She answered.

“Can I meet you there? Shouldn’t be more than an hour.” I explained. I felt bad, but here in a stadium tunnel, was not the place to have this conversation.

“Yeah sure, just text me when you’re back.” Iris nodded.

“Okay babe, I’ll see you in a bit.” I replied and gave her a quick kiss before walking to the locker room.

***

Iris’s POV:

I gave him the chance to say it there, and he didn’t, which made me even more nervous for this talk. I anxiously paced around my hotel room, he would be here any moment.

“Back, just have to drop my bag off at my room.” He texted me. My heart raced, and so did my mind. I quickly texted him my room number and waited.

In what seemed like seconds there was a knock at the door, he was here. I gulped and headed to the door, my sweaty hand turning the knob.

“Hey babe.” Sergio smiled, kissing my cheek as he walked in. I gave him a quick reply and watched him go to sit on the edge of my bed. There was an awkward silence before I worked up the courage to say what I needed to.

“We need to talk about what I said today, or actually, what you didn’t say.” I said calmly, looking at him in the eye.

“Well, it did catch me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it in a phone call when I was heading into a match.” Sergio replied.

“I said it because I meant it and I wanted you to know.” I responded, he wasn’t really looking at me and I wasn’t sure why.

“Really? Because that’s not what it felt like. You said it like it was an afterthought.” Sergio boldly stated, seeming much more interested in the conversation now. I was stunned by his words.

“Are you kidding me? Why would you ever think I would just say that as an afterthought like I didn’t mean it?” My voice was getting louder and I could feel the anger in me rising.

“Because you just randomly call me and say it, no ceremony, no build up, just ‘oh hey babe good luck and I love you,’ like who does that? It’s such a huge thing in a relationship and you said it like it was nothing.” Sergio explained and I could see the frustration in his face.

“Love doesn’t always need to be dramatic, Sergio. I felt it so I said it, why is that such a hard concept for you to understand?” I was yelling now. Who did he think he was right now? What did he want from me here? I was honest with him about my feelings, what was the issue?

“You said it over the phone, from what I thought was five thousand miles away, when you knew I could only speak for a few minutes, how much more impersonal could you get?” He angrily replied, his voice raised slightly.

“I already told you, I said it because I felt it! Why would I wait for the right moment, like it’s a huge, momentous thing?” I spat back, my brow furrowed. “Why is it so hard for you to just say it back, not everything has to be so over the top. You’re being dramatic over nothing.”

“Because to me it is, Iris! Loving someone is a big deal! When you love someone the way I love you, it’s a huge fucking deal okay?” He yelled back and we both fell silent. His eyes were glued to the floor now. He said it, but I knew it wasn’t the way he wanted it to come out.

He took a deep breath and looked back up at me, standing and walking over to where I was. He gently took my hands in his, his thumb rubbing over my right hand. “I’ve never felt this way about someone, but I know that I love you.” Sergio said, looking directly into my eyes so he knew I meant it. I was still silent, letting him finish saying what he needed to.

“I’ve never said that to anyone but you, and I wanted it to be a big dramatic thing because it’s important to me.” He explained. “When you love someone you’re all in, their your person and your theirs. It’s a commitment to be there for someone when no one else is and it scares me that I can feel this much for someone else and make myself this vulnerable.” Sergio went on, and I could feel tears sting my eyes. “I’m so scared, but I’m trying for you, for us, because the fear I have of losing you far outweighs the fear of falling in love with you.”

“I’ve had it all planned, ever since I left for preseason you know?” He mentioned and I looked at him puzzled.

“Had what planned?” I sniffed and wiped a tear.

“We were going to go out for a nice dinner when I came back, enjoy a stroll in the city and I was going to tell you there. I’ve loved you for a long time now, and I was just so fixated on finding the perfect way to say it and now I feel like I’ve messed it up.” Sergio’s head dropped as he finished explaining. Tears welled up more as his words sank in. I felt stupid for having ever doubted his feelings up until this point. This man loved me more than I knew.

I released his hands and grabbed his cheeks, pulling him to look up at me again, “Look at me, you did not mess it up. There is no wrong way to say I love you unless you don’t mean it.” I calmly said, stroking his cheek with my thumb as a tear fell from mine.

“I love you, Iris.” Sergio said softly, in almost a whisper. His lip quivered slightly and I knew he meant what he said 100%.

“I love you too.” My wobbly voice responded before I pulled him into the tightest hug. The tension melted away as we embraced. We were in love and we both knew it.

I couldn’t believe how vulnerable Sergio allowed himself to be, even I had a difficult time opening up at times. He was so open and transparent and I loved that, I loved him.

Sergio pulled back from the hug first and smiled at me, “Now, how about we cuddle and watch a movie? I have netflix on my laptop, I can go grab it.” He offered and I laughed, wiping away the last few tears.

“That sounds lovely.” I replied and he nodded, kissing my forehead before disappearing to his room.

***

Sergio’s POV:

She loved me, like really truly loved me. And I loved her. I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I made my way down her floor to her room. “She loves me! Woo!” I practically yelled down the hall.

I walked back into Iris’s room to see her already settled in bed. I sat next to her, sliding into bed and turning on my Macbook.

“Are we actually gonna watch the movie?” She asked as I pulled up a movie. I think she already knew the answer to that question. I picked an Avengers movie and Iris cuddled into my chest.

We got about twenty minutes into the movie before we stopped paying attention, which was longer than I thought we were gonna last. I really tried to focus on the movie, but Iris kept kissing my neck and distracting me.

“Oh so now who’s not watching the movie?” I teased before pushing my Macbook off my lap and crawling on top of her. Her lips locked with mine and that was it. Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers were long forgotten.

“Your body’s better than Thor’s anyways.” Iris giggled and pulled my shirt off. Couldn’t argue with that statement.

“God I missed this.” I moaned against her lips. Just getting to touch and kiss her would have been enough but we needed to be with each other in the way only a boyfriend and girlfriend can.

“The phone just wasn’t the same.” Iris moaned in response as I started grinding against her.

“Fuck phone sex, it doesn’t even come close.” I replied, unbuttoning her pants as she slipped out of her shirt.

“I need to feel you Sergio, all of you.” Iris said in a sultry voice, her hand reaching for the waistband of my shorts.

Iris and I slipped out of the rest of our clothes and finished what we had started. It was rough and soft, fast and slow. We didn’t try anything new, we just wanted to be connected again.

We spent most of the night wrapped in each other’s embrace, the Avengers series long forgotten at the end of the bed. I was going to be exhausted at training tomorrow, but I needed this, we needed to be together again, intimately. We had some making up to do, especially since we had a fight when we could’ve been fucking.

Special thanks to @fitblrblog for your help with this chapter!

#sergio ramos #reputation #chapter 19 #fan fiction #football #iker casillas #real madrid #spain nt

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