#well you'll let me know if I succeeded

[deabruarenjarraitzaileaya-ha]

Eyeshield 21: 2024 Winter Gift Exchange

For @beansterpie

Sorry I'm late, hope you like it! This fic dips a bit into my headcanons (mostly our headcanons at this point lol) for the university years, with as many of your prompts as I was able to fit.

And thank you @eyeshields for organising this event once again! It's always so much fun ❤️❤️

“ENMA!”

“FIRES!”

“ENMA!”

“FIRES!”

The Enma university students and supporters waved their flame-shaped foam gloves as their kicker got ready for the point after touchdown. The score was 21-13, and the crowd was rippling with anticipation as number 99 pocketed his comb, ran up to the 10-yard-line and kicked the ball.

The stadium roared when it made a beautiful arc and passed directly through the middle of the posts. The counter changed to 21-14, and the Enma Fires were suddenly one touchdown away from tying with the Nihon Phoenixes. 

“Kotarou-kun’s kicks are as beautiful as always,” commented Anezaki Mamori, assistant manager of the Saikyoudai Wizards, making a cursory annotation on her notebook.  

“Fuu, like an electrifying riff from Tom Morello’s guitar.” While she considered herself passably good at musical theory, she could never keep up with Akaba’s more specific music tastes, so she could only nod and smile. 

The Wizards had a whole team of workers and volunteers that took care of the data recollection and analysis of other teams—unlike the Deimon Devil Bats, who were only an official team because of Kurita’s fiery determination and Hiruma’s efficiently frightening methods, and as such had barely enough people to play a match, let alone to gather data and take care of other administrative tasks. 

Right then, Obara-san was attending to an overly complicated camera Mamori had no hope to ever understand, while Masao-kun recorded the match from a closer angle and Izaya-san wrote down the times of the plays. Mamori didn’t need to be here—none of them did, really— but it was the Enma Fires. Friendly rivalries required both cheering the team on and taking note of their strategies to overanalyse them before the next match. 

Ikkyu leaned back on his seat, a slight quirk to his lips. “It’s almost half-time; if Unsui-san can keep this rhythm until then, the flow of the match should stay in their favour.”

“Kekeke, the Phoenixes are good but way too straightforward, they won’t be any match for that scheming fucking monk,” Hiruma agreed from the seat next to hers, unwrapping a new gum stick.

“Tch, they are lucky the Phoenixes are nothing special. Fires’ defense is shit and their offense is missing key players, they’ll lose against a better team,” said Agon, who was seated on Hiruma’s other side and nonchalantly munched on an energy bar he had grabbed from the blond’s bag.

(He had arrived 15 minutes late, complaining about the early hour—even though their usual morning practice started significantly earlier and he had not missed a single one lately. Even the upperclassmen had tensed up when he just plopped down and kicked his feet up into another seat, but Hiruma had only cackled and called him a sweet little brother that came when called.

“Aaaah!? Like I’d come just because you said so, trash. Are you delusional?”

Personally, Mamori thought Hiruma needling him was 80% of the reason why Agon did anything these days, but felt it would be impolite to point it out aloud.

“Besides Unsui, Hiruma is the only one who is able to steer Agon through his wildest moods,” Banba had told her the time they had brought the data of their last match for analysis to the cute new patisserie next to their campus, the one that boasted the best French chocolate-dipped cream puffs in Tokyo. “As long as it works, they can keep at it.”

That seemed to be more or less the consensus everyone on the team—and in university as a whole, it seemed— had arrived to. Not that anyone would admit to it; Agon was still terrifying.)

Yamabushi rubbed his hairy chin in thought. “Phoenixes’ line is no match for Kurita. Right now, not even the upperclassmen can beat him in a one on one, the only one in Japan who can challenge him is Gaou.”

“That fat trash can plough through the centre to open a path and Unsui can think up all the strategies he wants, but the only half decent runningback is number 15 and all receivers are trash. Their only trump card is that kick freak.”

“Don’t underestimate the effectiveness of kick plays,” Akaba said, just as Enma stole the ball and started their offense yet again. “They have no counter for Kotarou’s kicks, and his success rate is 99% in good weather; with Kurita and Unsui it won’t be difficult to secure a down, and from there they have three points guaranteed.”

And just like their kick expert predicted, the Fires managed to score two field kicks before halftime and were just one point away from tying the match. The next 20 minutes were spent comparing notes and predictions, asking Obara-san to watch a few of the recordings, and trying to ignore the two devils insulting each other almost gleefully. Even the older adults have given up on getting them to sit properly and without profanity.)

The second half started with both teams giving their all. While taking notes, Mamori felt her phone vibrate and she pulled it out to read the text. “Banba has just finished his history exam and won’t make it before the end of the match. He’ll meet us at the train station.”

The announcement was met with nods and words of acknowledgement, except—

“Banba, huh?” Hiruma repeated, rolling his head to glance at her from the corner of his eye.

(She wasn’t sure what he was even implying with that tone. There was nothing to imply, other than a polite, reliable friendship born during these past months while trying to wrangle a team of eccentric geniuses and an overly stubborn coach, but long dealings with Hiruma Youichi had made her realise that he often just said things to get a reaction—people apparently gave away a lot of information inadvertently when mad and discomfited— and she refused to play the game his way.)

She smacked his shoulder with her notebook. “Stop putting your feet up on the seats, Hiruma-kun.”

His grin was razor sharp as he turned his attention back to the game. Underneath his usual devilish bravado, she noticed the dark skin under his eyes and the slight slump to his usually lounging posture. She wouldn’t deny worrying about him—he was exasperating, but Mamori liked to think they were friends of a sort, after all this time—and the year had been hard on everyone, but especially him.

She had seen him in various states of exhaustion and hurt before, (during the death march, after those “secret” training sessions he did after everyone went home, when Gaou broke his arm in the match against Hakushuu Dinosaurs…) but the training regimen he had gone through that year was nothing short of brutal. She had wanted to stop him, remind him that no matter what he liked to pretend he was still human, but she also understood: out of everyone on the team—even herself—he was the one who had had to earn his position the most; and it was only now, in the autumn season, when he had convinced the coach to make him an starter player. The assistant trainer, Hirayama-san , had helped by designing his diet and training, and even by keeping tempers cool when Hiruma and the coach inevitably butted heads. The players that had gone with him to the Youth Club had supported him, of course—and Mamori was pretty sure Hiruma had spent time training with Agon one on one to hone his skills even more—but in the end it had been all his merit, to get better and stronger and faster, enough that even an old coach set in his ways couldn’t find fault with making him the starter quarterback.

As she had done during their time in Deimon, she would support him from the bench while he thrived in his natural habitat: confounding the rival team on the football pitch. 

“The Phoenix players are standing closer than before,” she noted, comparing her annotations on their positions in previous plays with where they were standing at the moment. “They are going to try and stop Kotarou-kun from kicking.”

“Well, that just leaves an opening for countless trick plays, and that fucking monk won’t waste such an opportunity.”

What followed were many minutes of frantic scrambling and last minute saves on the Phoenixes’ part, while the Fires slowly but steadily gained ground. The stadium cheered both teams, with Enma students chanting their call and response song—some said “Enma” while others answered with “Fires”, but Mamori wasn’t sure how it was decided who said what. Had they practiced beforehand? Such a dedicated fanbase!

They were nearing the end of the match. The Fires’ captain being a man of few words, it apparently fell on the quarterback to say a few words to the team just before their last play. “Our passion for football is unmatched,” they heard Unsui say, face serious and set with determination. “A fire that rages hotter than any inferno. Like fire, it will burn any opponent to the ground. Like fire, it will light a path to the Rice Bowl. BURN WITH PASSION, ENMA FIRES!”

“Ugh, that was corny as shit, Unko-chan,“ Agon muttered, at a volume that suggested he’d never had to keep an opinion to himself.

Corny or not, the speech did its job; the team was properly fired up—Mamori giggled to herself at the pun—and ready to give their all and more. With two minutes left on the clock, anything could happen, but they would need to be at their best to win.

And win they did. Mamori took furious notes as Kotarou faked an onside kick, while Unsui used the previously unnoticed number 59 for a faint that looked vaguely inspired by the dragonfly and scored the final touchdown himself.

Hiruma’s cackle was heard loud and clear even with the whole stadium coming to life with a roar of celebration, and the Fires’ own shouts of joy and shocked amazement.

Among the Wizards, the feeling of satisfaction was palpable. Yamabushi even excused himself and climbed down the stairs to congratulate the Fires personally. Mamori watched him go fondly, tempted to follow, but decided to wait. The players were already celebrating by hugging and dancing and laughing.

“Their next match is against Ojou; it won’t be easy to overcome that perfect defense.”

“Not perfect.” Hiruma pointed a finger towards Ikkyu, grin razor-edged. “No team is perfect.”

“Fuu, you have a few ideas already, Hiruma?” 

“At the clubroom, fucking red-eyes.”

“Hey, what the fuck is that fat trash doing to Unko-chan?”

Mamori turned to the celebration and saw Kurita spinning around in joy while cradling Unsui to his chest. She would have thought nothing of it, if it weren’t for Hiruma’s answering cackle. And Kurita was a very effusive and tactile person but… mmh. 

“Aah!? The fuck you laughing about? Spill!”

“Kekeke, are you really so flummoxed by healthy camaraderie between football players? That’s so tragic, fucking dreads.”

“Are you pouting!? Don’t make that shitty face at me, trash, what the fuck. Stop laughing, trash!”

It was probably just Hiruma trying to get a rise out of Agon… but if it wasn’t, she’d probably hear about it the next time she met up with Kurita to sample Kariya’s cream puffs.

🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️🏈❄️

“Oi, trash, seriously, what the fuck was that about?” he asked yet again when they were climbing the stairs to Hiruma’s apartment. He didn’t want to think it over, that fat trash and his twin brother, but he couldn’t let it go. “You know something, don’t you? Tell me!”

A grin full of shark teeth was his only answer as Hiruma jiggled his keys and opened the door, and he grumbled as he followed the blond trash inside.

(Not like a dog. Not at all like that smelly mutt that followed Hiruma around all the time begging for scraps. No, stop that.)

He could see that the skinny trash was getting comfortable, pulling out his laptop and phone, probably planning to update his information network or player roster, and he wasn’t having it.

Faster than Hiruma could ever hope to move, Agon grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and pushed him against the wall. “Stop fucking around,” he growled.

Hiruma didn’t look particularly bothered, the crazy bastard, and popped a bubble of gum in the narrow space between them. “Well, this brings back memories,” he snickered, tilting his head to the side. Agon remembered that night when they first met back in middle school, both blond and several centimetres shorter, in this exact position. “Are you sure you want to know, fucking dreads?”

“Tell me what you know.”

“And then what? What will you do if I tell you they are good friends? If I tell you they are fucking? If I say they loathe each other's fucking guts but put on that little display just to fuck with your head? What then?”

Agon glared, fist opening and closing by his hip. Hiruma kept his toothy grin, tapping Agon’s wrist twice. “Think it over and ask your brother, dreads. Now, you wanna finish the Superbowl match we were watching yesterday? I have it paused.”

Clicking his tongue, he let the blond trash go and followed him to the tiny sofa. Arranging themselves into something resembling a comfortable position, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, they continue watching the only football players that could probably keep up with him plough each other to the ground. 

The next day he would text his brother. For the moment, Agon let his ankle brush Hiruma’s and pointed out what a better job he would have done at catching that number 46’s shitty pass.

[xinganhao]

🍨 svt spoiling their partner.

★ prompt: how ot13 spoils their partner? 🥹🥹🥹 i am just a girl give me treats c/o @shinwonderful

ⓘ established relationship, pet names, fluff. headcanons under the cut. special thanks to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping! ♡

🍨 read more?

seungcheol 𖹭 planning dates. he will refuse to let you lift a finger for your day out. everything will be meticulously laid out, finetuned to be something that you'll enjoy. his goal is to lessen the mental load of decision-making and planning; he wants you to be able to focus solely on enjoying the surprise, and he'll break his back to make sure that happens.

jeonghan 𖹭 'parallel play'. even if the two of you might not be interested in the same things, that's okay. he's happiest to spend quality time with you at home, where the two of you are free to do your own thing within eachother's presence. just being in your vicinity already makes him content, and so he plans everything around the two of you getting to explore and share your respective hobbies.

shua 𖹭 acts of service. need help with your taxes? need someone to fill up your tank? he's already on it. he'll say that these are all 'little things', call it the bare minimum, when it's apparent that he makes it a conscious effort to make your day-to-day easier. his brand of spoiling you comes in the form of quietly doing things that will improve your quality of life.

junhui 𖹭 buying clothes you'll like. he can't help it, really. when he sees an article of clothing that he thinks suits your style? when he finds a local brand that shares your advoacy? he's already pulling out his wallet. he likes the idea of dressing you up. nothing makes him happier than knowing you're wearing an outfit that he entirely picked out for you.

soonyoung 𖹭 daily reasons why he loves you. people always joke that he has a bit of a motormouth, so why shouldn't he use it on talking about you, you, you? he's big on words of affirmation, on making sure you never doubt how he feels for you. he'll point out the little and big things that make him adore you, and it's never the same reason twice.

wonwoo 𖹭 indulging your interests. he may not always understand these trends— blind boxes, must-have fashion pieces, et cetera— but he'll never make you feel bad about it. if there's anything that you want, he's already doing everything within his power to get it. his greatest joy is seeing your face light up once he's gotten you your 'priority' item; it's why he keeps doing it in the first place.

jihoon 𖹭 trying new things for you. there's a long list of things that jihoon never thought he'd do, but then he started dating you. time and time again, he willingly goes out of his comfort zone to accompany you on the little adventures and experiences that you ask to go on. he does these things scared, does them anxious, does them begrudgingly,— does them all for you.

seokmin 𖹭 meals he thinks you'll like. he's the type to have dozens of tabs open for homemade recipes dot com. he knows he's an amateur at this, but he's undeterred in trying. whether it's a trending pastry on tiktok or the comfort meal that your mother makes you, he's determined to learn it so you're always eating well.

mingyu 𖹭 getting-to-know card games. he gives as good as he takes, which means mingyu's way is to listen and remember. a night where the two of you can just have deep conversations with no interruptions is his ideal evening. he will know he succeeded if the two of you end up talking until the sun rises, feeling like the hours haven't passed at all.

minghao 𖹭 postcards from tour stops. he loves art and he loves you. his postcards are pocket-sized reminders of those facts, always packaged with a few choice words that are sweet and sincere. his trinkets are very "i-got-you-this-because-it-reminded-me-of-you" in nature, and you know each one was purchased with you at the front of mind.

seungkwan 𖹭 getting you your favorites. he figures he should put his industry connections to use somehow. he's always amused by how happy you get over a rare photocard, signed album, or concert tickets, and so he keeps it up. buying dozens of albums, contacting other labels, bearing the arduous ticketing. your excitement at the end of it makes it all worth it.

vernon 𖹭 producing songs. he hadn't really pegged himself as the making-music-for-the-sake-of-it type until he met you. now, he revels in getting to send you a track that's for your ears only. all the lyrics just seems to flow naturally when it's you inspiring him, and so he sends you works-in-progress with reminders that you're the only intended audience.

chan 𖹭 at-home massages. he's all too familiar with the aches of an ailing body, so he knows exactly how and where to work on you. he always does what he calls 'the works'— a good bath, scented candles, essential oils. he lets you take your time, and he takes his time with you in helping you unwind.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[pumpkinbxtch]

Can you plzz do a percy smut where he only rubs the readers clit bc the reader is too scared to finger herself, but then she gets the courage to finger herself and charles shows her how to do it??

confidence

— percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings; recommended for +18, smut and nsfw things happening.

tags; fingering, language, the reader is inexperienced, angst if you squint, A little dom!percy but he's really sweet a/n; so yeah, it had to being percy the first smut request ever, thanks it's the first time so please forgive me if i failed, lol. I will improve, I swear

"You're doing so well..." he murmured a few inches from your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that made you press even closer to his chest.

The room was filled only with the dim light of the setting sun and the sweet sounds Percy coaxed from you as his fingers massaged your clit under your already soaked panties. The constant movement of his fingertips on that sweet spot had you lifting your hips, seeking more, but he kept you in check, placing his free hand on your tummy and planting wet kisses on your neck.

"Such an impatient girl," your boyfriend whispered playfully, and you felt his smile on your cheek as he gathered your juices. That brief moment near your entrance made your pussy clench painfully around nothing, increasing your desperation. You squirmed on his lap, eliciting a growl from him due to the hard bulge pressing against your lower back. Yet, what you desired didn't happen.

"Uh, Percy... please."

The dark-haired man clicked his tongue repeatedly in disapproval and deliberately slowed his movements. Your whines became audible as you lifted your hips again, trying to find relief on your own. Instead, your boyfriend pressed you back against him, making you whimper softly.

"I know, I know," he said apologetically while nibbling on your ear, his own hips grinding against you, trying to alleviate some of the growing pain. Percy loved hearing you, especially when you seemed so needy. "But this is the only way, sweetheart..."

And you knew it. You knew what game you were playing, but your sensation-clouded mind was working against—or maybe for—you. It was something you wanted, and he was helping you with it, as you'd never been able to touch yourself more than superficially.

Percy's fingers brushed toward your entrance, and he chastely dipped his fingertips in. A moan began to form in your throat, and your heartbeat quickened.

"Please," you mewled pathetically, and he kissed your cheek warmly. Taking your hand, which had been clutching the sheets, he placed it on your pussy.

"If you want it so badly, you'll have to do it yourself, princess."

Those were the words you had hoped deep down would never be said, but you were so worked up you didn't know if you could resist trying. In a second, with his hand still guiding you, your fingers replaced Percy's, which had moved to your top to play with your breasts.

"Need some help, sweetheart?" he asked while tightening his grip on your hips. You nodded slightly, your heart about to burst.

"Words."

"Yes," you breathed.

Not long after his hips encouraged you to do so, your fingers finally entered, and stars filled your vision. It was the first time you could feel yourself, becoming a mess of moans and babbles as your boyfriend continued to touch you elsewhere, making the tension in your stomach grow, threatening to explode.

"Oh, now you know, huh?" Percy whispered in your ear, breathless, his eyes fixed on the spectacle you provided. "You know why I go crazy every time I'm inside you, because you're so damn tight."

At his words, it was inevitable that your walls clenched again, this time around your fingers, and you let out a loud moan that almost made your boyfriend come just from watching you. You whimpered and pumped your fingers, knowing you wouldn't last long with the new sensation. When you finally closed your eyes tightly, your body tensing completely, Percy knew you had succeeded.

He helped you handle the overwhelming emotion, hugging you tightly and whispering sweet things in your ear.

"That's right, Angel," he said before giving you another kiss on the cheek, your weight now almost entirely on his chest. "You just had to have a little confidence."

[baby-yongbok]

My Forbidden

Hwang Hyunjin x afab!Reader

-`♡´- Genre - Smut - Forbidden Love -`♡´- Word Count - 4.4k

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him. 

-`♡´- Warnings - So like, it isn't step-cest. I mean it. it isn't, but I will say that to some people it could look like it. It isn't, I swear but I will leave this here because I can see how it could look that way, Oral (f&m rec.), thigh riding [that's all??] -`♡´- a/n - Okay look, I had to write to these picture because Hwang Hyunjin tried to kill me when he posted them. True story. Anyway, I wanted to write a more unusual forbidden love story and this is where my brain took me. I tried to keep it away from being step-cest and I think i succeeded? It's like a step before it. Anyway this is the first fic I've written since having writers block so, enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

The art of control is a medium that Hyunjin wasn’t familiar with until he met you. He’s always been ambitious in his desires and exercises the drive to aim and shoot towards whatever he wants no matter the consequences. When he saw you for the first time his scope was set and locked. He watched and studied you. He longed for you. 

It was only a matter of time before fate worked in his favor. He was a model looking for a photographer and you were a photographer looking for a subject. What a coincidence. 

Hyunjin wasted no time charming you. He pulled out all the stops and you were impressed to say the least. You just clicked. It felt like a perfect fit, and then things got complicated. 

He had fallen for you, face first in a rosy smoke that he couldn’t resist. He knew that you weren’t far behind so he thought it would be a good idea to have you meet his mother. You thought the same, asking your father to come to dinner with you and your lover. The night went well, too well. 

Your rising interest seemed to be contagious at the table that night. Hyunjin knew from the excessive batting of his mothers lashes that she was into your father and vice versa. You’d never seen him smile like that, ever. 

“Hyunjin.” His name dances across your lips with each muffled exhale against the palm of your hand. Your other hand works lazily to pry his head from the crook of your neck. The gentle smack of his lips against the supple skin echoes through the open space. “We can't, we can't..”

The structure of your protests crumbles when his kisses trail down and over your shoulder. The thin strap of your tank top is pulled down with a hooked finger and his lips fill the now empty space with wet kisses. “Why not?”

He knows the answer. He knows that this isn't a dynamic that would be smiled upon. It's complicated. 

“You know why.” Your hands roam his body slower than they should until they settle at the waistband of his jeans. You stick your thumbs into his belt loops, using them as leverage to push him back. “You'll be my brother soon.”

“I will never be your brother.” His stare is heavy, his lips kiss bitten and sloppy with his own spit. He looks unhinged, desperate. “I wanted you first. They weren't part of the plan.” 

You push him back towards the set in the middle of your apartment. He complies, eyeing you as he backtracks one step at a time. “They'd be pissed.”

You push him into the chair in the middle of the photo set and he slumps against it. His sweater rides up his stomach, exposing the toned muscle and you steal a glance before retreating. 

“We were talking before they ever were.” He argues, letting his head fall back to stare up at the ceiling of your living room. “I kissed you, remember? We went on a date. Several dates.”

You grab your camera, distracting yourself with the settings to avoid Hyunjin's argument. He's not wrong, the two of you were seeing each other months before your parents got together. The two of you even reminded them about your evolving relationship the day after they announced theirs. You asked that they respect your connection but you were only guilted into breaking it off. 

Hyunjin didn’t give up as easily as you did. He fought, he protested but when it all seemed to be overwhelming for you he stopped. He settled, only because you asked him to. Hyunjin paced the space of his living room that night. He was seething, fuming, crushed. He tried his best, whispering to himself to keep his cool, keep it together, be your friend. Just your friend.

But he couldn’t. Not when he’d give you more than any other friend ever could, ever would, ever should. 

“I remember. I also remember our parents asking us to call everything off so the family dynamic wouldn't be weird.” He scoffs, sitting straight to look at you. His eyes have a piercing shimmer to them, you point your camera and click. 

“You mean when they tried to gaslight us into thinking that we aren't actually into each other?” He smiles, it's wide and somehow condescending. It makes you hot. “They aren't going to last you know? They've been fighting more. My mom seems to be getting fed up.”

You click another picture. “This wouldn't be the first time.” You mumble, unfazed by the information.

“She took her ring off.” You freeze, lowering the camera to get a good look at Hyunjin. The grin on his lips says it all. “She hasn't worn it in a week.”

“My dad hasn't said anything.” 

“He doesn't want you to get any ideas.” Hyunjin is standing tall with a simple push forward, his sweater rides up, his jeans sitting low on his hips as he stalks forward. “He knows that if they broke up at noon you'd be in my bed by one.” 

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him. 

“We should wait until the break up is official.” 

His fingers dance along the skin of your exposed shoulder. He brushes your hair back, lingering over the spot that he knows drives you crazy. “We've waited long enough, don't you think?” His words manifest in a whisper and linger in your head as if they were your own. 

“Aren't you sick of waiting?” His other hand is on your waist, pulling your body against his own until you can't feel where you end and he begins. You've always just fit like that.

“You're here for photos.” You're breathless, eyes locked on his lips that are dangerously close to yours. It's tempting, intoxicating. His cologne lingers around you, dragging you down further into the forbidden bits of your desire. 

“Let's take some then.” His lips are on yours in an instant. It was the quickest slow motion you'd ever experienced. The gentlest storm you could ever be swept into. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him while his free hand reaches for your camera.

His lips take you in with a palpable yearning that Hyunjin has worked hard to tame. He tongue parts your lips with expert precision that makes this seem practiced. Your arms wrap around him, resting on his shoulders and fisting the flimsy fabric of his sweater. He licks into your mouth and you moan in time with the shutter of the lens. Hyunjin breaks the kiss, just barely pulling away to show you your debauched reflection on the screen. 

“We look good together don't we?” His lips just barely brush over yours. His breath fans over the tender flesh and you forget all that you were weary about. The complications evaporate with his touch just as they always have. 

“If we do this… If I give myself to you I don’t know that I can take myself back.” You whisper, eyes capturing him in a stare that could halt a bullet. “You’ll have to keep me if you take me.”

He pauses, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a promise, and in that moment, An intense longing flickers in his eyes, consuming him. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you go,” he replies, voice low and steady, a vow etched in every syllable.

Every part of him is drawn to you. Every night that you’ve been limited to the bounds of his imagination, every time that he’s had to contain his desire to sculpt you into something glorious beneath him. The sacrificed nights of sleep and months of sanity just to keep his control tight in his fist led him to this. To you. 

He dives into you like your waves would recede if he didn’t dip into you now. You spill into him, melting against his touch and letting your desire run rampant in the space around you. He clicks another photo, capturing the desperation leaking between your lips. You push against him, backing him towards the chair in the middle of the hommade set yet again. He sits when his calves hit the seat, breaking the kiss reluctantly to stare up at you with the honey he calls eyes.

“What if they don’t break up?” The concern in your tone is countered as you kneel before him, slotting yourself between his spread legs. He’s silent for a second, taking in the view that he’s dreamt of for months. The camera clicks. 

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't care." he says, his voice a low rumble. He reaches out, sinking his long fingers into the thick curl of your hair and coaxing you forward. You lean in and just barely brush your lips against his naked hip, before pulling away. "I’m not sacrificing us again."

His hand moves to cup your face, the pad of his thumb runs over the apple of your cheek in gentle admiration and you reach up, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “What’re you doing on your knees, baby?”

“I’ll show you.” You lean back into his hip, brushing your lips over the skin and exhaling a heavy puff of hot air before placing a gentle kiss. Hyunjin watches you with the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. A single strand of hair falls forwards to frame the shimmering brown admiring the lithe move of your lips against his skin.

Your hands roam the expanse of his denim clad thighs, your manicured nails dig into the fabric with a soft bite that makes the man above you hiss with a gentle flutter of his heavy lids. He slouches a bit more into the black framed chair, giving you better access to where he’s throbbing for you beneath the fabric. 

“You’re so pretty.” His voice fails him, the tension of the moment lays thick on his vocal cords and forces him into a rough whisper. A blush runs over the glow of your swarthy skin, it matches the rosy red that’s creeping up and over Hyunjin’s ears. He points the camera and clicks, another one follows when your eyes meet the lens and he groans at the preview on the screen.

“You, you’re the one who looks like…” Your eyes scan up his frame to take in the gray sweater pulled tight over his frame. The defined dips and curves of his arms are highlighted by the clinging fabric and his chest is teased through the deep V of the neck. And the buttons, the fucking buttons, they’re barely doing their job. “God, Hyunjin.”

His head falls back slightly, a muted groan escaping him. “Don’t do that.” His voice breaks at the final word. His eyes are shut tight. “Don’t say my name like that.” He sounds tortured, stuck between a dream and reality and it makes your heart skip. 

Your fingers work the button of his jeans and Hyunjin moves to watch. The brush of your fingers against the bareskin of his stomach makes him dizzy and the sound of his zipper separating to expose his black briefs to you only makes it worse. 

Your lips are on the dip of his V-line. Your tongue traces the flesh, one of your hands presses over his bulging length while the other works to lower his jeans. He lifts his hips, allowing you to get the fabric around the thick of his thighs for better access. His hand sinks back into your curls, his fingers scratch at your scalp delicately electing another moan of his name. His breath hitches at the sweet sound on your wet lips. 

“Take it out, please.” He mumbles, low lids fluttering softly at the sight before him. “Please, baby.”

That’s all that you needed to let it all go, the sediment of your reluctance was washed away in an instant and his bare cock was in your hand even quicker. He’s better than you dreamed of. 

“Oh my god.” You take him in with a moan. Arousal pools in your panties and your hands drag over his length on their own. The camera clicks. You lean forward, taking him in your mouth without warning and Hyunjin nearly drops the camera. 

“Shit, baby.” His mouth falls open, his brows furrowed and his fingers fist in your hair. This is insane. You sink the length of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. You drool around him, slurping and sucking while your eager cunt throbs between your sticky thighs. Your panties are doing a horrible job at containing your excitement. Your jeans are surely ruined but so are you. 

“Fuck, that mouth. Your mouth feels so good, so so fucking-” His own body betrays him, interupting his ramble with a groan and a small buck of his hips. His cock leaks against your tongue as you swirl the muscle around the head. Drool pools at the hilt of his length and runs over his balls. It’s messy. You take him deeper, gripping his hips and scratching over the rising red marks that you’ve sucked into the skin.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that.” Your own arousal starts to become unbearable. Each ragged breath and groan from Hyunjin sends shocks to your system and you need something. With your thighs squeezed tight you buck your hips to match the bob of your head over his cock. You match the rhythm, imagining the head of his cock bullying your swollen walls instead of your throat. You clench around nothing at the thought.

“Get up, c’mere.” He guides your mouth off of him with his hand in your hair, a string of spit connects you to his cock and he lifts the camera lazily to capture the debauchery. “Sit on my thigh” Hyunjin guides his jeans the rest of the way down, taking his underwear with the denim and kicking it off. 

You move to unbutton your jeans quickly, fumbling with the button in a clumsy pursuit that Hyunjin interrupts with his long digits. He hooks his pointer finger into the front of your jeans and pulls you closer into his waiting hands. They settle on your hips, moving up slowly to squeeze the fluff of your waist.

 “How are you this fucking fine?” His fingers pop the button of your jeans with ease, he peels the fabric down your curves at an eager pace that’s translated through the sloppy kisses planted along the hem of your messy panties. Your hands thread through his raven locks, combing his hair back out of his face. You watch him, he’s a vision in your blissed out haze. A dream personified. 

“Do you know how hard it’s been…” He mumbles against your skin, his dark eyes peer up to meet yours in a vulnerable soul gaze. “Do you understand how badly I’ve wanted to touch you...” His fingers trace a soft line up your leg and stop at the print of your pussy through your panties. He can see the dark spot on the gray fabric. He can see that you’ve felt the same. 

Hyunjin runs his pointer and middle finger over the soiled fabric of your panties and rubs a soft circle over your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat. You lean up on the ball of your foot and shift your weight from one leg to the other. Hyunjin continues, rubbing harsher circles and spreading the stain of your slick further as his lips and tongue work at the expense of your stomach.  

You strip yourself of your tank top to give him more access, leaving you in only your panties since you chose to forgo a bra this morning. You gasp a moan when he presses up against the swollen bud. It throbs against the contact and you squirm, whining at the harsh touch. 

“Please, don’t stop touching me.” You plead, pushing yourself further into his touch. “More, please.”

Hyunjin’s eyes shut with a furrow. Your words make his cock jump. He hooks the fingers that are teasing your clit into the hem of your panties to move the ruined fabric to the side. A string of arousal follows and he groans at the sight. “Baby, you’re soaking. You’re, you’re fucking…” He’s leaning in before he allows himself to finish his sentence and places a soft kiss against your exposed center.

You moan, the grip you have in his hair tightening as the simple kisses against your clit turn into desperate kitten licks. “Jin... Hyunjin, fuck.” He hums as he continues, the small licks quickly evolve into long drags of his tongue through your folds while one hand palms your ass and the other holds your waist.

He blindly reaches to the side where he’s discarded the camera, detaching from your core for just a second to grab it and hand it to you. You take it, clumsily putting your arm through the attached strap and situating the device in your hands. Hyunjin dives back in, his lips wrap around your clit and you point and click with a loud moan. 

“You’re gonna make me cum.” Hyunjin moans at the admission, this would be the first time he makes you cum. The first time he sees your beautiful body fall apart for him. “Oh, god, I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” Moans follow, tumbling forward with clumsy thrusts of your hips against his tongue and chin. You’ve never gotten to orgasm this fast. You’ve never fallen apart this easily for anyone but him.

His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it and you snap another picture before falling apart. You're gushing into his mouth with a choked sob. The camera falls from your hands and is saved by the strap around your arm. Your grip in Hyunjin’s hair is punishing as you ride his face through your high. He groans at the pain, pulling away from your core after a second and forcing you forward to sit on his thigh.   

He presses the muscle of his leg up against your core and the squelch of your drenched sex against his skin echoes between you. “Listen to you, angel. Fuck.” Hyunjin licks his lips but you catch them in a heated kiss before he can clean them completely. You taste yourself off of his lips and he melts into you, moaning at the force of your tongue against his. 

His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you over the naked skin of his thigh. “You feel so good in my hands.” He presses his forehead against yours, listening to each heavy inhale you take. “Your pussy is fucking - you’re dripping. God, I can still taste you.” 

“I need you, now. Can’t wait anymore.” You cup his face with one hand while your free one grips the backrest of the chair. You kiss him, it’s soft and slow. Your lips move against each other with a rhythm that only the two of you can access. His tongue pushes against yours, milking moans from your chest while you grind over him. “Wanna feel you, wanna be yours. Please make me yours.” 

“Baby.” He shivers, taking in the slick feel of your arousal dripping over his leg. Your hard nipples brush against the fabric of his cardigan and he suddenly wants it off. Now. “You can’t say shit like that to me. You can’t say that and expect me to not fucking fall apart.”

His breath fans over your lips with a heavy exhale. His swollen pink lips brush against yours with each word. “Don’t you dare hold back.” You tilt his head up, driving his hazy gaze towards your own. “Give me what they wouldn’t let you. Give me everything.” 

A rumble rips through him, something akin to a growl as he shifts you into his lap. Your words, they lit a new fire in him and he needs to feel you now before it goes out. He needs to make you his. “I’ll give it to you.” Hyunjin scoops you up, your core rests over his cock as he stands with you in his arms. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, squealing softly as lifts you. He silences you with a kiss, swallowing the sound while moving across the room to try and get you to the stairs. He wants to take you to your room. He wants to lay you on your bed and finally fuck you the way he’s dreamt of when he fucks his fist to your memory. But he can't make it. 

He only gets a couple steps across the open space of your living room before the aching of his cock betrays him. You barely even make it to the couch, he stops right in front of it, lowering you so that your back rests against the front of the sofa. 

Your hands roam and grab in a hungry attempt to feel his chest against yours. You fist the gray fabric and pull, popping the first two buttons of his cardigan. He groans, sliding his hands under your thighs and pulling your core to his. Your panties are in the way and he moves to change that instantly. He pulls at the fabric, ripping it at the seams and working it down the plush of your thighs. 

“Turn around.” Hyunjin is moving fast, helping you turn around to face the couch. Your knees dig into the fuzz of the carpet, your forearms rest against the couch cushions. You reach your hand back, taking his dribbling length in your hand and spreading his slick. 

“Do you - Do you have a condom?” He pants against your neck, trembling with the brush of your hand over his cock. “Cause I can’t… I won’t pull out.”

The thought of him stuffing you full of his cum has you keening, your pussy clenches and the answer to his question almost vanishes. “In the drawer of the table behind you.”

Hyunjin turns, reaching back to fish through the drawer. He finds what he’s looking for just as your phone starts to vibrate on the coffee table. Hyunjin sees the caller ID before you can turn around. His heart skips and falls to his stomach but he hides it. He moves quickly, kissing you in an attempt to distract you from the call until it goes to voicemail. “Focus on me, baby. Focus on feeling me.” 

He rolls on the condom and breaks the kiss to bend you over the cushions in front of you. You sit up on your knees and he sinks into you slowly, easily splitting you open. You moan in unison, Your eyes rolling back with gasp. “Holy shit, baby.” Hyunjin’s head falls forward, resting on your shoulder. 

“If I move I’m gonna cum. You’re too much, too good. Shit.” Your pussy clenches around him and he hisses, just barely grinding his hips into yours. “I’m gonna have to fuck you again.”

“Please, have to feel you again...” You turn your head to the side straining to see him. “Move, I wan’ it. Please, baby.”

“I got you.” He pulls back, setting into a steady pace. “Oh god, baby. I got you.”

You’re falling apart in an instant. Crumbling in his arms as he wraps them around you and sits you up so that your back is against his nearly bare chest. He whimpers in your ear, kissing the shell of it as you bounce in his lap. Sloppy squelches and skin slapping drown out your moans. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hip and thighs and yours reach back to claw at whatever you can reach. “Hyunjin.” One of his hands dips down to rub tight circles into your clit. His moans pitch higher with each passing second. The rumble of his desperate satisfaction clawing up his throat drags him closer to the edge. 

Your spit gets caught in your throat with a sharp gasp when he hits a spot deep inside you. He angles his hips a bit to hit it again and again and again until you're creaming around him. “Baby, baby, ‘m gonna - fuck - please.”

You’re trembling in his lap, shaking like a leaf in his hold. “Me too.” He pants, biting his tongue with his eyes shut tight. He wants you to cum first. He wants you to fall apart. He wants to watch.

“Right there, right there.” You’re chanting to him, singing and sighing praises mixed with his name. “Mine, mine, you’re -” It hits you, it’s blinding and hot and so fucking good. Hyunjin uses his free hand to tilt your head back against his shoulder. He watches your mouth drop open in a scream. He watches the small drop of drool run over your bottom lip. He watches you fall apart around him.

“Yours.” He finishes your sentence, his rhythm falters, his thrusts get more sloppy by the second. “I’m yours yes, yes I am baby. Fuck, oh god, look at you.” 

He holds you close while you ride out your high. You’re moaning louder now, still shaking in his arms at the overstimulation. Your pussy clenches and throbs around him and it drives him to his end. His arms wrap around you tighter, holding you firm against him as he stills behind you. He moans your name, repeating it like a prayer as he unravels. 

 His breath is hot against your neck, his cock twitches against your pulsing walls and a comfortable silence fills the space for a couple heartbeats until he whispers in your ear, “I love you.” You feel your heart flutter and you whisper back, "I love you."

You’ve both waited. Waited so long to say it. 

“No one is going to keep me from you. Not anymore.” Hyunjin pants, his grip around you loosening and his heart swells with something that goes beyond his longing. It’s a step above needing your presence. It’s deeper. Intangible. “I’ll talk to them. We’ll work this out.”

The vulnerability of the situation floods back in at his vow. A tear escapes you. Blurring your gaze all over again. “Okay.” You leave the conversation there and shift. He pulls his softening cock from your sensitive sex and starts cleaning you up. He finds your clothes and helps you dress before he pulls his jeans back on.

You find your phone as you wait for him to dress, checking to see who called. Your heart skips a beat. “Hyune.” He reads your tone, looking over to you as he zips his jeans. “Check your phone.”

He moves over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his phone and unlocking the device. His heart skips a beat. His eyes meet yours from across the room.  

“They broke up.”

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[bunny-norris]

TEENAGE DREAM, L. NORRIS.

Word count: idek but it’s long af (oops)

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids) i also can’t write smut too well so enjoy this monstrosity.

In which, his best friend was there all along, he just never realised it until it was almost too late. Best friends to lovers.

From the moment you were a little girl, motorsport was a big thing in your life. Your father and brother grew up being Formula One fans; it ran through your family. Your brother had decided he wanted to go karting, and ultimately you wanted to join him, wanting to compete against him.

It was on one of those early Saturday mornings at the local karting track, the air buzzing with excitement and the smell of petrol filling your lungs, that you first met Lando Norris. He was a scrawny kid with a mop of dark hair and a cheeky grin, looking just as eager to hit the track as you were. At first, you thought nothing of him, just another competitor in the line-up. But as the weeks turned into months, and the karting sessions became a regular part of your routine, you began to notice him more.

Lando was fast, really fast. But more than that, he was kind. In a world where everyone was trying to get ahead, he was the one who’d stick around to help you with your kart when it faltered, or share a laugh after a particularly tough race. Despite your fierce competitiveness and tough exterior, Lando seemed to see right through to the part of you that loved the sport not just for the thrill of victory, but for the pure joy of racing.

One rainy afternoon, after a particularly grueling session where you'd spun out twice and felt like giving up, it was Lando who came over and offered you his umbrella and a hug. "You'll get them next time, I believe in you, always." he said with that infectious grin, he wrapped his arms around you and whilst Lando was not the tallest boy you had ever seen, but he was much taller than you were, to the point that you hid your head in his neck as he hugged you.

"I'll never be as good as you Lan, you'll be a Formula One star one day I just know it." You told him, even though it was a tough day for you, you were happy for Lando, who had succeeded in winning the race.

"You're better than me, Y/N. And even if I do ever get into Formula One, i'll take you to every race, we'll always be together, always be best friends, I promise."

And just like that, from being just 11 years old, Lando kept his promise to you.

--

At just 18 years old, Lando Norris found himself catapulted into the world of Formula One as a driver for McLaren and you were with him every single step of the way. You were always his plus one to everything, every event he would beg you to go with him. Many people thought you were his sister, following him around everywhere, you were in every family photo, every red carpet photo.

But as you both grew older and Lando's career skyrocketed, your relationship began to shift. It was subtle at first, the way his touch lingered a bit longer, the way his smiles seemed warmer. Lando had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, his blue eyes locking onto yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. He would cling onto you like you were his anchor, hugging you from behind, holding your hand in crowded places, and giving you soft kisses on your temple that left you breathless.

It felt like he was treating you like his girlfriend, and for a while, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he saw you that way too. But then, there were the other girls. Lando was charming and handsome, and the attention he got from the opposite sex was impossible to ignore. He would bring home different girls, be seen with someone else on his arm, and every time it happened, it crushed your heart a little more. You tried to bury your feelings, to forget about the way he made you feel, but it was easier said than done.

Max, Lando's other best friend, was one of the few people who saw through your façade. He knew how you felt about Lando, and he never missed an opportunity to encourage you to go for it. "You should tell him," Max would say, his eyes serious. "You never know, he might feel the same way." But the thought of risking your friendship with Lando was too much. The fear of losing him completely if things went wrong kept you from saying anything.

So, you focused on your work, throwing yourself into your career and avoiding getting involved with boys. It was easier that way, not having to deal with the pain of seeing Lando with someone else. But deep down, there was always that glimmer of hope that one day, he would see you as more than just his best friend.

Your life revolved around him, and as much as you tried to deny it, your heart belonged to Lando. Every time he took the wheel and raced around the track, your heart raced with him. You were there for his triumphs and his defeats, always cheering him on from the sidelines. And through it all, he was your constant, the one person who made everything better just by being there.

You remember the nights spent talking until the early hours of the morning, sharing your hopes and dreams. Lando would often tell you how much he appreciated having you by his side, how he couldn't imagine doing any of it without you. Those words kept you going, even when it felt like your heart was breaking.

One evening, after a particularly grueling race, you found yourself alone with Lando in his hotel room. The exhaustion was evident on his face, but so was the relief of having you there. He pulled you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your head. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.

You wanted to tell him right then and there how you felt, how much he meant to you, but the fear held you back. Instead, you held onto him a little tighter, savoring the moment and the warmth of his embrace. It was moments like these that made it all worth it, the pain and the longing. As long as you had him in your life, even as just a friend, it was enough.

But Max's words lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of the possibility that things could be different. "You're always going to wonder 'what if' unless you say something," Max had said once, his voice gentle but firm. And he was right. The fear of losing Lando was strong, but the fear of never knowing if he could love you back was even stronger.

—

The 'what if' thought became true though, soon enough you still hadn’t worked up the courage to say anything to your friend. You carried on as normal and that normal turned into him getting a girlfriend. Sure, Lando had been out with girls before but nothing serious, it was never serious, until now.

She was beautiful, kind, and perfect for him. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Lando still acted like your best friend, still hugged you from behind, still gave you those soft kisses on your temple, but it wasn’t the same. You could feel the distance growing, a subtle shift in the way he interacted with you. He wasn’t as close to you anymore, and while you respected his boundaries, it saddened you deeply.

You tried to be happy for him, to support him in his new relationship, but the pain of seeing him with someone else was too much to bear. So, you started to distance yourself. You didn’t go to his races as much anymore, making excuses about work and other commitments. You told yourself it was for the best, that you needed to give him space to focus on his new relationship.

One night, after a race in which he made the podium, there was a knock on your door. Surprised, you opened it to find Lando standing there, still in his race suit, his face flushed with emotion.

“You weren't there, why weren't you there?” he demanded, his eyes searching yours for answers. “I wanted you there, I needed you there.”

Your heart ached at the frustration in his voice, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. "It's not a big deal, Lan. I've missed other races before, I'm sorry I wasn't there but i've been busy." You told him, but he didn't want to accept that.

"You haven't been the same recently, Y/N, have I done something wrong? Please baby, just stop avoiding me."

You know deep down that you weren't everything to Lando, yet he treated you like a princess and treated you that way all the time. You'd had enough of the heart-stopping leap that occurred each time he called you "baby," "darling," or "sweetheart." He was using sweet nicknames for you, ones he should be addressing his lover, not you. Even though he may consider you to be his best friend, the nicknames weren't meant for you; they were for the people he loved.

You turned to face him quickly, something in your mind snapping with hurt. "You can't call me that anymore, Lando, do you not understand that? You have a girlfriend now, we've always been close, but maybe it's sometimes too close for me, it gives people the wrong impression."

"But you're my best girl, Y/N, we've always been like this, I don't understand what the issue is. It doesn't change anything between us."

“It changes everything between us, don't you understand that? You have a girlfriend now, Lando. You don’t need me following you everywhere. I have my own life, and I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship with her.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “You can’t have it both ways,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t act like your girlfriend when I never will be. I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt to see you with someone else. I love you, Lando, and I understand that you’ll never love me back, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep breaking my own heart.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Lando’s face twisted with anger and hurt. “You love me?"

“What does it matter now, Lando? It never has done before, so it doesn't need to matter now."

Without another word, Lando stormed out, slamming the door behind him. You stood there, your heart shattered, believing that your friendship was over.

You watched him leave, the weight of unspoken words and broken dreams pressing down on your chest.

--

Weeks passed in a blur of heartache and regret. You buried yourself in work, trying to forget the look on Lando's face when he stormed out of your apartment. The silence between you two was deafening, a constant reminder of everything left unsaid.

One Friday night, Max invited you out. “It’s just going to be a few of us,” he said, his voice casual over the phone. “No Lando, I promise. Just me, my girlfriend, and some friends. Come on, you need a break.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. Max’s girlfriend, Pietra, was one of your closest friends, and you missed her company. Besides, a night out might be exactly what you needed to get your mind off things.

When you arrived at the club, the music was loud and the lights were dazzling. Max’s girlfriend greeted you with a warm hug, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax. You didn’t see Lando anywhere, and for that, you were grateful.

You joined your friends on the dance floor, letting the music and the rhythm wash over you. For a little while, you felt free, lost in the moment. A man approached you, charming and handsome, and you found yourself dancing with him. He was a bit too close, his hands lingering a bit too long, but you tried to enjoy the attention, anything to distract from the ache in your heart.

Meanwhile, across the club, Lando stood at the bar with Max. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when he finally spotted you, his heart clenched. Max noticed the shift in his friend’s demeanor and followed his gaze.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Max said, his voice cutting through the noise.

Lando tore his eyes away from you and glared at Max. “What are you talking about?”

“You love her,” Max stated bluntly. “You’ve been stringing her along for years, being best friends for years without telling her how you really feel, treating her like a princess but never actually telling her how much you want her. And now, you’re losing her.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, you do. I've been both of your friends since we were young, i've lived through every looking look, every pda sessions. And now look at her.” He nodded towards you, now laughing as the man you were dancing with moved even closer. “She’s trying to move on, and you’re just standing here like an idiot.”

"You're delusional," Lando says, rolling his eyes, sipping some of his drink. Max just huffs at him, "sure mate, really explains why you're just burning holes into the back of that blokes head that she's been getting quite close with tonight."

"He just shouldn't be touching her like that," Lando mumbles. "I think actually, if she consents, he can touch her how she and he wants him to. Looks like she'll be getting lucky tonight, at least one of us will." Max smirks, turning away from his friend, knowing his words will light a flame under Lando's arse.

And it does, before Lando even knows where his feet are taking him and stands just feet away from Y/N, and before he knows it, he's pushing the guy she's been dancing with all night. As he pushes the guy away he turns to Y/N cupping her face and pulling her lips onto his.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still for both Y/N and Lando. Y/N's mind went from dancing with a man she had met that night to now all she could think about the fact that Lando's lips were on hers in a way in which she never could've imagined.

Lando put his hands up in your hair and swiped his tongue across your lips, pleading for permission to enter, which you granted. You held onto his waist and drew him in closer, unable to let go of this moment. The fact that there were people around—both familiar and unfamiliar—did not concern you. You wanted all of him right now, so nothing else mattered. You never wanted this to end.

"My girl," Lando mumbled in between kissing you, going back to your lips, bruising them a little more with his mouth.

"Yours, always yours."

Lando let your lips breathe, learning his forehead against your own, his hands making their way up and down your back, getting close to below your waise almost towards your backside. "I love you, i'm sorry I stormed out, i'm sorry for everything. I've been in love with you since the moment you stepped onto that karting track, I never thought you'd ever want me so I never asked, and that was cowardly of me. But please believe me when I tell you that you truly are everything to me." He breathed, as you just stared at him, not quite sure what to say.

"What about your relationship?"

"The moment you told me you loved me, the moment I walked out your door, I ended it." Lando stared into your eyes, he chuckled slightly. "You think i'm going to stay with someone who I don't love when the girl i'm been dreaming about since I was a teenager told me she loves me. Do you know how many time I layed in bed thinking about you, about what I would do to you if I had the chance. I'm not letting that opportunity slip through my fingers."

Your eyebrow perked up at his revolation, wanting to know more. "You thought about me? In bed? Were you having some naughty thoughts, Mr Norris?" You joked, your hands going up to the back of his neck.

"All the damn time, I thought about your body every single moment, whenever you came to the races I would see you in those summer dresses, you have and always will be the most gorgeous person in the room. You have no idea what I want to do to you."

At Lando's words you felt a sensations rush right to your core, you had made him feel that way. Every touch he had ever given you, every kiss on the shoulder, on the head, every time he had wrapped his arms around your waist was now meaning something different.

"Then show me, you want me, I want all of you."

"Are you sure?" Lando asked, always the gentleman, wanting to know you were okay before anything else.

You felt brave, a new sense of confidence surrounding you. You weren't the most confident when it came to men, you never spoke your true feelings to them, you never spoke about your sexual desires with them. But now, something had lit a fire in you and you wanted nothing more than to have everything with Lando. "Positive."

You had both made a swift exit from the club and back to Lando's apartment, a place you knew so well, you had spent endless nights there, together as friends, cuddled up to one another. Some nights you would even join him on his stream, laughing with each other. But tonight was different, his apartment was no longer a hangout place.

The ride back to the apartment was full of sexual tension, and you felt it immensely. Whilst you felt surges of confidence, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Lando’s hand stayed on your thigh the whole time, making small shapes with his fingers, every so often getting higher and higher. Every time he would get to the point where you hoped he would finally touch you, he moved his fingers away from you.

You let out a whine, desperate for his touch. After all these years of pent up desire, you needed him to do something, anything. He rubbed your thigh, smirking at you. “Soon baby, just be patient, i’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Don’t wanna wait Lando, want you now.” You weren’t quite sure where what you were saying was coming from, but the way he spoke to you made you want more, you wanted more than what anyone else had ever given you during sex.

You pouted slightly as Lando just raised his brow, “carry on with that attitude and you won’t be getting anything.”

“I’ll just get myself off then, been doing it for years, i’ve gotten pretty good at it, you know.” Now it was your turn to smirk, though it seemed Lando didn’t find it too funny, his possessive side coming out even more.

He slapped your thigh slightly, making you gasp. “You’ll never do that to yourself again, the only person making you cum will be me, whether it’s my mouth, fingers or dick, only me you understand?”

“Only you.” You nodded, as he kissed you lightly, smirking knowingly to what his words did to you.

Arriving at his apartment, you both practically ran to his floor all the way to his door.

Opening the door, he pushed you up against the wall, slamming the door behind him, his hands cupped to your face, kissing you like it was your last night on earth.

His hands were everywhere, as were yours. His hands made their way to your breasts, spilling them out of the dress you were wearing, pinching your exposed nipples. Every piece of you he wanted to feel, and you wanted to feel all of him.

“Please Lando, want you inside me, please.” You moaned as he kissed down your neck, making sure to leave little marks in each spot he kissed.

“So needy,” he mumbled, but you just huffed again, trying desperately to get out of your dress. You felt hot, like your skin was on fire, wanting to feel your skin against his.

You pulled on his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head, finally being able to touch him after longing to for so long. You weren’t new to seeing Lando without a shirt, it was common when you both went on holiday or even in the gym, but this time it was different, you knew he was now yours and you were his.

Lando led you to the bed, pushing you on your back as he climbed on top of you, getting rid of the last of the clothing on you. “Dreamed of you for so long, dreamed of your pussy, how you’d feel, filling you up.”

His words spurred you on, you had never expected him to be like this, but god, this was better than you ever could’ve imagined.

He wasted no time in attaching his lips to you, something you had never really had the chance to experience. His tongue moved in ways you never knew were possibly, sucking on your clit, dipping his tongue inside your pussy. You felt like you could practically explode, coming close to your release.

Arching your back, gripping the sheets, Lando finally came up for air. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

Before you could even think, he flipped you over so he was on his back and you were on top of him. “Gonna fuck you so good, darling, gonna treat you so right.”

You felt practically drunk at this point, you lined up his cock with your core, sinking onto it slowly, feeling him fill you just right.

“Fucking shit,” Lando cursed, not being able to take his eyes off you, mouth slightly agape unable to find the words to say from the pleasure.

You started moving slightly as you got use to him inside you. Your breasts bounced as you moved, Lando’s eyes never leaving yours.

“Can’t believe I never did this sooner, so many years I could’ve had you all to myself, had you like this every night. Never fucking letting you go, gonna fuck you everyday, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Lando purred, encouraging you to go faster.

You nodded, barely being able to form the words to reply. “Yes, yes, please.”

“Good girl. My dream girl, so good for me.”

Lando’s pace quickened, making you both come close to climax. Both saying incoherent words of love and pleasure, Lando chanting over and over again about how good you felt and how he never wanted to let you go.

“Lan, i’m gonna..” You said, as his hand gripped your backside, you knew there would be marks there in the morning.

“Me too, baby. Come with me,” he said as you both looked in each others eyes.

Coming together, you fell against his chest, exhausted.

“I love you,” Lando said, pushing your hair out of your face, kissing the side of your head. Even after everything that had just happened, he still managed to treat you like the princess he always had done.

Your teenage dream had turned into something real.

do i know how to finish fics? no. Bon Appetite.

[derinwrites]

How can I make money writing fiction?

I'm gonna be straight with you. There is no guarantee that you'll make enough as an independent writer to make it worth your time. You very well might -- I make a liveable wage as an independent writer -- but many don't. Most writers I know also have a job. And luck plays a big part in it.

If you're interested in going forward in spite of this, you have two main options for monetisation open to you, and you are going to have to pick one. I call them the sales model and the sponsorship model, and you are going to have to pick one.

The sales model involves writing stories and selling them to readers. You can put books up on Amazon or Smashwords, sell them direct from your own website, enlist the help of a traditional publisher to handle that for you and let them decide where to sell, whatever -- the point is that your money is made from the sale of books to readers. If you go with a traditional publisher, you're using this model (though they will give you some of the money ahead of time in the form of an advance). Most indie authors also use this model, publishing through draft2digital, Ingram Spark, direct through Amazon, whatever. I've never relied on the sales model and can't give you any advice on how to do this, but Tumblr is full of indie authors who probably can.

The sponsorship model involves soliciting small amounts of money from various readers over time. This is ideal for web serials, and it's what I use. I use Patreon, which is designed specifically for this purpose, but you can use other sites such as ko-fi. This model involves providing regular content for free, with bonuses for those who support you.

"Can't I do both? Sell books and have a Patreon?" You absolutely can! I know several indie authors with a Patreon. I sell my completed books as ebooks and will eventually sell them as paperbacks. But your time and attention is limited, and so is your audience's, and you're going to have to half-arse one of these in order to have enough arse to whole-arse the other. You're going to make a lo of decisions that benefit either the sponsorship model or the sales model, not both. So pick your primary income source early and commit.

I can only advise on writing web serials and using the sponsorship model, so I'll go ahead with that assumption. If you want to make a liveable wage doing this, not only will you need luck, you'll also need patience. This is not a fast way to build a career. at the end of my first year of doing this, I had one single patron, and they were a real-life friend of mine. When I reached an income of $100/month, I threw a little party for myself, I was so happy. It had taken such a long time and was so much work. I reached enough to cover rent/mortgage after I'd been doing this for more than four years. It's a long term sort of career.

Here are some general tips for succeeding in this industry, given by me, someone with no formal training in any of this who only vaguely knows what they're talking about:

Have a consistent update schedule and STICK TO IT

The #1 indicator for stable success in this industry (aside from luck, which we're discounting because you can't do much about that) is having a consistent update schedule. Your readers need to know when the next chapter is coming out, and it should be coming out regularly. Ideally, you should have no breaks or hiatuses -- if you're in a bus crash or something, that might be unavoidable, and your readers will understand if you tell them, but if you're stopping and starting a lot for trivial reasons, they WILL abandon you. You can't get away with that shit if you're not Andrew Hussie, and I'm pretty sure Andrew Hussie doesn't message me for career advice on Tumblr. If you find you need a lot of hiatuses to write fast enough then you're updating too often; change your schedule. A regular schedule is more important than a fast one (ideally it should be both, but if you have to pick between the two, pick regular).

2. Pay attention to your readership, listen to what they want from you

Your income is based on a pretty complicated support structure when you're using the sponsorship model. this model relies on people finding your story, liking your story, and continuing to find it valuable enough to keep paying you month after month. This means that your rewards for your sponsors should be things that they value and will continue to pay for ('knowing I'm supporting an artist whose work I enjoy' counts as a thing that they value, to my great surprise; there's a lot of people giving me money just for the sake of giving me money, so I can pay my mortgage and keep writing for them without needing a second job), but it also means supporting the entire network that attracts readers and keeps them having the best time they can with your story -- being part of a rewarding community. Because this is advice on making money, I'm going to roughly divide your readership into groups based on how they affect your bottom line:

sponsors. People giving you money directly. The importance of keeping this group happy should be obvious.

administration and community helpers -- discord moderators, IT people, guys who set up fan wikis, whoever's handling your mailing list if you have a mailing list. You can do this stuff yourself, or you can hire someone to do it, but if you're incredibly lucky and people enjoy being a part of your reader community, people will sometimes volunteer to do the work for free. If you are lucky enough to get such people, respect them. They are doing you a massive favour, and they're not doing it for you, but to maintain a place that they value, and you have to respect both of those things. My discord has just shy of 1,300 members and is moderated by volunteers. I'd peel my own face off if I had to moderate a community that large. If you've got people stepping up to do work for you, you need to respect them and you need to make sure that they continue to find that rewarding by doing what you can to make sure that the community they're maintaining is rewarding. Sometimes this means taking actions and sometimes this means staying the fuck out of the way. Depending on the circumstances.

fan artists. Once you have people drawing your characters, writing fanfic of your stories, whatever, treat these like fucking gold. Give them a space to do this, and more importantly, give them a space to do this without you in it. Fanworks are a symptom of engagement with your work, which is massively important. They are also a component of a healthy community, an avenue for readers to talk to each other and express themselves creatively to each other. Third, fanworks act as a bridge for new readers. When readers share their art on, say, Tumblr, it can intrigue new people and get them into the story. Your job in all of this is to give them the space to work, encourage them as required or invited (I reblog most TTOU fanart that I'm tagged in on Tumblr, for instance), and other than that, stay the fuck out of their way. These people are vital to the liveblood of your community, the continued engagement of your audience, and the interest of your sponsors. Some of the fan artists will be sponsors themselves; some won't be. Those who aren't sponsors are still massively valuable for their art.

speculators, conversers, theorists, livebloggers, and That Guy Who's Just Really Jazzed For The Next Chapter. Some people don't make art but just like to chat about your story. These people are a bedrock of the community that's supporting your sponsors and increasing your readership, and therefore are critical to your income stream. Give them a place to talk. Be nice to them when they talk to you. Sometimes, they'll ask you questions about the story, which you can choose to answer or not, however you feel is appropriate. They'll also want to chat about non-story-related stuff with each other, so make sure they have a place to do that, too.

that guy who never talks to you or comments on anything but linked your story to ten guys in his office who all read it now. Some of your supporters are completely invisible to you. You can't do anything for these people except continue to release the story and have a forum they can silently lurk on if they want to. But, y'know, they exist.

If you want to focus on income then these are, roughly, the groups of people that you will need to listen to and accommodate for. You can generally just make sure they have space to do their thing, and if they want anything else, they'll tell you (yes, guys, paperbacks will be coming eventually). Many people will fit into multiple groups -- I have some sponsors that are in every single one of these groups except the last. Some will only be in one group. A healthy income rests on a healthy community which rests on accommodating these needs.

3. If you can manage it, try to make your story good.

It's also helpful for your story to be good. Economically, this is far less important than you'd think -- there are some people out there writing utter garbage and making a living doing it. Garbage by what standards? By whatever your standards are. Just think of the absolute laziest, emptiest, hackiest waste-of-bandwidth story you can imagine -- some guy is half-arsing that exact story and making three times what you'll ever make on Patreon doing it. And honestly? Good for him. If he's making that much then his readers are enjoying it, and that's what matters. Still, one critical component of making money as a writer is writing something that people actually want to read. And you can't trick them with web serials, because they don't pay in advance -- if they're bored, they'll just stop. So you have to make it worth their time, money and attention, and the simplest way to do that is to write a good story.

This hardly seems mentioning, since you were presumably planning to do that anyway. It's basic respect for your audience to give them something worth their time. Besides, if we're not interested in improving our craft and striving for our best, what are we even writing for? I'm sure I don't need to tell you to try to write a good story. The reason I list this is in fact the opposite -- don't let "I'm not a good enough writer" paralyse you. The world is full of someday-writers who endlessly fuss over and revise a single story because it's not good enough, it's not perfect, they're not Terry Pratchett yet. Neither was Terry Pratchett when his first books were published. If you're waiting to be good enough, you won't start. I didn't think Curse Words was good enough when I started releasing it -- I still don't. I started putting it out because I knew it was the only way I'd get myself to actually finish something. I don't think it's all that great, but you know what? An awful lot of people read it and really enjoyed it. And if I hadn't released it, I'd have been doing those people a disservice.

Also, it taught me a lot, and based on what I learned, Time to Orbit: Unknown is much better. If I'd never released Curse Words, if I hadn't seen how people read it and reacted to it and seen what worked and what didn't, then Time to Orbit: Unknown wouldn't be very good. And it certainly wouldn't be making me a living wage, because it was the years writing Curse Words that started building the momentum I have today.

And Time to Orbit: Unknown as it is today has some serious problems. Problems that I'm learning from. And the next book will be a lot better.

So that's basically my advice for making money in this industry. Be patient, be lucky, be consistent. Value your community; it's your lifeline, even the parts of it that don't directly pay you. And try to make your story as good as you can, but make that an activity you do, not a barrier to prevent you from starting.

Good luck.

[astraystayyh]

Conversations with Minho

or what i imagine dating Minho would be like (very fluffy and soft). I'm thinking of making this a series for all the boys, let me know if you'd like that!! :)

warnings: some curse words, brief talk about kids and being a parent.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback <33

"Are those flowers for me?", you squeal when Minho enters the living room, a huge bouquet of baby's breath in his hands. 

"No, they are for the neighbor next door", he smirks and you swat his arm playfully, before grabbing the dainty white flowers from him. 

"What's the occasion, baby?", you question as you carefully place the bouquet in a vase filled with water. 

"They were on discount", he winks and you roll your eyes, humming a "sure sure" under your breath.

When you're done, you skip toward Minho who was watching you- a soft smile on his face. You lace your hands around his neck, and he holds your waist; his thumbs swiping gently on your exposed sides.

"Sooo... Do you know what baby’s breath represent?", you singsong, a huge grin etched on your face.

It all started when you and Minho went on your first date, and he brought you tulips instead of the classic roses. Intrigued, you searched up their meaning and you found out that tulips are a promise of love.

From that moment, you've taken interest in what each flower means- since Minho seemed to express his feelings through every bouquet he brought you. This is how you came to learn that baby's breath represents everlasting love.

"No idea", he grumbles and you laugh at his blushing cheeks.

"I love you too Minho", you whisper, cradling his face between your hands and peppering it with kisses.

"Who said anything about love?", he jokes, eyes closed as if he was savoring the feel of your lips on him.

"So you don't love me?", you lean back, pouting, and ceasing your merciless attack on his face.

"The flowers are never on discount. Now come here", he holds your jaw gently, beckoning you closer to him and meeting your lips in the softest kiss.

'You don't have to bring me flowers', you wanted to say- his lips tell you everything you need to know.

----------------------------------------------------------

"I'm so tired", you whine, hitting your head repeatedly with a book and Minho laughs, looking up at you from the bed.

"Is my baby tired?", he coos, and you throw a pen at him, "Stop teasing".

"Never mind, deal with your tiredness alone", he says, poking his tongue out at you and you do the same.

You stay silent for a few minutes, before swiveling around in your chair, "Minnie, I'm really tired".

At your words, Minho quickly walks toward you and presses a lingering kiss on your forehead. "Is there anything I can help you with?".

"I doubt you know how to write essays on behaviorism", you pout and he places a hand on his heart in mock offense, "I am very good at writing essays. In fact, I am so good at it you should be glad I'm not studying, and leaving you a chance at succeeding".

"Shut up", you laugh and he smiles softly at you, his hand patting down your hair. "You did well today, my yn".

"Even if I only wrote 50 words for a one thousand words essay?".

"Even then", he smiles, grabbing your hand into his and pulling you up, "Come to bed with me? We'll take a nap and then you'll wake up feeling better and you'll work on your essay".

"Will you wake up with me?", you ask, feeling needy.

"I will", he says, pulling you into the bed with him.

"And will you make me that super delicious ramen only you can make?", you pout, snuggling closer to him and he laughs, "Anything you want".

----------------------------------------------------------

"I’m craving ice cream", you tell Minho while you are walking hand in hand at the park near your apartment. It was a newly established routine between the two of you; whenever he'd come home late, you'd go on a quick walk before sleeping.

"Didn't you eat ice cream yesterday?", he laughs and you glare at him playfully, "fuck you".

"Wouldn't you like that", he smirks and you pinch his side in retort, before shaking his arm like a child, "come onnnn, let's play tag and the loser has to buy the other ice cream".

"Fineee. Start running!”, he grins and you do as he says. Minho chases you around and you can't stop the stream of happy giggles that escape your mouth.

Being with Minho healed your inner child, you've learned. You could be 8 years old with him, playing tag in a deserted park. You could be 10, holding his hand tightly when you go to the dentist. You could be 5, sobbing in his lap as a child does. And he has never judged you for it, not once.

Minho quickly catches you, and this time, you are the one chasing him. You almost reach him when suddenly, your ankle twists and you fall to the ground.

"Fuck", you mutter, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Show me where it hurts", Minho kneels in front of you, speaking softly. 

You turn your palms around, which were all scraped and bloody from softening your blow. He grabs them in his, blowing on them gently to ease the pain.

"Here", he squats down in front of you, "piggyback ride, and I'll buy the ice cream".

You jump on his back, his hands securely holding your thighs. "But I lost. I'll buy it", you say in a quiet tone.

"Touch my arm", he tells you and you do as he says.

"See, now I'm tag. You won".

----------------------------------------------------------

"Yn.... yn....", Minho pokes your side gently and you lean away from him. "I'm sleeping, leave me alone".

"I can't sleep", he whines and you open one eye to look at him. "Sounds like a personal problem".

"You are dating me so my problems are your problems", he states in a matter-of-fact tone and you can't help but chuckle.

"Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me a story", he grins and you roll your eyes at his words. "You literally know every single thing that has happened in my life".

"I know, but I want to hear them again".

"You aren't bored of my stories?".

"No. I like the sound of your voice".

"Just like?", you tease and he smiles, brushing his nose against yours, "I love the sound of your voice, kitten. My personal lullaby".

You beam at his words before squinting your eyes when you realize what he's doing. Minho knows that you can't say no to him when he's this soft with you.

"You really are a menace", you chuckle lowly and he grins.

"Your menace".

----------------------------------------------------------

"Soonie loves me more", you tell Minho and he snaps his head toward you, frowning.

"You're clinically insane if you believe this".

"Look at him, he's all cuddled up against me and not you".

"Because you have that blanket on that he loves".

"Okay let's test it out", you sit down on all fours and Minho follows suit. "Soonie come to me baby. That's right".

"Nooo, Soonie come to daddy".

"Soonie, here, I have a treat for you", you coo and the cat finally comes running to you. 

"That's not fair you bribed him".

"Just accept that he loves me more", you singsong and Minho crosses his arm in front of his chest, sulking.

You giggle and lean down to whisper in the cat's ears, "Go give some love to dad, he's feeling sad". and as if Soonie understands, he runs to Minho, mewling at his feet. Your boyfriend can't resist- of course- and he scratches his shin, just how Soonie likes it.

You sit down behind Minho, wrapping your hands around his waist and your legs around his torso. "Is this how we'll be with our kids?", you chuckle and Minho smiles mischievously.

"Yes, I hope they say dada first". 

"That's so mean of you", you pout and he laughs, head tipped back, "I really really hope our children are just like you, love". 

"Do you want them to whine all day?", you tease and he nods.

"I want them to have your smart eyes and loud laugh, and your competitive spirit and your gentle soul. This way, anyone who looks at them will see all the reasons why I fell in love with you".

You silently kiss his shoulder; overcome by an emotion too strong to be encapsulated in mere words. Thankfully, you don't always need to talk- he knows.

----------------------------------------------------------

"I made you pudding", you tell Minho as soon as he opens the door to your home. He grins at you, kissing the top of your head softly.

"I tried three different flavors, this way you can tell me which one's your favorite and I will redo it for you", you explain and he looks at you, a huge smile on his face, "Did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"You did... but say it again", you grin cheekily and he giggles, "I love you".

"I should make you pudding more often", you say as you lead him to the kitchen. You take a spoonful of the first flavor and you feed it to him, before having one yourself.

Minho suddenly pulls you in, kissing you wildly as if the only way he could taste the food is through you. When he pulls away, he smacks his lips in satisfaction, "Mm, strawberry. Delicious".

You chuckle and bring out the second one. This time Minho doesn't take a bite; he waits until you eat to kiss you again. "Chocolate, my favorite", he whispers against your lips and you giggle at his antics.

As soon as you taste the final pudding, Minho's lips come crashing down on yours once again; and when he leans away, he furrows his brow as if in deep thought. "Vanilla might be my top one, but I think I should try it again to be sure".

You can't help but laugh at his words, and he drinks your giggles in; the puddings long forgotten. As he hoists you up the kitchen counter, you think to yourself that no dessert compares to the sweet taste of his kisses.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Good morning", you smile at Minho, eyes still half closed.

"Good morning, kitten", he whispers, his hand gently pushing your hair away from your forehead.

The warm sun rays are pouring through your windows, casting an ethereal glow on Minho's face. You stare in wonder at him- you couldn't believe that this man is yours.

"You are so pretty", you tell him, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Even like this?", he chuckles, gesturing to his untamed hair bed.

"Especially like this".

Minho smiles at you, before sneaking his cold hands under your shirt. You yelp, scooting away from him, "What was that for?".

"You were making me all shy", he mutters under his breath as if he didn't want you to hear it.

"I was making you shy?", you laugh, straddling his lap and tickling him. He's quick to flip you over and now he's the one tickling you until you can't breathe.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry. I won't make you shy again!"

"Compliment me again and I'll stop", he grins mischievously.

"You are so beautiful", you manage to say through your laughter.

"What else?", he asks still tickling you.

"You are the best dancer I've ever seen!"

"I've heard that one before, be more creative", he chuckles as you squirm under his touch.

"I love who I am when I'm around you", you shout and he stops, caging your body with his arms and looking down at you.

"Do you, now?"

"I do", you say seriously.

Minho leans in to kiss you, but he's stopped by the sound of scratching on the door. He curses under his breath as he stands up and opens the door for the cats. "I love you guys but you really need to learn how to read the room".

"Come back to bed", you giggle and he obliges, lying next to you and bringing your body to his once again. The cats hop on top of your legs and you sigh contently, "I want all of my mornings to be like this".

"I can hypothetically marry you and make this happen".

"Is this your hypothetical proposal?", you ask, turning around to face Minho.

"Are you hypothetically saying yes?"

"I am".

"Then, yes. This is my pre-proposal", Minho smiles, his thumb grazing your cheek softly.

"Why not make it a real one?"

"Do you not want a grand proposal?"

"No", you reply instantly. All you really needed was Minho.

"Okay then", he stands up and walks to his closet, taking out a pretty black box from it. He already bought the ring, you realize.

He then joins you again in bed. The look in his eyes is worth a thousand fireworks and fancy dinners- he is looking at you like you are the only sight he wants to see for the rest of his life.

"The cats love you and they can't be children of divorce", he starts off and you laugh, happy tears already gathering in your eyes.

"And I happen to love you too. I want to love you for the rest of my life". You smile softly, whispering a "me too" to him.

"And I promise that even if we grow old and I start to forget everything around me, I won't forget the way you like your coffee, and what your favorite season is. Even if I forget my name, I won't forget you, yn. Because my heart is yours more than it is mine". 

Tears are falling freely from your eyes now, and you make no effort to stop them. You felt as if you could combust from the amount of love you held for this man. And if someone were to gaze upon your body, they'd find his name written all over you. 

He owned you, just like you owned him. 

"Marry me? Say yes".

As the cats nuzzle against your legs, and your feelings for Minho submerge your being- you are sure that what binds your atoms is your love for him; you can't think of a universe where you'd possibly say no.

[cuteandhughesy]

Let It Happen | Mark Estapa

summary: fighting for the best seat in class with mark wasn't your first choice - neither is having to tutor him in the midst of it.

18.6 K

warnings: SFW! academia! tutor x jock | enemies to lovers | angst | umich!mark | college!au | suggestive comments + themes | unwanted touching + harassment | read at your own discretion

link to masterlist

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row 5, 10 seats in: your ideal spot in any lecture hall. you've found that during your time at the university of michigan, that exact seat always proved to be the most practical. the viewing angle of the board was always perfect - not too close to the front to be picked on, but not too far back that you needed your glasses. not many people chose that area in a lecture hall - either opting for the first three rows or the very back, meaning you typically weren't bumping elbows with anybody while taking notes.

so in your junior year of university when you noticed your psychology class was in room 293 (a room you'd had classes in previously) that first day, you took your seat proudly in row 5, 10 seats in. you knew you'd get your perfect seat - meaning you'd have no problem in succeeding with a productive academic semester.

that is until you walked in on the second day of classes and a head of dirty blonde hair, accompanied by broad shoulders and big hands was found sitting comfortably in your seat.

you slow in your steps, feeling your facial expression fall as you take him in. he's looking to his right, not even paying attention to you - legs outstretched and books spread out in your seat.

it's fine, you think, tomorrow you'll just get here earlier to take your desired spot. today, you decide, you'll settle for a different seat.

then, the mystery boy turns his head in your direction and you think your face falls even more. mark estapa was in your seat.

you knew of mark through mutual friends. you weren't friends with him or anything, but you're sure you've probably smiled in passing before.

seeing mark in your seat made you feel....irritated. because even if he didn't know it was your unassigned assigned seat - wouldn't he much rather dick around in the back with his teammates? why did he need to be in the perfect academic position when he probably couldn't care less about the class.

"is this your seat or something?" marks deep voice has you blinking hard, snapping yourself out of your head.

your brows pull together, and you tug on the strap of your book bag laying heavy on your shoulder. "what?"

he shrugs, "you're looking at me all weird - like I just kicked a puppy or something. so I just assumed i'm in 'your' seat." mark air quotes the word your, and it has you squinting at him irritatedly, lips forming into a pull of disgust.

"why'd you say it like that?"

he laughs slightly, and it makes your stomach swirl unpleasantly. mark shrugs, toying with one of his ink pens between two thick fingers. "you just look like the type to have some weird thing about where you sit."

you scoff gently, taking a step closer to the wolverines forward. "I'll have you know, that seat 10 in row 5 is quite literally the perfect spot for learning - there are studies that prove it. I take great pride in my grades - so yeah, I guess you could say I have 'some weird thing about where I sit'" you use air quotations to mimic his earlier ones, which makes mark breathe one quiet chuckle, eyes meeting the ceiling quickly before finding yours again.

you're looking at him expectantly, arms crossed and brows raised.

"is that right?" mark questions.

you nod, "mhm."

"looks like I beat you to it then."

your mouth falls and that makes mark's cheeky smile widen. "might as well just sit there," he gestures to the empty chair next to him, "because today, i'll be getting the benefits from sitting in the perfect seat for learning."

you bite your tongue, wordlessly (and rather aggressively) taking the empty spot next to your seat. "mhm yup." you hum quietly, eyeing the professor as he makes his way into the classroom, "enjoy it today -because it will be the last time you sit in that spot."

you feel marks eyes on the side of your face. "we'll see about that," he smirks, slowly turning his attention back to the front of the classroom.

tomorrow, you think, you'll be back in your seat - mark be damned.

class 2

the next class day - you do get your seat. if that wasn't a sweet enough victory in itself, you also get to watch mark tongue his cheek in annoyance at the sight.

he slows in his steps in the aisle, eyes very much on you in the desired seat. you send him a teasing smile, watching his irritation grow - it's practically radiating off his large body as he tosses himself down in the seat you had to painfully endure last class.

when he roughly pulls everything out of his book back, your victorious smile grows.

throughout the lesson, you make a show of spreading out your books with enthusiasm and making sure you sigh with content whenever you shuffled or moved in your seat.

all mark can do is smirk to himself, barley looking over towards you when you move or make a noise. his smirk is evident though, and you can't help but catch it.

you're surprised that mark even chose to sit beside you after he'd seen you in the seat. you assumed after rightfully taking back your seat, he'd move rows completely - choosing the back of the class with luke hughes and ethan edwards - but no.

you know now that he was trying to take your spot again - purposely this time. the thought has you angry and you have to grit your teeth anytime mark shuffles around - the urge to curse him out for being an idiot threatening to spill out.

you're determined now to not back down from keeping your assigned unassigned seat - your academic well being depended on it.

when class finally ends and the professor dismisses you all, mark turns towards you - looking smug in a way that has you snaring. you think he may say something about the seat, or perhaps even apologize for destroying your peace all class. but instead, "game on," mark deadpanned, grabbing his book bag and hauling it  over one shoulder.

you laugh sarcastically, gathering your laptop and slipping it into your own bag. mark doesn't get too far away from you before you decide to respond. "can't play when you can't compete," you hum.

mark stops walking, eyeing you over his shoulder with that same stupid smirk on his face.

you don't stick around for him to say anything else, your shoulder brushing his sweater covered chest as you move past him.

class 3

the night before, you make sure you're alarm is set half and hour earlier than usual - and you check it at least 4 times before going to sleep: you were getting that damn seat even if it meant waking around like a zombie from loosing that extra bit of rest.

you woke frantically that morning, rushing through your brief morning routine so you could ensure you'd get out the door as quickly as possible - determined to get to class before mark - get to your seat before mark could wrongfully take it.

you walk through your psychology lectures door way with a victorious smile already on your face - happy that you will once again be more academically inclined for your class.

you look over to your row and slowly, and your smile fades as you resist the urge to scream.

mark is already there.

in your seat.

nobody else is in the lecture hall yet, and fair enough, you think, because it's still too early. you thought it was too early for anybody else besides yourself to get there....but you were wrong.

mark has all his books out on the small table infront of him, laptop open and ready on a blank document. there's a half drunken cold brew on his desk as well, meaning he's been awake long enough to not only beat you to class but get a drink on the way.

worst of all, mark is already looking at you - his body turned towards the entrance of the lecture hall like he's been waiting for you to arrive and watch the joy fade from your eyes.

you grit your teeth in irritation, slowly and with as much calmness you can manage, make your way to him.

"good morning," he chimes happily, eyes not leaving your face as you approach the seat.

you let your bag slip off your shoulder, hitting the floor beside his sneakers. sourly, you take the open seat right next to him.

"thought i'd get up early today." mark continues, picking up his coffee and taking an obnoxiously loud sip.

your glare at him before taking out your books.

two can play at this game, you think.

class 4

you've underestimated the michigan athlete once again. showing up that next week, 20 minutes earlier that the previous time - only to see mark there in your seat... again.

he's taken a more theatrical (and blood boiling) approach this class, with his long gangly legs propped up on the seat of the desks to his left and his arms behind his head - leisurely resting on not only your seat but the one you'd be stuck with beside it.

you scoff as you get close, eyeing his long legs on the desks, "must you look so proud?"

"oh, I must." mark says.

class 5

you can barley keep your eyes open because of how little sleep you've had, but the exhaustion is so worth it.

the morning of your class, you woke up ridiculously early - so early that your roommate sabrina was barley just asleep. so early you're sure mark wouldn't even dare think of waking up.

and yeah, you had to skip over the hair brushing, make up and the presentable clothing step in your morning routine, but you didn't care. all you cared about was getting to your lecture hall before anybody else could.

when you hear shoes squeaking to a halted stop an hour or so after you arrived to class, your tired eyes snap open. mark is looking at you with a shocked expression, his eyes processing the sight you in your seat already.

quickly, his expression changes. mark makes his way to you, squinting curiously at you as he analyses your pale skin. "you look tired." he states, sitting down.

you shrug nonchalantly, flipping your very much unrbushed hair over your shoulder. "you must be mistaking my victorious expression for one of fatigue."

mark hisses through his teeth, eyeing you once more. "careful, what good does the perfect seat have if you can't even stay awake to bask in its greatness."

class 8

in your last few psychology lecture races, you beat mark 2 wins to 1 in your shared seat debacle. you're still surprised he got his one win with how early you'd been waking up and getting to the classroom.

the feeling of victory has not gotten old though, and you have to picture marks face full of disappointment when you're feeling exhausted from your lack of full nights.

the look of pure irritation on the wolverines superstar player anytime he realized you'd beaten him to the lecture hall - the way you wiggled your fingers in a gentle wave in his direction as you happily occupied your seat - it was really fulfilling.

when you told sabrina about your and marks little tiff with your seat, she expressed how she thought it was dumb idea. sabrina said waking up early and loosing sleep over a seat in class wasn't going to help anybody's academics. as well, she says that arguing and taunting somebody as popular as mark estapa wasn't a good decision on your part because there was no good to come from it.

but you couldn't seem to care about any kind of consequence. you didn't care how popular he was, or how much he liked you - all you could think about was marks irritating smirk and big body plopped in your seat - tainting its essence.

the seat war would continue until mark gave up - you were determined.

it was another successful class morning of beating mark. your and mark's arrival kept getting earlier each time, but somehow you kept managing to just be that little bit earlier than him.

you're sipping your redbull delicately as he walks into the lecture hall, hiding your growing smirk behind the rim of the can as you watch mark deflate at the sight of your in the seat.

he curses quietly to himself before he makes his way towards you. "are you sleeping here or something?" he huffs annoyed, sitting heavily in the chair beside you.

you shrug nonchalantly, dusting off the imaginary debris from the hardcover of your psychology textbook. "no," you hum. then in all seriousness, you pause, directing your gaze towards him as you continue, "- but I wouldn't hesitate sleeping outside this classroom for this seat, mark."

slowly and with disbelief, mark puts his notebook down infront of him, eyes not leaving yours as he analyses you. "...you wouldn't dare."

"oh," you laugh once, "I'd dare."

he squints suspiciously at you before shaking his head once, breaking himself out of your mini staring contest. he straightens his back out, falling back against the seat - the dull thud echoing in the empty classroom.

you watch his suspicious expression change to one of curiosity and that has you feeling a bit nervous. you watch as he eyes you again, a raise to his one brow.

a beat passes.

"how do you know my name, y/n?" mark asks, a slight tug to the corner of his mouth. he sounds almost...impressed, and truly curious.

which you think is a bit odd, because who doesn't know mark estapa? not only was he on the schools hockey team and friends with some of the most popular athletes at the school (nhl stars included), but he was quite literally famous online. one time you got a tiktok edit of him...on your foryou page. you don't think you've scrolled past anything faster - the feeling of seeing clips of your classmate over a flo milli song was just too much.

instead of spewing out that inner monologue, you reach over yourself, pointer finger tapping the top of his dark green notebook - touching his name that was written out in black sharpie.

briefly, you wonder if its handwriting or somebody else's, but you also don't know why you would care, so you quickly tell your intrusive thought to get lost. you pull away, hands coming back you yourself.

mark nods in understanding, shrugging like it's an acceptable answer. "ah," he breaths, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his muscles moving under his compression top.

you blink hard, scolding yourself for letting your eyes wonder. what is wrong with you today, girl? you think. "annnnnddd how do you know my name?" you drag out, brow raises in question as you eye him.

wordlessly, mark uncrosses his arms so his hands are free. with a slight smirk, he taps the side of his head, mimicking your earlier point on his note book.

class 9:

"I should've brought you a neck pillow." are the first words your hear when you walk into room 293, marks voice making itself known as soon as your converse covered feet past the threshold of the classroom. "you know," he continues, "In case the early morning catches up to you."

you breathe out a sarcastic laugh, walking sluggishly to the dreaded 11th numbered chair beside him.

one of the worst things about waking up earlier to try and beat mark to the lecture hall was that he never even looks like he's tired - where as you looked like you just crawled from a bat cave. in the earlier mornings, mark is always smiling and looking bright eyes and bushy tailed - which has your annoyance spiking.

you choose to not say anything and you keep your tired eyes trained on the front empty hall. now you wish you stopped for a coffee, knowing it wouldn't of mattered anyway - mark had you beat. thankfully, mark doesn't say anything else, and scrolls tiktok quietly beside you. the noise is a nice distraction, and it has you feeling rather relaxed as the two of you sit together in the early morning silence.

an hour later when your classmates start arriving, you start to get your things out of your bag. reaching in you're immediately humbled feeling nothing in there. the night before, you had spilt a smoothie in your bag, and emptied everything out  to let it dry. this morning when you were rushing to get to class to beat mark to your seat (which proved unsuccessful), you had only grabbed the empty bag - leaving all your belongings at home.

you're left with no laptop, no textbooks, no notepad, not even a pen. you feel like you could cry. as the professor made his entrance, you're left with no choice but to borrow from your seat mate.

the thought of having to deal with him in the morning is already exhausting. you inhale deeply and look over at mark. you plaster on the best exaggerated grin you manage this early. "mark, can I have a pen and some paper?"

suprised, mark looks over at you. once he sees your faux smile and lack of supplies laid out, he mimicks your expression, the sarcasm of it all is practically oozing off him. "ahhhh - so now you want to talk to me."

he was trying to push your buttons, that much was obvious. you don't give in, only deepening your faux smile, even giving your head a little tilt. "well, technically I forgot my stuff because I was too preoccupied trying to get here before you could steal my seat - the least you could do Is let me borrow a pen and piece of paper because, after all, you did steal my seat."

mark tongues his cheek, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a victorious manner. a beat passes before he digs through his bag, emerging with a pen - holding it in his palm out to you. you pluck it from hand aggressively - making his smirk grow.

class 12

your psychology class has been pushed back an hour after your professor sent out an email the night before, offering his apologies after he needed to extend one of his meetings with the department.

you weren't complaining though. you were looking forward to that little bit extra sleep before getting up and trying to once again beat mark to your seat.

knowing you had that little bit of extra time, you chose to take your time walking towards the lecture hall building, sipping on your apple cider as you enjoyed the fall weather. the fall season at the university of michigan was always your favourite. there was something so magical about being away at school when the leaves were turning that resonated with you.

not too many students were around while you walked. just the odd group or individual as they made their way to their own lectures. that being said, it made spotting people very easy, as they weren't yet common.

so when you lock eyes with mark as he approaches on one of the side paths, you can't help but to curse yourself - walking too leisurely to the point of running into him.

mark slows in his steps only a few feet adjacent to you, swallowing thickly. you slow down as well, eyeing him suspiciously as he stares down at you. he clears his throat as you both come into step with one another, now walking side by side to your lecture building.

"mark." you greet quickly, eyes forward as the building comes into sight.

he nods, "y/n." mark begins to walk just a little faster at the sight of your destination, leaving you a step behind.

so you follow suit, taking quicker and bigger steps in order to keep up with mark. his legs are long and he's way more fit than you, so you're practically in a breathless jog trying to get in front of him.

"beautiful morning," you hum nonchalantly.

"the most," mark's step increase in speed as he answers you.

you curse to yourself, falling behind once again. you feel like your running at this point, desperately trying to beat mark without full on sprinting into the lecture building. you panick, knowing marks stupid long legs would have you beat in this foot race - and to your seat.

quickly, you conjure up a plan of attack. you groan behind him, crouching down and grabbing ahold of your sock covered ankle. you hiss loudly like you're hurting - loud enough for mark to hear.

he stops walking at the sound of your pain, turning around to see you bent down, nothing but discomfort on your face. mark starts walking towards you, the shiny dark oak doors to the lecture building long forgotten as he bends down to your level.

softly, he places a warm palm on your back, eyes searching yours. "hey, you okay?"

momentarily you feel guilty. he looks truly concerned for your well being and the feeling of his hand on your back isn't helping your act.

but then you remember how he quite literally stole your seat and the guilt washes away.

rather wobbly, you stand back up to your full height with the help of marks arm. you balance your weight on the ankle you were nursing, wincing as you do so.

mark still looks concerned. his brows are furrowed tightly as he watches your facial expressions, waiting for any further signs of discomfort and pain. you're pretty sure he was about to offer you a damn piggy back ride.

you sigh deeply, and then a smirk begins to pull at your lips. "nice guys finish last marky." you deadpanned.

"what?" he frowns, confused.

you take off, sprinting past him and up the stairs of the lecture hall. "the seat is mine!" you call out, pushing open the heavy doors and disappearing into the building.

class 14

you were running a little bit more behind than you preferred this morning, and you were practically running by the time you walked into psychology.

it's quiet in there, and you notice how mark isn't present. nobody is the lecture hall and even better, mark isn't in your seat. 

you let a triumphant smile overtake your bare face, and you adjust your bag so that it can finally still comfortably on your shoulder - your rush to class having your bag left to rub your shoulder raw.

then your momentary joy fades as you take in the note on the big whiteboard behind the teachers desk.

class moved to room 278.

you groan to yourself, immediately spinning on your heels to head back in the direction you had already walked through.

you can already picture mark - his smug face tucked into that beloved 10th seat in the 5th row. picturing that has you walking faster as you hope that mark wasn't too far ahead of you - or ahead of you at all.

you all but slide into the new lecture hall, slightly breathless and exhausted. you're confused, brows pulled taught as you also see this classroom empty. although it's still early, it was unlikely for absolutely nobody to have arrived.

quickly, your eyes dance around the room, finding the smaller dry erase board near the front. your lips form into an involuntary snare, your anger bubbling up as you read the note left.

would a nice guy do this? is written in blue, accompanied by a terrible drawn emoji - blowing you a kiss.

mark.

"you're fucking kidding" you whisper. you can feel your face flush with anger, deepening your irritation as you re-read(what you now realize) is marks handwriting - matching his name printed on that stupid green notebook he always uses.

you take a shaky inhale to keep yourself as calm as possible, leaving the classroom in an annoyed march - quickly making your way back to the correct classroom.

you can't even be bothered about how sweaty you've become or how your feet are beginning to ache from walking across campus three times before your first class - all your thoughts are focused on mark and his stupid prank and how he's definitely lounging in your seat - waiting for you to get back so he can bask is his prank.

most of the students are piling into the room when you arrive, but you aren't one of patience today. you weave through bodies as quickly as possible, pushing up the stairs.

there's a momentary pause on the incline and that's when you finally land your sights on his head of blonde hair, his eyes watching you in amusement.

immediately, you send him an accusing glare from your stopped position on the stairs, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at him.

mark just winks back at you - which sends your stomach turning in every possible way.

'idiot' you mouth at him. people start moving again, allowing you to finally get through the group of students and down the 5th row.

mark smirks happily, resting his chin in his large palm as he watches you sit wordlessly beside him.

class 17

you're almost out of the row of seats, your book bag slung over your shoulder -  your professor had dismissed you all for the morning. it isn't soon after making your way down the stairs, your professor says your name.

"y/n," he calls out, affectively grabbing your attention and stopping you in your tracks. "do you mind having a word?" he questions, adjusting his black framed glasses to sit higher on his nose.

you frown slightly, especially when you catch sight of mark, who seemingly has been asked to stay behind as well. mark isn't looking at you, but rather at the floor, nervously fiddling with his hands.

"sure," you hum gently, walking over towards them hesitantly. "everything okay professor?"

you can't rack your brain for anything that your professor needed to discuss with you and mark - unless, mark decided to be a total asshole about the whole seat thing, which would just be ridiculous.

"actually," the older man sighs, "there's a favour I need to ask of you." your professor eyes mark, who is standing just a few feet behind him.

"okay," you draw suspiciously, eyeing mark as well. he is still looking sheepish, eyes not meeting yours - which was, from what you gathered, very unlike mark.

in the few weeks you've been battling with mark, you've learned he is stubborn and determined - on top of that, he was very confident. the nervous act he was currently displaying had you feeling nervous.

your professor clears his throat, "mark here is having a hard time keeping his grades up in this class. obviously, it's still early in the year but his coach and I have discussed and decided it needs to be dealt with now, rather than later in the semester. this is an important class to mark's education here at the university of michigan, and he cannot have his grades slipping."

you nod slightly, your brows pulled together in confusion as you take in his words. "right, sorry, i'm just confused what that has to do with me." you admit.

the professor nods once, "yes. well, so far you have preformed excellently in my class - not only this semester, but in previous classes as well. that's why coach and I decided that you'd be the perfect choice to help mark and tutor him this semester."

neither you or mark speak, too shocked with the situation to register thoughts. the professor continues. "not only are your grades excellent, but it seems that yourself and mark happen to enjoy each others company - sitting together every class."

you face falls slightly. "seriously?"

"oh, seriously," mark finally speaks, an unreadable expression on his soft face. your professor turns to mark, a little wide eyed as if to tell him to smarten up.

mark sighs gently, "please tutor me, i'd really appreciate your help. I can't play with the team if I slip."

"i'll do it." finally, you agree, nodding a hesitant yes in their direction. immediately, your professor is joyful, giving you and mark the schedule and the study room bookings.

it was all a bit nerve wracking. knowing that you'd have to spend designated time with mark after the two of you had been purposely pushing one another's buttons was making you uneasy.

you don't show the true emotions you were currently battling - only nodding with a faux smile as the professor goes over what lesson plans you'll both start with and providing you with the upmost material you'd be needing.

you leave the classroom soon after your professor says he will email both of you with a more detailed schedule. as you walk back to your building, your mind is occupied with thoughts of tutoring mark and how you'll manage being in the same space with him without wanting to smack him.

and with your first session only a little more than 24 hours away, you'd hope to come up with a solution quickly.

tutoring lesson 1

"that makes no sense."

"that's because you're not even paying attention."

mark breaths deeply at your words, an exaggerated inhale echoing throughout the room. he runs a hand through his thick dirty blonde hair, tugging slightly at the root before releasing his grip.

you had received a text from mark only an hour before your designated study time. immediately, you frowned, because you didn't give him your number - but he had quickly followed up his initial text telling you that your professor gave it to him: invasive but you'd live.

he told you he had a game that night, so the study session would have to be fast and cut short. you gritted your teeth in irritation at his bluntness, but decided rather than telling him to fuck himself and pass the class by himself - you choose peace, responding with only the thumbs up emoji.

fast forward to right now, with you and mark in one of the campus study rooms with your class material from two weeks ago all spread out on the table infront of you.

although you could tell mark wasn't really trying to understand you, you could see true frustration behind his eyes - an indicator that he was at least trying is some capacity.

you take a deep calming breath and try again, "all you need to do is pick out the significant points of this paper and then with that information, you will write your own summary about its importance to the course."

across from you, mark is looking like a lost puppy, mouth slightly agape as he watches you explain the material for the 3rd time. it really wasn't a difficult concept to grasp, in fact, it was the easiest out of all the material you'd be going over.

you sigh gently, "listen, it should be relatively easy," you side eye him gently, his lost expression still very much present. "for some." you chime quietly.

marks mouth snaps shut, and he squints accusingly in your direction - your remark echoing in his ears. "for some," he mocks your words back at you, his voice turning all high pitched and squeaky in a way that makes you scoff.

"are you done?" you deadpanned, brows raised his his direction.

"no," mark groans for the hundredth time, his body falling back in the plastic chair. "that seat shit you read about is clearly crap - I'm not learning at all sitting there. considering it's 'the perfect spot for learning', I haven't learned shit." he air quotes your words from that second day of classes - the first time mark had stolen your seat.

"it's not crap." you state with a glare, "you have to believe it for it to work - clearly you think it's phoney. if you did believe in its natural greatness, you'd be fine - like me."

"whatever." he deadpanned, leaning back over the table - propped up on his elbows.

you bite your tongue for what feels like the millionth time since knowing mark - choosing to not snap back at his attitude.

slowly, you push the reading closer to him, slotting it between his arms, "read this again - slowly - and start with getting your significant points. that way you have that portion done before your game tonight."

wordlessly (and with another sigh, of course), mark drags the paper closer towards himself, sighing deeply as he begins to silently read.

a few minutes pass, both of you deep in school work - you creating lessons plans as well as catching up on your other classes work, while mark reads the assigned reading, occasionally jotting down points in his notebook just like you recommended he do.

your mid sectioning of a grid in your schedule, eyes squinted as you concentrate (you had already cursed yourself for forgetting your glasses). the gentle silence is interrupted, marks much too loud voice interrupting your peace.

"what's your favourite colour?" he questions, tone full of curiosity.

you can hear his pen hit the table, and slowly, you look up, eyeing mark through your lashes. your fingers pause on your laptops keyboard, "what?" you breath.

"your favourite colour. what is it?" he asks again, more firmly.

"how is this significant to our tutoring?" you question curiously, your pen resting on your bottom lip as you ponder at his sudden questioning.

"I'm trying to keep my mind active here," mark says in a tone that makes it sound like you should've known his intentions, "and if you're at least talking to me, then i'll be more inclined work."

you tilt your head gently, squinting playfully at the tall wolverines forward. "are you saying my voice is more boring than you doing your work?"

he gives you an annoyed look, mirroring your tilted head. "just...tell me your favourite colour. and don't say orange - I hate orange."

"what's wrong with orange?" you frown, "orange is the colour that beat communicates fun - It expresses frivolity and playfulness, connecting people back to inner child."

"of course you'd know that." mark says in disbelief after taking a momentary pause at analyze what you just spewed at him.

you choose to answer his initial question, not bothering at attempting to explain your knowledge on a colour - he probably wouldn't understand anyways. "my favourite colour is pink," you answer, back to working away on your laptop, keyboard clicking rhythmically as you talk.

"pink huh," mark hums with interest, "and what's the weird reason for that?" you can feel his eyes on you, boring into your face as you type. knowing that has you feeling slightly nervous, wondering how hard he is analyzing your expressions or features.

"it's just pretty." you say gently, a blush adorning your cheeks. you hear mark stifle a gentle laugh, and you look back across the table at him. he's not looking at you, but rather writing in his notebook, eyes darting between his writing and the reading.

you clear your throat quietly, getting back to your own work. "what's your favourite colour?"

mark eyes you gently once more. you aren't looking at him, so you can't see the way his lips tug up in a smile or the way he's focused on your side profile. "yellow." he answers after a beat. "it's the colour of most of my favourite things."

you hum, "like what?"

"the sun, my jersey, pineapples....baby ducks," you giggle softly at his last remark. finally, you look away from your screen, seeing that mark is already got his eyes on you. he continues softly, "the list goes on really." he is smiling at the sound of your gentle laughter, your eyes squinting naturally without your glasses - ones that mark has only seen you in a handful of times and he thinks you must forget them often.

he shakes his head slightly, eyes finding the clock on his phone. the time has him clearing his throat and he pushes his notebook towards you across the table. "i've got my points here, if you want to check them over before I go."

you blink hard, "right, yeah." you take the outstretched green notebook from him, making quick work of the little blurbs he took note of. "this is good, now you just have to compile it into a summary - in proper format obviously."

"obviously," mark teases. "i'll do it later, kay?" he begins to pack up his things, which only consisted of his notebook, a pen and his closed laptop. "i've gotta get in my suit and head to the rink."

"okay, just..don't forget. and please, send me the final product before turning it in."

mark is practically already out the door. "will do!" he says over his shoulder, shutting the glass enter ace of the study room and jogging away.

you sigh gently, packing away your own things.

11:37 p.m.

mark

just mailed you the summary. should be in your inbox

y/n

yeah, i'll go over it quick

y/n

how was your game?

mark

ehhh, it wasn't great. we lost

y/n

damn. does that happen a lot?

mark

not always

mark

have you never watched one of our games?

y/n

no. i've never watched hockey period

mark

WHAT

mark

i'm sick to my stomach hearing that

y/n

dramatic

mark

you're coming to watch a game

y/n

no i'm not

mark

you are. you'll like it

y/n

how do you know what i'll like ?

mark

i'm smarter than you think y/n

mark

you'll be at a wolverine game soon. promise you that

y/n

whatever helps you sleep.

y/n

sent you back an edited copy with a few tweak suggestions. after that you're good to send it in

mark

yes ma'am

tutoring lesson 7

"new plan," you say, slightly breathless from the jog over to the library. you drop your bag on the dark oak table, the sound thumping in the quiet room.

mark looks up from his phone surprised - your sudden appearance catching him off guard. he raises a brow in question, urging you to continue.

you nod, "you said keeping your brain active is good for you and helps you stay focused, yeah?" he nods for an answers, and you smile before continuing. "right okay, so instead of talking - which can be distracting, I thought -" pausing, you tug on the zipper of your bag, digging through your belongings until you locate your airpods. you pull them out, displaying them like a trophy - mark bites back a teasing smile at your theatrics.

"we can listen to music." you ta da.

his brows pull towards the bridge of his nose, a frown overtaking his face as he thinks about your suggestion. "how is listening to my music going to keep me focused? - I get way too pumped up listening to my playlists."

"your palylists," you state, sliding into the empty spot beside mark. he watches you curiously, eyes following your every move as you start to connect your earbuds to your phone. "that's why we will listen to my music. listening to music you don't care about helps you stay focused on your work because you're not actually dissecting the song."

"and what if we listen to the same kind of music?" mark says lightly, taking the airpod from your outstretched fingers, nestling it in his ear.

slowly, you eye him - looking him over from his head to toes. "we won't." you put your own airpod in, leaving the ear closest to mark free in case he had any questions.

a few tutoring sessions before this one, you gave mark the detailed outline of what you'd be helping him with. you provided him with the names of all the textbooks and materials he'd need, as well as a detailed list of all test and due dates.

you had told him that you wouldn't spoon feed him anything, and that if he wanted to get his grades up, he had to try his best. you were there for clarification on anything he deemed difficult, and for when he is struggling and to edit his notes: the way you believed tutoring should be.

seeing as mark clearly had his notes out before you arrived (late) to the library, you pulled out your own notebook, along with your textbooks, preparing for your hour long session.

"you can change the song whenever," you tell mark quietly, setting your iphone between the two of you face up on the table.

"sounds good." he nods once, fingers toying his his pencil in a way that has you feeling a little bit fuzzy.

you clear your throat, looking away as the soft melodies of gracie abrams filter through your ears. flipping open your psychology textbook, you decide you'll start to get a head start on your next assignment- not knowing when you'll have any other time to do it. between your part time job at staples, tutoring mark and your other classes: your schedule was pretty full - you didn't want to fall behind.

you just begin to read into the second paragraph of the text blurb, your highlighter moving slowly along your page - the song abruptly changes. the music pauses in your ear for only a moment and you look over to see mark as he skips the song.

he catches your stare, giving your a quick nonchalant shrug. "sorry," he mutters, going back to his notes as a new song starts to play through the mini speaker tucked in your ear.

you sigh calmly, focusing back on your textbook.

watermelon sugar doesn't even reach the chorus - harry styles' voice is cut short as the the song stops once more. you bite your tongue, choosing to ignore mark as he skips another song. but then he does it again as a lana del rey song starts to play and you grunt annoyed - turning to face mark as he skips through your phones music library completely unaware of his own annoyance levels.

"what the hell," you question firmly.

mark pulls a face, unbothered by your clear distaste, "I'm not into these songs." he says nonchalantly, skipping over shawn mendes.

you scoff, "yeah that's the whole point. just-" you push his hands away from your phone quickly, stopping him from skipping any more songs. "let the music play," you tell mark gently - reminding yourself of a mother telling her toddler to behave.

he grunts like you're the one being annoying and that sort of makes you want to punch him in the gut. obviously you don't, and you choose to ignore mark and get back to your assignment.

a good 20 minutes pass without the song switching unnaturally, and anytime you take a curious peek towards mark out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he looks focused on his work. you gloat to yourself, happy with the success of your music studying idea.

mark only nudges you to ask for clarification twice, which is another small victory. since your professor appointed you to be marks tutor, you and mark have met up a handful of times for lessons. it seemed like he still likes to tease you just like he always has and that can make teaching him and spending time with him very challenging- but you've gotten used to his antics now (for the most part).

mark has gotten better with understanding the readings you've been giving him over the past few weeks of tutoring as well. not only that, but his essays have needed less editing.

your professor is very happy with the success, and is very adamant to keep working with mark until he reaches a B average. he's brought his average up to a C rather than a D+ so it was very much a work in progress still but he was getting there.

your thoughts are halted when the music pauses once again - an abrupt change to silence from the soft melodies of the music. irritated, you turn to give mark an earful for stopping the song once more, but you pause.

mark looks a bit starstuck - giving you a perplexed look with his brows raised in questions. his plump lips are agape as his eyes dart between you and your phone.

"hold on..what did taylor just say?" he questions curiously, still looking very much shocked.

"mark, you're not supposed to be listening to the music." you tell him tiredly, exhaling deeply as you look over at him.

he gives you another look of perplexity, "how am I supposed to ignore lyrics like that? run that part back."

"no," you laugh once, pushing away his hand once he tries to reach out to rewind the song, "we are not dissecting taylor swift lyrics." you tell him.

"but i'm bored," mark all but whines, head falling as he rocks back in the wooden library chair. just when you go to scold him for his dangerous seating position, mark continues, "and im done all my work that you planned for today! so tell me what the hell dear john is about."

you give him one more look of unsureness, knawing on your lips as you glance briefly at your work and textbooks infront of you. one more look at marks soft features has you breaking, your shoulders deflating as you exhale a deep long breath. "fine," you say highly, "but buckle up - because it gets crazy."

1:54 a.m.

mark

I can't stop thinking about john mayor

mark

like what an asshole

y/n

it's almost 2 in the morning

mark

I didn't know taylor swift went off like that in her songs. are there more like that?

y/n

yes

mark

you gotta send me them because i'm getting into this

mark

wait, why are you awake?

y/n

why are you awake

mark

I asked you first

y/n

can't sleep yet

mark

why?

y/n

are you always so nosy ?

mark

always.

y/n

i've got a english lit test tomorrow and im still studying for it. idk if im prepared or if I will pass

mark

you're kidding right ? you're like the the smartest person I know. you'll ace it

y/n

maybe

mark

you will

mark

I think you should take a break and make me a taylor swift playlist

y/n

you're so bossy

mark

you love it

mark

don't stress about your test seriously. you do the best when you believe in yourself

mark

and if there's a 10th seat available in the 5th row...they better watch out

y/n

who are you and what have you done with mark estapa ?

mark

ha ha

mark

send me the playlist as an apology for that comment

tutoring lesson 11

you knaw on your lip, feeling the skin you've shredded between your teeth. your eyes dance over the white paper, marked with red pen once more, skimming the notes and numbers.

you release your lip, a small sigh coming out of your mouth. "it's okay."

mark groans at the sight of your face, very much indicating that it was indeed not okay. "I flunked it." he says disappointed, eyes drooping with what is no doubt exhaustion.

you knew that last night mark had a game, only after he had asked you to come watch what he claims is the 'best sport to watch live' - to which you declined...again. that combined with his busy schedule left him little to no time for the extra studying you suggested he should do before the test. clearly- that didn't happen.

"you didn't flunk," you remind mark again, placing his test down on the white table top in your booked study room, the shiny red C on the top right corner staring back at you. "it's a C. your grade won't change."

"but it won't get better," mark sighs, running his hands through his hair. "I studied as much as I could, I swear." he looks at you wide eyed and panicked, and you feel a pang of guilt all the way down to your toes.

"I know you did," you reassure him, "but sometimes in order to retain the information better, you need to switch up your study methods. for the next test we will change it up, and we can study extra. don't stress."

he sighs sadly, dropping his head backwards so his view is of the crisp white ceiling of the secluded room. "fuck, I don't want to fuck up and not be able to play." he admits with defeat, blinking heavily.

"we aren't going to get to that point, not when you got me - the smartest person you know - tutoring you, right?" gently, you nudge your elbow into his side, teasing him.

mark looks back at you, smirking softly at your attempt to get him out of his momentary slump. "right."

"okay, so let's just forget about this test for now, we can go over it another time." you push the paper away and off to the side of the table, hiding it from his line of vision.

mark watches you with a fond expression, that same smirk on his lips you've grown to learn is almost always present in your presence.

"today we will go over this new material first, sound good?" looking over, you find mark already looking at you - your eyes meeting softly.

ever so slightly, you feel your face fall - inhaling sharply at the fond expression on marks face. he is closer than you expected, and you don't think you've ever been this close to mark. at this proximity, you notice how prominent the freckles on the bridge of his nose are and how rich his eyes are.

"sounds good." mark says gently. you snap out of your head, and you clear your throat, turning your attention back to your textbook and the lesson plan that you had pulled up on a word doc on your laptop.

throughout the rest of your lesson with mark, you'd often find yourself admiring his face, weather it was his side profile or full frontal. you'd watch the way mark's tongue would dart out when he was writing and the way he'd roll his eyes anytime he had to read something boring.

you notice how his nose is perfectly shaped for his face, and how his stubble is starting to grow in, giving his usual baby face a more rugged appearance. you take notice of how often he runs his hand through his hair, and how when he was trying to understand something, he'd knaw on the skin around his thumb.

you also see how he was solely focused on spending this time working on the new material. mark never sighed with impatience, and he never once picked up his cell phone for a distraction- even when it was buzzing crazy on top of the table. 

the only time he stopped working was to annoy you - of course.

8:21 p.m.

....incoming facetime from mark

....missed facetime from mark

8:22 p.m.

mark

sorry didn't mean to call you

y/n

that's okay

mark

fuck. yeah I did

mark

I wanna talk to you

y/n

are you okay? what's up?

mark

nothing bad. i'm just bored

y/n

what do you want me to do about that ??

mark

entertain me obviously

y/n

oh my apologies your highness

mark

apology accepted

mark

what's your favourite movie ?

y/n

why..?

mark

don't be weird and just answer the question

y/n

okay fine

y/n

confessions of a shopaholic. what's yours?

mark

fast & the furious

mark

only the first one though

y/n

are the others ones bad?

mark

not the best

mark

wait...have you never seen fast & the furious ?

y/n

no

mark

omg. you have to ! like no i'm actually making you

y/n

okay then i'm making you watch confessions of a shopaholic 😗

mark

i've already seen it babe

y/n

did you just call me babe ? 🫣

mark

oh yeah i did. you love it ?

y/n

omg no stop 😭😭

mark

in fact it's going to be your new name in my phone ! bc you love it so much

y/n

you're annoying

"what's so funny over there?" your roommate sabrina questions - her voice full of amusement and curiosity. she pulls one of her earbuds out, eyeing you from her spot on the small love seat.

you look up at the sound her voice rather quickly, adjusting your position on your chair to seem natural. "nothing really." you're not sure why it feels like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't - but you can't help but feel guilty. you laugh once, running a hand through your loose hair. "nothing worth repeating."

sabrina quirks an eyebrow at your odd actions, and she eyes you over suspiciously. it doesn't take long for her brain to come to a conclusion- you can practically see a light bulb flick on above her head of blonde hair. her eyes widen and she springs up from her lounged position, her other earbud falling into her lap. "are you talking to a guy?" she squeals.

you scoff roughly and definitely too loud, giving your friend a perplexed look. "what? no."

"you so are." sabrina says giddily, covering her cheeks with palms. "only guys can get you smiling like that. spill - who is he?" she leans further forward on the couch, closer to you and your spot on the adjacent chair.

"sabrina," you sigh gently, a small laugh nonchalant following, "it's nothing like that...it's just mark - he's just annoying me like usual."

she hums once, leaning back into an upright position, "right. how is that going by the way?"

you feel your stomach swoop and your cheeks threaten to burn red. "how is what going?" you question nervously, toying with the string of your pyjama pants.

"the tutoring....obviously." she chimes, something between an amused smile and a confused one settled on her round face.

obviously she means the tutoring, you think. there is no other relation between yourself and mark estapa that warrants any type of questioning. but then why do you feel the way you're feeling - your brain questions you.

"fine," you answer quickly, dismissing the annoying turmoil in your own head.

if sabrina thinks your acting weird she doesn't say anything, only watching you as you tug on your string and answer her question. you continue, cheeks flushed at her curious stare, "we are really making progress."

she hums, "this is still the same mark estapa that was fighting you for a seat in class - right?"

you purse your lips, "mhmm."

her lips tug up in a way that's unfamiliar to you, but she looks happy so you don't question her "well, i'm glad there's no more hostility then."

you pause, tilting your head as you think. "not as much." you correct her.

sabrina just shrugs, tucking one of her earphones back in. "who knows," she chimes, giving you one last look, "maybe the two of you will become friends after all this." she doesn't give you a chance to respond, putting her second airpod in and continuing her netflix show.

you exhale, head falling back against the chair with exhaustion. "maybe," you whisper to yourself.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, and you pick it up, your text thread with mark still up on your screen.

mark

i've changed it! too late

mark

okay now you have to ask me a question. that's how this works

mark

oh so you're ignoring me

mark

ur gunna make me cry

you smile and begin to type a response.

—

mark had always loved street parties. the atmosphere of everybody gathered outside gave him a sense of belonging and comfortability - the fresh air combined with unlimited space to move around and mingle always trumped a cramped house party.

often, mark as well as the wolverines roster found themselves mingling with their friends and classmates at any and every street party they managed to catch wind of. after all, with their busy schedules, it was sometimes the only time they got to mingle with one another.

tonight was no exception. mark was nursing his second beer of the night, the condensation dripping down his hand and off his wrist anytime he brought the neck up to his lips for a gulp. beside him, ethan laughs loudly at something luca points out, and mark finds himself joining in - even through he's not sure what's so funny.

suddenly, luca turns his attention towards mark, a mischievous glint in his big eyes. "I think papa estapa should find dylan and get us some more drinks."

"what? why me?" mark groans unimpressed.

"because," ethan sing songs, crushing his empty can and tossing it into the trash bin that, conveniently, was near the trio. "I got them last time."

"right, okay." mark sighs, eyes already squinted as he searches the mass of bodies gathered in the street, trying to find their social butterfly best friend, dylan duke.

"you'll find him," luca says, "hard to miss dylan with that embarrassing cooler backpack."

ethan and luca laugh loudly once again, and mark even chuckles along at the thought of dylan's prized bag he wore at every party. it was a sunshine orange coloured cooler, with frayed straps and liquid stains all over - because yes he refused to wash it in case it would 'take away its magic' - whatever that meant.

the thought of dylan's weird superstition has mark thinking of you as he walks through the sea of people. he thinks about just 48 hours ago during a tutoring session - mark remembers how your hair had been slicked back into a braid, and how shiny and soft it looked as you moved around. although, he thinks he prefers your hair down because he likes the way you hide behind it like a curtain when you're writing - or the way you constantly fiddle with the ends.

mark has been suprised with how well you have managed to take to him - especially with his constant pestering and the way he knows he pushes your buttons. he was also suprised with how smart you truly are - but then again what else did he expect with all your random facts and weird superstitions.

mark takes a moment to glance behind himself to make sure dylan hasn't slipped passed him unknowingly, but as he does so, mark bumps into something - or someone rather.

immediately, he turns and finds you.

he blinks once hard, making sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. when mark realizes you were in fact standing there, his lips tug up, peering down at you with suprise. "oh shit it's you."

you giggle lightly, head tilted so you could look at him. "it's me." you say highly, swaying in your stance.

your blinks are a little lagged and your flushed under the street lamps - that combined with the scent of fruity tequila on your breath has mark squinting suspiciously, "are you drunk?" he questions.

you scoff and look like your going to deny his accusation, but you stop yourself - pursing your lips and slowly nodding. "I may be a little tipsy."

mark smirks slowly, eyeing you teasingly, "a little?"

you nod confidently, bringing your arms behind your back so you are holding onto your own wrists. the new position has you loosing your balance and you stumble forward, barley catching yourself before falling into marks chest.

mark looks like he's holding back a laugh at your tumble and immediately you eye him irritated. "don't start." you huff, standing back to your full height.

"I didn't think this would be your sort of thing," mark admits, stepping closer to your smaller frame so he doesn't have to yell over the sound of people laughing and music blaring - allowing you to hear him more clearly over the noise. "thought you'd maybe be home - studying or something scholarly." he teases.

"i'm not into it," you admit with a slur, "i'm actually heading home. my roommate - sabrina, she said if I didn't come out with her tonight she'd put nair in my shampoo." you thumb behind your shoulder, even though sabrina wasn't there.

"brutal," mark hisses, "so where is sabrina?"

you shrug gently, looking around quickly to see if you could spot her. "don't know. she wants to stay."

he quirks a brow at you, "so you're going alone?"

you nod.

"no, i'll walk you." mark says adamantly, already patting his pockets to make sure he has everything before leaving, "you're drunk and i'm not in good conscious letting you go alone - i'm a gentleman." he still manages to teases you even when he's telling you what to do.

"i'm tipsy, not drunk. remember?" you say matter of factly, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your nose up.

"right. my apologies," mark teases you again, pulling out his phone, shooting a quick text to ethan that he'd not only be leaving the party but he didn't find dylan and couldn't yet their drinks - fend for yourselves boys.

"alright," mark hums, slipping his phone back into his jean pocket. "let's go your majesty." he holds his arm out for you to take, the gesture over exaggerated and embarrassing.

you roll your eyes, dropping your arms so you're able to grip the crook of his elbow - regardless of his teasing. after all, you were very much drunk and were happy for the stability on the walk back.

when mark finally gets you both towards the direction of the student dorms and away from the bustling crowd is when he next speaks - his hoarse but still sweet voice pulling you from your own thoughts. "I think you'd like fine bald."

you slow in your steps, looking at him inquisitively. "what?"

"you know," mark shrugs, pulling you further along the sidewalk with a gentle tug from his elbow, "in case your roommate would've actually put nair in your shampoo."

it takes your intoxicated brain a moment to register his words but once you come to, your laughing loudly, right into marks strong shoulder -  your weight pushing onto mark as you lean into him.

"liar." you accuse him once your laughter subsides.

"never," mark says back. you don't say anything back, too busy trying to walk straight beside him. after a few moments, he continues, "so," mark smirks teasingly, nudging his elbow into you - the action momentarily squeezing your arms. "what's your favourite thing about me?" he questions.

you gasp with despair, your free hand coming up towards your exposed neck - clutching your imaginary pearls as you look up at the tall boy. "you're taking advantage of my drunkness," you slur accusingly, "people can't lie when they're drunk."

"thought you were just tipsy." he chimes, brow quirked at you knowingly.

"boooooo," you give him a thumbs down as you voice your opinion, which makes mark laugh, his bicep bumping into your shoulder at the movement.

you sigh loudly, deep in thought as you and mark continue further down the sidewalk, the sight of your building coming into view. "my favourite thing about you," you start soon after, "is that you're very determined, especially in your school work. it's a good quality to have."

even with your slurred speech and wobbly walk, mark can tell you're being genuine - your intoxicated state a clear indicator that you've lost any chance you had at a filter.

mark has never thought himself to be determined academically. on the ice - sure, but not with school - especially not when he was failing. clearly, you see something in him he doesn't see himself. that has him wanting to work even harder to not only improve for himself - but for you.

instead of just thanking you for the compliment, he chooses to faux frown, knowing teasing you when you're this drunk was an opportunity he wasn't going to pass up. " it's not that i'm devilishly handsome?"

mark expects you to roll your eyes like always - or even sigh all high and mighty how you tend to do when he gets on your nerves but you want to pretend your unaffected. but instead, you smile all dopey up at him, and the words that come out of your mouth are definitely ones sober you would never say. "well that definitely doesn't hurt."

"you're such a flirt tonight, y/n/n," you don't bat an eye at mark's new nickname for you, shrugging lightly at his remark. mark continues, a sarcastic sneer on his face "makes me a little sick to be honest."

"hey!" you screech, pulling away from the warmth of his muscular body, your hand unwrapping from where it was still resting in the crook of his elbow "i'll never do it again, wouldn't want little marky to feel sick from a compliment from y/n y/l/n!"

he laughs loudly at your teasing outburst and he reaches out towards your stumbling body, grabbing onto your arm and slowly pulling you back into him. "you know i'm kidding y/n."

you look up at him softly, feeling the way his breath fans across your hairline as he stands above you.

mark continues quietly, "if i'm being really honest, I want you to compliment me all the time."

you clear your throat once, breaking your eye contact. nonchalantly, your shrug. "we will see about that - depends how well behaved you are." you tease him, the two of you nearing the entrance of your building. at the end of your sentence, you burp just a little, a soft but slurred apology spewing from your lips immediately as you giggle at yourself.

it's a harsh reminder for mark that you are in fact hammered, and that you would probably have little to no recollection of the conversation in the morning.

you start walking up the three steps to your front door but pause at the first one, glancing back over at mark. "why did you take my seat from me?" you hum in question, swaying as you spin around to fully face him again," that second day of classes, why don't you just sit in the back like the first day?"

mark hisses through his teeth gently, eyeing your blissful flushed face. that day many weeks ago flashes through marks head as you stare at him - awaiting for an answer. even though mark knows you won't remember what he says anyways, he doesn't tell you why. "ask me that when you're sober." he says.

you make a fart noise with you tongue at his response, giving him another thumbs down - clearly unimpressed with his answer.

mark reaches towards you and flips your hand right way up so that it's turned into a thumbs up. you slap his hand away.

the sight of his smile and the sound of his laughter has your belly feeling funny - similar to the swoop on a drop of a rollarcoaster. you turn away from him, key in hand as you take the final two steps up.

you plunge the key into the door lock, jiggling it around until the door unlatches itself for you.

"need help upstairs?" mark asks from behind you.

you glance over your shoulder at him once again, passing the threshold of the doorway. "thought you were a gentleman, marky." you tease him knowingly, eyebrows raised in his direction.

mark tongues his cheek at your remark, nodding once at you. "goodnight y/n." he chimes.

"night night." you sing song, shutting the door gently.

tutoring lesson 18

mark jostles on his bed, sighing loudly as he shifts around. the movement has the pen gripped between your thumb and forefinger slipping -  accidentally drawing a long harsh line down your homework.

slightly aggravated, you take a deep calming breath, moving around the line and continuing your work silently - cross legged on top of mark's bedspread.

after your last study session, mark complained about constantly working in the dusty library or a hospital white study room and told you he needed a change of scenery - told you his brain was going to explode if not, which made you roll your eyes at his over exaggeration.

although, you had to agree with him that the repetitive scenery was becoming tiring, and a change of location would be nice and would help benefit mark's learning.

so ahead of your current tutoring/study session, mark had texted you asking to meet at his place - he sent his address and stated his place was empty for working.

that's how you ended up on his plaid navy bedspread a few hours past his text messages - all kinds of class work laid out in front of you and mark, both of you finishing up some assignments.

once again, mark sighs loudly, flopping around his bed like a fish to try and further get your attention - his previous exaggerated sigh not working in his favour.

you take his very obvious bait, looking over at him with a quirked brow.

mark was already watching you, waiting for you to give him the attention he was wanting. "can we take a break?" he asks in a whine, similar to a naughty kid who wants to get their way, "I might throw myself off a cliff if I have to read anymore articles." he warns, flopping around some more.

you sit up, stretching the ache in your back that formed from being hunched over your studies. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, but you don't think a break is a bad idea. your back is sore and your hand was cramping from all the writing, both are practically begging you to relax.

you break, "okay, let's take a break."

the puppy dog look mark was previously sporting in your direction turns into one of relief, that same smirk he was always wearing making its much anticipated return. "alright, let's get rid of these books, i've got something in mind." he waggles his eyebrows at you, giving you a wink.

that combined with that smirk you're growing to love of his, has some inappropriate thoughts running through your head - dirty ideas increasing as mark quickly gathered all books a loose papers to clear the bed.

thankfully mark doesn't catch your flustered expression because he is too busy placing all your stuff of the floor. "we are watching a movie." he tells you happily, sitting back up on the now clean bedspread.

clearing your mind of its contents, you crawl up towards the top of the bed, joining mark. you let yourself follow suit and lean back against the headboard, supporting your torso. "what movie?" you question curiously, eyeing mark as he clicks through streaming apps on his small tv.

finally he gets to his desired one, searching through the app's favourite list. mark smirks, glancing over at you. "fast & furious obviously."

the opening credits start to play through the bedroom, the film illuminating the dim bedroom.

you groan, looking away from mark in favour of letting you head fall back against the headboard with a thud.

"don't groan yet," mark laughs gently, his thick thigh nudging against yours. "it hasn't even started."

"thank god for that," you tease him, head lulling to the side so you are able look at mark once again. you watch as his lips tug up from your teasing, a small breathy laugh leaving him as he watches the tv.

softly, you smile as well, head turning back towards fast & the furious.

a beat passes.

"wait," mark suddenly alerts, "there's not some weird science thing about a certain side of the bed for movie watching, right?" his lips tug up towards the end of his question, an obvious indicator that he was trying to make fun of you and your weird statistics and knowledge about seats.

in all seriousness, you answer. "oh not for a bed - only the movie theatre."

"oh my god" mark deadpan, turning his attention back to the loud cars on the screen and away from you. "you're such a weirdo."

you giggle to yourself, grabbing one of marks throw blankets from the end of the bed, and pulling the fuzzy material up and over your body.

-

slowly, your eyes flutter open. the warmth of the sun on your face working as a natural alarm clock, waking you from your sleep. your surroundings are unfamiliar in such a sleepy state - noting the navy sheets and patterned bread spread.

then, you take notice of how your cheek feels hot, and how the scent right under your nose was seemingly very familiar. your eyes widen, and under your cheek, marks chest rumbles with laughter.

you were in marks room...in his bed...sleeping on his chest.

"well, hello, sleeping beauty." he says gently above your head. "was the movie really that boring you had to fall asleep on me?"

you roll off marks chest rather quickly, ending your impromptu cuddle session. it is clearly morning based on the sun streaming in his window, meaning you had accidentally slept over at mark's -  falling asleep sometime during fast & furious.

you wipe your eyes, cringing at the thought of the mascara you never had the chance to remove. you cringe harder thinking about the consequences of not washing your makeup off period. you hope sabrina isn't worried about you and you quickly shoot her a text of your location to end any sort of panic.

for the first time since opening your eyes, you finally meet mark's gaze. he's still lying down, hands behind his head as he looks at you from his spot half under the covers. the position has his biceps flexed perfectly, bulging under his tshirt - you feel yourself get warm from the sight, your body tingling pleasantly.

he quirks a brow at you questionably, still awaiting an answer to his earlier teasing.

clearing your throat, you hum. "well," you begin, your voice groggily and still thick with sleep, "wouldn't watch it again."

slowly, marks lips tug upwards into a lazy smirk. "you missed all the best parts," he tells you through his grin.

you scrunch your nose up in distaste. "I doubt that."

his mouth drops as he laughs. gently, he takes one of his pillows, using it to hit your side. before he can pull back, you grab onto the corner. mark doesn't fight you as you pull it from his grip, hitting him once in the chest with it as you laugh.

"are you guys coming to eat or what?" a voice calls from downstairs, their deep tone muffled through the bedroom door.

your brows pull together in confusion, eyeing mark.

he sits up, "ethan asked if we wanted food like 30 minutes ago, told him we'd be right down." mark whispers to you nonchalantly before shouting out a response to his roommate.

"you should've woken me," you insist, getting out of bed as mark does the same. "don't want them to think i'm rude."

mark shrugs, wordlessly tossing you a hoodie to wear. you pull it over your head immediately, the scent of mark invading your nostrils.

"couldn't wake the princess," he teases.

"shut up," you tell him.

you had only met ethan, marks roommate and teammate in passing the night prior as mark lead you upstairs for your tutoring lesson. the rest of his roommates though you had yet to meet. so breakfast (which consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon and questionably burnt toast courtesy of dylan) was spent chatting and getting to know them.

you found it rather amusing at the way all the boys kept asking you question after question - rather random ones at that. but you enjoyed it nonetheless - serving as a good distraction from the fact you woke up cuddling mark estapa because what the hell.

you shove move eggs in your mouth and ignore thinking too much about your morning surroundings, listening contently as luca fantilli asks what your favourite dinner condiment is (specifically dinner).

you don't notice all the teasing looks mark's friends were giving him when you were distracted. mark pretends he doesn't see the looks either.

the only looks he focuses on are yours - when you meet his eyes over the rim of your mug of orange juice. everytime mark has to fight off a smile.

3:28 p.m.

mark

I think my friends really liked you. definitely more than they like me

y/n

thank god :)

y/n

I was worried the whole being late for sophomore house breakfast would turn them off

mark

nah they don't give a fuck about that

mark

luca even said you were hot

y/n

really 😳

y/n

maybe you should give him my number then

mark

fuck that

mark

no way

mark

I said you're off limits

y/n

why?

y/n

are you jealous little marky?? 🥺

mark

yeah because then you'd tutor them and they'll be smarter than me

y/n

don't worry. i'll only ever tutor you 🫶🏻

mark

atta girl

tutoring lesson 21

"this isn't cute." you deadpanned, eyeing mark from across the small table.

mark smirks gently, titling his head. "no?" he asks you, brows raised curiously. you shake your head, mimicking his no, but definitively rather than questioningly.

"is it convincing, at least?" he hums, his sultry smile turning into a cheeky one - playing at his lips as he leans forward.

you squint at him.

mark sighs dramatically, leaning impossibly closer towards you across the table - so close that if you leaned forward you could kiss him. "please, y/n, you have to come to my game." he pleads.

once he sees you're not budging, mark clasp's his hands together in a loud prayer motion, "pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee-"

quickly, you place a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. "stop whining," you interrupt his plea. "my ear drums are going to start bleeding."

underneath your palm you can feel mark snicker to himself, his eyes twinkling with nothing but mischief as he looks at you.

you blush, removing your hand from his face. you can still feel the way his stubble tickled you skin and the heat of his face on you. it has you blushing deeper, wiping away the tingles.

immediately, mark starts to ask the same question he's been asking you for months. ever since your and mark's relationship has grown from strictly academic agreement to a friendship,  he has been asking, begging and telling you that you need to come watch a hockey game.

every single time, you tell him no. the idea of men skating around and bashing into one another didn't sound that inviting. the way mark is looking at you now though, you can feel yourself wanting to break.

he continues, "how about if I get a B or higher on the midterm, you have come to one game."

"mark..." you sigh gently, eyeing him softly.

"just one." mark stresses again, "i'll even get you the ticket. I just want my friend there to watch me play - especially because she's never seen a hockey game." as he speaks, marks forearms falls flat on the table, reaching out so he can grab ahold of your wrists that were resting on top the desk - his thumbs stroking your skin soothingly.

a beat passes.

"okay," you sigh, "but only if you get a B."

mark smiles in victory, giving your wrist one gentle squeeze before releasing you. "you'll love it." he states.

you shrug nonchalantly, "you'll never know how i'll feel about it if you don't get back to studying." your eyes dart between him and his open textbook knowingly.

in all seriousness, mark nods, getting back to his notes as you both study from your early morning test for following day, the dim lights of the study room providing a calming atmosphere as you both concentrated on the task.

mark finds himself focusing on you a little while later- lost in watching you study the material. the way you twisted your hair around your finger, gently sucking on the end of your pen as you intently read the article laid in front of you.

he shuffles in his seat at the sight, clearing his throat and looking down towards his notes quickly. it isn't a moment later when marks eyes gravitate back towards you, his mouth opening slightly as he watches you pull your hair into a yellow claw clip, small wisps falling out to give you that hot librarian look that fulfilled all of marks childhood fantasies.

feeling marks stare, you look up to meet his eyes, raising your brows at his suspicious expression. the pen falls from your lips as you question him. "are you okay?"

"yeah - no," he huffs, "you sucking that pen, fuck - you're kind of turning me on." he admits shamelessly, wiggling in his seat again in a way that has you gawking wordlessly.

"what?" you think you've turned permanently beat red at his confession, eyes blown wide and brows raised towards him.

"you gotta stop before I have to leave," mark laughs gently, rubbing the back of his neck, "it's been awhile since I got laid so that's not helping."

"mark!" you screech, dropping your pen in favour of covering your ears with your palms, blocking out anymore things mark felt the need to admit. "I don't want to know that!"

your loudness has mark laughing, the sight of you getting so easily flustered is just too good. he nudges your foot with his own under the table, a subtle signal that he wasn't going to say anything else to embarrass you and that you could uncover your ears.

slowly you release the press from your palms, the humming of the air conditioning unit coming back to you.

mark doesn't move his foot away, letting it rest between your two under the table. it has you unable to focus for the rest of your booked study room time.

10:59 p.m.

mark

so do you need to borrow one of my jerseys to wear to the game ? 😉

y/n

don't get ahead of yourself cowboy. test hasn't happened and there's a week before we know the grade

mark

it'll be a B

mark

not sure if you know this but I have this really smart tutor

y/n

oh yeah ? tell me more

mark

well...

mark

she tried to seduce me today by sucking off her pen

y/n

i'm blocking you

—

it wasn't often that you'd go out the bars, but you and your two closest friends preferred it over roudy frat parties and nightclubs. after taking your first midterms of the year, you all planned on celebrating with a couple drinks at the local bar.

a place you'd been before, but for some reason the night felt....off. you told sabrina and your other mutual friend, taylor, that you'd get the next round of drinks after using the bathroom but you had an uneasy feeling as soon as you stepped up to the bar alone.

you hadn't yet got the bartenders attention, so you were just waiting off towards the end of the bar, that same weird feeling in your belly.

"hey," a voice said to your left, that unsettling feeling growing as a person joined you - there voice husky and breath too warm against your face. "pretty lame bar right?"

you turn your head to see a guy around your age - in fact, you're pretty sure you've seen him around campus. which would make sense considering the bar was only a 5 minute uber ride from student buildings.

you smile politely, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. "eh, all bars seem to be the same anyways." you turn your attention back to the bar, trying to grab the young female bartenders attention so you could get back to your table and leave the presence of this guy. your belly swirls with discomfort once more.

the guy doesn't get the hint, and moves closer to you. "I think i've seen you around campus, it's y/n, right?"

you furrow your brows but nod anyways, "yeah, that's me."

"i'm Landon," he says. "hey, think we should get out of here? talk somewhere quiet?" you feel his hand graze your side and immediately you push away, trying to create a sense of distance between you.

"i'm okay."

"c'mon," he laughs, "it be fun." his lingering touch turns into a harsh grip on your waist, fingers squeezing your ribs through your flowy top.

your brows raise, and you try and push him off of you once more. unfortunately, it's an unsuccessful attempt and your face drops with numbness and panic starts to become unbeatable. "let go of me," you manage to hiss, elbowing his ribs as you try and get him off you.

just when you think you may have to scream out for help, somebody calls out somewhere in the bar. you briefly see a familiar tall figure with soft blonde hair, and you feel like you can breath again.

"hey!" like an angel, mark appears beside you, removing landon's hands off and putting his much larger body between you and the creep before you - making the space you were desperately needing.

mark looks angry - which you didn't think golden retriever mark was capable of. his eyes narrow towards landon, "stop touching my girl like she's a piece of meat, fucking prick."

landon laughs disgustingly as he eyes mark back - a sound that has your skin crawling. although mark has never looked very intimidating, this new found anger makes him seem anything but.

landon doesn't seem to agree as he bites back. "she can do better, bud" unfortunately, he isn't backing down from the confrontation. you become even more nervous than before, quickly searching the crowd to see if you can spot of of marks teammates for a helping hand.

"I can make you look worse," mark threatens, stepping closer. his broad chest practically pushes landon back, and he stumbles once.

landon snickers, pushing him away. you watch him eye mark once more, and then hesitate. thankfully, he finally chooses to back down, stepping away from mark. "whatever man." the creep sends you one more disgusting look as he backs away.

you feel yourself relax immediately, a breath you weren't aware you were holding finally coming out. once landon is no longer in eyesight, mark turns his body fully towards you, eyes rather frantic as he looks over you. "are you okay? he didn't hurt you or anything?"

you shake your head, running a trembling hand through your hand. "I'm okay," you take a deep breath, meeting marks concerned gaze. "I didn't know you were here."

"I'm glad I was," mark says in a tone of something similar to disbelief - disbelief of what he just has to stop assumedly. "what a fucking dick."

you look down at your shoes with embarrassment. you can't believe you were in such a terrible situation in which you felt defenceless. you were embarrassed with yourself for not fighting back stronger. "i'm sorry," you mutter gently, meeting marks eyes again.

his blue gaze is still swimming with worry combined with a million other emotions. marks brows pull together, creating a little divot above the bridge of his nose. he shakes his head slightly, hands reaching up delicately before holding your cheeks in his warm palms, cradling you in his hands. "don't apologize." he tells you gently, a thumb stroking once over your cheekbone.

you swallow thickly, nodding at him. "thank you. you didn't have to go that."

"it's least I could do after everything you've done for me." mark says sincerely and you feel like melting into a soupy puddle right at his feet. then, like he's done it before, his hands travels to the back of your head, using the leverage to pull you into his broad chest, his other hand wrapping around your shoulders.

it was...new and rather nice and you heat up in the best possible way. you let yourself relax into his body, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you try and calm your erratic heart rate. immediately, your earlier embarrassment and upset stomach fade away until all you can feel is marks steady heartbeat and his head on top of yours.

"you sure you're okay?" mark pulls back slightly, keeping his hands on you as he dances over your face again. it's all very endearing and overwhelming in the best way.

you nod again, face heating up under his intense gaze, "yeah but i'll probably head out now, not really up for drinks anymore."

"I was actually on my way out before I saw you," mark tells you, "was gunna go to denny's for some pancakes if you wanted to come with."

your stomach rumbles at the thought of fluffy pancakes and sweet syrup with mark. "you sure?"

"I want you to come," mark says gently. "gotta make sure you're okay and not lying to me."

"okay," you say lightly, a smile beginning to blossom at marks sweet words and evident concern for your wellbeing. it was....really nice.

hours later, after a belly full of food and a night of once shock and discomfort turning into one full of laughter with mark, his roommates, and your friends do you register what mark had said to landon.

stop touching my girl.

tutoring lesson 27

your eyes danced over you computer screen as you read over your lesson plan for mark. you were currently waiting for him in the booked study room, the glass door still open for some white noise as you waited for his arrival.

suddenly, the steady sound of students talking amongst themselves and shoes squeaking on the aluminum tiles become more chaotic - an all too familiar voice invading your ears as it splews apologies.

you look up just to see mark weaving through students, making his way quickly towards the study room, apologizing to people as he bumped into them. your brows furrow at his sense of urgency as he approaches.

"mark?" you question once he passes the threshold of the open door, "are you okay?" you quickly give him a once over, checking him for any injures or threats - he looks fine (too fine, your brain reminds you).

mark doesn't answer you question - he can't with how big the smile on his face has grown. he takes two steps towards the desk you're sitting at, giving you a victorious look before slapping a booklet down.

you look down just as mark removes his large hand from the top of the paper, and a shiny B+ grade stares back at you - as well as a ticket to the next michigan wolverines home game.

"not just a B," mark says joyfully, breaking the silence, "but a B+."

you meet his eyes once more, and you can feel your lips beginning to tug upwards. finally, all of marks hard work has payed off and this grade would bring his average up to a B - which was what he was required to have in order to stay in the athletic department at the university of michigan.

"i'm so proud of you," you say truthfully, rounding the table quickly until you are standing in front of him.

mark hugs you - his hands sliding under your open jacket to hold onto you closely. you stiffen slightly at the feeling of his warm palms against your body, but he doesn't seem to notice.

you hug him back just as tightly.

you two pull away from one another shortly after, smiles on both of your faces as you bask in the successful feeling hanging in the air.

like gravitational pull, your eyes wander back over to the test booklet and hockey ticket abandoned on the table.

you purse your lips, reaching out to pick up the thick ticket paper - toying with the edge teasingly. you look up at mark once more, and still he's eyeing you, one brow quirked as he watches you curiously.

"so," you hum, "what does one wear to a hockey game?"

—

5:11 p.m.

y/n

wait where do I park??

y/n

oh wait you're probably not on your phone right now

mark

i'm here. you're good

mark

anywhere is section A

y/n

and you said any entrance right?

mark

that's right 🙂‍↕️

y/n

i'm a little nervous. is that stupid ?

mark

no not stupid. i think you're just excited to see the real men play a real sport 💪

y/n

omg 🙄

mark

i've got you a seat with kayleigh - rut's girlfriend. you'll like her

y/n

and how would you know that ??

mark

c'mon y/n/n. you should know how well I know you by now

mark

stand at the glass for warmups. I want to see you

you do really like kayleigh - which, of course you would because as much as you hate to admit it, mark does know you by now. all the months of knowing each other plus the hours upon hours you and him had spent together - it was bound to happen.

something else you should've known was bound to happen was the feelings you've encountered spending so much time with mark. you can't ignore the way your heart rate changes when you see him, or the way you flush when he stares at you all soft. you've become infatuated with the way mark smells and how he pushes your buttons and how kind he is.

the you at the beginning of the school semester would've never expected this from mark estapa. you assumed he was stuck up, and didn't care about his academics or peers. but the real mark was determined and caring and only wanted to make your tutoring experience fun. no wonder you felt like you were falling for him.

kayleigh's small elbow nudges your side, affectively pulling you from your daydreaming.

"looks like you've got an admirer coming your way," kayleigh teases quietly beside you, her perfect sweet smile nothing but comforting.

although your brows furrow, you can't help but smile back instinctually, turning your attention back towards the ice through the glass infront of you - just in time to see mark skate over to the boards where you and kayleigh stand.

he smiles big, coming to a fast stop - ice sliding up and off his skates blades so the glass becomes snowed. mark pushes away any lingering flurries, making your view of him once again clear.

"are you having fun?" he asks you, one of his gloved hands smacking against the glass between you to keep your attention in the loud arena.

his voice muffled the the pane, but you can hear just how happy he is. you nod wordlessly, your own smile making mark's grow bigger.

"good," he says.

you finally notice mark is holding a puck in that hand he used to hit the glass only moments before. you quirk a brow at him, but marks too focused on tossing the puck on the air, signalling to you that he wanted to throw it over.

once he knows you're paying attention and aware of his intentions, mark tosses the puck over the glass, the rubber biscuit falling right into your awaiting hands.

with the most teasing enthusiasm you can manage, you hold the icy puck to your chest, fanning yourself with your other hand. "always such a gentleman."

mark smirks at your remark and then he winks at you - skating away from the glass to continue his warm ups.

you flutter all over.

-

watching the wolverines play turned out to be really enjoyable. the sport itself was better than you expected - it was fast paced and aggressive. it seemed like something was always happening, which kept you interested and focused. you were even more focused on mark though. anytime he was on the ice, you felt yourself slip into a trance. he moved so skillfully and played so aggressively and motivated. you could finally understand to the full extent of why staying on the team was so important to him.

after the game, kayleigh said her and some of the other girls would stay around and wait for the guys to come out of the locker room to greet one another after a win. you weren't going to protest, and blindly followed her through the wolverines area and down towards the players tunnels.

when mark had seen you there, he lit up - greeting you in a warm hug and keeping you in within arms length as you all chatted after their win. when mark insisted he would drive you home and bring you back the next morning for your car - well, you obviously gave in and agreed.

that's how you ended up in mark's car, enthusiastically asking him a million questions about hockey - even the questions that you think seem stupid and are positive he's answered a million times before. mark lets you though, answering you questions with just as much excitement as you have.

mark flicks his blinker on, signaling his pull off on the night lit streets. he expertly parallel parks right infront of your building, turning towards you with a smile still on his face once he turns the car off. "so safe to say you'd come again?"

you let your head fall against the headrest gently, a tired grin taking over your rosy lips. "I would."

mark mimics your position, turning his body towards you in the driver's seat. "seeeee," he drags out with a gin, "I knew you would like it. I said I was smarter than you thought."

you frown slightly, "I knew you were smart."

his smile changes, a more earnest one taking over. marks teasing eyes turn soft as he eyes you in the dark car. "really?"

you nod once, "yeah - well, expect for when you tried to beat my to my seat everyday. I didn't think that was very smart of you."

he chuckles breathily at your teasing, tucking his lip between his teeth to try and contain his grin. "maybe," his voice is quieter, almost a whisper as he leans closer towards you, resting on the middle console. like gravity, you join him, leaning in. mark continues, "I had a reason."

"oh yeah?" you inquire breathlessly, brows quirked in his direction. "and whats that?"

he shrugs and continues to whisper. "maybe I wanted to sit near this pretty girl who sat there."

the air in the car morphs into a thick syrup, turning your skin hot and sticky. your lips tug up in a small but timid smile. "just maybe?"

marks tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip in a way that has your toes curling and stomach filling with butterflies - bashing against your insides and tickling at your desires.

"most definitely," he shrugs nonchalantly, but the smirk that follows his words are anything but. mark leans in impossibly closer before you can form any thoughts or words. "can I confess something?"

"mhm," you hum, eyes fluttering on instinct.

his voice is deeper than normal, and he sounds so sultry that you may just pass out. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"i'm okay with that," you whisper after a beat of happily thick silence.

the last thing you see is marks beautiful smirk as he reaches up and grabs ahold of your face - nudging his nose against yours once, gently, before resting it against yours. finally, after weeks of wanting him to, mark leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

mark kisses in a way we weren't expecting. his lips were soft but he was rougher in his movements - confident in the way he held you and slotted his lips with yours. you're coming to realize that everything about mark is unexpected in the best way.

by the time you've pulled away, you're both breathless. the press of mark's forehead on yours helps keep you grounded, and you laugh lightly.

"can I confess something else," he breathes, that teasing smile still staring back at you.

"if it's as good as the last thing you confessed i'm all ears." you smile, brushing the tip of your nose across his.

he laughs once as you pull back again, shaking his head slightly as he admires you. "you're still turning me on." mark grins boyishly.

you squeal with laughter, smacking his chest gently. "mark!" you drag out, "you're so gross."

"yeah." he whispers, half and agreement half a question. he leans back in, connecting your lips again. you blush, hands resting against his neck as you reciprocate the kiss.

—

all night, you couldn't stop thinking about mark. which was inevitable considering he had slept over at your place, both of crammed in your tiny twin bed -laughing and talking (and making out) until the early hours of the morning.

he drove you back to the arena the next morning and on the ride there anytime you thought of how mark's gangly feet hung off the end of your bed, you'd enter a fit of laughter - and everytime mark knew you were making fun of him, so he would tickle your side quickly to annoy you.

it was all so domestic and tooth rooting levels of sweet your stomach hurt in the best way.

mark kissed you gooodbye before he had to go home and shower before his afternoon classes, and all was good and perfect and you really like him.

then the evening came, and you hadn't heard from him since he dropped you off. you didn't think too much of it though, assuming he was probably exhausted. a hockey game as well as a shitty and short sleep was bound to have him passed out for the night.

but then the next day was also radio silent. no pointless texts or facetime calls. no memes in your direct messages or unfunny tiktok's waiting on the app.

the third day, the day of your shared morning class, you spot him. mark doesn't look sick or tired and you can see his phone in his pocket meaning he still has one and it's working - every and any excuse you've made for mark about his sudden silence is no longer plausible. he was just simply ignoring you.

you march over, grabbing his forearm before he can walk into class. he looks confused at first, but once mark sees that it's you touching him, his eyes widen ever so slightly, face pale as he takes in your angry and confused expression.

"have a second?" you ask with faux sweetness. you don't wait for a reply, gripping his arm tighter and dragging him away from the entrance of the class. you march down the hall until its quieter, releasing his arm and turning to face him once the coast seems to be clear.

you raise a brow in his direction, "you're ignoring me."

"am I?" he asks awkwardly, running a hand through his hair nonchalantly.

you roll your eyes. "don't play stupid mark - we both know you're not stupid." you grit out, arms crossing over one another as you stare him down. "I don't understand what happened. I thought we were friends? I thought..." you trail off, swallowing thickly as emotion starts to scratch away at your throat.

a beat passes.

"thought what?" marks asks you harshly. his tone of voice has you confused, and you shuffle backwards, putting some distance between you. tears start to claw at your eyes, stinging you.

he laughs slightly, "I mean, listen, thanks for tutoring me and all but we're good now. we can go back to just classmates or whatever."

"are you being for real?" you whisper. your once angry crossed arms have turned into ones of defence, wrapping around you like a soft hug.

"yeah," he clears his throat, eyeing the floor "we're done now, I don't need you hanging around anymore and telling me what to do."

he couldn't even look at you. you purse your lips, nodding in a disgusted understanding. "fine," you say, "we're done then."

you ignore the way your voice cracks, turning heel and waking away from mark. you pass right by the open door of the lecture hall, not having the emotional capacity to be in the same space as the guy who just broke your heart.

—

you spent the following day wallowing in your own tears and self pity. you can't help but think that you've read his signals incorrectly. you think mark was only being civil to make your arrangement easier. he didn't want to be friends with you or date you - maybe he just wanted to hook up with you and then dump you. that thought is the worst of them all.

when you told sabrina the short conversation you last had with him, she was of course angry because, in her words, 'who does he think he is? fucking with you like that!'

she quickly assured you that you didn't do anything wrong and if his intentions weren't to pursue anything but friendship with you - he failed miserably.

a week after your brief fight with mark outside your shared lecture hall, you sit in your sweats on the living couch. still very much grumpy and angry with the wolverines player.

you were waiting for sabrina to get back from work before turning on the previous nights episode of the bachelor - munching on oreos and scrolling your phone aimlessly when you hear a knock at the door.

without thinking much of it, you make your way over. sabrina, as much as you love her, is a very forgetful person and it was often you had to let her back into your shared place after she'd forget her set of keys.

expect it's not sabrina, and your teasing remark dies on your tongue.

"i'm sorry." mark breaths as soon as the door opens between you. "I fucked up."

your momentary shock subsides and you laugh in disbelief, "yeah. you did." you shut the door in his face, walking away. if mark couldn't even find it in himself to look you in the eye while he broke your heart and told you that you were nothing more than a tutor - why should you let him look at you now.

"please, y/n/n," he pleas through door. softly, his forehead hits the wood, a dull thud echoing through your home. "i'm here to apologize."

you wouldn't let yourself cry - you've done enough crying the past week for years and years to come. you've done plenty enough crying over some stupid hockey player.

without a response from you, mark takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes as he tries to gather his scattered thoughts.

"I said stupid things to you," he starts against your closed door, "stupid things I didn't mean. you are more than just my tutor okay? I do still need you because you're important to me. I only pushed you away because - fuck - i've never felt these feelings before and you made me nervous. honestly, you still make me nervous."

mark can't find it in himself to care that your neighbours - possible classmates of his even, could be and are most likely listening in as he talks to you through the door you shut in his face.

he sighs again, silently cursing to himself.

"awhile ago...when I walked you home after we ran into one another at that street party," he pauses, wetting his lips. the action feels useless, all moisture in his mouth feels gone. "you asked me why I took your seat that second day. y/n, I took that seat only on the pure hope you'd sit in it again. when I saw you that first day of classes, I thought you were the most beautiful girl i'd ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. so the next day, I took it because I wanted any excuse to talk to you.

when you started going on about the importance of that seat that day, I knew you'd try and get it back....so I took the opportunity and tried to take it before you because I wanted you to interact with me...even just a little. and I would do it again if it meant I'd get to know you the way you've allowed me to."

mark is still alone in your buildings hallway. he listens intently against the door, but he doesn't hear any shuffling. it's silent - you're not coming back to him. his eyes close with disappointment - not with you but himself.

he pulls out his phone and opens your text thread.

your phone buzzes against the counter top and you look over quickly. the skin around your thumb is probably thanking you as you drop it from between your teeth - a nervous habit you'd always had.

you use a shoulder to wipe the tears that had leaked from your eyes, opening your phone to see a text.

a pre-made playlist from mark estapa is staring at you.

"I fucked up, i'm so so so sorry."

you sniffle quitley, scrolling through the few songs he'd curated for you.

mark speaks again, "I made you this. its okay if you don't want to talk, okay? fuck, I just needed to apologize -"

his voice becomes clear as you pull open the door that separates you from him and his apology is put to a halt. he looks shocked and nervous at the same time - the top of his cheekbones flushed and the rest of his face pale. you've never seen mark look so distraught and immediately, you know he is feeling guilty.

"you know you fucked up, right? like you're not just saying it so that ill forgive you and you can get into my pants?"

marks brows are pulled tight and he frowns roughly, "no, definitely not. I really fucked up and i'm really fucking sorry. you don't even need to forgive me but I just need you to know that I didn't mean any of that bullshit last week."

you still look hesitant, eyeing him as he stands before you. mark sighs gently, taking the smallest step towards you. "I need you, y/n. I need you like I need hockey and need the sun. you've become one of my best friends and I can't imagine not sitting beside you in class anymore. you're the reason i'm still playing hockey." he pauses. "I need you because I'm falling for you, y/n. and I can't go another day of hiding it."

"can I confess something?" you whisper waterly. you don't wait for a reply and continue, "I really like you and have for awhile now. I'm falling for you even harder - and," you take a deep breath, your body falling limp as you stare up at him. "...I really want to kiss you."

that smirk you love oh so much is back, and so is the colour in marks face. you smile with him just as he kisses you. the feeling so warm and familiar and right.

you've always loved statics and facts. one you've always found fascinating is how only 28% of college relationships end up marrying. now, logically speaking, that's isn't very high but as you stand in your doorway, mark estapa's hands in your hair and his lips on yours - you think that you may be apart of that statistic.

thank god for your seat war.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[leavemetrappedinacage]

EVERYTHING WAS A MISTAKE — i. cheater.

⤷ summary: Leaving home isn't hard, coming back to home is, you're determined to find your sister, but Gojo has many things to say to you.

⤷ pairing: yandere!satoru gojo x fem!vampire!reader.

⤷ warnings: angst, abuse (physical assault), a bit of gore, blood, abusive behavior, it's implied that Gojo has assaulted reader other times in the past, gaslighting, mentions of cheating, mentions of death, psychological violence (Gojo is manipulating the reader into thinking that everything is her fault), spoilers (JJK0).

⤷ more information about story: here.

⤷ notes: this chapter is a bit hard to read (it was hard to write too), if you are in an abusive relationship or have just come out of one reading it may cause triggers, so please stay safe. 🤍 (I forgot to post the chapter yesterday, sorry. 😭)

⤷ word count: 2867.

Human lives are bubbles floating on the surface of the water, fleeting, but the life of a vampire is perennial, like the Pinus longaeva, which will last for millennia if it is not uprooted. You let go of Satoru's clothes, to whom you were clinging tightly until recently. The words he said to you seem like a bad joke, but the part of you that knows him knows that he wouldn't lie about such a serious matter. A million possibilities run through your head and none of them seem right. Your older sister is the current head of the clan, she succeeded your mother after her death, she is also married to Satoru's older brother and is therefore part of the Gojo clan by marriage, no one in their right mind would harm her, unless they wanted to provoke a war that they would never win.

In the past, after you broke one of the clan's three taboos, your sister came to understand your side of the story, and although you confessed your sins out of your own mouth without showing remorse, she knew you well enough to know that you would never commit a crime of this proportion unless it was truly necessary, you were hot-headed, not a serial killer. However, there was a limit to her influence, your sister had to withdraw from the investigation not long after, the other investigators claimed there was a conflict of interest and personal motivations on her part because you belong to the same lineage, although you knew very well why they wouldn't allow her to investigate, you comforted her by saying it was all a mistake.

You accepted the death sentence so that her and her family's reputation wouldn't be tarnished by her crimes, but when you found out what they would do with your corpse after your death, you had no choice but to run away. You escaped from prison and left everything behind, so you would never see your family again and would forever be an outcast, but you knew that Gabi, your beloved sister, still had hope.

You fall to the ground on your knees, your heart breaks into a million pieces that you may never be able to put back together, the tears flow endlessly, but you don't make a sound. Your sister once told you: "One day, I will die, and you will be the last member of our family. And when that day comes, you'll miss me so bad when I'm gone, Y/N!" She said it laughing, you didn't care because she was the head of the clan, and just like your mother, she would die of old age with three children or more, but now those words blowing in the wind have taken on a new meaning, as if she knew deep down that it would happen. You put your hand on your chest and lean forward until your face touches the carpet, you open your mouth to scream, there's no strength left in you to do so, only a bitter taste of defeat in your mouth.

Satoru gets down on his knees in front of you and hugs you, you don't pull back because it's the only comfort you can have right now, you cling to him like you're clinging to your last thread of hope, you allow yourself to cry because it's the only thing you can do right now. He's never seen you react like this, you never cry, you didn't shed a single tear at your own mother's funeral, you were like a beacon in the middle of a stormy night, strong and resilient, no one has ever been able to shake you, so seeing you so vulnerable makes him feel he needs to protect you. He lifts your face with both hands and wipes the snot off with the sleeve of his shirt, you're a wreck, but you muster the strength to get up. Now with a clear head, you know you have to solve this problem, no matter what.

"I'm going to kill them all." You mutter, the glow you're carrying fades and gives way to a gloomy aura, you turn away from Satoru, you're planning how to kill these people, there are too many of them and only one of you, but you've been in a similar situation before, so you think it won't be a big problem. "Thanks for warning me, but I don't want you to meddle this time, it's a matter of fa-"

Satoru suddenly interrupts you. You don't have time to associate what happened right away, it was so fast, only then do you realize that he's hit you, you touch your cheek and it's hot and tingling, your ear is ringing as if a bell is inside your head, and it feels like one of your eyes has popped out of your skull because you're not seeing well. You're so bewildered that he has to hold you so that you don't fall to the ground again.

"I don't know what the hell you're thinking, but stop. Now." He gently grabs your face and presses down on your right eye with his thumb in order to put it back in place, and you stand there as if you were a doll being carefully repaired. "You're a hothead, aren't you? God! Are you thinking of killing someone else? I hope not, I don't want to have to do it again." He scolds you, he doesn't like the idea of having to hit you, but you always cross the line, it's so annoying. "If you make a single slip-up, everyone's efforts will be for nothing, your sister's life is at stake and we still don't know the intentions behind the kidnapping, so. Stop. Acting. Impulsively." He spoke slowly and nodded, waiting for you to agree. "Answer me."

"But-"

"Answer." Somehow his aura seemed to pressure you, it's always like this, he says he doesn't want to hit you, but if you keep doing things the way you want, he'll hit you again and again until you stop, you shrug and he sighs. "Y/N... answer me, I won't do it again, so be a good girl and say you won't do anything."

"I won't act on impulse, I promise."

"Yes, yes. I knew you were still a good girl." His tone of voice has changed, the pressure on his shoulders is also gone, he pushes back a lock of hair and kisses your forehead, it's almost as if he's someone else. "I'd love to spend some time with you here, but we have to go now."

"Now?" You hear a pop, Gloria and the children are still waiting for you, you can't leave without saying goodbye, you look around the room for the bread basket and find it completely ruined, you let out a breath of air through your nose. "I couldn't go and see any of you anyway."

"Who are you talking about?" Satoru grabs you from behind and buries his face in your neck, you're tense and stiff, it would be bad if he found out about Gloria, he's not the kind of person who tolerates jealousy. But fortunately he doesn't seem to know, he sees the basket of bread on the floor and remembers the children you greeted earlier. "I didn't know you liked children so much."

"Oh, yes, of course?! So you were stalking me at that time too?" He replies with a 'mhmm', you roll your eyes. "You're awful." You let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "Oh, I never had a chance, did I?"

"I'm glad you know your place." He's so overbearing and arrogant, yet if you had only half the power he has, you'd act like it too. "I'll help the children later if you behave yourself on the journey back."

"Really?" Your shoulders relax, you lean in to look at him, he nods in agreement and you're relieved, but everything has a price...

"But you'll owe me one." He whispers unassumingly. "Two, actually." He holds up two fingers, you choke. "Or have you forgotten that I'm going to have to take you in secret?"

"I thought you were going to give me up! I even thought I would need Suguru's help."

"Of course not!" He shouts, irritated, an icy chill shakes your body, you lower your head and he continues shouting. "What kind of monster do you think I am? I would never hurt you, Y/N. I... I... forget it." He pushes you away and massages his temples, then stops abruptly and runs his hand over his face as if he's just remembered something. "Oh, one more thing, Suguru is dead."

"WHAT?"

"I killed Suguru, he committed some crimes, but nothing compares to the fact that he hid you from me." Satoru lets out an infamous chuckle, you can't believe what he's just told you, but given the circumstances, you know he's not lying, the only person who knew your whereabouts was Suguru. "You remember when you abandoned me, don't you? Didn't you think about me? How I might feel?"

"You weren't the only one I left behind, and-" You start to speak, but he signals you to shut up and stop making excuses he doesn't want to hear.

"But as far as I know you haven't abandoned Suguru, have you?" You feel the air get heavy and Satoru's shadow covers you, he seems much bigger than you or you're feeling too small, you don't know, you go back and grope the tree, there's nowhere to run, you close your eyes and wait, maybe for the next slap or something worse. "He told me everything before he died... so we have a lot to talk about, Y/N."

Mistrust is like a deadly poison that eats away at you from the inside, it makes love grow cold, but it also gives birth to a weed called resentment. There's no fixing something that's been broken, when you put the pieces back together, the cracks and scars of the breakage will be there forever, it will break again if you fill it with water. There is no way to mend the heart of someone who has already been betrayed or abandoned.

Satoru look at you with a fake smile, the corners of his mouth are twitching, a bad sign, there's no escape for a change, there's only the two of you on this deserted house, even if there was someone here no one would come to save you, there's no place you can use to hide, but there's no way and no reason to hide when the Six Eyes are looking for you. You open your mouth, but give and accept that there is no other option but to stay quiet, he seems satisfied with your decision, the smile on his face widens.

"Satoru..."

"You cheated on me." He repeats with tears in his eyes.

"WAIT, WHAT? I never cheated on you." You choke, you don't know if he's making it up or Suguru said something that made him get it all wrong. "I don't think this is the time or the moment to talk about it."

"But I do." He retorts. "You disappeared for ten years, Y/N. DAMNED. TEN. YEARS!" He puts a lot of emphasis on that. "You didn't try to contact me during that time, you didn't even make an effort to make me try to understand your side, but..." He paused dramatically. "There was enough space for Suguru to continue in your life. Do you know how painful it was to find out from him that you'd been in contact and seeing each other for all those years?" He frowns and laughs like a maniac. "What about me, Y/N? I was alone in the dark for ten years. I had no news of you, I didn't know where you were, how you were or if you were even alive, but he knew because he told me before he died." He scratches the back of his neck and bites his lower lip. "You didn't even bother to break up with me."

"You turned your back on me first! You spent weeks ignoring me before everything happened and-"

"Because YOU were hiding things from ME!" He shouts and points at you accusingly. "I never knew your side because you didn't trust me enough to open up to me, your own boyfriend." He uses both hands to point at himself, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging, he's furious. "But Suguru knew, because you told him everything, didn't you? You even asked for help to escape."

You choke, you don't know if Suguru revealed all the details to him, but your mind goes blank like a blank canvas for lack of arguments, you can't retort, because what he's saying is the truth, at no point did you consider the possibility of trying to contact him, you didn't explain why you killed all those people in the first place, you just accepted the fact that he hated you and decided to walk away without saying a word. Who told you he hated you? Did he really think you were a monster? The fine line between what was true and what wasn't was so thin that you couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"I forgave you for killing those people and for running away, but this..." He points at you and for a portrait of you and Suguru on the bedside table, then makes a cutting sign with his hands, shaking his head frantically. "I'll never forgive that. Never."

"I'm sorry."

"It's too late to say you're sorry." Satoru reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black blindfold. "You never really loved me, did you? You loved him, I was just... an idiot. That's the truth. I was just a substitute for him."

You see the tears streaming down his face, he brushes them away with the back of his hand as if he doesn't want you to see him cry, you feel your stomach lurch, you don't have the courage to approach him, it's bad enough to know that everything that happened in the past was a big misunderstanding, to be abandoned and in a way betrayed, you can't measure his pain. And although you have your share of the blame for his suffering, he has to understand that you were on the run, many came after you to kill you, familiar faces, you have a lot of traumas to carry, and you don't want or need to carry the weight of this ill-fated relationship, but you can't help it.

"I expected a little loyalty from you. But you're one of them." Satoru refers to the fame of vampires and their multiple partners, but you're not like the others, you really only loved him, but he's so blinded by hatred that he can't see. You love him so much that you trusted him with your life. "You... you cheating bitch, I did everything for you, I... I even tried to forgive you for it, but then you started thinking about going after him? HAHAHA, I'm really stupid."

"I'm not a cheater. I've NEVER cheated on you." A lump forms in your throat, you can barely defend yourself against these unfounded accusations, based on jealousy and paranoia, you sniffle and wipe away tears that wanted to escape from your eyes. "I swear, I never did that, I-" 'love you' You continue the sentence mentally.

You endured everything in silence for fear of sharing the burden with someone else, because you are afraid to lose everyone, but you also believe that if you had been honest from the beginning, he would have understood you, and maybe your sister wouldn't have had to go through what you're going through now, but now it's too late to be honest.

"You just used me and are still using me for your own gain, you just want to ensure your sister's safety and leave. Like everyone else... I'm just a tool for you."

"That's not true, stop it."

The truth hurts, and he's telling the truth, from the beginning you thought of him as a tool to find your sister, but not everything is true, you also want to spend time with him, since finding him again has ignited something inside you, but you don't have the strength to go against him. You take a step forward and he moves away, you reach out to touch him and he rejects you, it's so painful that you'd rather he hit you, you grab his hand and he's so cold, so distant, as if an abyss were separating you. You open your mouth to beg for forgiveness once again, but you feel a stinging pain in your head and heart, a buzzing in your ears makes you dizzy and makes you scream hysterically, your nose and ears began to bleed non-stop.

"Y/N?" Satoru's voice becomes distant and his image blurs. "Y/N?! Are you all right?"

"I... I... I feel... so... sorry... I... will... tell you... everything..." Your vision suddenly darkens.

The last thing you hear is Satoru's voice shouting your name.

[cheeseceli]

Under the mistletoe

Pairing: Yang Jeongin × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: reader is lowkey oblivious but not really, that's it?

A/n: so this is my Christmas post 🙂‍↕️

Daily click

"Questions can be saved for later, just follow me" with that, you had absolutely no chance to talk back as he was already walking away, expecting you to actually follow him.

You were at the boys' Christmas party, celebrating the holiday with your closest friends - including Jeongin - but this specific person seemed to have other plans. Ever since he laid his eyes on you, he had been trying to get you to talk to him alone and, preferably, outside. Now, he was succeeding.

"What are we going to do on the balcony?" you asked, trying to keep up with his pace "It's freezing out there."

"I said no questions for now. Just trust me, okay?"

Once again you weren't able to respond, as he was already opening the door for you: "after you."

And so you did. Outside, it was in fact cold, snow slowly falling down. When you looked at Jeongin you expected to see him either shivering because of the weather or with a mischievous grin, that would explain the reason as to why you're far from the party. However, you notice him nervous.

That's odd.

"Jeongin? Are you okay?"

He seems to be lost in thought, his gaze nowhere near where you were, looking up instead.

"Yeah, yeah." Basically a synonym to no.

"Are we here for a reason...? You seem to be a little-"

"Oh yes, actually" he replied rather quickly, walking to the spot he was looking at before "Come here, there's something I want to show you."

You followed his lead, getting closer to the view. Though he wasn't looking ahead, so you didn't know if that was what he truly wanted to show you, you couldn't help but be awestruck. You had seen that scenario a few times before, every time you visited the boys' dorm, but never had it felt so magical.

"Is that what you wanted to show me?" You slowly look at him, your eyes not wanting to leave the beautiful sight ahead of you "it's beautiful."

"I mean, that as well." He looked up quickly, and you almost didn't realise this small gesture "but there was this other thing..."

As his voice died out, you looked above only to finally notice what this all was about:

"The mistletoe" you smiled. He was waiting for you to see it. You look at him, his eyes not exactly meeting yours just yet "What? You brought me here and aren't even going to kiss me?"

With this last statement he finally looked at you, a bit of excitement and hope shining on his eyes. Your smile didn't seem to falter anytime soon, as it was growing even more with his reaction.

"Can I?" he quietly said, afraid of doing anything that could ruin the moment.

You smile, barely believing it. You had been waiting ages for something like this: any opportunity, any moment that would give you the chance of becoming something more with Jeongin. And then he, during the holiday season, simply makes a whole plan to give you that chance.

It was adorable, to be honest. How he was so determined to bring you under the mistletoe, but still let you silently know that whatever you wanna do from now on is up to you. He's letting you choose. And no matter when, either on Christmas or on any other normal day, you would always choose him. And so you did:

"We cannot break a tradition, can we?"

Masterlist I you'll probably like: Christmas with skz

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the member actually is. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (couldn't tag in bold)

Divider by: @enchanthings-a | Images 1, 2 and 3

[onakomiyaki]

just a silly crush (not) pt.2

pairing : daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader

summary : your wall is starting to crumbling down, thanks to daniel. and the ice exterior you've been putting on for years started to melt, thanks to the daniel, the sunshine himself.

warning: unedited and rushed work, harsh words, slowburn.

a/n : we start to explore what's going on with y/n brabham. and honestly this is one of my favorite chapter to write so far!

most of juniors that tried to befriended you have one same goals; to get you to help them to get close to some of your friends-your driver friends of course. or maybe that's just how you've been treated your whole life when you grow up, so you just assume that they want you for something–link to the drivers in this case.

if there is something you know best about f1 is that it is a hot topic amongst your juniors in modelling world and oh how they wish to be one of the wags of the f1 drivers.

many have tried, from buying you some expensive gift, trying to go on a lunch date with you, or just be your matchmaker–which let's be honest, sound kind of dumb when you surrounded by some of good looking-breath-taking drivers, not only in f1 but on some other motorsports as well–and the list is still counting.

and you, by natural, got a lot of heat from it. but you're fine. by the end of the day you're still the one who spend some holidays with those drivers, not them.

but not even once succeeded to even own your private phone number.

"(y/n) you really need to be nice to your colleagues, the media is onto you again." anna, your manager, watch your reflection with annoyed expression.

"what is it now?" you simply ask, eyes closing as you massage your temple.

"you were voted as the most cold-hearted models to work with." she exclaim, walking towards your direction with ipad in her hand.

you just stare at the pad with unamused expression. you read the headline with a frown on your face, then let out a scoff.

"(Y/N) BRABHAM, THE EVERCHANGING ICE PRINCESS,"

"COLD AS THE ARTICS, HERE ARE (Y/N) BRABHAM'S ICONIC RESTING B**** FACE!"

"i honestly adore (y/n) so much, she's an icon. but it is-it is hard to get close to her. to make friend with her outside the work talk. almost like she build this wall around us."

"i remember she's constantly sat alone in the dressing room-sometimes she just sat there with her headphone on. and when she's alone no one dare to talk to her-she's just that intimidating!"

and there's more articles and some interview snippets from your junior about how unapproachable you are.

"ice princess? what am i, elsa from frozen?" you said, scrolling away.

"i told you to be nice to those young models, (y/n)." anna said, snatching the ipad from your hand.

you finally turn your body, looking up at your manager. "they only want me because they want to get to know my friends." you stated.

"well maybe they want to be your friends? can't you just humor them for once? it won't kill you to gave them some of your friends' numbers..." she asked, sitting down on the sofa, just across you.

"anna, im not trying to gatekeep those men. they are welcome to get to know lewis, lando, carlos, charles, max, esteban, pierre-"

"and daniel."

"-nope. not daniel, not a chance." you finally turn your body, pointing at anna with frown on your face.

"why not? you know him the longest i'm sure you'll find a model that will fit him as a girlfriend." she asked, throwing a little smirk at you.

"that's the problem, i've known him almost all my life! what if i introduce him to a wrong person then shit went downhill? what if they only want his money? i can't risk that anna." you said, voice gone an octave higher.

"(y/n) you know that's not true. that's just you being scared of nothing-"

"anna you don't understand! he is the one constant in my life that i can count on–he keep me grounded okay? i am me with him and the thought of losing him-"

"(y/n)-"

"‐point is im not gonna risk my friendship like that. especially with daniel. if they want to get to know those drivers, just attend the race, get a paddock pass or something. im sure if those drivers truly interested they will come." you finally stated, voice stern as you turn your back on your manager like a kid throwing small tantrum.

anna shakes her head in disbelief as she walk away from you, taking the ipad with her. "you're such a child sometimes."

"oh but you love me enough to stay with me for 10 years." you bite back.

"and i am amazed at myself for doing that. okay back to the topic, can just think about befriending your junior, please? that's all i ask from you, and you know i never asked anything from you." anna said as she walk out from your room, closing the door behind her.

you just sat there, pouting as you return your attention to your original task, watching the replay of british gp on your laptop.

it has been almost 2 months since your party and your meeting with daniel. and its also been 2 months since you call him. yes, texts were exchanged, but of course you miss his voice as well.

between your tight schedule and his race, you never find a time to call him. well you can but choose not to. you don't want to distract him.

as you saw the checkered flag being waved you take your phone, wanting to send daniel a congratulations text for his p5.

p5 bigman. congrats! podium next maybe? i miss watching your shoey thingy.

you stop, hovering at the send button. you want to call him. should you call him? you should probably call him instead. its his highest position of this season afterall.

but what if he's busy? he should be loaded with interviews by now right? ah there's also briefing right? you shouldn't call him. but, it won't hurt trying to call him. worst thing that can happen is the call never got answered anyway.

so you just sat there, phone in your hand as you chew the inside of your cheek, tasting a bit of iron when you accidentally bit too hard.

10 minutes have passed, and you're still staring at your phone. pretty sure by now daniel would've changed his outfit, already out of his race suit and maybe already headed back to his motorhome.

before you chickened out, you press the call button. the call is connected and you shriek, pushing the phone away as if the phone burn you.

"please don't answer, please don't answer! please-"

"hello?"

"p5 mate, that's a good one." one of the engineers welcome him with a clap on his shoulder, but voice is not as excited as it should be.

"yeah, thanks. i can do better, i will do better next time." daniel said, voice a bit trembling from the adrenaline that still coursing through his body.

he pull the baclava off or his head, sweats dripping from his brown curls. his freckled face flushed, chest heave heavily as he wait for his water. if you look close enough, you can see steam seeping out from his racing suit.

he tear the velcro of his race suit, pulling the zipper down. "daniel! points for both of us!" lando, race suit sat snuggly on his hips, greeting the older man with a beaming smile.

"and you did amazing out there. keep up with the goodwork." daniel said, ruffling the younger's hair, smiling proudly at the young brit.

although daniel got points for mclaren, he knew that all eyes are on him. expecting something more from the ferocious honey badger, a win maybe. and truth be told he also expected more from himself.

the fact that p5 is his current highest position in this season really speak something. of course its not a bad thing, but he can't help it. he knew mclaren put a lot of faith on the 7 times champions to take home the first trophy for mclaren.

he silently walk back to his driver room, helmet sat snuggly on his waist beneath his arm. michael, his trainer, follow him while he ramble about their next training session.

but of course the only voices he heard right now is just some static buzz and noises. he is dissosiating, moving autopilot towards the sofa and plop down. his body instantely melts as he stare blankly at the ceiling.

"- and (y/n) will be there and all." michael said.

at the mention of your name, daniel's ears perk up and he only gave the other man a puzzled looks.

"sorry, you were saying?" he said.

"daniel this is getting ridiculous. i've spent 5 minutes explaining how we can improve your training and you just listen to me after i mention (y/n). just call her for godsake." michael said as he put some notes for daniel down on the table, throwing an acussing stare at him. daniel flustered under his gaze.

"sorry i was just– its not that! i–"

"i get it buddy, you're hopelessly in love with (y/n)" michael said, patting the aussie on the shoulder as he walk out from his room. "you really should call her man, stop playing the tough guy card, you're not fooling yourself or anyone."

daniel sigh in defeat, unable to come out with a comeback. to think that everyone but her knew about that–his feeling–is just sad at this point. michael was right, he is hopelessly, pathetically, desperately in love with you. for years now.

he knew he loved you eversince he saw your freckled face blushed under the australian heat, helmet in your hand 20 years ago as you listen to your father explaining how you can improve your turns and how you should control your kart well.

he loved you eversince you introduce yourself, voice cocky and proud after winning the carting session. "(y/n) brabham, and i will be an f1 driver." he remember what you said as you walk towards him and he was stunned, just silently watching as you walk away from him, your ponytail swaying left and right.

he loved you eversince you give him a can of cold soda, putting the can on his cheek. he jumped, flinching at the sudden cold sensation on his cheek. and that was the first time he heard your–oh so cute–cackles.

he loved you eversince he found you hiding away out of the karting field, sitting alone on the grass. he saw how your back was trembling, so he sat down with you. "i will never be a driver. i will never be enough." you said, wiping your tears as you lean into his left shoulder. and daniel listen to the voice of your soft sobs, letting his race suit wet from the tears.

he loved you. still love you. and will always love you. desperately so that it hurts him whenever you call him your bestbuddy ever or whenever he listen how you cry after unlucky relationship with some random man or when he went out on a date with some random girls, trying his best to burrow his feeling deep, which of course doesn't work.

just let me be your man, dammit.

so, daniel let out a deep shuddered breath as he sat down. his eyes landed on his phone that laying on the table, next to the report papers michael left for him.

should he call you?

he shakes his head, raising from his seat to walk towards his fridge. he took one of the bottled juice michael had prepared for him. he took the lid off as he empty the bottle in no time.

after throwing away the empty bottle, he shurg off his race suit, tossing it to the nearest chair.

he was halfway from taking his heat suit off of his body when his phone rang. its so embarassing how his head whipped quickly to his phone and how he struggle to just shrug his heat protector away.

"oh shit-"

he crashed, fall to the floor before quickly running for his phone. he accept the call, let out a wheezed air as he press the green button.

"hello?" he calmly said as he rub his elbow.

"hi danny, you busy?"

"no-no not at all. i was just chilling in my motor home. i have interview in 5 though. do you need something?" daniel finally sat down, this time on the floor.

he wait for your response as lay down, face facing the ceiling.

"oh. no, not at all. i just want to congratulate you on p5."

"you watch the race?"

"i always watch your race, maybe not in person, but i never missed your race."

and now daniel turn into 17 years old girl who got called by his crush, giggling and twirling his hairs. "really?" his voice squeak pathetically, so he clear his throat.

"yes, of course! i will always support my best buddy no matter what, even if it from afar."

oh.

yeah, bestfriend.

ouch.

"aww, geez. thanks, brabham. i knew you're in love with me."

"hah! you wish, ricciardo! anyway-"

"yeah?"

"you're doing great sweetheart. do not forget who you are and what you capable of. keep your chin up, bigman."

daniel smile slowly creeping back on his face. he can feel how flushed his face right now.

"thank you, (y/n)."

"you are most welcome, honeybadger. bite 'em okay?"

he turn his body so that he's laying on his side. he used his left arm as a pillow.

"can i bite you instead?"

silence. daniel held his breath, biting his bottom lips as he wait for your answer. and when he about to apologize, daniel heard you clearing your throat.

"alright pump the brake romeo. anyways, i will leave you be now. i'm gonna catch some sleep here. talk to you later, ricciardo."

"alrighty, cheers, brabham."

and the call end just like that. and daniel feel silly. he pull his phone closer to his face, gently hitting his forehead with it.

"you stupid boy..." he said to himself.

but he can't help it, he wished that you're here with him. god how he want to hug you right now. even better, kiss you right now.

"oi, danny! we need to go now!" one of the pr team shouted as he knocked the door.

"yeah! coming! just gimme a sec!"

meanwhile, you on the other side, had to stop and do a manual breathing after the call. you're slapping your face with both your hands as you watch your reflection on the mirror.

"bro pull yourself together! he is your bestfriend!"

"can i bite you instead?"

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

you let out a scream as you recall what he said to you. his deep voice haunted you–making you both dizzy and anxious (in a good way). no, definitely not. you can't! panicking, you get up from your seat as you pacing around the room.

"that bastard."

prev next

[glassrowboat]

Childe. Where is Childe. You would do him justice.

Falling In The Snow. Childe.

Okay, I... actually, I don't think I know who you are. Tbh, I don't have that big of an interest in Childe, but given my love for writing banter, I could Def see where you're coming from, Anon.

This is not proofread

Your feet stopped as you heard a voice calling out for you leaving you with one buried in the snow and the other hanging in the air only to be forced to the ground as a sudden weight chambered against your back. It hit you suddenly drawing out a groan from your already chapped lips as you struggled to manage the little monster claiming you as his jungle gym.

“Hi, Teucer.”

You heard him chirp back a hello as his tiny hands settled on your shoulders to grab onto your giant puffer jacket.

“And where's your big brother?”

“Uh, around?”

You heard as your feet stepped into the snow again, forcing it to crunch under you. With each step, a new footprint was left behind, your soles leaving an obvious track you could only hope Childe would get the hint to follow as you headed to your home. Given the cold and the sniffling in your ear, you could already tell some hot chocolate that would be appreciated by all three of you once you were inside those cozy, warm walls.

“So you ran off again.”

He was already denying your words, but with one pointed look his hat covered head was hanging low as he admitted defeat. “Maybe I did.”

It seems both brothers were completely hopeless when it came to sitting still, then.

“Well, if you're going to be naughty, it seems you're going to have to sit in the corner with nothing to do but shiver.” Fixing your hold on him, you shifted Teucer up higher along your back. Mittens, apparently, weren't a help in carrying an overactive child around. “My mom used to make me do the same all the time.”

“That sounds….”

“Horrible? It was. She wouldn't even give me any toys to occupy myself with, either. Can you believe it?” You asked, trying to get a proper amount of horrified shock to your voice even when the cold was turning your tongue into a popsicle.

“Awful.” Teucer agreed.

“And that's the punishment awaiting you when we get back, kiddo.”

You could feel him wrestling against your back the minute his sentence was set, trying to get free of your hold and almost succeeding too as you cursed under your breath when pulling him back to rest against you again. Arms wrapped around your neck. “I don't like that idea very much. Can't we just say I got lost?”

“The same kid who managed to go all the way to Liyue to find his brother got lost in his own hometown? What bullshit.”

Immediately, you recognized your mistake as Teucer gasped. Hands going over his mouth at your curse despite the fact you know his older sisters and brothers have said much worse in front of him; you have too. “You know, mom and dad say you're not allowed to say those words.”

Grumbling to yourself you huffed out an “I know.”

“So…” For a moment you thought you didn't catch what he said over your footsteps, but there he was leaning over your shoulder to ensure you saw his cheeky little smile framed by freckles and a red face. Like this, there was no denying his relation to Childe, not when you saw him in the same twitch of Teucer's lips and wrinkle in his nose. “Say you don't give me a punishment, and I don't tell anyone you said a bad word in front of me. Again.”

And his cheekiness certainly matched a certain ginger.

“You brat.”

“Does that mean I'm in the clear?”

Your foot kicked out a bit more snow with your next step. The flakes flew up in the air only to fall back down to join the piles on the sidewalk your neighbors had shoveled out of their way that morning. “Childe may let you get off easy, but you'll still get something coming to you.”

Your home was in sight by the time you finally settled on a just punishment, the old wooden door already waiting to greet you and welcome you inside as you approached it.

“I won't subject you to the corner, but you're not getting any whipped cream or marshmallows in your hot coco.”

For a moment you were expecting Teucer to try and hassle you even more only for his little hand to reach out and try to shake yours as he declared it to be a “deal” only to realize you couldn't quite shake it when you were giving him a piggyback ride.

With a sigh, you lowered him down, took his hand, and shook on it.

“Now go inside, you scamp.”

Before you even had a chance to chase him inside, following after his fit of giggles to run around the sofa in circles like you've done so many times in the past you saw Teucer's arm raising up and waving through the chilly air. “Ajax! Come on! They agreed to make hot chocolate for us!”

Your head turned to see another head of ginger hair, ever so bright against the white backdrop of Snezhnaya's endless winter it drew your eye with ease. He waved back, easily treading through the snow covered ground like it was a field of grass instead of the very thing you had been trudging through for the last five minutes.

It was only when a flake of snow landed on your nose were you able to pull your attention away from Childe and his casual stride over to you both.

“Go and get inside, kid, or I'll make sure your drink is as cold as ice.”

“Why, so you and my brother can do that gross thing where you kiss and-”

Before he even had a chance to finish that sentence, you were pushing Tuecer. inside your home. He stumbled at first, trying to adjust to the sudden force he was subjected to only to turn back around to try and say what was undoubtedly another comment about you and his brother before you shut the door in his face.

“Kids.” You huffed.

“Kids.” Childe said as he finally made his way over, a cheer to his voice as he smiled down at you.

“Can't live with them, can't live without them.” You stood back up to your full height as you spoke, mitten covered hands trying to brush yourself off to avail as once one layer of snow was gone a new came from the sky to replace it.

“I think he's a joy to be around, even with his adventurous nature. If anything, it's a good reason to get out there to stretch your legs as you try and keep up with him.”

“Of course you'd say that.”

Childe’s hands came to peek out of his jacket, breaking past the layer of black fur you had no doubt was keeping him nice and toasty to reach up and fix your - or his- scarf. The red fabric was brought up to your cheeks, brushing against them. “And I'd say you're a little thief, but we'll call it even if I get a kiss before we head inside.”

“I don't know. That's a big ask.”

The scarf rustled again, but this time, it was accompanied by Childe pulling you closer. His gloved hands held tight onto the fabric, ensuring you couldn't budge an inch when his head ducked down to press a kiss to your snot dripping nose.

A tiny part of you hoped he regretted that, but given the way his eyes where shining, you couldn't help but think he didn't.

“That wasn't even a real kiss.”

“Oh, so now it's not a big ask if it's what you want?” Childe asked, a single brow raising until it hid behind his mess of a haircut. You'd need to trim it for him again.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I suppose if it's what the lady wishes.”

Before you could even try and wipe your nose off on a handkerchief, mainly for his sake, Childe’s hand was resting on your lower back, running over your jacket to pull you in close to him as your lips met. He was warm. It had you stepping in closer to him as he kissed you, and you didn't hesitate to linger even when your lips parted and you were once again greeted with a brilliant smile framed by freckles and red cheeks. The only difference was that this one happened to be your favorite grin in the whole of Teyvat that never failed to have you smiling back.

For a moment, you two stood there, taking in each other's presence as the cold started to seep into your bones from staying still for long until his laugh broke the silence.

“So, hot chocolate?”

“Yeah, hot chocolate.” You repeated as you pulled him through your front door.

There could always be more kisses when you were both under a blanket and curled up on your sofa together with a mug in both your hands.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Pie || Tim x Reader. You bake Tim his favorite dessert

It’s not often that Tim feels drawn to the kitchen by a delicious smell. The only people other than him who are great at cooking in the mansion usually are Slender and Jane, and both of them are out on missions right now, leaving him both confused and intrigued by the delicious smell wafting up through the vents, until Tim finally places the smell; apple pie. Unable to resist the temptation, he makes his way downstairs to peek quickly into the kitchen, but he wasn’t expecting the sight before him.

You're bent over the kitchen island, trying to make sure the dessert before you looks as delicious as it smells, flour coating your form despite the fact that you have one of Tim's nice aprons covering most of your body. You go to wipe some sweat off your brow, but that only serves to smear some flour across your forehead. He can't help but inwardly laugh, imagining you standing there watching it bake in the oven with so much trepidation that you can't even get cleaned up while it bakes. As much as he wanted to stay hidden and keep watching from a distance you glance up, spot him by the door, and look at him like a deer in headlights. 

"I didn't think you'd be down yet." Is all you can manage to say, causing him to chuckle as he makes his way over to you.

"How could I resist the temptation of such a delicious smell?" A smile decorates his face as he stands beside you, looking down at the quite large apple pie in front of you, his hands resting on his hips.

Slender has some larger pans for when he wants to bake one thing for everyone, and it seems that was the pan you believed would be best. Tim glances at you, and you avoid making eye contact, choosing instead to stare down at the pie before you. It's noticeable that it was your first time baking such a large pie, as the lattice design you chose to do doesn't quite fit correctly, but despite that, the pie looks quite nice and smells wonderful. Tim's stomach growls, agreeing with him on that, and he can't help but laugh along with you at the noise. 

"May I try a bite?" The question leaves him with a smile, and you can't help but shift nervously before him.

"If you really want to... I wanted to make something yummy for you since you're always doing so much for me, but I wasn't sure how well it would turn out." Your voice is unconfident, and Tim shakes his head at you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug, not minding as the flour covering you spreads to him as well.

"Honey, it smells incredible. Even if it didn't, you know I'd eat it. Anything made by you is well worth eating, trust me." He presses a soothing kiss to your temple, and you can't help but sigh as you lean into him. Tim always had a way of relaxing you, and you felt the exhaustion of making such a big pie hitting you as your arms wrapped around his waist.

"If you really think you'll like it, feel free to each as much as you want." You acquiesce to him, letting go of him to cut him a slice.

Tim couldn't help but lick his lips as he watched you, grabbing a nearby plate and fork, holding the plate out to you as you delicately set the still steaming piece of pie onto it for him. You watched him anxiously, hands clasped in front of you as you breathed in deeply. He took quite a hefty first bite, chewing thoughtfully as he considered the taste, a large smile coming to his lips, nodding his head in excitement at the flavor. The tension leaves your body as you return his smile, thankful that you succeeded in making something delicious.

"You really like it?" You ask him, your smile growing as he nods at you again.

"I told you it would be well worth eating, sweetheart." He said through another mouthful of pie, and you couldn't help but laugh at him, leaping forward to wrap your arms around him in another hug. A noise of surprise slipped out of him as he lifted his plate up so you could hug him, and he smiled down at you affectionately, patting your head with his other hand. 

He reassured you as he continued eating, making comments on all the wonderful things you did while making it, like how perfectly you sliced the apples, and how you got the seasoning just right. He finished the piece without a single complaint, patting you on the head and pressing an apple flavored kiss to your lips as thanks for the meal, smiling at you lovingly as a few small giggles slipped out of you. Unbeknownst to you, however, a mischievous grin made its way onto his face as he pulled you closer.

"Although, I think there's only one thing that's more delicious than the pie..." You blinked up at him in surprise at his statement, preparing to question him on what he meant, but before you could, you let out a gasp as he scooped you off the floor and into his arms.

"And I've got it right here!" He yelled out, laughing as he took off sprinting for the stairs, your body bouncing up and down as he went, laughs tumbling out of you as you tried to cling onto him. 

[call-me-cheese]

hiiii can you do separate stolas, Blitzø, and fizzaroli relationship headcannons? Srry if that’s too much

Blitzo x reader

Stolas x reader

A/n: I did not write Fizzarolli as you did not say you want him as polyrelationship with Asmodeus or not, sorry

Stolas

Stolas is just perfect for relationships

He's literally a piece of the green flag

Yes, he had a very bad first relationship, but that's why he's willing to work in a new one

In the series itself, he said that he tried to make Stella comfortable in their relationship, and it is clear that he succeeded, it's just that Stella is a crazy bitch

He's definitely going to be fun with him, and he's generally willing to try to understand your hobbies and participate in them

He will also be quite active in trying to draw you into his

You know the names of all the colors (at least desperately pretend)

Oh and yes, you definitely have couples suits, Stolas has been wanting to try this for a very long time, so once you agree, he will literally kick his legs for joy

You will most likely have a good relationship with Octavia, she needs an adequate mother figure

You'll move in with Stolas pretty quickly since you're on a formal relationship

You'll watch TV shows all night and then sleep sweetly all day

He officially loves cuddling, so you'll be together all the time

Oh, and he has money, literally money, if you want to go somewhere, then naturally he will go with you

You will accompany him to official events and he will gladly introduce you to anyone who asks

Blitzo

He will also be good in a relationship

We see how he takes care of his "family", so you are incredibly important to him

He will always be somewhere pockmarked with you, as he is a person of physical affection

You will be told about the activities of the HSM

He'll literally brag about you to Moxxie and Millie, because yes

You've got a chance to get a cop=a campaign consisting of Luna and Blitzo AND you to go to a party

He'll try to cook something for you (he's not going to succeed)

You'll get some trinkets from the human world

How safe are you? WELL, 50/50, What are the chances that you will be rescued? 100%, and very fast

You'll have to calm him down in his depressive moments

Perhaps you go to a psychologist with him several times

You are praised as a celestial, everybody else, because when you appeared, he stopped meddling with others

You'll hug with him too, but he's not going to let you go at all

I hope you enjoyed it!

I am so sorry for doing that sooo long! My middle exams took all out of me

[elllisaaa]

Can you do sub Beomgyu smut?

[cuz I'm a female dom, and I absolutely fucking love hove bratty he is and his whines make me- well, wet]

uk those fics where the reader, teases them in public and they punish xer/xim in the bathrooms/public???

can you do that with sub beomgyu, and rough and dom reader[any gender is fine, preferrably female]?

only if you're comfortable though...

ALL MINE - C. BEOMGYU

-> pairing : brat sub!beomgyu x fem dom!reader

-> words count : 1.6k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : dom/sub dynamic, teasing, dirty talk, praising, semi-public sex, face slapping, cock slapping, gagging, humiliation, bondage, choking, use of 'good boy', 'whore', 'slut' and 'miss', handjob, cum eating

+ the way i'm depicting beomgyu does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : i fucking love to write subby men, and beomgyu and his bratty attitude gives me the perfect opportunity to do so. as you said, he gives out that vibe so much ! it was so fun to write this, thank you anonie, hope you'll enjoy this !

-> masterlist | txt masterlist

Going out with your friends had always been an activity that you liked, the feeling of joy when you reunited with them couldn’t be compared to anything else. But now that you were taking Beomgyu with you, it was even more fun. Why ? Because he wanted to impress your friends so badly, he wanted to make a good impression on them. That’s why he kept trying to present himself in a good light, and acting as if he was the one leading your relationship when you both knew that behind closed doors, you had him on his knees for you. 

Despite that being well established, and your rules being really strict, Beomgyu had been not so subtly touching you the whole night : putting his hand on your thigh, leaning in to whisper some dirty things in your ears, and even taking your own hand to bring it closer to his crotch under the restaurant table. Not that you particularly minded playing this type of game in public, but it wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had made it clear to him before going out - that he will get his reward for having been good all week if he did one last thing for you, which simply consisted in behaving and not teasing you during this dinner out. 

After spending two years together, you thought that you would have finally succeeded in taming his bratty attitude. But no. It was coming out every now and then, and always when you were the most frustrated and had the least patience left. It was almost as if Beomgyu had a second sense that allowed him to know when to mess with you just so he could get punished harshly. Well, truth be told, maybe it was exactly why he was doing this - because he knew that the way you were going to torture him will be delicious. 

“- Haven’t I made it clear, baby ? Keep your hands off me tonight and you’ll get what you want, okay ?”

Beomgyu threw his best pleading eyes at you, still not listening to your orders as you felt his fingers creep up higher underneath your dress. You let out an exasperated sigh, pushing his hand away from you. Under the guise of getting closer to you, your boyfriend nuzzled his head in your neck, whining in your ears.

“- But I need you so bad, I’ve been good, just let me touch you, I’ll be quick.

- You know what, you wanna be a slut and a brat ? You’re gonna get punished instead. Go to the bathroom and wait for me.”

For once, Beomgyu listened, getting up from the table and excusing himself. You let some minutes go by, and when you felt like he had been marinating for long enough, you got to the bathroom too, saying that you were going to see if your boyfriend was doing good.  

“- You’re not even able to not touch yourself for ten minutes ? You’re a fucking whore Beomgyu.

- Y-Yes but only for you.”

His cocky smile despite his shake voice and his hands stroking his clothed boner made you want to break him, to wipe the smug look in his eyes. You entered fully in the small cabin of the bathroom, pushing him to sit down on the toilets. You locked the door behind you and detached the ribbon you put in your hair before going out. 

“- Give me your hands. 

- No.”

The loud sound your hand produced when you slapped him echoed in the bathroom along with the moan he let out. You grabbed his hair roughly, tugging on them to get him to look at you. His once confident look was now completely gone, his eyes glassy and he was almost ready to drop on his knees. But he loved to test your patience even more. So he still didn’t give you his hands, and moaned again when you slapped his other cheek. 

“- You’re getting on my fucking nerves Beomgyu, if you wanna cum you better give me your hands.”

Without saying a word, he did it and you tied them together with your little pink ribbon. It was quite funny how you were always dressed so cute, with cute little make-up and cute little hairpins, but once you were alone with him, you turned into the nastiest little demon. And Beomgyu loved this contrast, loved to know how people could never suspect the real dynamic of your couple. 

“- See ? You know how to be good so behave.

- But I don’t wanna.

- You will when I’ll make you cry. All it takes is for me to touch your small dick and you’re begging for me to let you cum, right ?”

Beomgyu wanted to protest, to say something, but you were already squeezing his hard cock through his clothes, stroking him at a quick pace, that had him squirming in place and whimpering out loud. Your other hand came up to his throat, getting a firm hold of it, enough to shut him up a little. 

“- Y/N… Baby, baby…

- What ? You’re complaining now ? You’ve got what you wanted though, or is it still not enough for you, fucking slut ?”

Your boyfriend nodded as he tried to free his hands from the ribbons, but you had grown too used to tying him up because he was constantly acting up. It felt good to be completely at your mercy, but he also wanted to touch you, wanted to feel and lick your skin, wanted to grip on the flesh of your ass while you bounced on his cock and milked him dry. 

“- You’re so greedy. You’re gonna take what I give if you wanna cum, understood ? 

- A-And if I don’t want t-to ?”

A sinister smile spread on your lips, your hand squeezing his throat harder, making him choke on his own words. 

“- Then you don’t cum at all.”

You let go of his cock, going as far as taking a step back and Beomgyu’s eyes opened wider. He tried to reach your hand and pull you back to him, but his tied wrists wouldn’t allow it and he let out a desperate whine. 

“- No, no, no, I need to cum !

- Beg for it.”

He shook his head and earned himself another slap, his cheeks starting to get red, and not only because of the unbearable heat of his body. But he loved how much it stinged everytime you hit him again. Beomgyu let out another loud moan when you slapped his cock over his clothes this time, and you shoved two fingers inside his mouth, smirking at the way he gagged around them, and at how quickly his eyes welled up with tears.

“- I said, beg for it. Are you ready to be good now ?”

You slapped his hard on once more, staring at his face when a tear rolled down his left cheek, saliva starting to drip down his chin and neck. When you pulled your fingers out, he was a mess, and you knew you had finally ruined him for the day.

“- Please, please miss I’ll be your good boy now, I’ll do everything you want, just let me cum please, please !

- There we go baby, was it so difficult, uh ?”

When you slipped your hand in his boxer to touch him for real after having been deprived from the skin to skin contact for such a long time made him cry out so loud you had to shut him up with your fingers again, fearing that someone would hear him.

“- You want everyone to hear you, is that it ? Screaming like the slut you are because you love the attention ?”

Beomgyu tried to protest, tried to say that he only wanted to be good for you, that he made all these noises because he knew you loved it when he was loud, but the pleasure was already overtaking his body and all his senses. The rush of adrenaline this situation was giving him made him feel so overwhelmed he felt like he could cum right now. He grabbed the only thing he could reach -  the fabric of your dress - to catch your attention, his muffled noises giving away how close he was to his release. 

“- What is it baby ? You’re close already ?”

You chuckled when he vigorously nodded his head, closing his eyes to focus on him and trying to delay his orgasm because you hadn’t given him permission to cum.

“- I’ll let you cum then, but on one condition baby. You’re gonna stain your pretty pants with your cum, and then we’re gonna leave. And if you follow my rules for once, I’ll reward you once we get home. Did you understand ?”

He nodded once again, his hips jerking into your hand as if they had a mind on their own. 

“- Then go on baby, cum all over yourself, be my good boy.”

The last praise that you whispered in his ear did it for him. He came all over your hand and himself, a wet patch quickly forming on his blue jeans as he whined around your fingers, his own hands tugging on the material of your dress to pull you closer to him. Before he could even register what you were doing, you showed him your hand covered in his cum, and Beomgyu didn’t need you to ask him before he started cleaning you off, eating his own release from your skin. Once you were satisfied, you finally detached his hands, letting him pull you into a hug and bury his head against your stomach while you threaded your fingers through his hair. 

“- You did so good for me baby, such a good boy.”

He hummed in agreement, his hands sliding from your lower back to your ass, giving them a squeeze. 

“- Does this mean I earned my reward ?

- Don’t get too confident now, you still have to make it up to me for ruining my night out with my friends.”

And Beomgyu agreed with you, because that meant he would spend the next two hours with his head buried between your thighs - his favorite way to apologize.

-> i don't allow any copies, translations or reposts of my works.

txt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @lichyuu @foxinnie8

[darkbluekies]

AHHH JUST GOT ANOTHER REQUEST! silas with a crackhead gen z s/o.This guy would be so fking confused.😭😭

Silas:walk out of that front door and I'll break your legs👿👿.

s/o:*uses the open window besides the door instead and casually walks away*

Silas texting:WHY ARE YOU NOT HOME YOUR GONNA GO THROUGH HELL IF YOU DON'T COME BACK.

S/o: You're* dumbass and proceeds to ignore the calls from this dumb af guy.

first anon (im sorry but i thought this was funny 😭😭)

[Do you want to break him??? Congrats, you succeeded 😭]

Not a joking matter

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you decide to pull a stunt on Silas while you are fighting, which causes him to go insane with fury. He promises himself to make sure you never dare to do it again.

Warnings: yandere content, mentions of killing, guns, threats, isolation punishment, Stockholm syndrome, Silas who can't take a joke, manipulation

Word count: 1.5k

Normally, you wouldn’t dare fight with Silas. It only gave you consequences you couldn’t bear. Besides, just giving in and listening to him makes your world turn easier. But some days, things get too much and your anger bubbles out. This has led you and Silas to argue down by the front door about his jealousy.

“I’m literally done!” you scoff out. “You’re insane, this is insane! I’m leaving!”

“If you walk out through that door, I’m breaking your legs”, Silas warns you with his arms over his chest. “Don’t test me, little thing.”

You give him a long stare before opening the window next to the door and jumping out. Silas gaze darkens as he watches you walk away. How dare you?

“What are you doing, boss?” one of his men asks with a shaking voice. “Are you just going to let them leave?!”

“They will be back soon”, Silas says through gritted teeth. “They can’t survive without me. And when they return, they’ll go back into the basement until they apologize sincerely.”

“And if they don’t come back, boss?”

“Then they’ll regret it.”

You walk along the road, cursing Silas for living out in the middle of the fucking forest. You’re not even wearing shoes! Why did you walk out like that? Well, at least you’re free. Right? This has to be worth it. You have to show Silas that you mean business … he can't treat you like that.

You reach the nearest city after an hour of walking. You're sure you've destroyed one skinlevel by now. No blood has been drawn yet, but your skin is ripped and dirty. You sink down by the side of the road, next to a coffee shop. Now what? You don't have any money … only your cell phone. Silas IT master has blocked the phone from calling any other number than Silas.

It buzzes. You look down and see a message from him.

"WHY ARE YOU NOT HOME?? YOUR GOING TO GO THROUGH HELL IF YOU DON'T COME BACK, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

You shouldn't do it — it's childish — yet you do it. Your fingers tremble as you type the message back, but you can't help but snicker for yourself.

"You're*"

If only you could see his face once he receives the message. Silas, on the other hand, throws his phone at the wall once he gets your little fun text. He calls you, but you don't answer. He calls again … and again … and again. Same automatic voice telling him to try again later.

"This little shit, I swear to God-" he growls before grabbing his car keys. "I'm going to get them, I don't fucking care. They'll be sorry. Who the fuck do they think they are? Seriously? Fucking brat.”

“What are you going to do, boss?” the same man as before asks.

“If Y/N wants to act like a shitty, little brat, then I’ll treat them like one.”

He rips open the door and walks out to his black sports car. You might be his darling, but this car is his baby. Although he doesn’t know where you are, he has an idea. There's not a lot of places you could have gone to. You're not stupid enough to run into the forest, you'll have followed the road. You can't have gotten too far. He'll find you.

He notices that you're not on the road.

"These little legs were faster than I thought", he mumbles. "Just wait til I get my hands on you."

He drives into the small city, looking around. A smirk creeps up on his face once he sees you sitting on the sidewalk. He parks the car right in front of you and jumps out. His anger turns into some weird adrenaline kick once he sees your terrified eyes. He will punish you, don't you worry … but first he wants to play.

"Either you get in the car now or I'll make you", he says with one hand resting inside of his jacket, on his gun. "I'll blow this place up."

You know Silas, and you know what he keeps in his pocket. You know he's not lying. Suddenly, incapable of moving, paralyzed in fear, you shake your head desperately. Silas smiles.

"Boom", he says, forming his mouth to an 'O'.

"No, please", you whisper.

"Yes? If you say so …"

He's about to pull put the gun. You finally manage to move your limbs and shoot up from the sidewalk, stopping his hand.

"Silas, don't", you beg.

"But you wanted to be bratty and not do what I said", he pouts and gives you puppy dog eyes. "It's not more than fair that I get to play too?"

"Silas, people will get hurt if you do that."

"People could have gotten hurt by your stunt too. If I wouldn't have found you …" He moves closer until you can feel his breath against your face. "... I'd killed all of my men."

You shiver and give him a horrified glance.

"Y/N, get in the car now", Silas tells you seriously, no longer in the mood to play games.

And you do.

"Y/N, I want you to know something", Silas says as he starts driving away. "You only 'escaped' today because I let you. The only reason you're still alive is because I went to get you. You should be happy that I love you because what would you have done without me? You have no money, your phone — which you should be grateful I gave you — only works for my number … you aren't even wearing shoes!"

Your head slumps. You shouldn't feel so guilty, you shouldn't start to cry … but you do.

"I could have left you", Silas continues. He won't stop until you've broken down completely. "I could have forgotten about you and moved on, find somebody that actually appreciates what I do for them and is grateful for my love. But I went back for you because I love you."

He has noticed that you've started crying in the seat next to him, but he isn't done.

"People could have died today and it'd be all your fault", Silas says.

"Stop!" you shout and cover your ears with your hands. "I get it! I'm sorry!"

"I'm not sure you do, baby. That's why you'll spend a little while down in the basement once we get home. Just to make sure this won't happen again."

You want to protest, but his gaze makes you shrink to the size of an ant. Yu're already six feet down, no need to do yourself any further.

When you get back to his house, he pulls you with him down to the basement and chains you before saying a word.

"Silas, I'm really sorry", you sob. "I'll never do it again. Please don't leave me here.'

"You've acted like a complete brat, baby. My partner is an adult, not a damn child, do you get that?"

"Yes!"

"Good. I will see you in a while."

"No, Silas, please!" you shout. "Don't leave me here!"

You hear the door to the ground floor, leaving you in pitch black darkness. You sob out into the emptiness and hug your legs, burying your face into your knees.

You don't know how much time passes by. You have no idea how long time you've been down here, all you know is that your growling stomach stopped making sounds a long time ago. It doesn't hurt anymore … although it should. Your body must have gone numb because you can't feel anything. Or you've died. That's at least what you tell yourself. You no longer live and will never feel anything else ever again. This basement works wonders on the brain.

The door from the ground floor creaks. You look up, seeing how Silas come walking down. Your body fills with electricity. He came back!

"Hey, baby", he says and squats down in front of you.

"Silas …", you say quietly, tasting the name, seeing if he can hear you. Seeing if you're alive.

"Yes?"

A wave of relief flows through you. Your hands start reaching out for him, needing to hold onto something to fully convince you that you're still real.

"Careful, baby", Silas says softly and stops your hands. "I have to remove the chains first."

Impatiently, you wait for him to unlock the heavy metal keeping you to the ground. As soon as you feel the weight lifting, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his warm shoulder. He chuckles and wraps his strong arms around you in return.

"Eager to see me?" he smiles right by your ear.

You don't answer. You're happy to see someone. It just happens that this someone is Silas.

"Do you want to come upstairs now?" he asks.

You nod against his shoulder.

"You're not going to be a bratty little shit anymore?" he asks.

You shake your head.

"And you won't pull a childish stunt?" he asks.

You shake your head. Your humor doesn't work on him and you learned that the hard way.

"Very well then, let's go", Silas says and stands up, pulling you up with him.

You wrap your legs around his torso and keep your arms in place. You can hear him purr like a cat. Silas always gets what he wants. He always wins.