#why friendship tingles??

[chrysanths]

suguru

( ... ) "geonwoo," suguru calls, gently touching his shoulder with his good arm. "geonwoo wake up, we need to leave, now." he looks around, but there is no one who can help him. it seems it's just the two of them now. "come on, get up, we gotta go."

Geonwoo drifts between states of consciousness as the world burns around him. Screams and panicked yells of names and requests blur into ringing that suffocates his ears with its drilling. He can still hear the lava bubbling, the agonized cries of those dragged within still piercing the air. His eyes close as he rolls closer to the wall. Should he accept this? Death?

A dream briefly comes over him. One where a bird calls out to him; sings a song like the one his mother once did when he was a child. A chickadee with eyes like simmering coals. It bounces toward him and tilts its head. Then the voice changes. To a man's. Familiar. Someone he knows that lives. "Sugu...— " He calls out a in a wheeze. It hurts to breathe, hurts to move. The forming bruises that grip his ribs make it so.

"Safe… everyone — … safe?" Delirious mumbling is the most he can manage as he sits up. His eyes scan the ruins of the tea house — not a soul in sight but the two royal guards. No glimpse of his sisters, the few friends he had, the royal family. In his most disastrous of thoughts, they are all gone, set to never return, and he provides himself no time to lament over it. They must heal and rebuild. "Fuck... damn it all..."

Geonwoo, at last, finds the wherewithal to examine his fellow royal guard in front of him. Injured as well; unfortunately expected. He reaches out, hand firm against his nape. His eyes search his in the building's fiery glow. Has he, too, lost? The extent of his injuries? The Choi furrows his brows. Suddenly, you care so much? "You live." The statement is firm, pushed through grit teeth as he finally stands, his body heavy against the wall. "Report..." shortness of breath lends him little space for words, but determination of duty forces them out. "Have you seen... any further signs... ? House Yi..."

[not-neverland06]

I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you. 

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help. 

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott. 

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look. 

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together. 

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it. 

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you. 

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely. 

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself. 

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain. 

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off. 

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse. 

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells. 

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often. 

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.” 

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him. 

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong. 

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple. 

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back. 

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different. 

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience. 

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself. 

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything. 

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home. 

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you. 

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry. 

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy. 

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag. 

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.  

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet. 

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do. 

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him. 

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you. 

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?” 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.��� You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong. 

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief. 

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care. 

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful. 

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is. 

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped. 

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing. 

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone. 

It feels so wrong. 

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you. 

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face. 

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low. 

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation. 

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism. 

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch. 

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself. 

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself. 

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you. 

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other. 

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new. 

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great. 

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable. 

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting. 

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily. 

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you. 

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging. 

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut. 

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you. 

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair. 

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets. 

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other. 

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore. 

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone. 

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on. 

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy. 

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

[thepowerofswayze]

demonstration

originally on ao3

based on this post by @fantasylandloser

pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 1.9K

warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, college era art AHHH, friends to lovers, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (reader receiving), art is a munch obviously, reader wears a bra and skirt

summary: Catching Art up on your adventures gets hard when he doesn't get your explanations, or your hand puppet examples. Looks like you just have to show him exactly what went down. Based on this post that i could not stop thinking about. :))

☆

“Oh my god, fuck you!”

Art chuckled from where he stood, watching as you tossed the t-shirt he’d balled up and chucked at you back in his direction. It fell harmlessly to the floor a foot from him, and you glared at him as he snickered, picking it up and putting it away.

You were visiting Art, your close friend from high school, at Stanford. At that moment, you happened to be explaining how an interaction at a party at your university had gone a couple weeks before. Art never really liked listening to you talk about guys- hence, the shirt thrown directly at your face when you’d started describing this particular frat boy to him in detail- but he’d given up complaining a while ago. It was either that or be honest about why he hated it so much, and that was never going to happen. So, he tidied up his room as you explained the lead up, the flirting, the stumbling up the stairs. He fell back parallel to you on the bed as you got to the “good part”, his head by your legs and an arm over his eyes, like he could block out the imagery.

“Anyway, I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, like when we were flirting, but then I was on him, kinda like-” You took a moment to sit up straight, grinning as art groaned and propped himself up on his elbows to see you better. He watched you attempt to mimic the position with your hands, your left hand being the guy you were talking about, your right being you.

To Art, it just looked like you were mashing your hands together. He looked up from your hands to see you raising your eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was following. “Huh?” He said.

With an exasperated sigh and without another thought, you pushed yourself up on your knees and waddled over to him, swinging a leg over his body and hovering just over his torso. For a moment, Art just watched, bewildered, as you steadied yourself with your hands on either side of his head. He let himself fall back from his elbows, hands sliding up your hips and settling at your waist, catching momentarily on the fabric of your skirt. His fingers peeked just under the hem of your shirt. Your skin tingled where he touched you.

“... Like this,” you said finally, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, uh.” You moved your hands to his chest instead, careful not to push too hard (though with the muscle he’d acquired since he’d started playing tennis for Stanford, you were sure it bothered him much less than you thought). “More like this, I guess.”

Art nodded, quickly licking his lips before asking, “Then?”

You tried not to look at his mouth. “What?”

“Then what did you do?”

It finally hit you then: what the fuck were you doing, climbing all over your best friend to ‘show him’ how you and some guy had been fooling around a couple weeks ago? That would just mean fooling around with him, obviously. That wasn’t really the plan.

But, it was too late for your common sense to kick in now. There you were, your hips hovering over his, not quite touching yet. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then drag slowly back up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t wait here and think about what you’d gotten yourself into and how this would change your friendship forever, though you got the feeling he’d let you take as long as you wanted.

Then what did you do?

You steeled yourself, biting your lip and watching his lips part slightly as he tracked the action with his eyes. Then you took that moment to fully sit on his lap.

You could feel his chest expand beneath your hands with his sharp inhale, his eyes snapping down to your hips, then back up to your face.

“This,” you murmured. You’d intended for it to come out cocky, maybe even a little seductive, but you could hear the breathlessness in your own voice. You were trying your best to ignore the growing pressure where your hips met his, though really, it was hopeless. 

Art’s ears were burning a bright shade of pink. The urge to gently nip at them crossed your mind, just for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Then?” His voice was almost a whisper, chest rising and falling unevenly with his nervous breathing. The way he was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure you were real…

Fuck.

You leaned forward, trying not to let your breath stutter at the friction caused by the movement, until your lips hovered just over his. Then you kissed him.

You pressed your lips together gently, lingering for a moment before pulling back by centimeters. His lips chased yours, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly, and you were right back on him, lips falling open against each other. A soft sound escaped him as your hips shifted against his, along with a contented sigh from you. You repeated the motion, reveling in the low groan he let out, followed by your name murmured into your mouth.

Art’s lips were soft. And he’d shaved recently, you thought, hands cupping his face. The smooth skin of his cheeks was a stark contrast to the calloused hands he was now raking over your thighs, your skirt pushed up around your hips. You broke away from his lips, kissing down his neck instead, listening to the noises he made whenever you left a mark, whenever you ground against him just right. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” You left another kiss just below his ear, before murmuring, “What is it?”

You could feel him all but shudder beneath you. “Fuck,” he groaned, then your name, before he looked you in the eye. You resisted the urge to dive right back in. “Let me eat you out,” he said, suddenly determined, though still flushed and dazed. “Please.”

All you could say was “What?” because, surely, this was one big dream.

“Please.” His hands hadn’t stilled, still rubbing shapes into your thighs, his hips rolling up against yours. “Can I?”

Your entire body was on fire. “Okay, yeah. Yes.”

He wasted no time flipping the both of you over, laying you against the bed so he could kiss down your neck. You barely had a moment to process, your hands moving to tangle in his hair, one of his knees slotted between your legs. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, prompting you to lift yourself slightly and help him get it off. Your bra came next. “You, too,” you murmured, pulling at his shirt and making him chuckle. He reached behind his head, tugging it off in one swift movement and abandoning it beside your shirt and bra on his freshly cleared floor.

One of his hands slid down your chest from your shoulders, enclosing one of your breasts, the thumb circling your nipple. You bit your lip and sighed, pulling him down for another kiss by the back of his neck.

Art let his hand trail from your chest down the sides of your stomach, then slotted his palm right between your legs, over your underwear. You gasped quietly, pulling away long enough for him to return his lips to your neck, your shoulders, your collar bone. You murmured a couple choice words as he started to move his palm, rubbing at your clit through the fabric. The dulled sensation was almost enough on its own, paired with the kisses he left against your chest. “Arthur,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

A grin overtook his face at the use of his name, his hands only slowing down, tracing torturously slow circles over you. Art only snickered at your glare before hooking his fingers into the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down and leaving you in your skirt pushed up to your waist. He watched you carefully as he slid further down so that his head was between your legs. His finger only traced a line from your clit to the bottom of your hole before whatever restraint he had was gone, and his mouth was on you.

Art’s tongue flattened against you, the warmth and friction making your head fall back as your eyes fell closed. “Fuck,” you moaned, hands threading into his hair as he answered with an equally obscene noise, muffled against you. ‘Hungry’ didn’t even begin to describe him, his mouth falling into a vague rhythm, eyes closed blissfully, whining into your pussy like it was doing him just as much good as it was you.

You thought about asking him to finger you while he worked, but his tongue prodded at your entrance and almost immediately, words escaped you. You brought one hand up to your face, clasping it over your mouth to muffle your moans, but Art stopped suddenly, watching your face. You whined your confusion, and he reached out to tug at your hand. “I wanna hear you. Let me.”

You blinked at him, chest heaving, and murmured “Alright,” before watching his head dive right back between your thighs, one hand still intertwined with yours. You had no choice but to moan unabashedly, your other hand busy pulling at his hair.  His free hand was wrapped around the outside of your thigh, pushing it in towards his head, so tightly you were sure it couldn’t be comfortable. But there he was, continuing to move his tongue against you like there was nothing else he’d rather do, whining and whimpering like you were his first meal in weeks. “Fuck, Art,” you cried, barely keeping your eyes open so you could watch him move. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

He groaned at that, relenting the pressure of your thighs against his head just long enough to reply: “That’s it, baby, please.” If he had anything else to say, he couldn’t keep himself off of you long enough to finish, already pushing your thighs back against his head, nose bumping against your clit as he bobbed up and down.

It seemed like that was all it took, really. You squeezed his hand and his head embarrassingly tight as you felt yourself tip over the edge, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Art kept up his rhythm as you cried out his name, your hips rolling against his face. He didn’t stop even when you’d come down, chest heaving, until you basically pushed him off, desperate for a moment of relief.

He kept a hand on your thigh, the other untangling from yours to push his blonde hair out of his eyes and look at you. He was breathing as hard as you were, you noticed. His mouth hung open as he panted, the entire bottom half of his face coated in saliva and your arousal. Fuck, he was pretty like this. “‘S good?”

You shook your head, beckoning him toward you and pulling him down by the back of his neck when he was close enough. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, lips against his almost before you were even done speaking. You didn’t mind the stickiness. You pulled back to look at him, then glanced down to the tent in his pants. “Lemme return the favor.”

Art let out a breathless chuckle. “I don’t think I’m gonna last that long,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. “Not if you’re the one touching me. Not after this.” He gestured to the shine still on his face, to your thighs beneath him. Your face burned, and your smile was so wide that your cheeks hurt.

You shrugged. “Lemme try anyway,” you said, before bringing his ear down to your lips, nipping at the lobe gently. “Please?”

He couldn’t say no to you.

[sweetnans]

love me already

Pairing: f. reader/bakugo katsuki Summary: dual POV where mc is tired of waiting for Bakugo to be truth and confess his feelings for her. tw: none. Just fluff and chaos.

"Y'know, I think I'll just tell Bakugo I like him." You were drunk, and a sort sense of boldness invaded you all of a sudden.

"Girl, don't do that." Mina put her hands on your bare thigh from your skirt ridden up. "Wait till you sober up"

You were hanging with Mina after a month of not seeing each other, being pro heroes tide up your schedule so you were out of reach most of the time, only reachable by the phone. You had a blast of a night, went clubbing, and drank while dancing like old times.

"He's playing with my mind, I swear," the words spurred out of your system, and you felt like you might start to cry in any second. "He's always sending texts and asking if I'm hurt after a fight and-"

"Hey! He doesn't do that to me!" Mina whined, putting her left hand above his heart.

"Exactly! He's this obsessive fucker who thinks he's better than everyone else, always so cocky and he had me wrapped around his fingers with the details that I know he only do to me, so obnoxious" you let a sigh trying to come down from your despertarion but something made you see red again. "And yet he never confessed! I'm tired Mina what if he's just playing with me and doesn't want anything serious just fuck with me and hop on to the next. Maybe he thinks I'm playing hard to get, and now I'm kind of a challenge to him, you know the bastard"

Now you were upset.

"Mmhm, just give him some time. He has had a crush on you since we were at UA" Mina bit his nails and poured another glass for you.

"Exactly, that's what everyone says! His mom, his dad even Midoriya who can't catch a fucking clue even if it's tingling in front of his eyes. If He thinks I'm going to wait forever for him to grow a pair of balls? He's got another thing coming. " You downed the entire glass, and Mina hurried to pour another.

...

"She haven't talked to me in an hour," Katsuki stated, folding some papers on his desk.

"Man, it's her night off duty, I heard Mina said that they were going out tonight," Kirishima made a spun in his chair. "Partying and doing girl's shit"

Bakugo hated staying in the office so late, but the papers were not going to fill themselves out. At least Kirishima was there with him, trying to calm him down, but doing a pretty bad job.

"I swear if Mina let her fall into a ditch again I'm going to-"

"For fuck sake, bro!" Kirishima rolled his eyes, almost disappearing in his skull. "It was one time! Let it go. She was fine and giggling like a mad woman when you went to her rescue"

"I just worry about her," he grunted. "I'm a hero, that's my work"

"Yeah, with civilians, but she's a real hero, y'know." Kirishima pushed. Not in the six years that he'd seen Bakugo after you, has he been able to get the real confession out of his mouth.

Bakugo checked his phone again. Nothing.

...

"I'm going to get up there and tell him that I'm done waiting for him"

You didn't know how you convinced Mina into your crazy idea, but now you were outside, in front of your apartment's lobby, waiting for a cab.

"Don't you think you need to reconsider, maybe? You're tipsy honey, what if he's not even there" Mina tried to talk to you out of it, but she knew better, you were stubborn as hell, the least she could do was following you and making sure that, this time, you didn't end up in a ditch.

"He's there, he told me," you stopped a cab lifting a finger and told the driver the direction.

The way to Katsuki's agency was a haze. You remember looking at Mina, her eyes closed, trying to rest before the chaos breaks loose.

"Do you know what you are going to say?" She mumbled with her eyes closed and grabbed your hand to reaffirm her company and her friendship.

You had no idea.

...

"This is taking ages," Kirishima complained, trying to read the papers and arrange them by dates. "Why can't we just shred them and pretend it didn't happen?"

"The TV broadcasted the fight, you dumbass"

Katsuki was tired too, but he needed to make and fill the reports before tomorrow morning.

"Did she answered you?" Kirishima asked.

It was a lame night. He was practically locked up with his best friend all alone in his office. He had a purpose, and that was making him confess his love for you.

"No," he briefly checked his phone again before returning his eyes to the files. "What if she's in a ditch?"

"She's not!" Kirishima raised his voice qhile laughing, and Katsuki only grunted in response. "So what's the deal with her? You still like her or what?"

"Who told you I liked her in the first place?" He was smug about his answer, not giving away any hint of his real feelings for you.

"C'mon, everybody knows," something dark flowed into Kirishima's mind. He felt like a child poking a mad dog with a stick. "At least in our class, I mean, I remember Todoroki showing interest in her once, and you completely beat him up in spared fight, and Mirio that time he gave her a flower from the patio, you were fuming I still remember the red shade of angry in the tips of your ears"

"Keep working"

That phrase only gave him more fuel to continue the poking the beast game.

"Man, why don't you just be truth to yourself? Like, is it that hard to accept the feelings you have for her? She's amazing, smart, beautiful, She's a beast on the field and has a great heart. What's the problem, Dynamight?

He touched a sensitive fiber using his hero name. He always bragged about being the best, bold and facing everything, and everybody who dared to get in his way, but he was acting like a real pussy with you.

"I'm scared I'm not good enough, you happy?" He was upset, and Kirishima was astonished with his confession. He expected an angry gremlin yelling at him for being so annoying, spurring out his confession between variabilities of insults, but he didn't expect his best friend, the know it all and do it all feeling like he wasn't enough.

"Not enough? Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? Yeah, of course you have a shitty attitude, but you care for her. You're the main example of manliness. You are always taking care of her, giving her your attention, making time for taking her out of a ditch while you were patrolling, I mean, I would've left her there" Kirishima joked to make Bakugo less worried about himself. "I'm telling you man, you are it for her, but you gotta hurry the fuck up because what you see in her, everybody could see it too"

In the quietness of his office, full of papers with his best friend, giving shitty but quiet good advice, he realized that he needed to tell you his feelings, he couldn't wait anymore time.

...

You sobered up real quick. Having the massive building in front of you in the middle of a cold and freezing night, returned every sense that you needed in your body.

"You are doubting" Mina established.

"I'm freezing," you counterattacked. "Why didn't you tell me to put some jeans on?"

The dancing and the drinking made you feel hot and raised your temperature and you knew it, so you put on a skirt before going out without thinking you would come out of the house after coming from the club.

The lights were on, in the floor where Bakugo's office was situated. If you squinted your eyes, you could even see the shapes of Kirishima's and Bakugo's bodies through the glass. Or you were just still drunk.

"He won't be there forever, and you're going to catch a cold if you keep us waiting here for something to happen," Mina urged, hugging herself to keep the cold out.

"You're right, it's now or never," you said, walking determinated into the big glass doors to make yourself in.

With Mina behind you, you pushed the doors, and the guard glanced at you. He recognized you and Mina immediately, but you two put your credentials out just for safety. He gave you a nod and you continued your way to the elevator.

"Are you nervous?" Mina asked while you pressed the elevator button.

"Like shit." You watched the countdown in red numbers above the elevator doors. The elevator was in Bakugo's floor so no one was around.

The ding in the elevator startled you a little, and the turmoil in your stomach didn't make it any better. Mina pushed you through the open doors and pressed the button to Bakugo's floor.

...

"Thank god it's done." Kirishima was spining in his chair while Katsuki looked for his stuff to bring them home with him. "Are you ready to face your true feelings?"

Kirishima didn't drop the topic after the big confession and the great advice, he kept pushing his best friend and giving him ideas on how to tell you, some of them were good and some of them were trash, but Bakugo just listened and ignored at the same time.

"Shut the fuck up" Katsuki growled lowly stuffing his belonging into his black backpack.

"Isn't it romantic? Like, after all this time, you could just walk in with a bouquet of flowers and, wait no, walking? That's lame. What about a white horse? Yeah, that's manly. " Kirishima was hopeless, and even though Bakugo showed a scowl at his words he was actually having fun.

"No horses, but maybe a bouquet will be cool," he was making peace with his own feelings. At the end of the day, what was the worst that could happen?

...

"I think I'm going to pee, shit," you pressed your bladder, and Mina laughed at you.

"You can't be serious right now, we are halfway," she said while you danced funny in front of her.

"I'm sorry I process my emotions somatically," you started to feel cloudy, and your hands started to sweat.

"Hey, relax. He's so into you, maybe he'll stand like a rock for the first three seconds but then he will be all over you confessing, don't worry, and if I'm wrong you can always have Shindo"

You made a gag.

"I hate Shindo," you told her.

"But he follow you like a puppy," Mina imitated a cute puppy joining his hands under her chin and poked out her tongue.

The elevator stopped with a big thump, and you feared in a good way. You had your adrenaline up, and there were still remains of booze in your system to give you a boost.

"It's time, big girl." Mina patted your shoulder and gave you a little push.

...

Kirishima stretched himself, and Bakugo took his backpack, grabbing the zipper of a back pocket to fetch the keys of his office to close it.

He was busy looking for the keys when Kirishima started patting him in the arm repeatedly.

"What?" He told him tired and with heavy eyes. Kirishima's eyes were the exact opposite of him. They were big and surprised, looking at the other side of the glass doors of his office.

He followed Kirishima's look and stopped in you.

At first, he thought it was a kind of a mirage, then he thought that maybe he was more tired than he realized, and then he thought that maybe it was a villain whose quirk was morphing into peoples body's.

Every thought ended at the sound of your voice.

...

You walked through the hallway, practicing a speech of what you were going to say to him. You did it over and over, stumbling words in your own mind. You were there, physically and mentally, ready to take all your feelings for him out. You couldn't chicken out.

You saw his figure in the last office at the end of the hallway, body contouring to grab something from his backpack.

Kirishima was the first to notice you, his eyes wide open at the sight of you two walking in the middle of the night like you owned the place. He gave multiple pats to Bakugo's arm, and from afar, you could notice that he was tired.

Maybe your boldness wasn't the best thing to do at that moment.

You couldn't make your way out because he turned his gaze from the backpack to you in a second. By his look, you could see the gears in his brain moving to give some sort of explanation of what was happening in front of him.

He opened the door, forgetting completely that Kirishima was in his way. The red-haired boy pushed him a little, giving him courage, not caring that his best friend kinda kicked him, stumbling against him.

You two were in the same hallway looking face to face. Your two best friends a step back making themselves a crowd in what was about to happen.

"What are -" Katsuki started disoriented, looking for proof or a mark that you were injured or hurt.

"Shut up," you told him. Katsuki was very surprised at your determined tone.

"I'm liking this already," Kirishima muttered behind Katsuki, grinning like the Chesire cat.

The silence between the four of you was something that was eating your bones. It wasn't awkward, but it was heavy. You told him to shut up, but you weren't talking either, and you knew it. All the speech that you practiced before vanishing from your mind.

"Are you-

"Are you going to love me already!?"

You spoke at the same time, but your message was clear. Mina was right, Katsuki stood like he was made of stone, rigid, stoic, not even a muscle moving from your confession.

You sounded desperate. You blamed your thoughts, your desire to go pee, that you were at least fifteen percent still drunk and that you were freezing. You wanted to get over this chapter in your life, you didn't want to fool around any longer and for that you needed to know if Katsuki was on the same page as you.

"Oh my god," Mina said, holding his face with both hands.

"Shh," Kirishima silenced her. "This is better than the ditch episode"

You could tell that the booze in your system worn off just by waiting for Katsuki's response. The tic tac in your intern clock made it impossible to bear the silence.

"Are you going to say something, or are you going to stay there forever?" You hurried him, trying to hide the anxious feeling that you felt coming out of your voice.

...

Kirishima kicked Bakugo's heavy boots to take him out of his trance. It worked.

You always said to him that you were half witch, at least, always feeling before it happened. He wandered if this was one of those situations.

"I'm-

It was the first time that he felt speechless. He knew you from head to toe, and now he noticed that you were under the effects of alcohol but sounded sure about it. The way that you let it out was some kind of outburst from the time he took to process what he really felt about you. He knew he treated you differently. He liked spending time with you, and he found himself checking his phone very often, looking for a message from you. He was whipped.

He saw your bottom lip quivering, and he knew he had to do something.

...

It happened quickly.

First, you throwing your feelings at him like it was a ball of fire, then his eternal silence, and after that, your guts twisting inside of you, your throat closing, your nose pricking and your bottom lip trembling.

It was over for your fantasies with him.

Was it the worst-case scenario? Yes. Will you be able to get over it? Absolutely. Will the healing process hurt? Like hell.

You were weighing your options when the sound of heavy boots against the carpeted floor woke you up from your suffering.

He was a mere inch from you. Your body and his body were separated by a thin layer of air. You could feel the air coming out from his nose, hitting your forehead. He was tall, and you were almost the size of a elf.

"Never call me out about what I already do"

That's everything that came out of his mouth before joining his lips with yours in a feverish kiss. He wasn't gentle, but the way that he grabbed you by both sides of your face made you float in your spot.

You didn't have the time to process what he said or why he said that, forgetting what you said first, but ignoring the cheerful sounds coming from your friends mouth, you could only concentrate in his mouth moving against yours. Finally.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[faithshouseofchaos]

More than anything || Lando Norris x fem!best friend!reader

Word count— 6.9K

warnings — angst undertones, reader and Lando love each other but they are in denial about their feelings for each other.

Smut, oral fem receiving, brief fingering (fem) P in V unprotected sex, Lando and readers are both switches, soft!dom Lando brief soft!dom reader, praise and body worship.

Tagging — @astraeaworld @ashy-kit @alwayzbeenale @67-angelofthelordme-67 @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @badassturtle13 @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @faithsotherhouseofchaos @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @jeffs77 @ironcowboycopnickel @lipringlrh @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @llando4norris @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere

You had been friends with Lando for as long as you could remember”back when the world was simpler, and the only thing that mattered was which video game you were going to play or which movie you’d queue up for a late-night marathon. You’d met at the race track a few years ago, and the connection had been instant”easy, comfortable like you’d known each other for years.

But lately, things have been changing. And neither of you was brave enough to address it.

"Hey, you alright?" Lando's voice broke through your thoughts as you fiddled with the edge of your drink, staring into the cup more than you should. He was leaning on the table, casual as ever, but the way his gaze lingered on you for just a fraction too long made your stomach flip.

You blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? You’ve been kinda off tonight.”

“I’m just... not used to these late nights,” you shrugged, a half-lie, but it was easier than admitting what was going on”your thoughts had become a jumbled mess of Lando this and Lando that, and you were pretty sure that it wasn’t just a passing phase anymore.

Lando tilted his head, clearly considering pushing further, but he just gave a small nod. “Well, if you need me to kick anyone’s ass for you, just say the word.”

You laughed, trying to shake off the tension. “You’re such a dork, Norris.”

He grinned, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like you were still the same two idiots who spent hours arguing about nothing and everything at the same time. But then, for a split second, you saw the way his eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe... maybe he wasn’t joking about being there for you.

Lando felt a pang in his chest at your words”it was so obvious you were deflecting, but he couldn’t press any further without giving himself away. The truth was, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way his heart sped up whenever you were around, the way his skin tingled whenever your hand accidentally brushed against his.

But he couldn’t say anything. There was too much at stake”the friendship you’d built, the comfort and familiarity of it all. It was too good to lose over a silly, confusing crush.

He sipped his drink, trying to act casual, but he could feel the tension growing between you both”awkward, charged, like the air before a storm. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but every opening line he could think of sounded wrong in his head.

Instead, he just settled for watching the way your eyes darted around the room, never really focusing on anything for more than a second. You seemed... off, and the fact that you wouldn’t tell him why was eating him alive.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned a little closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Seriously, you’re sure you’re alright? You can tell me if something’s going on, you know. I mean, we’re friends, right?”

He didn’t miss the way you tensed up at his question, and it sent a pang of anxiety through him. Had he said something wrong? Was he pushing too hard?

You forced another smile, trying to maintain the facade. “Yeah, of course, we’re friends. Just like always,” you said.

Lando’s frown deepened. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. He had a feeling there was more going on than you were letting on, and the thought was driving him crazy.

He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his words. “Then why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me something? You've been acting weird for a while now”you're not as yourself.”

He waited, studying your reaction. There it was again—that flicker in your eye whenever he mentioned something to do with your behavior.

You swallowed hard, the guilt churning in your stomach. You wanted to tell him”you did. But the words lodged in your throat stuck somewhere between fear and uncertainty.

“It's...it's nothing, I promise,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone light.

But Lando wasn’t buying it. He knew you too well at this point”he could read the signs of a lie better than the track maps he studied religiously.

Sighing, Lando set his mug on the coffee table before gently taking yours out of your hand, setting it right next to yours, and holding your hands in his own. 

Lando's touch was soft, his eyes fixed intently on yours. The heat from his hands soaked into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Please, just talk to me,” he said, his voice unusually serious. “I know something's not right”I can see it, okay? Do you think I haven't noticed that you've been acting weird around me? And you won't even tell me why.”

You could hear the worry in his voice, see it in the lines of his face. Dammit, you had made Lando Norris worry. Guilt clawed at your chest”you hated that you were the one to cause that look in his eyes. 

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight. You wanted to pour out all your feelings right then”about how every touch lately made your skin blaze and how you stayed up at night listening to old voice notes he sent you.

But instead, you just sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s just...it’s complicated, okay?”

Lando tilted his head, a silent encouragement to continue. He was listening now, really listening, his gaze never leaving yours. “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did tell me I’ll take care of it.” Lando says slightly panicked he couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt in some way the whole thought made his stomach upset.

Your heart clenched at his words”he was always so protective, so quick to defend you from any possible harm. The thought of him going to bat for you was both endearing and a little heart-breaking. 

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, I promise,” you reassured him quickly. This wasn’t what you had been worried about, but somehow, your lie only made you feel worse.

“Then darlin tell me what’s bugging you” he pleaded. There was that nickname again. The one that made your heart skip a beat and your palms start to sweat. You bit your lip, hesitating, wondering if you were ready to bear your soul to him like this.

“It’s—it’s stupid, really,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Lando leaned in closer, a crease forming on his forehead. “Hey, look at me,” he said, gently tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “If it’s bothering you like this, it’s not stupid.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his touch, the soft pressure of his fingertips on your skin. Lando was closer now”so close that you could see the flecks of gold in his normally blue eyes. Somehow, despite everything, your feelings for him had only grown, intensified and there was no burying it anymore.

“It's...it's you,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, your heart racing. It was like once you started, the words just kept coming.

"Every time I'm around you, I just...I feel different. Like, I get all fluttery and nervous, and my brain turns to pudding. And I can't stop thinking about you, and..."

You paused, your words catching in your throat. You hadn't meant to dump it all out like that, but once you started, you couldn’t stop.

Lando's eyes widened as you spoke, disbelief and surprise warring on his face. He’d known something was up, but he hadn’t expected this”to hear that you were going through the same things he was. 

For a moment, he just sat there, dumbfounded, his grip on your chin still loose but his touch still there. Then, softly, almost reverently, he breathed a single word. “Me?”

You almost laughed” it was so typical for Lando. Even when you were pouring your heart out, the idiot still found some way to be charming. 

“Yes, you,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes in a vain attempt to hide your nerves. “Who the hell else would I be talking about?”

Lando chuckled, a soft rumble in his chest, and somehow, you could feel the tension slowly seeping out of the situation.

“I just…I can’t believe it,” he confessed. “I’ve been going crazy over the same thing for months now, I didn’t think you’d feel the same way”

He trailed off, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and something bordering on awe. You stared at him, your mouth open in surprise. Had he just confessed what you thought he had?

“Wait, back up. You” You pointed a shaky finger at him, your words coming out in a jumble, “You’ve had a crush on me for months?”

Lando looked sheepish, like a kid caught sneaking cookies. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish little smile on his face. “Yeah,” he almost winced at the admission, like he expected you to start laughing any moment. “I know, it’s stupid, but I couldn’t help it. Every time we hung out or talked, or even just it was like I’d just lose my mind.”

He huffed a dry laugh, looking down at his hands, “I never thought I never thought you felt the same.”

Your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest at his words. Lando Norris, the flirty, carefree prince of Formula 1, had a crush on you, a normal, average girl. It didn’t seem real.

“God, we’re both idiots,” you breathed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Lando looked up at you, eyebrows raised, a mixture of amusement and relief on his face. “Why’s that?” he asked, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Because neither of us had the balls to say anything until now.” Lando barked a laugh, leaning back against the couch. “That’s a fair point.”

He glanced sidelong at you, some of the easy confidence returning to his usual swagger. “Although I have to say, I’m still a little surprised you never noticed.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “How was I supposed to notice? You’re a big flirt. How was I supposed to know I wasn’t just another one on your list?”

“I could never let you be just another girl on my list,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as he gazes deeply into your eyes. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and an electric tension envelops the space between you. You can feel your heart racing, each pulse resonating with the intensity of the moment. Lando’s expression is earnest, revealing a vulnerability that makes your breath catch in your throat. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, locked in this intimate moment, where all your past encounters seem to dissolve, and only the possibility of something deeper remains.

Your heartbeat hammers in your chest, a cacophony of emotion swirling inside. Lando's confession is more than your racing mind can handle. You hadn't expected to hear those words from him.

You opened your mouth, trying to find the right response, an appropriate reaction to the raw honesty in his eyes. Yet, no words come out. All you can do is sit there, caught between wanting to believe his words and a lingering uncertainty. His eyes are unwavering, fixed on yours, waiting.

Lando looks at you, his gaze unwavering. He can see the storm of emotions playing over your face, the way your mind is racing to make sense of all this. But he isn’t deterred. For him, this isn’t just another flirty banter, another attempt to charm someone into a night of fun. This is real the realest he’s ever felt about anything in his life.

He reaches out, his fingertips just barely brushing your cheek. The touch is light, and gentle, as if he’s afraid of scaring you away with too much pressure.

The soft touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind. And yet, despite the confusion and surprise, you find yourself leaning into his touch, almost unconsciously.

“I mean it,” Lando says softly as if reading the unspoken doubt in your silence. His eyes are earnest and intense. “I don’t just … I don’t just ‘flirt’ with everyone. You’r… you’re different.” 

Your heart clenches at his words, his quiet honesty. Part of you wants to believe him, to take a leap of faith and trust that this isn’t just empty words. But the other part, the part ruled by doubt and fear, keeps you rooted in place.

“How am I different?” you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze. Lando takes a moment to think before answering, his fingers still tracing light circles on your cheek. His touch is soothing, and grounding a small patch of calm in the whirlpool of emotions.

“You’re different because you’re you,” he finally replies, his voice firm, certain. “You’re not just another girl I flirt with. You’ve been my friend forever. You know me better than anyone. And yet, somehow, you still like me. For me, not just for the thrill of it all.”

The words hit you like a wrecking ball, knocking the air right out of your lungs. He was right. You had been more than willing to accept Lando for all his flaws, his quirks, his vices”everything that made him who he was. And somehow, miraculously, he was offering you the same in return.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you whisper, your voice wavering, betraying the lingering threads of doubt. Lando's expression softens, his touch becoming more gentle, more reassuring. “I can’t promise we’re going to be perfect, darling,” he admits quietly. “There’ll be rough spots, I know that. But I can promise I’ll be there for you, through all of it.”

He takes a breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “I can promise I’ll try, with everything I’ve got. To make you happy, to keep you safe, to be good for you.” You look up at Lando, your heart in your throat. Everything in you wants to believe in his words, in the sincerity behind his eyes. But the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of what the future holds, still whispers doubts in your ear.

“I want to believe you, Lando. I do,” you confess, your voice barely audible. “But I’m scared. I’m scared of getting hurt, of losing what we already have.”

“I know,” Lando nods, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “I get it. I’m scared too.”

He takes a moment, swallowing hard. “But I’m also tired. I’m tired of pretending. Tired of dancing around what both of us have been feeling for months now.”

His hand cups your face then, his touch becoming firmer, more certain. “I’m tired of not having you as more than a friend. And I think...I think you are, too.”

Your eyes flutter shut at his touch, your breath catching in your throat. You hate that he’s right, hate the way his words resonate deep within you. You had been longing for this for months”years if you were being honest with yourself. 

You open your eyes again, meeting his gaze. The fear is still there, the doubts still niggling at the edge of your mind, but now...now they’re overpowered by something else. Hope.

“Lando?”

Lando lets out a quiet hum, keeping his gaze fixed on you. He looks as if he’s almost holding his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“Yeah?” he replies, his voice soft, almost tentative.

“Kiss me please?” you ask your voice barely above a whisper. Lando’s eyes widened a fraction, the shock on his face quickly giving way to a look of breathless awe. He looks at you like he can’t quite believe what you’ve just said.

But then, his lips pull into a smile”a bright, brilliant, beautiful smile that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he breathes out, and then his hand moves from your cheek to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in towards him. The moment your lips meet his, it's like the world disappears. All the noise, the worries, the doubts, they all melt away, leaving nothing but the sensation of Lando's lips on yours.

His mouth is warm, gentle at first, and then with growing confidence as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer to him. His touch is electrifying, sending shockwaves through your body as his hands pull you onto his lap.

You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, and tasting the sweetness of his lips. You’ve been craving this for so long years of yearning compressed into this single moment of release. His hands move under your shirt, skimming over the bare skin of your back, making you shiver against his touch.

The kiss seems to go on forever a sweet, slow, burning kind of kiss that makes the outside world fade completely. There’s only Lando, only the heat of his body against yours, the pounding of your heart, the way his tongue teases yours, sending sparks straight to your veins.

Finally, you break apart, both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together as you cling to each other. Lando’s eyes are dark, pupils dilated with something primal, something possessive. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers, breathless, his hand still tracing patterns across your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I think I might have some idea,” you reply, your breathing still ragged. “You’ve made it pretty damn obvious, you know.”

You can see the hint of a cocky grin on Lando’s face as he ducks his head, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Can you blame me?” he mumbles against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “You’re pretty damn irresistible.”

The feel of his teeth, the scrape of his stubble against your skin it’s driving you insane. Every nerve in your body is on fire, every sense keyed into his touch, his breath, his voice. “I feel like I’ve been going crazy,” Lando murmurs as he nips at your earlobe. “Months of trying to keep my hands off you, trying to pretend I didn’t want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I thought I was going to lose my goddamn mind.” 

“Imagine what it’s been like for me,” you reply, your voice hitching as he finds a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. “Watching you smile and flirt with everyone but me. Listening to you talk about your dates…it was torture.”

Lando pulls back at that, his expression turning apologetic. “God, I’m sorry, darling. But you weren’t exactly making it easy for me either, you know. Looking all cute and pretty and yeah,” he finishes lamely, his face reddening.

You can’t help but smirk at that. “Not my fault you can’t handle a little temptation,” you tease, poking his chest lightly. Lando huffs, his competitiveness flaring as he nips at your finger. “Oh, I can handle temptation just fine,” he retorts with a hint of a growl. “I’ve been handling it for months, thank you very much.”

He pulls you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you, possessive, and suddenly his mouth is on your neck again, his teeth scraping over your pulse point, making you gasp.

“You were handling it, were you?” you tease between gasps, arching against him as his tongue trails down the column of your throat. “Doesn’t seem like you were handling it very well”

His hands slide under your shirt, his touch roaming over your back, your waist, his thumbs dipping under the edge of your bra.

“Trust me, love,” Lando says in a low voice, his hands mapping out every inch of your skin, “You have no idea what kind of self-control I’ve had to exercise. There were times I wanted to pin you against a wall and just..”

His words trail off, but the way his hands grip your hips, the way he tugs you flush against him, make it pretty clear what he wanted to do. “What stopped you, then?” you ask, biting back a moan as his lips find your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. “You seemed to have no problem going after every other girl you wanted”

Lando lets out a soft huff, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “Because it was never just a one-night thing, darling,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear. “None of them they weren’t you.”

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and when he looks at you, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that’s almost staggering.

Your heart clenches at his words, the raw honesty in his eyes robbing you of speech. You’d expected flirty charm and cocky banter, but this…this was something else altogether. Lando Norris, the heartthrob of Formula 1, the man who could have any girl he wanted, was admitting to you, just you, that he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you.

“Lando I need you so bad,” you say hoping for something to happen between you. Lando’s breath hitches at your words, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he’s barely holding himself back. “Yeah?” he breathes out, his voice shaky, laced with desire. “How bad, darling?”

“Bad enough that I don’t think I can take it anymore,” you confess, your voice quivering. Everything in you is on fire, every nerve endings craving his touch, his lips, his body. You want him, desperately, urgently, and you can see in his eyes that he wants you just as badly.

Lando curses under his breath, his hands gripping your hips as he holds you against him. You feel the hardness of his arousal against you, and the knowledge nearly makes you dizzy. Lando leans forward, his lips finding your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you, darling,” he murmurs, his voice rough, gravelly with need. “Show me,” you breathe out, your voice hoarse, filled with aching need. “I want to see. I want to know.” 

Lando lets out a low moan, his fingers digging into your hips as he turns you so you’re laying on your back on the couch, with him hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the cushion.

His lips are back on your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as his hands slide under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and off, revealing your bare stomach. His mouth follows the path of his hands, leaving a trail of scorching kisses down to the edge of your bra. 

Lando looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a silent question in his gaze. You nod, breathless, your body yearning for his touch. Lando hooks a finger under the elastic of your bra, the touch of his knuckles against your skin making you shudder. He tugs the bra off, tossing it onto the floor, and then leans forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

His hands roam over your bare chest, fingers dancing over your sensitive skin, igniting a thousand little fires everywhere he touches.

Lando moves his kisses from your lips down to your chest, his mouth trailing down to the valley between your breasts. You arch against him, your body craving more, needing more of his touch, more of him.

“God, you’re stunning,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice wavering, filled with awe. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long, darling so damn long” 

“I’m right here,” you gasp out, arching your back as his lips close around one nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. “It’s not just you who’s been going crazy, you know I’ve wanted this too, god, so many times I thought I was going to go crazy”

Lando chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of heat through you. “Good to know I haven’t been the only one going mad,” he murmurs, his mouth trailing down your stomach, his hands roaming over your sides. “I couldn’t focus in a race for weeks just thinking about you like this, darling, about how you’d look, how you’d how you’d taste”

He kisses the inside of your hip, his beard scraping against your skin, and then his thumbs are hooking under the waistband of your sweatpants, beginning to pull them down. You lift your hips to help him tug them off, your heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation.

Lando looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of bare skin. He curses under his breath, his pupils dilated with desire. “God, look at you,” he mutters, running a trembling hand down your side. “You’re so perfect so goddamn perfect”

He moves between your legs, his hands gripping your hips, his touch firm but gentle. “All these months, I’d fantasize about this, about you, laid out like this just for me,” he mumbles, leaning down to press kisses along your inner thighs. “I never thought I’d get to see it for real”

“I never thought I’d let you see,” you reply breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. “But I’m all yours now, Lando. All yours. Show me what you’ve been thinking about”

Lando groans at your words, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip as he positions himself between your legs. His lips are back on your skin, kissing and sucking and nipping, slowly moving up your thigh until you can feel his breath against your aching core. 

“You’re sure?” he asks in a gravelly voice, his eyes meeting yours.

You nod, words failing you. Desire is coursing through your veins like a drug, making you dizzy and needy and aching for more. “Please, Lando,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I need you don’t make me wait anymore.”

Lando lets out another low moan, his breath hot against your skin. “God, I love it when you beg,” he mutters, his voice rough with desire. “I’m gonna give you everything you need, darling everything you want”

His mouth finally finds your core, and it’s almost enough to make you scream. His tongue is doing glorious things, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from bucking against him, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

“L-Lando,” you gasp out brokenly, your hands twisting in his hair, holding on for dear life.

Lando hums against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His grip on your hips tightens as his tongue continues its wicked dance, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“God, you taste even better than I imagined,” he mutters, his words muffled against your skin. “I want to hear you, darling want to know I’m making you feel good.”

You can’t help but obey, his words and his touch driving you to the brink of madness. A steady stream of moans and gasps falls from your lips, and Lando groans in response like he’s enjoying your pleasure just as much as you are. 

Just when you think you can’t take any more, Lando’s mouth moves away from your core, leaving you feeling bereft, aching with unfulfilled need.

“Why’d you stop?” you gasp out, looking down at him with hazy eyes. Lando grins at you, his lips glistening with your desire. 

“Because I’m not done with you yet, darling,” he murmurs as he moves back up your body, his body settling on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch. “You’re cruel, you know,” you murmur, a shiver running through you as you feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against you. “Leaving me like that all needy and aching for you.”

“You’ll just have to suffer a little while longer,” Lando replies, his voice dripping with feigned innocence, his lips curving into a smirk. He nips at your shoulder, then brushes his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Just think about how good it’ll feel when I finally give you what you want, love how good I’m going to make you feel”

You whine in frustration, arching against him, your body desperate for release. Lando laughs against your skin, his hands roaming over your body, igniting a thousand little fires everywhere he touches.

“Look at you, all needy for me,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly with desire. “God, I love seeing you like this all desperate and begging me I could get addicted to it, you know.”

You’re helpless against him, your body putty in his skillful hands. Every touch, every press of his lips is sending electricity through your veins, lighting up your nerves. You’re so close to the edge, clinging to it desperately as Lando continues to drive you wild.

“Please, Lando, please,” you plead, your voice breathless, desperate. “I need you I need you so much I need I need”

“What do you need, love?” Lando murmurs, his fingers tracing a path up your inner thigh, dancing ever closer to where you need him most. “You’ll have to use your words, darling I want to hear you say it”

You let out a strangled moan, your body quivering with tension. “I need I need you to touch me,” you finally manage to gasp out, your voice thick with need. “Please, Lando make me feel good I can’t take anymore I can’t”

Lando lets out a low growl at your words, his hand finally moving to where you need him most. His fingers dip between your folds, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and stroking it lightly, making you shudder in ecstasy.

“You’re so damn wet, love,” he mutters, his voice rough with desire. “So goddamn responsive for me ... .I've just been touching you for a few minutes and you’re already falling apart in my arms “Feels feels so good,” you gasp out, your body arching against his touch. Your senses are completely overwhelmed, your whole world narrowed down to the feeling of Lando’s fingers, the sound of his voice, the feel of his weight on top of you. Everything else is distant, hazy, and insignificant compared to him.

“That’s it, darling,” Lando murmurs, his fingers moving more quickly, his touch firmer. “Let go I’ve got you I’m right here I’m gonna take care of you .”

His other hand is cupping your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his eyes fixed on yours, dark, possessive, intense.

“I need to feel you,” you gasp out between moans, your body clenching tight around his fingers. “Please, Lando I want you I need you.”

Lando’s breath hitches at your words, his eyes darkening even further. “God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice shaking. “You’re goddamn perfect, you know that? Perfect and mine. All mine”

“More,” you murmur, your body pleading for release. “Please, Lando, more I need more.”

Lando’s thumb is circling over your clit, his fingers moving deeper, faster, driving you to the brink of insanity. “Is this enough, darling?” he asks, his voice rough but his touch still gentle. “Or do you need even more? Tell me what you want, love I’ll give you whatever you need.

“You.” The word comes out barely coherent, but you manage to force it out in a gasp. “I want you. I need you. All of you. I can’t take this anymore, Lando. I can’ please.”

Lando’s eyes widen at your words, a guttural moan escaping his lips. “Christ, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice tight with control, “you keep talking like that, and that’ll be over before it even starts.”

“Then don’t make me wait anymore,” you beg, your body trembling with need. “Please, Lando, I don’t think I can take it I need to feel you I need you now”

Lando’s fingers continue their torturous rhythm, his other hand holding your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. You can see the struggle for control in his eyes, the tension in his body, the barely contained desire. He’s just as desperate as you are, just as needy.

“Are you sure, darlin?” he asks, his voice strained with self-control. “Once I give you what you want, I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to hold back anymore I’ll take you right here and now, just like you want. are you sure you’re ready for that?”

You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. You nod, the word tumbling out of you, pleading, desperate. “Yes. Yes. God, Lando yes, I’m ready. More than ready. I want you, all of you. Now. Please”

A guttural moan escapes Lando’s lips at your words, the sound raw and primal. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, darlin,” he mutters, his hands moving to your hips, gripping them as he positions himself between your legs. “But goddammit I’m not going to fight it anymore”

He leans down, his lips claiming yours in a fierce, possessive kiss, his body pressed fully against yours. You can feel his need, his desire, his desperation mirrored in every movement, in every slide of his tongue against yours. His hands shift to your thighs, spreading your legs wider, aligning your bodies perfectly.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters between kisses, his voice rough, hoarse with lust. “So goddamn perfect all laid out for me all mine.”

His hips press against yours, the heat, the hardness of his arousal making you gasp against his lips. “I need you, darlin,” he mutters, his hands skimming up your sides, his touch sending sparks of heat through you. “I need you so damn much it hurts I can’t hold back anymore I can’t”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, your body arching against his, pleading for him. “Please, Lando don’t hold back anymore I’m all yours please”

Lando lets out another guttural moan, his control finally snapping. “God, darlin, the things you do to me goddamn ”

He shifts his weight, positioning himself at your entrance, the tension in his body like a coiled spring. “You sure about this, love? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you murmur, your body aching with need, your heart filled with a certainty you’ve never felt before. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, Lando. I want you, goddammit, I need you and I’m yours just please.”

Your words are like a match to a fuse, igniting the last shred of his control. Lando lets out a guttural moan, his hands gripping your hips, his body tense, trembling with the effort of restraining himself. He takes a shaky breath, his blue eyes meeting yours, dilated with desire.

“You’re mine, darlin,” he repeats, his voice a hoarse whisper. “All mine.”

And with that, he finally surrenders to his need, his control shattered. His body sheathes itself within you, filling you, stretching you, claiming you in a way that’s primal and possessive and perfect. A moan tears from your throat, your body arching against his, sparks of pleasure dancing through you, igniting every nerve.

Lando lets out a guttural groan, his body shuddering against yours. “God, you feel so good,” he gasps out, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “So damn perfect you’re going to be the death of me, darlin”

Your world narrows down to the sensation of him within you, his body moving against yours, the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body on and around you. Your whole world is Lando: his breath against your skin, the taste of his neck, the feel of his body moving against yours.

“God, yes,” you gasp out between moans, your body meeting his every thrust, your hands tracing over his back, feeling the shifting muscles beneath your palms. “Lando—Lando God, you feel so good so perfect”

"Oh, lord have mercy-" you gasped your eyes rolling at the back of your head. 

 "Oh, he had plenty when he made you. My. fucking. Friend." Lando says between thrusts.

Lando’s words are like fuel to the fire, igniting a heat within you that’s almost primal, almost feral. You cling to him, your body quivering, your nails digging into his skin. He lets out another guttural moan, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, his restraint paper-thin.

"I don’t think I’m going to last much longer, darlin," he gasps out, his voice rough, strained. "You feel too good too perfect”

"Just let go, Lando," you breathe out, your voice hoarse, a plea, a command, a plea. "I want you to. Come for me show me how good I make you feel"

Lando’s body shudders at your words, his control finally, blissfully breaking. “Goddammit, darlin, you have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice a hoarse growl. “You drive me wild, love god damn I can’t—I can’t”

He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on yours, his body trembling, taut, quivering with tension. “Are you close, darlin?” he gasps out, his voice tight, strangled.

You nod, your body clenching around him, your hands clinging to his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. “Im—I’m so close, Lando,” you manage to gasp out, your eyes meeting his, filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation. 

Lando’s eyes darken at your words, a possessive, primal spark igniting in his gaze. “That’s it, darlin,” he murmurs, his body moving faster, harder, deeper, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your skin. “Let go for me. Let go for me I want to feel you I want to feel you come undone in my arms”

You’re helpless to resist his pleas, your body quivering, ready to burst. His voice, his touch, his body, it’s all too much, too intense. You’re teetering on the edge, so close to the precipice, hanging on by a mere thread.

“L-Lando” you manage to moan out, your voice shaky, breathless. “I’m—I’m—I’m”

Lando’s body trembles with the effort of holding back, his restraint hanging on by a thread. “That’s it, darlin,” he gasps out, his voice ragged, tight. “Let go. Let go, darling. I’ve got you I’ve got you”

The tension finally snaps, your body seizing up, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you like a wall of fire. You cry out, your nails digging into Lando’s back, your body shuddering with the force of your release.

Lando lets out a guttural moan at the feeling, his body tensing, his hips stuttering, his control finally, blissfully broken. “Goddammit, darlin,” he mutters, his voice a hoarse gasp. “That’s it that’s it I’m right there with you, darlin,” he gasps out, his body shuddering against yours, his release crashing over him like a tsunami. “Goddamn you’ve got me completely wrecked, love…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to recover.”

You cling to him, both of you trembling in the aftermath, holding onto each other for dear life. The room is filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, the thump of your heartbeats, the rustle of the sheets beneath you.

Lando’s arms wrap around you, his body pressing against yours, holding you tightly to him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He’s still shaking, still quivering with the aftershocks of the pleasure you’ve just experienced together.

"Goddamn, darlin," he mutters, his voice low, rough. "You wreck me. Every time. You completely wreck me." 

You let out a soft, contented sigh, your body relaxing into his embrace. “That was…that was intense,” you murmur, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back. “I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

Lando lets out a soft, hoarse chuckle at your words, the sound vibrating against your skin. “That’s what I was aiming for, darlin,” he mutters, his lips brushing over your neck. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a few days.”

“You succeeded,” you say, a smile curving your lips, your body still tingling, still humming with the aftermath. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be the same after that.”

Lando lets out a soft, possessive moan at your words, his arms tightening around you. “Good,” he mutters, his lips moving over your skin, “because I plan on doing that to you again and again, darlin. Over and over. Until you can’t even remember your own name.”

You let out a soft, contented sigh, a shiver of anticipation running through you. “Is that a promise?” you murmur, your voice soft, sultry.

Lando lets out a low rumble of affirmation, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear. “It’s a promise, darlin,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to keep you in bed for days, love. Until you forget everything except my name.”

You shiver at the possessive, primal note in his voice, the promise in his words. “You’re going to wear me out,” you murmur, your body already stirring with renewed desire.

Lando lets out another low rumble, his hands beginning to wander over your body, reigniting the fire between you. “That’s the plan, darlin,” he mutters, his lips moving down your neck, “to wear you out and then wear you out some more. I can’t get enough of you, love. I never will.”

You let out a soft, wanton moan, your body arching against his, your heart swelling with a mixture of pleasure and desire. “You’re insatiable,” you murmur, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Only with you, darling . Only you,”

[scarletcomalies]

Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now, meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,119

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.

[poppy-metal]

thinking of art donaldson who has the most obvious crush on you but you're oblivious so you don't think about it when you tell him you can't go to the movies with him because you have a date that day. you think arts text back is a bit strange. the - Oh. Have fun :) seeming passive aggressive as hell but what reason would he have to feel that way? you think you're probably reading into it too much and decide to lighten the mood by texting him back-

now you don't have to worry about me scaring off potential love interests!!

he leaves you on read for the first time ever since knowing him. a pinch of worry niggles at you. you don't like the idea of upsetting him. did he think you were being a bad friend? flakey? you decide to send him another message -

you know asking a girl to see a scary movie with you can be kinda romantic. you should definitely ask someone to go with in my place <3 that way she can cling to you!

he does text back then.

Right. I'll keep that in mind.

are you mad at me?

dots appear. they dance on your screen. dissappear. reappear again.

Who's the guy?

you bite your lip. he dodged the question, which meant he probably was mad.

just some guy from one of my lectures! his name is craig!

Are you going to fuck him?

you stare at your phone screen. arts cursed in front of you before, but for a guy his age - the amount is minimal - even rarer over text. it sends a bolt of heat through you unexpectedly, a tingle you feel from your head to your toes. you hesitate on what to say - but you're comfortable with art, you're not in the business of lying to him, even if this isn't something you've talked with him about before.

honestly? probably. I don't see him as boyfriend material or anything, but he looks like fun!

you wonder if this is why art is mad. remembering he told you he grew up religious - maybe he still held some of those beliefs and was upset you were ditching him to have unwed sex or whatever.

the dots dance on your screen again for a time. your knee bounces as you wait for his reply, strangely anticipating it.

You're not looking for a boyfriend?

you think about that.

not at the moment!

his reply is quick then.

What are you looking for then?

you think about that too. your cheeks burn a little more - shifting in your seat. your friendship with art is newish - and while you're comfortable with him, there's still parts of yourself he doesn't know about you. like the part where you're kinda a sex fiend - though you wouldn't know it based on how you portray yourself. girlish and bubbly. you weren't ashamed of what you liked - and yet you paused before typing, fear of his judgement making you consider downplaying the truth.

but honesty was the best policy, and you stood by that embarrassment aside.

just sex, for now. I like having it. like, probably more than the normal amount....

art took so long to reply you physically had to stand up and pace around your room, 7 full laps before you came back down to check your texts.

So it's just scratching and itch, then. It could be anyone?

well.... obviously not just anyone. I do have standards!

They should be higher than that douchbag. and then, right under that. Fuck. I don't mean that in a slut shaming way. I just mean.

The dots again. You hold your breath.

I just mean you should only be allowing someone who kisses the fucking ground you walk on to give you what you need. You deserve more than some quickie on a shitty dormbed. You deserve to be worshipped from head to toe. Every inch of you.

you don't know how to reply to that, so you don't.

it's the first night you touch yourself to the thought of your new friend, though.

[eilishsmuse]

confess that you were lost

— billie eilish x fem!reader

context. friendship? relationship? situationship? you have no clue what you have with billie. and she doesn’t really clarify what is going on between you two either. all you really know is that there’s a thin line of platonic and romantic the two of you constantly cross over for one another.

cw. angst, swearing, heartbreak, jealousy, suggestive, makeout, reader feels thrown to the side constantly, billie is very unaware with the situation, lowk gets a lil slutty, lowk smut, lowk cliffhanger, good ending ig

soundtrack. temptations - partynextdoor

anon’s ask. “there’s not enough billie angst so how about a situation where reader likes billie but billie’s playing with the line of platonic and romantic so r just doesn’t want to risk hurting the friendship”

You're dumb

Well no. Not really. You just fell in love with your best friend, that's all. Which, in your case, was dumb to even begin with. You don't even know how it initially happened. One day you were breaking up with your boyfriend, and Billie was there, comforting you every second of the way.

I mean, it was the real package. Break up with your boyfriend, get endless amounts of affection from Billie, and let her smother you with affection, both physically and verbally. As a friend.

That's what sucked. It was just a way of Billie being a good friend.

But since the breakup, she has been more touchy and affectionate than before. Of course, your delusional self saw it as one of Billie's many ways of flirting. But you were wrong. Billie just, in all honesty, casually likes hopping over the thin line between platonic and romantic. And it haunted you.

Now you were here, sitting on Billie's couch as she raved about one of her most recent hookups with some girl she met at her friend Charli's birthday party. And you sat there, head on hand, as she gidded about all the lust and enjoyment she got out of the hookup. A TV show playing the background you were planning to binge with Billie.

"I mean, it was great," Billie half-laughed out. "Definitely top five from now on."

"That's nice," You fake smiled, glancing over at the TV as the show played on the screen. Letting the sound of the dialogue flood your ears. Not wanting to hear about Billie and her hookup anymore. Jealousy eating you inside and out.

A small frown settled on Billie's lips as she watched you look away from her to the TV. "Why do you suddenly seem annoyed?" She questioned.

Billie had always been able to notice the slight changes in your mood towards her, whether they were negative or positive. She knew your body language well enough, that she easily picked up the signs.

You take a small breath in and looked back over at Billie, your eyes fluttering as they landed on hers. Your eyebrows raising in 'confusion', eyebrows furrowing as well, "I'm not ."

Lie. That was a lie. You were jealous. You hated hearing Billie constantly talk about her hookups all while you listened to her in silence and torture.

Billie's frown continued to deepen. She didn't believe your lie for a second. And that's why she leaned closer to you, her gaze never leaving you. "Bullshit," she bluntly called out, shaking her head.

Billie always knew when you were lying. You couldn't fool her. At least not the way you usually did with your other friends.

"Dude c'mon, I've known you long enough to know when you're lying," she added, letting herself scoot closer to you.

Her slender hand came in contact with your cheek, gently caressing the warm skin with her fingertips. She wanted your honest answer. Sacred what was going on through your mind. Worried for you. Like a true friend.

Just then your skin tingled at Billie's touch. It was a common gesture between the both of you. She'd always been touchy with you in that friend way and it never bothered you. Not fully. You just wished it was more than that friend way.

You then finally took a deep breath in at Billie's words. Your eyes hooded as they looked into hers. A small glimpse of sadness and tiredness laced all throughout them.

A pang of worry hit her gut as her eyes studied your expression. It was a mixture of sadness and exhaustion. She could practically feel the pain you were in. What pain? She didn't know. But still, she wanted to be there for you.

Billie's hand slid down from your cheek to your chin. She gently pinched her thumb and forefinger in order to raise your chin, so your gaze wouldn't stray from hers again.

Billie's features softened, her usual bright eyes looking at you with nothing but worry for you.

"You know you can always tell me the truth," Billie softly assured you. Her touch on your chin never faltered. In fact, it gently caressed your skin with her thumb.

It hurt Billie so much, to see those sad and tired eyes as they searched hers. She longed to know what you were thinking. What was making you feel that way? To figure out a way to make you feel better - maybe even smile.

She gently caressed your chin with her thumb, her eyes searching your face for any sign as to what was truly bothering you. But she was clueless. All she knew was that you were upset, and that hurt her the most.

"I know something's up," she spoke again, her tone soft and soothing.

Billie let go of your chin and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, her eyes never leaving your own.

Billie wasn't stupid. She could see the jealousy radiating off of you.

For a split second, you leaned into Billie's touch. Eyes closing for a moment and cherishing the moment. Her gentle touch was so delicate that when you leaned into it, her hand had no choice but to press up against your head with more force.

"I just-"

Your voice was gentle and low, cracking almost. You weren't on the verge of tears or anything, but the way your throat tightened and swelled as if you'd woken up with a cold said something differently.

Billie watched your expression as your eyes shut for a split second. The way you practically melted into her touch was something that always made her heart flutter.

Her hand stayed against your head, gently rubbing over your temple with her thumb. She was now patiently waiting for you to voice your thoughts, and she had all the time in the world for you.

"Just…?" she softly whispered, encouraging you to continue speaking.

Billie's eyes searched your face for anything that could hint what was going on in your mind. Her thumb continued to gently rub against your temple, trying to soothe any and all thoughts that were causing you to react the way you did.

She knew you. She knew your body language better than anyone else. And all the while, her heart ached at the fact that you were hurting. She hated seeing you in that way. And the fact that you won't say the reason why was killing her.

A quite half whine and sigh came from you. Your eyes now more noticeably showing sadness and fear behind them.

Was this really the time? Billie just finished raving about her 'amazing' hookup, and now here you are on the verge of confessing your love for your own best friend. She wasn't making it any easier either.

With the way her soft, gentle touch feathered across the skin on your temple and the way her eyes searched for any emotions in your body language and eye movement.

Just the way her whole demeanor changed just for you.

Billie's eyes continued to study your face, never straying anywhere else. Her heart felt like it was beating too fast.

She hated this. Hated how you looked so sad and fearful and how you weren't telling her what was wrong. She felt powerless. All she could do was sit and try to soothe you with her touch until you found your voice again.

Billie could feel the atmosphere change. The shift in your body language was very noticeable, and her eyes picked up on it in an instant. "Please, just talk to me," she softly pleaded.

"I can't."

At this point, your voice was scratchy and on the verge of cracking from how tight your throat formed from the emotions. Your eyes shut as soon as you said your words. Your face contorted into a fit of guilt and worry for what was to come in the next few moments.

Your breathing was now heavier and faster than before. Chest rising and sinking with vigorous speed. Face heating in Billie's touch. Mind hazy and blurred.

The more you spoke, the more concern and worry built up inside of Billie. She hated seeing you so torn and upset. Her heart nearly shattered apart when your voice cracked from the emotions.

Her thumb continued to rub over your temple gently, as if to soothe the guilt and worry that was etched on your face. Her other hand moved to hold your cheek, wanting to keep you grounded.

Billie could feel the emotions radiating off of you. She could see and sense the uneasiness and tension.

Billie's features hardened as she could see the look of guilt and worry cross your face with your squeezed shut eyes. She gently gripped your chin and pulled your face up, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her.

"Why can't you?" she softly demanded.

Your heart was pounding. And she knew that. She could feel it under her fingers that were gently pinched around your chin, holding your face steady.

Billie's eyes searched yours, almost pleading with you to tell her the reason why you were so hurt and guilty.

She didn't like this. She hated this. Hated seeing you in pain and not knowing how to fix it.

"Please, just tell me why," she whispered, her voice gentle and soft as her thumb began to rub gentle circles on your chin.

"I hate it when…"

You swallowed to try and make it easier for yourself to say what you wanted to say, but the swallowing only hurt and made your throat tighten up more.

"I hate it when you talk about your hookups."

Your gaze lowers onto your lap where your hands nervously fiddled with one another to soothe the tension in your body.

Billie's heart shattered at your words.

Of course. She should have known. Should have seen the signs.

Her grip on your chin tightened, slightly tilting your face back up so you were looking at her once more. Her eyes were wide as the realization hit her.

She was so dumb.

But she shouldn't have been surprised. All she could see now was the jealousy and sadness in your eyes, all because of the casual talks she had about her hookups with random girls.

Her eyes stayed fixed on your face. She could see how your body language showed tension from how you were fidgeting with your fingers in your lap.

Billie's thumb continued to gently rub your chin as she tried to get you to look at her again.

"Look at me," she firmly spoke, eyes darting all over your face.

"I..."

Billie's voice died in her throat. Her heart was now pounding as fast as yours was, and she was completely at a loss for words.

Everything suddenly made sense. The subtle looks of annoyance whenever she mentioned a hookup. The sad and exhausted look in your eyes. All the times she tried to coax an answer out of you but was met with "I'm not jealous."

Fresh tears began to pool in your eyes, slowly trickling down your cheeks. Billie's heart shattered once again.

Seeing you like that hurt. It hurt her more than she could even express. Her grip on your face softened, gently caressing your skin.

"No, no, no. Don't cry," she gently pleaded, bringing her other hand up to your face to try and wipe away your tears.

Billie's features now held a sorrowful look as she watched more tears glide down your red-tinted cheeks. She began to rub away at the tears on your face, trying her best to comfort you in any way she could.

"Please, don't cry," she repeated, her voice much softer this time. Her eyes continued to study your face, trying her best to decipher what you were thinking.

"I fucked up."

Your tone was regretful. You were regretful. You just threw away a friendship for the girl you loved the most and who cared for you the most, just because you caught feelings.

Now you were just annoyed with yourself as you cried. Aggressively tearing Billie's hands off your face and whipping the tears off your face so hard that it burned and was sure to leave red marks. It wasn't Billie's fault, but at the same time, it was.

Why did she have to be so perfect? So beautiful, caring, funny, and loving. Shit.

"Hey, hey," Billie quickly protested as you swatted her hands away from your face. Her expression hardened as she watched you roughly rub at your face.

Billie didn't know what to do. You had just roughly swatted at her hands, which was something you never did to her, and now you were practically rubbing at your face like you were trying to rid it.

She was stunned. Confused. Worried beyond measure. She had never seen you like this before.

"Y/N. Look at me," she firmly demanded.

Billie gently gripped your wrists in order to get you to stop rubbing at your face. Her grip was firm but gentle. She wasn't going to let you bruise or hurt yourself any further.

The concern was obvious in her voice as she spoke, eyes never leaving your own.

"Stop. Look at me. Now."

And so you did. Your face burned as your hands were pulled away from the aggressive actions. Your breathing was fast and uneven.

Panic and anxiety pooling throughout your mind and body. Your hands were shaking ever so slightly in Billie's hands out of worry.

You looked into Billie's eyes with a look of sorrow and fright.

You didn't want to lose her. You wanted her. You needed her.

Billie could feel your hands shaking in her grip, the subtle tremors telling her just how worried and scared you were.

Your facial expression broke her heart, seeing you look so frightened and saddened all because of her.

She couldn't stand seeing you like this anymore. Seeing you in such distraught all because of something she did. Even if she didn't realize it hurt you so much. She just wanted to soothe you and tell you it would be okay.

"Y/N," she softly spoke, gently rubbing her thumbs over your wrists.

And in that moment, Billie looked at you with so much worry and empathy. It was literally living proof that she had to have felt sort of the same way.

She was perfect for you.

Billie's all you ever needed.

It was quiet, the background noise of the TV was the only thing heard along with both of your breathing. You don't know why you did it, but you surged forward.

Your lips ended up on Billie's. They were soft and sweet. It felt like a warm embrace. And you needed more.

The sudden kiss caught her off guard as your lips landed on her own.

Billie swore her heart stopped.

For a few seconds, she couldn't bring herself to respond. But then, as she felt you press against her more, her body took over, acting on its own.

Billie's brain finally registered what was happening, the events finally setting in.

You were kissing her.

You were kissing her.

And she couldn't bring herself to pull away.

Billie's hands let go of your wrists in order to move to your waist, gently pulling you into her lap. She needed you even closer.

Billie slowly tilted her head more to the side in order to deepen the kiss, trying to get more of you. Your lips were so smooth and soft against her own, and the way you pressed up against her had her head feel fuzzy.

Her hand traveled to gently grip your chin in order to tilt your head down, a perfect angle for her to deepen the kiss even further.

Billie's heart was beating faster. It was going at a speed that was way too fast, her body was practically quivering with excitement in your presence.

She continued to meet your eager movements with her own, tongue slipping out to tease against the seam of your lips. Begging entrance.

A moan slipped past your lips into the kiss. Not out of lust. But out of satisfaction. And eagerness.

Your hands rested on her shoulders, gripping harshly and not wanting to let go. One hand travelling to the back of her head to scrunch her hair in between your fingers.

"I love you."

Your voice was whiny and desperate. You needed Billie to know.

Billie's breath hitched at the sound of the moan coming from you. The little noise alone sent a chill down her spine.

She couldn't stop the low whimper that escaped her own throat with your soft, yet rough, grip in her hair and on her shoulders. And when she felt the words of love come from your lips, her entire body shivered.

"Say it again," she murmured against your lips, her grip on your waist tightening somewhat as she pulled you closer to her.

"I love you."

Your body was hot, and your lips were eagerly molding into Billie's. Your hand on her tightened as the words left your lips.

Tongue tracing along her bottom lip, waiting to be let into where you both needed each other most.

The sound of you repeating those three words again had her entire body going weak. It was all she wanted to hear from you. The one thing she was too scared to ask for.

But you were right here. In her lap. Begging her with your tongue.

Billie quickly granted your mouth access, granting your tongue with entrance between her lips. Her own tongue quickly tangled with yours, relishing the sweetness and heat of your mouth.

Billie's hands moved from your waist, her hands roaming over your body eagerly. She needed to touch you. She needed to feel every inch of you. To feel the heat of your body and the sound of every sweet moan coming from your lips.

Her brain was hazy and fuzzy. All she could focus on was how you felt against her. How you tasted and sounded and felt.

Her hands continued to grip you tightly, not wanting to let you go. Her heart was pounding, and her mind was going fuzzy as she continued to kiss you. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.

She had never wanted a kiss so badly. Never craved someone's touch so much. You were the sweetest, hottest, best thing she's ever had.

Billie pulled back, her eyes taking in your appearance for a few quick moments. Then, without warning, she began to kiss at your jaw and neck.

A scratchy moan slipped past your lips as you separated from her lips. Her lips are wet and harsh on your skin. It's exactly all you've ever wanted. Needed.

Billie continued to kiss at your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, desperate to hear more sounds from you. She needed to know how much you wanted her as much as she wanted you.

Her hands gripped your hips tight, holding you in place so you wouldn't pull away from her.

"Are you mine? Please. Tell me." she quietly whispered against your skin, the neediness in her voice hard to hide. It came out in a moan. She was hot and desperate. You had no choice but to whine in response.

"Yes."

You'd never sounded more desperate and eager to please her. You wanted her to know that you were hers. You wanted her to know that you were hers to please.

To destroy.

To love.

The simple yet firm word coming from your lips satisfied her more than anything. Hearing you agree that you were hers had butterflies in her stomach.

"You're mine," she continued to murmur against your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses behind as she went.

She wanted to mark you, leave behind proof that you belonged to her. "All mine, all mine," she repeated again, her voice becoming possessive.

Her mouth continued its assault on your neck and jawline. She left love bites of different sizes, covering most of the skin she could reach. She wanted you to wake up the next day and notice the marks with pride. She wanted you to see just how much you were loved, and she wanted others to see just how taken you were.

Billie's teeth gently grazed over your sweet spot, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin.

Your mind was hazy and hot with all the attention. Your core throbbed from the attention. The cloth that covered your core grew damp and uncomfortably sticky with Billie's doings.

Billie's mouth continued to kiss and suck at your neck, her tongue licking and teasing the sensitive skin. The little gasps and moans she was drawing out of you were driving her crazy.

She could feel the heat coming from you, and it was driving her mad. The thought of you wanting and needing her as bad as she wanted and needed you had her heart racing.

Billie leaned back from your neck to get a look at your face. Her eyes landed on you, drinking in your flushed expression.

Both of your breathing was heavy as you both locked eyes. Lust, love, and eagerness lacing through the two of y'all's eyes.

As Billie took in your expression, she swore that her heart skipped a beat. All she saw in your eyes was raw, pure lust and love.

She couldn't tear her gaze from your own, and the heavy breaths that came from the both of you only added to the feeling of tension.

Billie's hands began to glide up and down your sides, needing to touch more of you. Her fingers gently pressed into your rib cage, as if she didn't want to let you go.

She wanted you closer, more. She needed to be connected with you. To see how you felt.

"I need you," she breathed, her eyes never leaving yours. "I need you, all of you."

"Have me."

Please.

"Take me."

Yes. It came out of your mouth just as you wanted it to.

Needy. Hot. Truthfully.

It was like a cry and plea for Billie to please you and reassure you that all the two of you needed were each other.

"I will, I will," she breathlessly repeated as she looked at you. Her fingers tightened around your waist, gripping the flesh as the need in her voice took over.

She was desperate. So, so, desperate for you.

Without warning, Billie swiftly picked you up in her arms and turned you around, now with you on your back and her hovering above.

Billie's knee was now between your legs and pushing up. Her body now pressed completely against yours, their chests only separated by a thin layer of fabric.

She was close. So close. And all she wanted to do was feel you. Every inch. Every part. All of you was for her to have. And no one else's.

Billie leaned down, the tip of her nose gently grazing along the skin of your neck once again.

As she teased her way across your skin, your hands trailed between the two of you, and you started unbuttoning Billie's pants. Your nails scrape softly against the skin just below her belly button.

Your knuckles being met with her soft, warm skin.

A small gasp escaped her lips at your cold fingers and nails gently scraping over her belly. Her skin instantly prickled with a set of goosebumps at the feeling. It made her shiver.

But she didn't protest your actions.

Billie wanted this just as much as you did.

She continued to gently nibble and kiss at your neck as she felt her pants being unbuttoned, letting you do as you wanted.

While you were hers.

She was also yours.

Her body leaned forward more, her knee now pushing directly between your legs. The slight pleasure now shooting up through your core.

Billie was going crazy, and all you did was undo her pants. She needed you.

Billie slowly started traveling her kisses down the side of your neck, her tongue slowly tracing your collar bone before she continued her descent.

Billie's pants were now unbuttoned but that's all your hands could manage to do. You laid there panting as she kissed her way down your body.

You felt Billie's hands come into contact with the hem of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Her cold rings splaying on your warm skin.

Her hands pulled down the hem of your shorts, revealing more of the pale skin of your legs. Her calloused hands gently gripping the skin of your thighs as she continued to kiss further down your chest and stomach.

Slowly, she pulled your shorts the rest of the way down, leaving you only in your underwear. Billie sat up for a moment, taking in the sight of your body.

Your skin so smooth, and your form so perfect. She was in love.

Billie's hands gently massaged along the inside of your thighs, her fingers tracing over the skin softly.

She then glanced up at your face, a smirk now on her lips. "God, you're so beautiful like this," she whispered, her hands trailing their way further up the inside of your thighs.

You looked at Billie with so much love and lust. You loved the way her eyes scanned your body. The way she adored everything she saw.

Billie continued to look at you, never glancing away. "So pretty Y/N." she said.

Her fingers reached the hem of your underwear and started to gently pull the material down.

"All mine," she then repeated under her breath, as if it was more of a reminder to herself.

With one hand on your hip and the other on your thigh, she leaned down and began tracing open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs.

Billie wanted to feel and taste every inch of you. She wanted to know how sweet you were.

And she was going to find out.

As she lowered her head between your thighs, you held her head gently. Looking down at her with so much love. So much adoration.

The kisses continued to travel up your thigh, making their way closer and closer to where you wanted her most.

Billie's free hand continued to gently massage your thigh, her fingers tracing little patterns into the skin while she took her time getting closer.

"I love you," she muttered against your leg, the words coming out rough and desperate.

"Billie," You whined softly, looking down at her. Wanting and needing her mouth on your core.

Your whimpers sent a shiver up her spine. She loved the way you said her name. The way it came out as though it was the only word you could speak.

Billie wanted to draw more of those sounds out of you, and it seemed she was getting exactly what she wanted.

Her kisses only continued to travel higher, getting closer and closer.

"Be patient," she said, her voice low and soft against your skin.

And soon, finally, her mouth was where you wanted it the most.

Her tongue gently licked your core, tracing around the sensitive skin. Her free hand gently slid over your thigh, her fingers digging into the flesh.

Billie was going crazy. You tasted so sweet. Better than how she could have imagined. She loved the way you squirmed and gasped and gasped her name.

Her tongue continued to lick and explore, finding all the places that made you gasp the loudest.

She needed to hear more. Needed to feel more of you on her mouth.

Between the sweetness and the heat, she was losing herself. Everything was getting blurry. All she could focus on was you.

You couldn't help but let a cry out at the pleasure. Her wet mouth sucked and swirled on your throbbing core.

The sounds of her wet, lewd actions filled the room along with your moans.

She separated from your core for a split second and looked up at you with her beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with.

"I love you."

'I love you too."

‧₊˚✩彡

fer yaps!!!

yay!

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 3

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: another part out! it's a tad bit lengthy, so sorry about that! i also wanna apologize about how crazy the taglist looks (im so sorry). it wasnt letting me tag yall so i just spaced it out to make sure yall get alerted. if anyone has advise on how to fix that, pls let me know

all parts: pt.1, pt.2,

December | Tokyo, Japan | 4:45 A.M

It was finally Thursday, and you were spending your early morning tangoing with your vacuum. 

Despite doing a deep clean yesterday after work, your paranoia was over the roof. Nanami’s visit consumed you like a parasite, with nothing relieving your nerves. Even the sun could not bear witness to your franticness as you long turned on all the lights and began your cleaning venture. You didn’t want to risk Nanami calling you a slob if he saw even one wrapper on the floor. Nanami was quite the meticulous man after all, his eyes containing radars for this kind of stuff. 

As you began to dust your already dusted coffee table, you quickly grabbed your phone and dialed Haibara’s number. After a few rings, you hear a click and  groaning sound. “Nnnmmm… who?” He barely whispers. 

“Yu, get up!” You hiss. Haibara and you have long established your friendship, backing up your ability to drop honorifics. “I need your help, and now.” 

“Y/N?” He groans out. You hear some shuffling before a long period of silence. You continue to clean while Haibara tries waking up again. “It’s not even 6… why?” Though his voice was deep and hoarse from exhaustion, he sounded nothing less than a child complaining about waking up early to go to school. 

You huff, “don’t you remember? I texted you after work that Nanami is coming to my house today– in like an hour!” 

“‘n why does this have to do with me?” His voice sounded scratchy from the speaker of the phone. 

“What should I do? What kind of couches does he like? House smells?” 

“Y/N, it’s too early for this,” Haibara says through a yawn. “You wouldn’t even be able to buy another couch, even if you wanted to. No furniture store is open at this time.” 

You try to continue the conversation, but you were met with snores in response. Hanging up the phone, you let out a sigh. Nanami was coming over for work, not to criticize your home designing choices. You cover your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks tingle from embarrassment. “What am I doing?” You murmur to yourself. There truly was no need to be nervous. This was not a date. 

Even so… 

You spent the rest of your morning prior to your shift making sure you looked nice. You style your hair neatly, drape on a comfortable jumpsuit (despite Nanami’s comforting words in regards to you wearing pajamas during his visit), and begin working on coffee. You had managed to ask Tae (your newly hired corporate barista) for some instruction on how he makes Nanami’s favorite coffee. You certainly questioned the ingredients and methods, but you continued to follow the instructions. As you were pouring skimmed milk into black coffee, a gentle knock was heard at your front door. 

Your heart threatened to escape against your chest. You quickly give yourself a look in your hallway mirror before rushing to the door. Shaky hands sheepishly unlock the door, introducing you to a Nanami you have never seen before. 

Here he was before you, in a trenchcoat, black crewneck and black joggers. His eyes revealed his true exhaustion, with his under eyes slightly darker than usual. His hair was not parted from the side, but rather slicked back and wet as you assumed he showered before arriving at your place. True to the weather, his cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold. You saw him let out a relieving sigh when introduced to the warmth of your home. 

“Goodmorning Y/N,” Nanami hums, his voice hoarse from not being 100% awake. His hands were loaded with his briefcase and a big bag. Judging from the smell, it was the breakfast that Nanami promised he’d buy. 

Your mouth felt dry in awe, “good morning to you as well, Nanami. Let me take your coat for you.” 

“Ah, I’d hate to get your hands cold,” Nanami waives your offer. He puts down his things gently, being mindful of the breakfast. He begins to strip off his coat, and carefully hangs it on the rack by the door. “It’s unforgiving out there.” 

There were snowflakes on his eyelashes, “is it snowing hard out there? I haven’t pulled the curtains yet.” 

Nanami smiles and nods, giving his head a little shake to remove the remaining snow from his head, “I’m glad I didn’t invite you to my house instead. Otherwise, you’d be freezing like me.” 

You burn up, and quickly gesture to the slippers on the floor. “P-please feel free to get comfortable in the living room! I have the heat in there.”

He bows curtly, “thank you for having me.” You watch as the tall man walks towards your living room, taking a seat on the bigger of the two couches. You rush into your room and retrieve two blankets. Joining Nanami in the living room, you offer him your warmest quilt. 

“This’ll keep you warm while you’re here,” you hum. Nanami takes your offer and spreads the blanket over his legs. You see him shiver a bit before getting cozy in the blanket. 

“You’re too kind of a host,” Nanami expresses his gratitude once more. He then eyes around before chuckling, “ah, I left our breakfast and my laptop at the front–” 

“I’ll get it!” You jump at your words, quickly retrieving the items. You pass him his briefcase, and take the breakfast to your kitchen counter. “I wrote my wifi password on the table, please feel free to connect to it. A-and…” 

You walk over to your coffee maker, and lift up the mug of coffee you prepared for him. You carefully hold it with two hands, making a slow walk towards Nanami. He quickly understands, and raises his hands as high and close to yours as possible while remaining seated on the couch. Cold fingertips brush against your knuckles. He holds it delicately, his eyes narrowing down at the froth at the top. “Is this…?” 

“Your favorite coffee,” you say quietly. You look away shyly, hoping he didn’t see your nerves in your face. “I asked our recently hired barista how he usually makes your cup of coffee when I went to offer him the position. And so… yeah.” You shuffle in your place, waiting for Nanami to take a sip. But your nerves get to you first and stab at your calm facade, “andifyoudon’tlikeit,I’llbuyonefromoutside–”

Nanami takes a big swig from the hot brew, his Adams Apple protruding his throat from each gulp. A drip of coffee decorates his bottom lip, threatening to either drop on his pants, or begin its slide down his chin. He puts the mug down on one of the coasters of the coffee table and drags his sleeved wrist against his lips. “Y/N,” he emits slowly. “That was… very delicious.” 

You could melt right then and there. “R-really?” You felt the bubbles in your words. You were practically floating like one! His reassuring smile made your heart skip several beats. “I would never, ever judge you, but I didn’t realize that fig could work with coffee.” 

Nanami smiles warmly, his eyes wistful with nostalgia. He takes out his laptop and turns it on, rubbing the mousepad aimlessly with the tip of his index. “I was addicted to sweets, if that surprises you,” Nanami recounts fondly. “My mom was frustrated, unable to really keep sweets away from me. She was too nice, and would submit whenever I asked for a candy bar at the market.”

You giggle a bit, your hand covering your lips to mask the smile you had. “It’s crazy to think that you, Nanami, would be a sugarhead.” 

Nanami lets out a light chuckle, “surely, I like sweets every now and then. Just… in moderation. My mother was the catalyst for the dent in my sweet tooth. She stopped adding sugar in my tea. Rather, she would add half a fig into my cup, and pour the hot tea over it.” 

From the memory, your body suddenly felt warm and cozy. Imagining the combination of a fresh fig with green tea being poured over it… it was quite soothing. “It sounds like she was a lovely mother,” you hum. Your smile widened when seeing Nanami’s hazel eyes warm from the recollection. “What made you decide to add fig into your coffee instead?” 

Nanami shrugged, “nostalgia, I suppose. It doesn’t offer the coffee much of a sweetener, but you can definitely taste it. I suppose the memory is what makes it sweet.” 

You were floating. Being able to speak to Nanami like this– it felt like everything. You two don’t hang outside of work, besides holiday parties or work trips. Even then, all these activities are imbued with your job. Although Nanami was in your house to work with you, it felt different. The two of you can speak freely without eyes constantly flickering to you. As you were lost in your thoughts, Nanami cleared his throat. 

“Please feel free to clock in and start eating,” Nanami hums. He adjusts the blanket to cover his feet. “Today's work isn’t too crazy, and I’d rather you feel full and awake.” 

You take kindly to his consideration and return to the kitchen. You take a platter plate and begin to unload the bag of breakfast he picked up. You start taking out several breakfast sandwiches, your eyes wide at how many there were in that bag. “Nanami… how many did you get?” You exclaim, holding one sandwich in each hand. He looks over at you and smirks amusingly. 

“I didn’t know what you liked,” Nanami said, his smile still being tickled from your shock. “I just got one of everything.” 

You smile from his smile, and begin to stack the individually stacked sandwiches on the platter. Leaving the one you want on the counter, you bring the sandwiches near him on the coffee table. You look down at his mug, the coffee-soaked half-fig sat in the center of it. “Would you like another cup?” You offer kindly. 

His eyes meet yours, and after a pause, he nods slowly. You grab his mug and go over to the kitchen to prepare another cup. As you did, you decided to make two cups of his favorite coffee. The curiosity picked at you– you wanted to know what Nanami’s favorite coffee tastes like. As you prepared it, Nanami was tapping away at his computer. You tap on your phone to check the time, and realize you need to clock in now. Once you do that, you check your calendar and turn to look at Nanami. 

“You have a meeting in 15 minutes with the head of Sales and Strategy,” you remind him. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nanami hums from your couch, “I got so into responding to emails, I definitely would have forgotten. So, thank you again.” 

“Of course!” You chime. With both coffees done, you bring both of the mugs over to the coffee table and quickly go back to fetch your breakfast sandwich. You begin to strip the parchment paper from the sandwich and begin to eat it in the kitchen, with a few crumbs falling on the granite top. You walk over to the smaller sofa and set down your breakfast sandwich. You grab your own laptop from the drawer underneath the coffee table and begin to boot it up. 

You ate while waiting, enjoying the crisp bacon and cheddar cheese in the sandwich. Nanami looks over at you while you quietly dance to yourself. “I assume it’s good?” He begins, a small curve at the end of his lips. Cheeks warm from his words, and you nod while chewing on your bite. He leans over and brings his hand to your face. You froze while you felt his thumb gently rub your chin of all the crumbs you accrued as you ate. “Ah, m’sorry,” Nanami quickly retracts his hand, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry if that made you uncomfortable, Y/N.” 

“Ah, it’s okay!” You quickly waive his concerns, “you were just trying to help is all. I appreciate it…” 

Silence ensues between the two of you. But Nanami stopped typing once more to comment on the two mugs. “Did you make yourself a cup of coffee as well? It doesn’t look like what you usually get.” 

You shook your head, “it’s a bit too cold for iced coffee. Plus, I wanted to try your coffee and see what the hype is all about.” 

He smiles sheepishly, “you might not care for it much. It’s a bit too bitter.” 

You shrug, “I’m still curious.” And that same curiosity bit you in the ass. You carefully lift the mug and take a sip, the taste of hot, acrid coffee tormenting your tongue. Quickly placing the mug down, you give Nanami the stink eye. “You… are very brave,” you let out as you take another bite of your sandwich. 

Nanami lets out a genuine laugh, “it isn’t for everyone, truly. But it warms my heart that you were willing to try it.” 

You look over at him, noticing the wistfulness of his eyes. It was worth it, albeit the foul taste. “It tasted much sweeter in my head when you talked about it,” you softly hum. “I’ll… continue to enjoy it vicariously through you.” 

“You’re good with not being mean, Y/N,” Nanami says through another gentle laugh, “I envy that about you a bit.” It was like he was shooting arrows directly at your heart. “A-ah, there’s no need to make everything a bad thing,” you let out nervously. You begin to log into your computer, “just because it’s not for me, doesn’t mean I should make you feel bad.” Nanami agrees with a nod, “you’re absolutely right.” He shifts a bit to get more comfortable in his seat, and looks down to make sure his feet are really covered. When he does, his eyes saunter towards the spare slippers you lent him. “Ah, Y/N, I hope I’m not intruding in you and your partner's space.” 

Where did that come from? “Hm?” You eye him curiously. 

He points down to the slippers, “these slippers are much bigger than your own.” 

“I like to keep a pair for when I have visitors like yourself,” you reason, “but you are absolutely not intruding. I’m… very single.” It felt a bit embarrassing to admit that to your crush, but what can you do? You didn’t want him thinking you were taken when you were readily (hopefully) available for him. 

“I see,” he comments quietly. Keeping his eyes glued to his computer, Nanami continues, “I apologize for even bringing up something sensitive like this.” 

You shake your hand, “it’s completely fine! Honestly, I don’t mind at all.” Fiddling with your thumbs, you look over shyly at your boss, “I’m like an open book so… whatever you are curious about, I don’t mind sharing with you. I trust you… quite a lot, Nanami,” you admit, your face completely hot. 

“And I you, Y/N,” Nanami peels his eyes from his screen to meet your own. “You’ve been nothing but an asset since your transfer, and I couldn’t be more satisfied with your work ethic and capabilities.” 

You look down at your lap, with your hands finding solace on your knees. “Thank you very much,” you reply humbly, “but I wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t under your guidance. I feel like I’ve progressed much faster within the company since becoming your assistant. I don’t say this quite enough, but… I’m very grateful to you, Nanami.” 

“You might sway me with your flattery, Y/N,” Nanami teases, “your words are so soft, it feels like you’re confessing.” 

“A-ah?” You exclaim nervously. You knew he was messing around, but it almost feels like… “d-don’t get the wrong idea! I just respect you a lot, is all… nothing more!” 

Hazel eyes narrow down at your face, and Nanami lets out a sigh of relief. He hovers his hand over his chest, closing his eyes in bliss. “That’s actually quite relieving to hear,” Nanami hums. Relieving? 

“Hm?” You asked, “what do you mean?” What were you missing?

“Ah no,” Nanami begins to smile again, “I had caught wind of a rumor that I was gullible enough to believe a bit. It made it quite nervous, truth be told. But you’ve now confirmed that it was nothing more than a silly rumor.” 

“A rumor?” You felt your body go cold. 

Nanami nods, while replying to emails once again, “I overheard some of our coworkers rumor mongering. Along the lines of you having feelings towards me beyond friendly ones. But I’m glad it turned out to be false.” 

Fingertips felt like ice, and your heart transformed into glass. It shattered moments after Nanami’s words. Everything that you adored about this man was quickly turning ugly. The idealization of your boss was crumbling, with your feelings following suit. This confirmed that your crush wasn’t light– it was deep and sincere. He broke your heart while head on with your adoration. Haibara’s warnings begin to taunt your mind while your sane mind tries to tend to your heart. 

You didn’t even get the chance to confess.

He practically threw away all of your efforts. Every time you would get him coffee so he didn’t have to get it himself. Keeping the staff in check constantly so he needn’t ever worry about the progress of the department. Always organizing all of his meetings and attending to things that were considered miniscule to him. Getting the new barista hired so he could enjoy his beloved coffee within the office. Memorizing all the goods that trigger his childhood sweet tooth. 

Your throat felt tight, with your chest feeling even tighter. Tears were threatening to gloss your eyes, with the power in your hands going weak. Your body was ready to go numb, and you wished nothing more than to ask Nanami to leave your home. But work just started, and you couldn’t just kick him out in the middle of his shift.

Your feelings were hurt, but you couldn’t afford being unprofessional. You nod, “just a silly rumor.” 

You put down the breakfast sandwich, as a wave of nausea quickly entered your system. You grab your mug of coffee and your laptop. Rushing over to the kitchen, you toss out the remainder of the bitter coffee and begin to make your way to your bedroom. Nanami caught light of your stride and looked up at you, eyes asking where you were off to. 

“I have a meeting as well,” you force out, “it’s confidential.” 

“Ah, right,” Nanami accepts. “I understand. Take your time, and good luck.” He looks back at his laptop, not missing a single beat when returning to his emails. 

With that lie, you close the door behind you, run into your closet, and allow your tears to pour out. Drops spill onto your keys, but you didn’t care. Helpless hands wipe away your tears, only to find futility in its efforts. In your silent woe, you let out your own sigh of relief, despite your pain-filled cry. 

You no longer had to torture yourself with the what-if’s. You no longer had to wonder what it would be like to be Nanami’s girlfriend. Your crush was at the end of its road. 

With a struggle (through tearful lenses), you take out your phone, scroll through your messages and tap on Haibara's name.

Taglist:

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw

[lalacliffthorne]

📃 the basic rules of friendship 📃

Azriel x Reader

summary: the basic rules of friendship. and how to break them.

notes: oh boy. writing this one was pure and utter chaos. it gave me a headache. it did not want to work out. I changed the whole damn plot like five times, because I just wasn't happy with my ideas; they didn't work, they didn't feel right, but I had this specific part that I really wanted to write around, so I couldn't just give it up and call it a day either. then once I finally had it figured out, it still took ages to finish the whole thing, because my brain just wasn't braining - to sum it up, this lil piece of writing basically fried me. but, the last few days, it got easier, I wasn't just staring at the words anymore and what I wrote finally didn't feel blah - and I made it!

so here are the basic rules of friendship. they are long af, and even though they strongly advise against it, there's smut. steamy steamy smut.

______________________________________________________________

the basic rules of friendship

no. 1: friends are there for each other (friends also never get jealous).

Staring up at the male in front of me, I hoped my facial expression didn't convey my current thoughts.

Someone help me.

" - so of course we went in, and even though it was a bit of a struggle, we managed to get them all." The male sent me a grin, and I felt my lips curve, though it probably looked slightly pained.

Mor had decided it was that time of year again where she tried herself at being a matchmaker. She had picked me as target of the night, using the festivities as a clever cover to drag me from one male she thought might fit the requirements to the next.

The one I was talking to now was by far the most pleasant one this evening, which was probably why I hadn't bolted yet. He had even managed to make me laugh a few times, while the few males before that had been closer to making me cry in despair. He was fairly pretty too, with a cheeky smile, dimples and warm eyes. And I really should have been interested, because he seemed sweet, and funny, and actually charming.

But it just didn't click.

There was something about him - no, actually, it was something that wasn't there. His humor wasn't dry enough. He was a bit too reserved. He didn't quite get my teasing.

There was just something missing.

The way he smiled didn't do anything for me; no little skip in my chest, no hitch in my breath. His voice didn't send tingles down my spine, the dimple in his cheek was not quite right, he was a bit too hulky -

Something churned a little in my chest, and I almost winced.

Gods, what was wrong with me?

The air behind me shifted, and for a second, I wondered if maybe I had left my mental shields down and either Rhys or Feyre had caught onto my thoughts and had decided to step in before I went down a rabbithole of possibilties of what could be wrong with me.

But then the male in front of me straightened a little, suddenly looking alert, a familiar scent washed over me, cool and frosty, like pine woods in winter, and something skipped softly against my ribs.

Quickly looking over my shoulder, my eyes moved up, and up, and my shoulders sank a little when they found the face of the male suddenly towering over me.

Azriel's eyes were piercing, unwavering and unreadable as usual, and they were fixed onto the male in front of me. Shadows were swirling around him, creeping over his wings and shoulders, some gently brushing over my back like a happy greeting.

The shadowsinger's face itself looked like carved from marble, jaw sharp and set, the muscles in his cheeks shifting with what looked strangely like tension.

"Hey." I hoped the relief didn't vibrate too strongly through my voice, quickly turning back towards the male in front of me with an apologetic smile.

I had to give it to him, he had balls: Even though the Spymaster of the Night Court was staring right at him, unsettlingly quiet and brooding, the male hadn't immediately shrunk into himself.

Though he did look very uncomfortable.

"I'm going to -" He pointed over his shoulder, sending me a soft grin, and I smiled back, again hoping the relief wasn't too visible in how bright it was.

One corner of the male's lips curved. Then he turned around, and I felt my shoulders sag.

"Thanks." I breathed out, turning around to send Azriel a relieved, crooked smile.

The shadowsinger's eyes followed after the male for another second before they turned down towards me, and his gaze lost some of that unreadable coolness, softening. His eyes moved over my face, and he seemed to catch onto something, because his gaze narrowed in, and a slight crease formed between his brows.

And because it was Azriel, he didn't even have to ask.

The words just tumbled out before i could stop them.

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Azriel's lips parted a little. Then his eyes sharpened, his shoulders shifting as his gaze moved up over my head, zeroing in on somebody behind me, and something skipped high in my chest at the way his gaze froze over, becoming steely and quietly raging like a rising tide -

Hastily, I widened my eyes.

"No, no; he didn't -", I huffed and breathed out, turning my eyes towards the twinkling night sky in a half-laugh. "It's not because of him, it's - me."

The dangerous promise in Azriel's eyes vanished with a blink, but the light crease between his brows deepend as his gaze returned to my face. The warm lights dotted all over the House of Winds' terraces threw shadows under his jaw and made his amber eyes glow softly, his dark hair tousled and skin rosy from the cool wind.

"It's just -" I exhaled again, furrowing my brows softly at myself.

"There's this male, who's actually not a jerk, and who seems good and funny and interested, and - nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just kept finding things that were wrong, even though I don't even know what would have been right, and -", I shook my head and looked up at Azriel, frowning gently as something churned a little in my chest.

"Is there? Something wrong with me?"

Azriel stared at me before huffing, and something tipped over in my chest when a soft snorted laugh broke from his throat.

I frowned, feeling something tighten a little under my ribs. "What?"

Azriel's lips were still twitching upwards like I had just made some sort of joke only he understood as he turned his face away, shaking his head a little. Then he looked back down at me. His amber eyes flickered over mine for a moment, and there was something in the way he stared at me that soothed the soft twinge under my ribs.

Azriel blinked, then he said steadily, his low, deep voice gently tickling my spine: "There's nothing wrong with you." His gaze moved over my face, and something I couldn't place shifted in his eyes, tinging his voice when he added: "He just wasn't what you're looking for."

"I don't even know what I'm looking for,", I grumbled under my breath, but there was a soft skip in my chest, that bit of tightness gone when I looked up at Azriel. "How am I supposed to find something when I don't know what it looks like?"

Az blinked again, eyes resting on mine. "You'll know."

I felt my brows furrow gently at the sound of his voice, a little quiet and distant but so, so sure.

Feeling my lips twitch, I raised an eyebrow. "That's sappy."

Azriel huffed, but his lips twitched even as he glared down at me, almost like he couldn't hold back the way they curved at the corners. Then he lightly raised a brow. "Mor looks like she's got the next target."

I cursed softly and quickly slid my hand into the crook of his arm, bumping my shoulder into his biceps.

"Come on, let's go, I need a drink."

no. 2: friends talk about their feelings.

“What the fuck was that?”

The door slammed behind me, and I raised my head just in time to see Azriel turn around, his eyes burning into mine so fiercely, I almost held my breath.

Running a hand down my face, I shook my head, my voice tired when I mumbled: “Can we not –“

“I told you to get out, and you didn't listen, you disobeyed orders –“

“Orders?” I stared at him, feeling something begin to bubble in my chest. “You told me to run and fucking leave you!”

“And you didn't!” Azriel's voice sounded like thunder, not simmering anger, but loud and deep. Shadows gathered around his feet, and his wings flared when he stalked towards me, blood dripping from the wound in his side, but he didn't even seem to notice. “You came back when I told you to leave; you could've fucking died!”

“You would have died!” My voice was incredulous as I stared up at him with wide eyes, and Azriel's jaw tightened as he took one last step forward, his chest almost pressing into mine as he glared down at me.

“Then I would have died.” His voice was quiet again and cold, so cold, but his eyes were whirling with emotions I couldn't decipher as they burned into mine. “But you would have been safe.”

Staring up at him, my eyes blown wide, I felt my breathing pick up as I tried to fight against the way my chest grew tighter with every second. Then I exploded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Azriel blinked like I had slapped him across the face, but it felt like some kind of dam had broken, because the words just started falling, becoming louder with every second.

“I don't give a shit about being safe if it means you try and sacrifice yourself! You asshole! What the fuck is wrong with you?! I couldn't just leave you because I will never leave you to sacrifice yourself like your fucking life means nothing, because it does, it means everything!” My voice broke as my voice rose into a scream, and I felt tears well in my eyes as the ache under my ribs grew and I hit my fist against his chest.

“You're hurt, you would have died!! What the hell is wrong with you that you think I could just leave you for death, you moron, what would I be living for if you died, especially because of me; it wouldn't mean a thing! You fucking asshole!” My vision blurred as tears streamed over my cheeks. Azriel stared at me like he had never seen me before, frozen in place as I heaved with quiet sobs, my whole body trembling as I tried to fight for air.

“Don't you get it? You're –“ My voice broke.

Everything.

Azriel's eyes pierced mine, emotion whirling in them, jumbled, indiscernable. Then he blinked.

“Come here,”, he mumbled, his voice hoarse, and I breathed in shudderingly, tears streaming over my face when his hand closed around my elbow and he pulled me forward, not caring a bit that he was still dripping blood onto the carpet as he dragged me into his chest.

“I'm sorry.” I could feel his low voice vibrating through my body, quiet and rough when he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and buried his nose in my hair, and I hiccuped, feeling tears stream over my face as I slid my own arms around his middle and clung to him.

“Never ask that of me -” My voice broke, and Azriel tightened his grip, the tension not leaving his frame as he slipped his hand up my back to tangle his fingers in my hair, his thumb slowly brushing over my skin when he raised his head a little to press his lips against my temple.

“I'm sorry,”, he mumbled against my skin, soft but hoarse, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck, my body trembling with silent, heaving sobs as I held onto the male who held me.

no. 3: friends might engage in the occasional amicable teasing.

That was it.

Stopping in the middle of the street only a few feet away from the entrance to Rita's, I barely kept myself from wincing as I leaned forward, trying to balance on one foot as I started unlacing the straps of my heels. They were murderously high, and, together with the cobblestone streets and the drinks I had, that meant mortal danger for my ankles and my dignity.

Plus, they were beginning to hurt like shi-

I almost lost my balance, feeling myself tip to the side and my eyes widening. But then a hand slipped under my arm and steadied me, and my breath hitched a little when my gaze darted up.

Azriel raised a brow at me.

“Oh, shut up,”, I grumbled quickly under my breath, trying to ignore the soft skip in my chest at the way his amber eyes were twinkling almost indiscernably as I slipped out of the first heel.

Groaning happily in relief as I rolled my ankle, I carefully placed my foot on the cold ground, trying not to wince at the ache jolting through it when I shifted my weight onto it.

Azriel kept his hand under my arm, his scarred skin warm in the cool night air, even as I balanced a lot easier, undoing the laces of the second heel.

Slipping out of it, I straightened, breathing out and trying not to squirm at the soreness of my feet when I shifted on the cold cobblestone. Then I raised my head, and my heart skipped softly.

Az was still staring down at me, brows drawn together a little as he narrowed his eyes at me.

I frowned back at him suspiciously. “What?”

Azriel huffed, but his lips twitched upwards as he shook his head and stepped forward, and I felt my eyes widen when he leaned down.

“No, wait –“

The shadowsinger slipped his arms under my thighs and lower back, and a soft squeal broke from my lips when he straightened back up, easily sweeping me off my feet.

My hands gripped his back, and my heart jumped into my throat when Azriel hoisted me up a little to adjust his grip, the motion causing me to slide up and down in his arms. I hastily clung to him and stared at him desperately.

“Are you serious?”

Azriel's eyes were twinkling a little when he threw me a look. “You looked like you were going to hobble the way home.”

I huffed, scowling at him, but it probably looked more like a pout, because the shadow of a crease formed in Azriel's cheek. Then he raised a brow at me.

“All set?”

Grumbling softly under my breath, I leaned forward a little to gather my shoes in one hand. Azriel changed his grip to hold me steady, his breath brushing over my temple, causing something to flutter gently against my throat, and I tried to ignore the sudden dip in my chest.

Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, I pressed my forehead against his collarbone and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Alright, ready.”

There was a soft, amused huff that made Azriel's body vibrate. Then he started moving, setting down the street, every long, steady step sending a soft jolt through my body.

I blinked before cracking open an eye and furrowing my brows in confusion.

“We're walking?”

From my position, I saw only one side of Azriel's face as he looked ahead, but there was a curve to his lips that caused something to swerve sharply in my chest when he threw me a look.

“Unless you want to almost throw up again.”

I raised my head quickly to glower at him.

“That was one time."

"I wasn't actually aware anyone could turn that shade of green before you did." One corner of Azriel's lips tipped upwards.

I scowled at him. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

Azriel still looked ahead, but I saw the crease in his cheek deepening.

“Unlikely.”

I scowled, trying to bite back the stupidly wide smile that was suddenly threatening to break out over my face as I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don't like you.”

“I know. You want to hold on any tighter?”

I lightly bonked one of my shoes against the side of his head and earned myself a glare.

Breathing a soft giggle that bubbled in my chest, I exhaled, slowly melting into Azriel's hold as I loosely draped one arm over his collarbones and propped my chin onto his shoulder. Staring at his profile, I felt something flutter softly against my ribs, my heart skipping steadily as my eyes tracked over his straight nose, the sharp line of his jaw illuminated by the warm light of the lanterns and his soft looking lips.

The shadowsinger threw me a look, and I could see the amusement flashing through in his eyes.

“What?”

I shrugged.

“You're pretty.” I sent him a bright, cheeky smile.

Azriel blinked, and it almost looked like the top of his cheekbones started to darken a little, like the lightest shade of pink dusted his skin –

One corner of my lips slowly quirked as I softly narrowed my eyes.

“Are you blushing?” I started to grin widely. “Azriel, are you –“

The shadowsinger's grip shifted, and I squealed softly when I could feel myself being dropped for nothing more than a heartbeat.

Hastily clinging to his shoulders, I raised my head to glare at Azriel incredulously only to find him smirking, just the tiniest bit.

I huffed, something flutter harshly against my ribs as I scowled at the shadowsinger.

“I really don't like you."

no. 4: friends spend quality time together.

Diving, I avoided a swing of Azriel's wing, sliding over the mats and raising my head.

My heart skipped high, and I barely ducked out of the way, Azriel's wings almost translucent in the light of the sinking sun when he flared them to keep his balance, shadows whirling around him as he dodged a blow, a strand of dark hair falling into his forehead, muscles working under his sweaty, glowing skin -

Something caught against the back of my heel and ripped me off my feet.

My back hit the mats with a thud, and all the air was pressed out of my lungs, causing me to grunt softly. My heart skipped in its race against my ribs, and I relaxed into the mats with a huff, scowling when Azriel appeared above me, lips curving upwards as he squinted down at me, barely out of breath.

"Didn't we just talk about never letting your guard down?"

Huffing, I rolled my eyes, feeling a bead of sweat run over my temple and how my hair stuck to my skin when I just laid flat on the mats for a second before holding out my hand with a grumble.

The second Azriel's fingers closed firmly around my wrist, I pulled, my foot catching against his chest and using his own momentum to send him flying over my head.

The shadowsinger crashed onto his back with a heavy thud and a grunt, and I whirled around, using his hand to pull myself up and onto his torso, thighs clamping down next to his hips and my whole weight pressing down onto his chest as I pinned his wrists onto the mats right above his head and smiled widely.

But my remark along the lines of Right back at you, pretty boy got stuck in my throat.

Azriel's eyes were barely an inch away. I could count the golden spots in his amber iris, the dark lashes framing his eyes under dark brows between which a little crease sat that smoothed over slowly. I could feel his breath, warm and a little uneven as it brushed over my skin, could feel the steadiness of his piercing eyes as they stared into mine and how solid his bare chest was, pressed against mine.

My heart fluttered wildly; I hastily moved back a little, and suddenly, something in Azriel's eyes shifted, his body going still beneath mine.

I needed a second until I realised why; why suddenly, Azriel's gaze burning into mine looked different, why he had tensed and his lips were standing just a little agape. But then I shifted again, and Azriel grunted softly, his hips twitching.

Right under my ass.

My breath caught in my throat, my eyes widened a little, and I grew still, staring down at the male pinned onto the mats who had suddenly frozen beneath me as my heart thumped in my throat and something twinged tightly in my lower stomach.

"Sorry,", I whispered, my voice soft and a little breathy, and a spark flashed through Azriel's eyes.

The next second, I was pushed to the side, all the air escaping my lungs when I crashed onto my back again, and my heart simply gave out when my body was pressed into the mats, hips lodged between my thighs keeping me down and Azriel's face only an inch away, dark hair falling down onto his forehead as his eyes twinkled and one corner of his lips rose.

"Got you."

I blinked, something pounding and fluttering harshly against my ribs as my breath hitched and I stared up into Azriel's golden amber eyes, his lips curving and fingers loosely wrapped around my wrists, just lightly holding them to the ground next to my head as shadows whispered, slowly swirling over his flared wings. Then Azriel's lips twitched, and his hands slipped away, pressing into the mats as he pushed himself up and his weight disappeared.

I stared up at the soft blue sky high above, the first stars twinkling down at me while my heart was skipping, missing beats in my chest until Azriel offered me a hand, the twinkle still in his eyes causing me to huff.

no. 5: friends are comfortable with each other (but not overly).

Grumbling softly, I buried deeper in the cushions. There was a heavy weight resting on my waist, and something warm pressed into my back, a body, tall and solid, wrapped around me. A familiar scent surrounded me like a blanket, engulfing me and filling my lungs, and something started to flutter softly against my ribs when I tiredly cracked open an eye.

My sight was blurry with sleep as my gaze slowly tracked over the coffee table and the open doors leading into the garden, the sun already sinking and dipping everything in a golden light -

My heart jumped softly when the tall body curved around mine shifted, the arm closed around my waist tightening, and my gaze slowly focused on the hand wrapped around my wrist, laying on the cushion of the couch right in front of my face.

My mind was still tired and foggy with sleep as from under half-closed lids, my gaze dragged over the long, slim fingers, a palm far bigger than my own, veins running up a tanned forearm and the marred skin, scarred tissue rough but warm against my skin.

A soft, tired sound vibrated through my body, the thighs lodged between my calves shifting. Then I felt warm breath brush over my skin, and as I shivered softly, Azriel buried his nose at the back of my neck and grumbled lightly. Something skipped high in my chest at the deepness of the sound, how raspy it was.

There was a soft tap against my mental shields, and with a huff, I let them down.

"Please don't tell me you two are still napping."

Rhys' amused voice vibrating through my head made me grumble softly into the cushions, and from the way Azriel's lips curved upwards as he huffed softly against my neck, sending another shiver down my spine, the same question had sounded through his mind as well.

"Weren't you the one who told me that with less than ten hours of sleep, I get unbearably grumpy?", I thought.

There was a light snicker in my mind. Then Azriel growled softly. I didn't know what Rhys had said to him, but it made his grip tighten as he scowled into my neck.

There was one last chuckle in my head followed by a gentle sensation resembling a friendly headbutt before the familiar presence disappeared, leaving everything quiet again.

Breathing out, I squinted tiredly, the haze of sleep slowly dissipating.

Shifting on the spot, I started to wrestle myself around. Azriel grunted softly when I accidentally kicked his shin, and a breathy, sleepy giggle broke from my throat, then I buried myself in his chest. Exhaling, I felt Azriel slide his arm around my waist, his hand coming up to tuck my head under his chin. His fingers slipped into my hair, scratching gently over my scalp, and I groaned happily, causing the shadowsinger to huff in amusement.

His thumb lightly brushed over my cheek, and something skipped gently against my ribs, fluttering lightly.

no. 6: friends don't stare at each other (for too long).

Moving down the stairs, I slipped my fingers under one of the thin straps of the black silk dress softly swishing around my legs, pulling it up my shoulder. I could feel the hilts of my knives gently pressing against my thigh where they were tucked into the legs of my boots, the heavy heels thumping softly against the steps as the golden earrings Mor had lent me clinked softly. The heavy black leather coat Cass had gifted me a few years ago was draped over my arm, daggers hidden in the specially constructed lining.

It was time to charme some people. Maybe kick some ass.

Hopefully the latter.

Turning to walk down the last pair of stairs into the entrance hall, I grinned when Feyre tapped against my mind's walls, and when I let her in, her voice echoed through my head.

"Are you ready?"

Ready as ever.

"Alright, we'll be there and pick you up in a second."

Good. Feeling my lips quirk when I heard her chuckle, I raised my head.

My eyes met amber ones, and my breath hitched a little, my movement faltering for just a second.

Azriel stilled. Went completely quiet, head turned back to look up at me, eyes flickering over me, and his lips parted. Just a bit, nothing more than a little gap as his gaze slowly dragged down and up again, and he blinked, the crease between his brows smoothing over into nothing as he simply - stared.

"What?", I mumbled, feeling my lips curve into a soft, sheepish smile as I moved down the last steps.

Azriel blinked again, gaze sliding over me, and something shifted in his eyes, something I couldn't decipher but that made my breath hitch.

My gaze flickered over him, and there was a strange little hop in my chest. He was wearing his fighting leathers, nothing unusual, black shoulderplates making him look even broader, daggers strapped around his lean torso and onto his thighs.

Tearing my eyes away from his chest, I tried to ignore the way my heart performed a double flip when I found Azriel's gaze still pinned onto me, piercing my skin.

The shadowsinger blinked, and his throat worked a little like he was suppressing the urge to swallow. Then he slowly turned and stepped towards me. Wordlessly, he held out a hand, and I needed a second before realising what he wanted.

Huffing at myself and cracking a grin, I handed him my coat, and Azriel unfolded it, holding it open for me to slide into the sleeves. The lining was cool against my skin as Az slipped it over my shoulders, and I barely suppressed a soft shudder when his fingers, still out of his gloves, brushed against my neck, carefully pulling my braid out from under the heavy leather.

Turning around, I straightened the lapels and raised my head, and my heart fluttered up, getting caught in my throat like my breath when Azriel reached out.

His fingers brushed against my waist as he pushed the coat to the side, and a small crease formed between his brows when his hand ghosted over an empty sheath. He straightened a little, and my lips parted, something suddenly rising in my chest when he pulled a dagger from one of the sheaths strapped to his chest.

The silver blade flashed in the warm light when Azriel carefully pulled my coat to the side and slid it into the lining. Then his fingers brushed over the hilts concealed by the black silk, checking every single one of them as my heart thrummed into my throat and I stared up at him, his face a lot closer with his head dipped for a better view of the lining, brows drawn together in concentration, amber eyes clear and focused.

Sliding his hand against my waist to check the other side, Azriel raised his head; his gaze found mine, and my breath hitched when he slowly straightened back up a little.

With a soft swoosh of air, Feyre appeared in the middle of the foyer, and somehow, I managed to tear my gaze away from Azriel's to look over at her. She was wearing a silky dress similiar to mine, dark like the night sky and with high slits very practical for any sort of well-placed kick.

Feyre stilled for just a second as her eyes flickered over Azriel, standing so close to me that his chest almost touched mine and yet not making any move to step back, before finding mine, and something like a light twinkle flashed through her iris. Then she blinked and raised her brows.

"You two ready?"

Blinking, I looked back up at Az, and my breath hitched.

The shadowsinger was still staring down at me. I wasn't sure he had even looked when Feyre had winnowed in, and he didn't react when Mor appeared next to her either, wearing a dark red dress with a deep neckline. Both of them looked ready to smile charmingly and, if necessary, press a knife to someone's throat, but Azriel didn't even cast them a glance.

His eyes were on me, and suddenly, it felt a little hard to breathe.

Azriel's gaze cleared just a little, and he shifted, shoulders straightening.

"Give me a sign if you need me." I knew his deep voice was directed at the other two as well, but his eyes didn't stray away from mine, waiting until I nodded lightly. Then he took a step back, and shadows swallowed him.

Feyre cleared her throat lightly, and when I looked over at her with a blink, one corner of her lips had curved upwards, her iris twinkling. But she just raised her brows, and Mor held out her hand, her eyes bright as she beamed at me.

Staring at the two of them for a moment in confusion, I then blinked and shook my head lightly, moving towards them. Mor sent me a wink.

"You look hot."

I nodded. "As opposed to how I usually look."

Feyre lightly rolled her eyes and Mor flicked my forehead, and snickering, I took her offered hand.

no. 7: friends don't kiss.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I raised my head, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs when Azriel raised his head.

He was sitting on the edge of my mattress, wearing only soft looking pyjama pants, his hair tousled and a little damp, like he had taken a shower earlier.

Sending him a soft, cheeky grin, I felt my brows furrow gentle. "Hey."

Azriel's eyes tracked down my body, over the large soft sweater and the too big pyjama pants that both had probably belonged to him at some point, and I shifted a little on the spot. Then his gaze turned back towards my face, and one corner of his lips rose into a small, crooked smile.

Slowly starting to walk towards him, I let my gaze flicker over his face, feeling the curious crease between my brows deepen.

"What are you doing here?"

Azriel blinked. His eyes tracked over my face, slow, a little tired but warm in the soft light.

"Just -" He broke off before huffing and shaking his head. "I don't know. Can't sleep."

I felt my lips curve and sent him a cheeky smile. "I could read something to you."

Azriel's lips curved, and his gaze moved over mine. "I doubt that would help."

"Hey, my reading skills aren't that bad, alright?" I grinned.

Azriel raised his brows, and I lost the fight against the soft giggle building in my throat.

"Oh, shut up."

The shadowsinger's cheek creased a little. He was still staring at me, and I caught something shifting in his eyes as a muscle in his jaw tightened and relaxed again.

Something shifted in my chest, and before I could stop myself, I quickly moved forward and hugged him tightly.

I could feel Azriel freeze a little. One second. Two. Then his shoulders sagged a bit, and his arms slowly slid around my waist, squeezing lightly. It was funny, like this; with him sitting on the edge of the mattress, the size different was reversed for once, me dropping my head to press my nose against his shoulder and Az burying his face at my collarbone.

Holding onto him for another second, I slowly moved back, feeling my lips curve softly. Azriel's arms slipped off my waist, and his muscles shifted when he turned his head. Then he went still, and when I looked up in confusion, my breath hitched.

Golden eyes stared into mine, lips parted just a bit. I could see the shadow of a few freckles on a straight nose, the softness of his lips. And suddenly, my heart was quiet.

The tip of my nose softly nudged against Azriel's, and his eyes fluttered, the muscles in his jaw working as his fingers dug into the cotton of my pants. Then he lightly raised his chin, and his nose brushed past mine again, causing a tingling shiver to travel over my skin, down my spine and into my fingers, making them tremble as I curled them into his shoulders.

I didn't know if I leaned down or Azriel up.

Didn't know if my hand slipping to the back of his neck was first, or his fingers closing around my hips, dragging me forward a little.

All I knew was that his lips were warm and soft and that they were pressed against mine, gentle but soon almost a little feverish.

That his breath was harsh, trembling when he exhaled against my skin.

And that suddenly, my heart wasn't quiet anymore. That it was rising in my chest like a storm, fluttering more violently with every second until breathing was difficult.

Slowly, Azriel broke away, just far enough for his nose to bump against mine again and his unsteady breath to hit my lips. When I forced open my eyes, something flipped against my ribs, because his were still closed, his chest moving quickly as his finger dug into my hips and he swallowed harshly. Then Azriel opened his eyes, and all air I had managed to get left me. Because the gold in his iris was melting together and his lids were heavy and for a moment, he looked a little bit like he wasn't quite there. But then our noses brushed and his lids fluttered and a soft sound broke from his chest that made the world tip over.

"You -" His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine, uneven and more hoarse than I had ever heard it, and Azriel's jaw worked, brows drawing together like he was forcing himself to focus as his eyes found mine, something in them that was strange and pleading and burning when he mumbled raspily: "If you let me kiss you again, I won't be able stop."

My heart skipped once and high and harsh. Then I whispered, soft and a little shakily: "I don't think I want you to stop."

Azriel's cheek muscles shifted and he shuddered, like the thought alone -

His fingers dug into my hips, tugging me closer as he pressed his forehead against mine and mumbled roughly: "If you kiss me again -"

I leaned forward and kissed him breathlessly, and Azriel's grip slipped before tightening as a deep rumble built in his throat and he pushed forward and kissed me back like he'd been waiting for centuries.

no. 8: friends never, ever, under no circumstances - well, you can probably guess where this is going.

My breath tumbled when Azriel dragged me closer, closer until my body curved into his sitting one and he kissed me like it was the only thing keeping him alive, deep and desperate and causing my heart to tip over in my chest when his tongue dragged over mine and his hand slipped under my soft sweater.

A soft shuddering breath left me when his rough fingers ghosted over my back, trailing up my spine, and my fingers curled into his hair, causing a deep sound to rumble through Azriel's body. His other hand closed firmly around my hips, then he pulled back, and my heart skipped into my throat at the sight of his eyes, glazed over and hazy.

Azriel's lips parted just a little and his throat worked when he slid his hand from my back to my front, fingers pushing up the hem of my sweater, up until it was bunched up under my breasts, and my spine turned to jelly when Azriel turned his burning gaze away from my face and dropped his head to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against my ribs.

My hand flew up to tangle in the soft hair at the back of his head, my eyes fluttering, and Azriel groaned softly, deep in his throat as his hand slipped up to press against my back, pushing me into him until my thighs were pressed against the inside of his and he leaned forward, lips dragging over my skin as he began to trail hot kisses over my stomach.

My head fell back as something rose in my chest, wild and madly fluttering. My lower stomach tightened, quivering, causing my breath to hitch.

It felt like with every kiss, Azriel pulled the floor out from under me, over and over again, the whole world swaying around me whenever he got closer to where my sweater was bunched up under my breasts, my fingers digging into his hair when he dipped down again.

It seemed like he was trying to taste every inch of my skin, breath heavy and uneven, grip tightening around me when his teeth grazed over the skin right under the seam of my bra, and I whimpered.

A small, guttural sound built in Azriel's chest, and he attacked the spot, dragging my body into his, kissing and biting until I could feel my skin pulse. My eyes fluttered as my head tipped back a little and my lips parted, and the shadowsinger pressed a scarred hand flat against my spine, running his nose over the bruise like a breathless apology. Then he raised his head, and my heart skipped, tipping over at the sight of his hazy eyes, amber iris clouded, lids heavy and soft lips swollen.

A strand of dark hair fell into his forehead, and the way he was staring at me caused my breath to stumble, hitch and flutter, his throat working as he swallowed and tugged me forward, slowly pulling me with him as he leaned back, and my heart tipped over in my chest when he dragged me down into his lap.

I could feel Azriel's grip shift, saw the flutter of his lids as my chest pressed into his, and everything under my ribs coiled when his hot, unsteady breath brushed over my lips, his nose softly nudging against mine.

My fingers curled into his shoulders as I tried to breathe, even though it felt impossible with his scent invading my senses, his chest against mine and his arm heavy on my waist as his palm pressed against my back, gently urging me forward.

My hips rolled down, and Azriel's lids fluttered the same second my lips fell open as I felt his hard cock press against me, his hands slipping down to close around my hips, and I almost expected him to push me away, bring distance between us -

Azriel dragged my hips forward, and I inhaled softly, sharply, something hot zipping through my lower stomach and pulsing when I ground down against the bulge in Azriel's pants. His lips were parted just a bit, his breathing harsh as his nose nudged against mine, lids heavy. Then his grip around my hips tightened, fingers digging into my skin, and my breath hitched and stumbled when he started guiding my movements, his eyes fixed onto my face like they were burning through me, hazy but piercing.

I barely bit back a soft whimper when Azriel's hot, unsteady breath grazed over my lips, my fingers digging into his hair as I rocked against him, tantalizingly but deliciously slow. Azriel's nose brushed over mine, his hands shifting on my hips, rocking me down harder, and something twisted harshly in my stomach, a wave of heat washing over me.

Before I could stop myself, I pulled him towards me, and Azriel's lips crashed onto mine.

My heart rose into my throat, fluttering as I felt myself twist around nothing, and I whimpered, curling my fingers into the back of Azriel's neck when he kissed me like I was his last breath, devouring, desperate. His tongue slid against mine as his hands slipped under my sweater, curving around my waist, and something swelled in my chest when his rough warm skin pressed against mine, his thumb brushing over my ribs, up against the underside of my breast.

I moaned softly into his mouth, causing his grip to tighten and drag me closer like I wasn't already pressed flush into his chest. His hands closed around the hem of my sweater and pulled it up, up until I had to break away for him to tug it over my head. My arms slipped back over his shoulders, and Azriel leaned forward, into me, kissing me again, deep and hard as he threw my sweater carelessly into the room.

My fingers dug into Azriel's shoulders when his hands slipped under my thighs. Then he lifted me up, turning to place my back on the mattress, his warm, solid body between my legs pushing my knees apart and causing something in my chest to rise and flutter madly, and a soft groan broke from his chest when his body pressed down into mine.

My fingers curled into his hair, and Azriel broke the kiss to drop his head, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck, tangling in my hair and dragging my head back as he began to press hard kisses against my throat, his heavy, uneven breath hitting my skin as his teeth grazed over my skin. A whimper fled my throat, and my eyes rolled back lightly.

A deep, rough sound rumbled through Azriel´s chest, and his lips brushed lower, kisses growing more deep, more desperate the lower his rough hands slipped on my sides as he slowly made his way down my torso. My body arched into him as he breathed harshly, kissing and nipping at my skin as he pulled down my pants. Then his nose grazed the rim of my panties, and my head fell back as my insides twitched and Azriel groaned deep in his chest.

His hot, harsh breath brushed over the soaked material, and his nose nuzzled against my hip like he was trying to reign himself in, the tension in his shoulders looking unbearable as his lips ghosted over where my thigh and middle met. Then Azriel's fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties and pulled them down, and a soft groan left him, almost desperate.

Raising my hips to help him shimmy the material down my legs, I expected him to move back up my body. But Azriel didn't. His shoulders pushed my thighs apart, and my heart stilled, simply stopped when without hesitation, Azriel sank to his knees.

My breath caught when his hands closed around my hips and dragged me towards him, and a whimpering sound left me when I felt his nose gently nudge against my skin, an ache spreading through my lower stomach like a weight.

My hips bucked, my fingers digging into the sheets, and with a soft rumbling sound leaving him, Azriel pushed one of my legs over his shoulder and dipped his head.

My lips fell open, my heart stilled, and my whole body became weightless when Azriel slowly ran his tongue through my folds. My eyes flew down, finding his, heavily lidded and hazy, a strand of dark hair falling into his face between my legs, and a deep groan rumbled deep in his chest. Then he dropped his head and dove in.

My head fell back against the mattress, and my back arched.

Azriel moved like a male starving, devouring his last meal. His warm tongue lapped at me, running over my clit, pressing down and flicking before his mouth closed over it, and my eyes rolled into my head as breathless moans spilled from my lips.

Azriel's fingers dug into the top of my thigh, his other hand slipping up to press onto my stomach as his eyes fluttered and a moan vibrated in his chest. He sounded more enthusiastic than I had ever heard him; like right where he was, settled between my legs, his nose brushing over my skin as he dipped his head to lap and suck at me eagerly, was exactly, precisely where he had always wanted to be –

His tongue flicked over my clit, and my hand flew up to press over my mouth as a loud whimper broke from my lips. But Azriel's fingers slipped around my elbow, and something flipped in my chest, rising and fluttering violently when he gently tugged my hand away from my mouth, his own sliding down my arm until his rough, scarred fingers slid between mine, lacing them together as his eyes pierced my face, clouded and lids heavy like he wasn't quite there. Then he ran his tongue firmly over my clit, and I moaned, breathily and drawn as I curled my fingers into the sheets above my head.

The weight in my stomach grew slowly, twisting tighter and tighter, and my back arched as a deep groan left Azriel, like what he was doing right now, fingers laced with mine, eyes hazy and hair dishevelled, was the best satisfaction I could give him. The muscles in his cheeks worked as he sucked eagerly on my clit, pressing his tongue against the sensitive spot, eyes never leaving my face even as they fluttered, and I felt my lips part at the sight of him.

My fingers dug into the sheets as I could feel myself pulse around nothing, the pressure in my lower stomach slowly building as whimpers left me and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as whispered curses broke from my lips and my breath heaved, and Azriel's hum vibrated through me. Then his tongue ran over my clit and he sucked, hard, obscene sounds filling the room as he kept pushing and pushing –

The knot in my stomach collapsed and my back arched off the mattress, hips bucking as waves of pleasure crashed over me, my insides twisting and exploding like stars and loud whining sounds breaking from my lips as my eyes rolled back.

I felt Azriel's soft moan more than I heard it, sending vibrations through my body and causing my hand to fly down and dig into his hair. My hips jerked and rolled as my thighs twitched, sharp twinges of pleasure causing my whole body to spasm, but Azriel didn't stop. His tongue lapped at everything he could get, eyes fluttering as another groan rumbled through his body, making me whimper, and he moved, fingers digging into my thigh, keeping it wrapped over his shoulder as he pushed closer, sucking harshly, tongue swirling, and I could feel my stomach twist and turn as another knot built, even tighter and bigger than before.

My mouth fell open, my head pressing into the mattress; Azriel gave a soft sound, maybe an encouragement or a plea, and the world simply slipped away, bursting into a million pieces as the knot exploded, crashing down into a wave so violent, my body shuddered.

My insides tightened, tightened with pleasure so blinding, I couldn't breathe, no sound leaving me as I twitched and writhed, and Azriel kept going, kept sucking my clit into his mouth, tongue pressing against it and flicking over me until my trembling fingers curled deeper into his hair, because it was too much, too good, too much -

My insides twisted, twitching as my knees shook and a breathless whimper left me, and I dug my nails into Azriel's scalp and tugged, tugged harshly until with a soft rumbled growl, the shadowsinger pulled away.

My heart missed a beat, another.

Azriel's pupils were blown, eyes heavily lidded and a little far away when he raised his head, licking his swollen lips. His mouth and chin were glistening as he slid his hands off my thighs, and my breath hitched.

The bed dipped when Azriel pushed himself to his feet to move up my body, his arms pressing down next to my head, his bare chest brushing over mine and his knee pressing into the mattress between my thighs. His nose softly nudged against mine, like a silent question of you alright, and something tipped over in my chest, rising and fluttering.

Quickly, I slipped my hands into his hair and pulled him down, and Azriel groaned softly when I pressed my lips feverishly against his. His body sank into mine when he kissed back, deep and desperate.

My heart skipped against my ribs, and I wrapped a leg over his back, because he still wasn't close enough, not where my middle was pulsing -

The shadowsinger went rigid under my touch when I dragged him down, down until his whole body pressed into mine and I could feel -

Azriel caught my hand, grip tight around my fingers as he breathed heavily, his voice hoarse as he mumbled against my lips: "Are you sure -"

A moan slipped past my lips, soft and pleading as my insides turned, something hot washing over me as I nodded into the kiss, maybe a bit too frantic, too eager, but it didn't matter, not with the groan leaving Azriel's throat, rumbling through his body in what felt like pure relief and desperation.

I tugged at his pants, feeling them slip down his hips and over his legs as Azriel pushed my thighs apart. His lips dragged over mine, then I could feel the tip of his cock nudging against my folds.

My breath gave out, an ache spreading through my body as I whimpered, and Azriel's jaw shifted as he moved in the spot, trying to find an angle with him kneeling on the side of the mattress -

A soft, impatient sound left him; his hands slipped under my backside, and Az lifted me up.

My breath hitched, my arms quickly sliding over his shoulders when Azriel straightened, lips crashing against mine as my chest pressed into his, and I moaned when I could feel him rub up against me as he turned around.

My back hit the wall, and I whimpered, Azriel's tongue dragging over mine as he pushed closer, dragging my thigh up his side as his tip brushed through my folds, way easier like this for him to -

My heart got caught in my throat. My lips fell open, and my heart rose into my throat as I felt myself stretch around Azriel's cock, his hard length pressing at my walls he slowly began to push in.

Azriel dropped his forehead against mine with a strained grunt, his back muscles flexing as my fingers dug into the back of his shoulders, harsh breath hitting my skin as he slowly began to work his way in.

Whimpering softly, I shifted my hips, because he was big and I felt too tight and -

My eyes fluttered, a quiet sound leaving me when my walls closed around him, pulling him in, and Azriel's grip tightened when his hips settled against mine. His hand pressed against the wall over my head he breathed heavily against my lips, nose nudging against mine, and I whimpered, tugging him closer.

A soft groan left Azriel, and his hand slid down to the side of my neck, tilting my head back to kiss me. It was messy and breathless and I whimpered when his tongue slid against mine, his teeth sinking softly into my bottom lip and pulling lightly. His nose nudged against mine, then Azriel slipped his hand down to grip the back of my thigh, pulling it higher up his side, and I felt my lips part when it caused him to slide inside of me.

Azriel pressed his forehead against mine, out of breath as his throat worked, and I curled my fingers into his hair, nodding frantically as my insides tightened, and my head tipped back against the wall when Az slowly pulled out. Then he thrusted back in, and my lips fell open.

Slowly, little by little, Azriel took me apart. His lips dragging over my throat, heavy breaths hitting my skin, hot and ragged, his fingers digging into my thighs as his slow, deep rhythm shook me to my very core.

With every thrust, the world seemed to tip a little more, until there was nothing anymore, nothing but him, body rocking mine into the wall, his cock hitting deeper with every thrust. His arm gripped me tighter, then his hand tugged down one strap of my soft bra and his palm closed over my breast, causing a whimper to break from my lips that turned into a moan when Azriel's lips latched onto my nipple, a groan rumbling deep in his throat when he bit and sucked on my skin, rough palm squeezing and tugging at my breast until my insides tightened around him, squeezing as I shuddered and dug my fingers into his hair, dragging him back up, and Azriel moaned hoarsely into my mouth as our lips crashed together.

His hips snapped forward, and my hand flew out to grip the mantlepiece as my own rolled down to meet his next thrust.

Azriel's shoulders trembled as his fingers almost slipped off my thighs, and a sound left him that caused my chest to rise when his cock hit a spot so deep inside of me, I lost my breath. Lost my grip, felt my stomach pulse, and Azriel groaned against my lips when I dug my fingers into his neck and started meeting his hard, slowly quickening thrusts.

My lips fell open, my eyes fluttering as little by little, that familiar tightness began to form in my lower stomach. Only it felt even brighter, hotter and more pulsing than before, with Azriel buried deep inside me, hitting that spot that made my body writhe with every hard snap of his hips. I knew he could feel it too, the way my insides wound tighter with every thrust, fluttering and pulling him in, his grip bruising as he breathed harshly against my neck, deep, hoarse sounds leaving him somewhere halfway between moans and whimpers, and maybe those sounds alone would have done me in. But then his nose dragged up my cheek, and Azriel pressed his forehead against mine as my fingers scratched over his scalp, his ragged breath hitting my lips as his lids fluttered over his eyes that looked like melted amber.

His hand slipped between us, and my breath caught. Simply stopped when Azriel's rough thumb brushed over my clit, slow and hard, and the world fell apart. Became exploding galaxies and stardust as waves of pleasure crashed over me so intensely, I felt my body tremble and shake beyond measure, my eyes rolling back as my sight went blurry, and Azriel's thrusts faltered. His hips snapped once, twice before pushing in deep, then his head fell forward and lips opened soundlessly as his body shuddered.

no. 9: friends don't fall in love with each other.

When I woke up, Azriel was gone.

Something tightened a little in my chest, and I quickly sat up, my gaze moving over my clothes haphazardly strewn over the floor, the crinkled sheets and the window behind which, the sky was still a deep black, with galaxies twinkling in the far, far distance.

I couldn't have been asleep for long.

A little bit of pressure built in my throat, a gentle ache forming in my chest, and I quickly slipped off the mattress, picking up my sweater and tugging it over my head as I padded towards the door.

The townhouse was submerged in peaceful silence, the moon shining through the windows onto the stairs the only source of light as I soundlessly moved down the steps.

On the third floor, there was faint light shimmering out from under the door to the library, and my breath got caught in my throat.

Swallowing softly, I carefully opened the door and slipped through. Gently closing it behind me, I started to quietly move past the shelves until I caught movement over at the window, and my heart did a flip against my ribs when I came to a slow halt.

Azriel was with his back to me, slowly wandering from side to side, his bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floors, his shoulders tense, wings shifting and muscles working under his skin as he ran his hands through his hair. Shadows were pooling around his feet, completely quiet for once, just gently brushing against his ankles when he leaned forward, pressing his palms onto the window sill and dropping his head.

Something tightened a little in my chest, and I pulled up my shoulders, whispering softly and a bit hesitantly: "Az?"

Azriel stilled for a moment. Then he looked over his shoulder, and his eyes found mine, amber in the warmth of the fae lights.

I tried to fight against the soft skip in my chest and stared at him.

Azriel blinked before straightening slowly, his deep voice sending rushs of soft tingles down my spine when he mumbled: "Are you okay?"

I nodded, feeling one corner of my lips rise carefully as I fiddled with my sleeve and my eyes flickered back and forth between his.

"You?"

Azriel's gaze wandered over my face as he slowly turned to look at me, eyes moving over mine, almost like he was looking for something. Then he nodded lightly.

Feeling the curve of my lips deepen, I shifted a little on the spot, mumbling softly: "You don't look like it."

Azriel blinked again, and his throat worked a little, something shifting in his jaw. The tightness in my chest grew a little as I stared at him, feeling my throat close up.

I knew that look, knew how it meant he was in his head.

"Th-this doesn't have to change anything." I quickly shook my head, taking a step forward as I stared at him. "We can just forget about it, if you -" My eyes darted over his face, something tightened sharply in my chest, and I blurted hastily: "I'll get over it; I can push it away, I mean I think I have for centuries, I can pretend, and it'll go away, and we'll just -"

I broke off, my eyes darted up, and my heart did one mighty flip.

Because I had just realised what in my hurry to make Azriel's doubt go away had slipped from my lips.

And because Azriel had straightened. His lips parted as his eyes rushed over my face, and I barely suppressed the urge to swallow.

Shit.

"What?" Azriel's voice was hoarse as he stared at me, and I nearly winced.

"I don't know;", my voice rose to a panicked, high tone as I widened my eyes and quickly raised my shoulders, "you looked so in your head, and I know we messed up, but I can't lose you, and if you think this was a mistake or you don't like me like that, I -"

The shadowsinger stared at me, and suddenly, his eyes brightened. Started to shine like amber held into the sun, and his shoulders sank like the tension of centuries had flooded from his body. His lips parted a little more as he stared at me, and suddenly, the shadow of a crease formed in his cheek.

"Push what away?"

Something started rising in my chest, fluttering wildly as Azriel's eyes pierced mine and the golden spots in his iris started to dance.

Azriel stared at me. Then he began to slowly walk towards me, iris bright and twinkling. My heart tipped and tilted, and I swallowed, my gaze darting around the room.

Rough fingers gently closed around my chin, and my breath got caught in my throat, simply stopping when Azriel mumbled: "No, no, come on, sweetheart." His thumb and forefinger gently forced me to look up, up until I met his eyes flickering over my face, his deep voice tickling my spine and something shifting through his gaze, careful, anxious, when he said softly: "Push what away?"

I felt my lips open, my heart pounding harshly against my ribs, and my brows arched on their own accord.

"Oh, come on; really?" My voice rose desperately, and in any other situation, it would have been hilarious.

"What do you want to hear; that kissing you made the fucking world stop? That you probably ruined me for every godsdamned male out there, because there's no way anyone could ever make me feel that way again? That I was too stupid to realise I've fallen for my best friend like a complete idiot, even though you make my heart beat out of my chest everytime you just look at me? That you're everything? Tha-"

Azriel leaned down, and the world tipped off its axis when he kissed me, his hand slipping to the nape of my neck to tug me closer, fingers tangling in my hair. Then he started to smile against my lips, slow and wide, and my breath caught when he dipped forward and kissed me deeper.

Digging my fingers into his sides, I tried to keep my heart from fluttering out of my chest as something rose so violently under my ribs, a soft sound broke from my throat when Azriel's tongue slid against mine, and a slightly shaking exhale left him.

Gently brushing his thumbs over the side of my neck, Azriel slowly pulled away, his nose nudging against mine when he mumbled roughly against my lips: "If it makes you feel any better, you definitely ruined me for everyone I'll ever meet."

A trembling breath left me, and I pulled my head back to stare up at Azriel, that flutter in my chest growing when I saw the light in his eyes when he stared back down at me.

"You -" My voice gave out, and one corner of Azriel's lips quirked a little.

"I?" His voice was a little hoarse as his eyes tracked over mine, and he swallowed softly. "Am in love with you."

My breath caught in my throat.

Azriel's eyes moved over my face, and I could feel a gentle exhale leaving him as his hands pulled me closer until I gently bumped into his chest and he dropped his head, staring at me, looking like he was trying not to swallow as he mumbled lowly: "I've loved you for as long as I can remember. And I'll probably still love you when we're nothing but dust under the sky. The only reason I didn't tell you sooner was that I was scared to lose you if you didn't feel the same."

I breathed out and closed my eyes as my heart rose in a wild flutter and a warm thrum built in my chest as my lips started to curve into a ridiculously wide, desperate smile. "We're so stupid."

I felt Azriel's soft huff more than I heard it. Then his breath brushed over my face, and the next second, his hands slipped under the underside of my thighs and lifted me up.

My legs locked around his waist like instinct, my breath hitching as I held onto his shoulders, and my heart skipped when my nose almost bumped into Azriel's, his eyes bright as he stared at me.

"Remember when you asked me how you're supposed to know what you're looking for and I said you just know?" His low, deep voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I swallowed and somehow managed a nod.

One corner of Azriel's lips curved, then he dropped his head, and my breath caught in my throat, my eyes fluttering close when he leaned his forehead against mine.

"I was thinking of you." Azriel's quiet voice vibrated over my skin. "Because you became all I ever wanted, all I could see when I realised you were what I had been looking for my whole life."

My fingers curled into his hair, and a soft sound left Azriel's lips the same moment my heart rose into my throat.

"Sappy,", I whispered, my voice breaking a little, and Azriel chuckled against my lips before he pulled back, and something tipped over in my chest at the way he stared at me.

I blinked before looking down at his arms holding me up, chest pressing into mine, and something rose under my ribs.

"Now what?"

Azriel's lips curved, and my heart stumbled and skipped at the way his golden eyes twinkled when he raised a brow.

"Now I'll take you back upstairs and we'll do some more things that will ruin just thinking about anybody else."

no. 10 - the golden rule: friends make their own rules.

(and occasionally realize they aren't friends at all and they're idiots.)

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @ailyr92

[icarryitin]

Episode 18: Help Me?

spencer reid/gn!reader

i love being in this guy’s brain there is just something so Character about him🧡 and happy birthday to you anon!!🥳

series masterlist

word count: 4.5k // warnings: injury description (dislocated shoulder), mentions of injections and pills for pain relief, poor and inaccurate medical knowledge, non-sexual undressing, would you believe me if i told you the sexual tension in the second half of this was accidental? for those reasons this is 18+

summary: You get injured on a case, and Spencer gets to play nurse. It’s a special kind of torture for both of you.

“Try it, see what happens.”

You appear out of the shadows ahead of them, the gun in your hands aimed carefully at the Unsub’s back, like a goddamn guardian angel.

The guy isn’t going to give up without a fight, even with three federal agents to contend with, that much is obvious. His grip on his weapon is far shakier than any of yours, fingers twitching ever closer to the trigger. You’ve made the split second decision to launch yourself at him before he has the chance to fire off a shot.

Which means Spencer has a front row seat to the sickening thud of your side against the ground when you tackle the Unsub. He’s grateful that he and Hotch aren’t staring down the barrel of a gun anymore, but less grateful that it’s come at the price of the grimace clear on your face. You’ll be bruised for sure, going down as hard as you do.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks you as he hauls the Unsub up by his cuffed wrists. You take a moment to check yourself over, mentally inventory every joint and nerve, before you nod. Spencer holds a hand out towards you, which is taken without hesitation and you start pulling yourself up off the ground.

The crack of your shoulder as it pops out of the socket is so loud that the vibration of it tingles through your interlaced fingers and all the way up to his own.

A sharp yelp, followed by a weak whimper that makes his stomach flip, and he drops your hand like it’s scalding hot. You pull it into your chest with your good arm, palm cradling your elbow to give yourself a little support. Maybe you’d hit the ground a little harder than you meant to. It’s definitely dislocated. He can’t help but feel like it’s his fault.

Maybe that’s why he’s manoeuvring around you, where you sit pouting in a dusty heap. It’s what he tells himself anyway, as he slips large hands underneath your FBI vest – fingers pressed snugly against your ribs, separated by only a thin shirt, and he carefully helps you to your feet. The action has his face dangerously close to yours, so close that he’s terrified you’ll be able to hear how shallow his breaths are. But you seem to be far too focused on your own breathing to really register his proximity. Hotch is ahead already, Unsub in tow, but you’re the only thing Spencer is worried about right now. Someone else can collect the abandoned firearm from the ground, he has more important things to do. Like getting you into the care of a professional instead of his clumsy hands.

“Can you walk?”

A rhetorical question if he’s ever asked one. It’s your arm he’s pulled out of the socket, not a leg. You nod anyway, gently, but you don’t pull away from him. Instead your voice is soft, unsure.

“Help me?”

Of course he does, as if he’d be able to do anything else.

Does he really need to keep a hold on you, help you across the warehouse floor and out to an ambulance? Probably not. Does he do it anyway? Absolutely. You don’t seem to mind the closeness, judging by the way you lean into the solidity of him as the two of you shuffle towards the open door. He relishes in it, just a little. Because for all the camaraderie and familiarity that has built your friendship over the past few years, touches like this are so rare. Rare and usually instigated by you, when a case has hit him a little too close to home. It’s precious. To have you in his arms the way he’s wanted, wished for, literally dreamed about. There’s an irony in his earlier misplaced attempt to help you up, somewhere. Why can he only have you this close when one of you is hurting?

Raised eyebrows from the rest of the team be damned, he’ll carry you to the ambulance if he has to. He doesn’t but he’d try if you asked.

Spencer has seen all manner of terrible things. He’s seen them happen to strangers, friends, he’s been the one under the spotlight more than once. But he finds himself wholly unprepared to watch you wince as you hop up onto the back of the ambulance, legs dangling over the edge, arm still cradled protectively close to your chest. You flinch almost violently when the paramedic approaches you with outstretched hands which, in turn, only makes you hiss in pain. Your apology is small, quiet, sheepish. Everything he knows you not to be, which only makes him feel that much worse about being the reason you’re in this position in the first place. He’s not, the little logical voice in his brain tells him it was the fall you took, but he’s the one who offered to help you up. Can’t take that back.

“Do you have to?” You’re arguing with the paramedic when his brain checks back in to the conversation.

A sling has been placed by the open medical bag beside you, but it’s the object next to it that has your eyes wider than dinner plates. A needle, carefully sealed in its little package, ready and waiting to give you the pain relief that all three of you know you’re in desperate need of. There’s no way your shoulder can be reset here without it.

“You look at dead bodies all day, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of this?” The paramedic means well, he knows she does, but the grating sound of the sterile packaging being ripped open only serves to shrink you away from it even further.

“Phobias are rarely rational. In fact, the dictionary definition refers to one as being an extreme or irrational fear of, or aversion to, something. Phobias relating to medical procedures are pretty common actually.”

The barely hidden eye roll he gets from the paramedic would suggest he’s not helping the situation, but it’s the look that you give him. The one he gets across coroner slabs and conference tables and crime scenes, that tells him he is.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to, considering this is kind of my fault,” Spencer holds his hand up between you, wiggling his fingers in front of a sad little smile, “But squeeze away.”

“I don’t know, I might break it.” You’re going for a light-hearted joke, but your gritted teeth pay you no favours.

“Then we’ll call it even.”

You take his hand, and he wonders if he’ll need to ask the paramedic to break out the defibrillator next – judging by the way his heart stutters in his chest.

And, to your credit, you only almost break it. The first squeeze is tight, muscles in your forearm trembling as the needle plunges deep into your shoulder. It won’t be enough to completely numb you, the paramedic confirms, but it’ll go a fair way towards dulling the pain. You should really go to a hospital, a bodge job in the back of an ambulance isn’t exactly Bureau protocol, but he knows that isn’t happening. God forbid you ever get shot, he’s sure that getting you treated properly for something like that would be more traumatic for you than any injury.

The second squeeze isn’t something he’s prepared for. You hang onto his hand as though your life depends on it once the paramedic has decided the painkillers have kicked in enough, though her fingers on your shoulder still have you tensing. She tells you to relax, uselessly. Instead, you turn your head away, bury it into Spencer’s shoulder, and dig your nails into the back of his hand. His knuckles crack under the pressure, synchronised popping absolutely miniscule compared to the thunderous pop your shoulder gives when the paramedic manipulates it back into place. Tears seep through his shirt as they dampen his shoulder, the tension in your jaw gives away the sob you’re biting back. You swallow it before you pull your face from the security of his warmth – brave face, as always – and dutifully allow the paramedic to tug the Kevlar vest over your head to make way for the sling she’s prepared.

You’re too on edge to really pay attention to the instructions she’s giving you, too preoccupied on slowing your heart rate to hear about the over the counter pain meds you should take, how long you need to keep the sling on. So, Spencer listens. He remembers, as he always does. He nods and tells her he’ll make sure you do everything by the book, because he knows you won’t be on your way to the doctor’s office in a hurry if your recovery doesn’t go to plan.

JJ popping up in your field of vision seems to lighten your mood, the stiffness falls away and you choke out a laugh alongside a sarcastic comment about heroics being above your paygrade. It’s fake, the laughter. Your spine is still rigid, smile a little too tight to be true. But nobody else seems to notice. They’re just glad you’re alright. Something about your rapid mood change scratches an itch in his brain, the smallest part of it that’s just a little smug. Because you don’t let on about your fear to the others. Just him.

Spencer piles into the back of the second SUV after you, behind Rossi and Emily, and takes it upon himself to make sure you’re strapped in. Admittedly, you could manage it yourself, but he doesn’t want you to. There are eyes on the back of his head when he leans over to carefully pull the seatbelt across you, when he makes sure to steer clear of your sling, but they’re easy to ignore when you’re watching him the way you are. Your quiet affirming hum follows the click of the seat belt plug when you meet his questioning gaze, calming the pounding in his chest and he doesn’t pull back right away. Involuntarily, his eyes drop to your lips for the barest of moments.

He could kiss you.

Right here, right now. In the back of the SUV, with your arm in a sling, and your colleagues watching on. He could do it. But he doesn’t.

He knows what he wants your first kiss to be like – a little pocket of his brain is dedicated to it, plays scenario after scenario in the moments before he settles down to sleep every night. Silly little bedtime stories.

Except they’re not silly, because somewhere along the way he stumbled out of his harmless little crush and into something much more serious. He knows what it is, he won’t put a name to it. Instead, he daydreams. It’s not always the same, the location varies - sometimes you’re at work, in the bullpen or the conference room, or obscured from the rest of the team by the metallic bulk of an SUV. Sometimes you’re in his apartment, in the kitchen, by the window in the living room, in the doorway of his bedroom. Sometimes it’s just a street corner, at night, at midday, dawn, dusk. But you, you’re always the same. You always look at him with a smile that could light the entire city, and he just tells you.

Spills his guts out all over the floor, every part of him left raw and vulnerable, as he tells you he loves you - has always loved you. Maybe even before he met you. He tells you how his heart stopped in his chest that first morning you walked into the BAU office, how he nearly spilled his coffee down his shirt, how his glasses steamed up with the heat from his cheeks. How Derek, JJ, Garcia, the entire team has been teasing him for literal years. How sometimes he thinks he catches you looking at him, but that’d be just too good to be true wouldn’t it?

And then your smile grows, and you take a step further into his space until there’s scarcely any room between you. That’s when you tell him you do look at him, you look at him all the time. Because you love him, just as hopelessly and desperately and effortlessly as he loves you. That’s when he kisses you. When he grasps your face in his hands and takes a deep breath of you before crashing into you with a bruising force. You take it, of course you do, just as eagerly as he pours himself into it. The kiss of a lifetime. That’s how he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of that, not now.

So, he pulls back, plugs his own seatbelt in, and lets himself wallow in the post-case stillness that settles in the car. Punctuated by Penelope’s voice through the speaker on your phone though it may be. She’s relieved, a little mad that you’d put yourself in harm’s way, but ultimately glad you’re safe. He smiles to himself at that, he can’t help but agree.

Quantico’s parking garage is dark this time of night, of course it would be, but the chill of the concrete seeps into his bones. You shiver beside him as he helps you slide out of the SUV. Goodbyes are short, sweet, exhausted. Each member of the team wandering towards their own vehicles, leaving you and Spencer standing alone under the fluorescent lights.

“Let’s get you home, superhero.” He grins at you as his hand settles gently on the small of your back, guiding you towards the street exit.

It’s not far to the train station, the streets are still busy even at this time of night. Tourists and businessmen and politicians all alike. But you don’t get jostled in the slightest, he makes sure of it - carefully weaving through the throngs to get you safely to your platform. It’s only as he steps onto the train with you that you realise his own home is in the complete opposite direction. It’s borderline unfair how fuzzy he feels at your concern for his own journey.

“I said I was getting you home, not getting you to the station.” He can’t help the fond smile that settles on his features as you look up at him from your seat. He’s chosen to stand, partially in front of you, as a sort of makeshift barrier between your injured arm and any potential commuters who might stumble into you. He holds his hand out to you expectantly and it takes you another moment to fish your keys out of your bag. They’re placed softly in his palm, your fingers barely brushing his. The touch is so gentle compared to the way you almost squeezed that same hand to death only a couple of hours earlier. He just about manages to suppress the shudder that threatens to buckle his knees, and he counts his lucky stars that your building is only a block away from the train’s destination.

The thought only occurs to Spencer when he’s halfway over the threshold of your apartment, too preoccupied with getting you back safely to realise he’s actually never been in your home before. Organised chaos is the term he’d use. The open plan kitchen and living area is tidy but cluttered, books of every genre piled on shelves with no real strategy, a haphazard stack of second hand vinyls that are mostly Tom Waits sit atop an old record player, a small collection of cacti in mismatched terracotta pots are lined up on your little kitchen windowsill. The cupboards are a deep green, which should really be at odds with the peach tinged wash on the walls, but the combination is just soft enough to work. It’s very you.

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to stay.”

Your name leaves his lips in the same tone it usually does before he can stop it, the same heavy sigh that wraps around the letters more often than not. God, you know exactly how to push his buttons, even when you don’t mean to. You’re missing the point entirely – he wants to take care of you. It’s so rare that you let him.

“Nice try,” He says as he sets your work bag down on one of the chairs at the round kitchen table, “Get changed, I’ll fix up some dinner.”

“You will?” The teasing grin on your face is either because you don’t think he can cook, or because you can’t. He’s leaning towards the former.

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents.”

You stand there for another long few seconds, just watching him. It’s not dissimilar to the look you gave him at the ambulance, in the SUV, on the train home. Like there’s something you’re desperate to say to him; only, you’re not sure how to say it. So you turn on your heel and close the bedroom door behind you.

Spencer physically has to shake off the weight of your gaze before he can move again, even after you’re gone. His own bag finds its place beside yours, jacket folded and draped neatly over the back of the metal chair. It’s the kind of dining set he’d expect to see outside a Parisian cafe, as opposed to being tucked in the corner of a DC apartment. Chipped white metalwork and all, probably originally a garden set, but it fits the eclectic thrift store vibe you’ve curated throughout the space. He finds himself drifting towards your overstuffed bookshelf, to the beat up record player and the pile of albums - the protective sleeve of each one shabbier than the last. He’d been right at first glance, the collection is mostly second-hand Tom Waits albums - with a little Queen, The Magnetic Fields, and Fleetwood Mac in the mix. The album on top is the most dog-eared, and he doesn’t have to employ a single one of his profiling skills to know this one is the most loved, most played, and he’s sure you’ll appreciate the comfort of some background noise. So he’s concentrating on sliding the record out of the sleeve, carefully placing it onto the turntable, and setting the needle down.

The bluesy first bars of Tom Waits’ Heartattack and Vine fill the room at the same time you open the bedroom door, looking more than a little sorry for yourself. And, to his credit, Spencer does a pretty good job of not laughing at the picture of you in the open doorway.

You’ve got yourself tangled up, all wrinkled shirtsleeves and oozing embarrassment - one sleeve dangles empty by your side where the other is still firmly encased by the sling, your sole free arm pokes out of the bottom of your sweater. Your eyebrows are drawn as you look everywhere but at him.

“Can you…?” You trail off. A breath pushes its way out of your lungs, half-sigh and half-helpless laugh.

“Come on.” He erases the distance between you in two strides, hands turning you at the waist before he can even really think about what he’s doing. You shuffle into the room ahead of him, soft rug shielding your socked feet from the cold of the wooden floor. He’s pleased to find the same decorative tastes extend through to your bedroom.

Another bookshelf, also stuffed to the brim with enough material to start your own bookstore. A little wooden desk by the window paired with a chair that doesn’t match, the wall to the right of it is plastered in multicoloured post it notes - a few of them catch his eye, reminders and ideas and shopping lists. Your bedspread is the same dark green as your kitchen cabinets, although it’s mostly obscured by a mess of patchwork blankets and jewel toned decorative pillows. Your sunshine plush has pride of place balanced against the left-hand bedpost on top of the headboard. Even without an eidetic memory, he’d remember the look on your face when he won it for you. Undercover at a travelling carnival in Oregon, the job at hand was to lure out an Unsub whose tastes fit you to a T, but he’d been uncharacteristically powerless to resist at least trying to get something for you. Your cover was a couple, anyway. He’d only been in character. Not only do you still have it, but it has pride of place, and something about it has his pride rearing its head.

You’re fussing with your pyjamas, a threadbare hoodie and garishly patterned sweatpants, when he turns his attention back to you. The reality of the situation seems to hit you both in the same moment.

Spencer is going to have to undress you.

It’s not how he imagined it would be - and that is definitely not something he needs to think about right now. He could keep his eyes closed? Although not being able to see where he should put his hands is arguably more dangerous than it would be to pay attention. He has to clear his throat before he can find his voice.

“I’m going to have to take this off,” He gestures to the sling, hoping he sounds less noticeably wrecked to you than he does to himself, “But we’ll go slow, okay?”

It’s cruel, is what it is, to watch you nod your agreement, to witness your unshakeable trust that he won’t hurt you so closely. Ultimately, it’s not overly different to the way he checks over your protective vest. There’s a strategy, a system to it just the same as the task that lies ahead, and he’ll follow it step by scientific step.

The sling is first, straps carefully undone and the support sliding off your arm - you both support it, your elbow in his palm where yours settles under your wrist. The one free hand you have between you, Spencer’s, works your shirt up over your uninjured shoulder and tugs it over your head. His eyes never drift beyond what you’ve asked of him, though it isn’t for lack of temptation. He slides the remaining sleeve off of your injured arm with a touch so light that neither of you wouldn’t know it was there if not for the skim of his fingers over your bare skin. Your hoodie replaces your work shirt just as carefully, in reverse. Injured arm first, head, uninjured arm. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he concentrates on looping the sling over the thick cotton, securing your arm tight to your chest again. Job done, and without too much embarrassment. He’d call that a success.

“Would you mind-” You struggle for a moment, “The clasp is fiddly.”

Spencer doesn’t know what you mean at first, and then it clicks - and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You need him to undo your trousers. He can do that, he can do it. He might feel like he’s about to spontaneously combust over the request, but he can do it.

There’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for you, to tell the truth.

It takes him longer than it should to slip the hook out of its clasp, usually nimble fingers fumbling under the weight of both of your gazes. But he doesn’t stop there. Because his usually brilliant mind is buzzing with static and his hands are moving of their own accord and the teeth of the zip on your trousers as he pulls it down is loud.

Spencer pulls back like he’s been shocked, while your eyes remain firmly glued to his hands. Hands that now wring themselves with anxiety as he quietly asks if you can manage the rest. You don’t respond verbally - it takes another long second, but you start shimmying the trousers off of your hips with your free hand. The slightest glimpse of bare thigh has him spinning on his heel and marching towards the kitchen in search of food.

He’s not thinking about the soft material of your sweatpants being pulled carefully over your legs in the other room, as he roots around in your kitchen cupboards. He’s not. A can of chopped tomatoes, a handful of half-empty spice jars, just about enough dry spaghetti for two. It’ll do. A pot of water is set on the stove to boil, the noise is enough of a distraction when the bedroom door opens again behind him. You shuffle about for a few minutes, digging around your shelves and Tom Waits’ gravelly tone cuts off abruptly to be replaced by the softer voice of Stevie Nicks instead. The volume ticks down a couple of notches before you join Spencer in the kitchen as he warms the tomatoes and spices alongside the boiling noodles, moving around him with the same ease you do in the office. You pull out two bowls that don’t match - one is shallower and wider and glazed a sunshine yellow, there’s a chip in the lip of it. The other one is smaller, deeper, glazed navy blue instead and with a cheeky face etched into the pottery. Its nose protrudes slightly, rounded out on one side. He can’t help his smile when he dishes out two equal portions and the red sauce drips down onto the bowl’s nose. He swipes at the mess with his thumb before handing you the bowl.

“Thank you.” You search out his gaze this time, urging him to look you in the eye. For cooking, or what he’s sure is your favourite bowl, or staying. He’s not sure. He wants to tell you that you don’t have to thank him, he’d drop anything and everything at any moment if you needed him to. But something in your eyes has stolen his voice, a flicker of something he’s far too terrified to acknowledge. So he only smiles, takes the yellow dish in his hands, and follows you to the comfort of your vintage floral couch.

It’s not a table dinner kind of evening, you seem to have decided. Although the precarious balance of the bowl on your knees suggests otherwise, as you try to eat one handed. Spencer leans forward to pull the cushion from behind his back, his own dinner temporarily abandoned on the floor in front of him, and he picks up your bowl to slide the cushion across your lap in lieu of a tray. Your laugh is quiet, you don’t look at him, but whatever tension had built in the bedroom dissipates with the sound.

Even so, he shoots off a text to Penelope while you’re preoccupied with your spaghetti, asks if she can lend you a helping hand for the next few days if you need one. You shouldn’t need the sling for more than a week anyway. She responds with a smiley face and a kiss almost immediately. It’s not the first time in his life he’s thanked whatever mystical force is responsible for Penelope Garcia.

Spencer will corral you to the doctor’s office for a checkup in a few days, he’ll make sure you do your stretches, he’ll set alarms for your painkillers. And, ultimately, he’ll come back if you ask him to. He’ll help you in and out of your pyjamas if that’s what you want, of course he will.

Regardless of the way it sets his insides aflame. He’ll do it for you.

yes i know reader inserts are blank slates yes this apartment is basically just my own flat no i don’t care thank u🧡🧡

[beauty-brains-braun]

Better

Hawks wants to get back together. Your best friend Bakugo has some thoughts on that.

mdni 18+

Pairings: Bakugo/fem reader, mentioned Past Hawks/ fem reader

Tags/TW:  Smut, Aged-Up Characters, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Jealousy

Your eyes tracked Keigo as he crossed the bar, stopping every few seconds to chat with one person or another. He hadn't spotted you yet. You'd really like to be looking elsewhere once he did but you couldn't seem to look away.

If you’d known he’d be here, you would have stayed home. Shouldn’t he have been off being an asshole somewhere else? How could he possibly fit this party into his busy schedule of preening and backstabbing? His head started to turn in your direction and you looked away so fast you felt your neck pop.

Katsuki Bakugo was sneering at you when you looked his way. “When are you going to get over that loser?”

“I am over him. He just infuriates me.” You lean a little closer to your best friend. “You wouldn’t be interested in flirting with me real quick though, by any chance?”

He snorted so hard, he almost choked on his beer. “No chance in hell, you better find Kirashima.”

You put your hand on his arm and laughed a touch too loudly, leaning against him. Kiri was not going to get the job done, Keigo had always been insanely jealous of your friendship with Katsuki and what would truly heal you was pissing the feathered man off.

“You have got to be joking.” Katsuki said, blinking incredulously. “This is you flirting? How do you keep finding boyfriends?” He held up a hand. “On second thought, maybe this is exactly why you only date losers.”

“Ouch” You put your hand to your chest. “Let’s walk that back several feet. I am excellent at flirting, I just usually have a partner who gives me something to work with.”

“You want something to work with?” He asked, setting down his beer.

“It would be ni-” You were cut off as he pulled from your stool, and spun you so your back touched the bar. You blinked rapidly in shock as your eyes met his crimson pair, sparkling deviously.

Katsuki’s arms brushed against yours where he caged you in and he leaned forwards, placing his mouth next to your ear. “Like this?”

Your throat was suddenly extremely dry and you struggled to respond, eventually just deciding to nod. A mistake because his mouth brushed your skin at the movement and lightning tingled up your spine.

He leaned back, just far enough to see your face, and you noticed his devious expression had been replaced by something else. Something you struggled to recognize.

A throat cleared nearby, startling you both. You looked up to find Keigo standing there, face twisted into a frown and eyes burning with annoyance. You’d forgotten he was even here.

“Keigo. What do you want?”

“Can we talk?” he asked and you almost smirked at the tone in his voice. Pissing him off had not been hard.

“We are talking, unfortunately.”

“Can we talk privately?”

“Fuck off, Hawks. She’s busy.” Katsuki glared hard at Hawks and the other man’s eyes narrowed in response. You sighed loudly, suddenly annoyed with both of them. They had always hated each other, though in all fairness Katsuki hated anyone higher than him on the hero chart. Privately, you thought he’d pass Hawks soon but the thought had always felt like a betrayal.

“Let’s not start, guys. You’re going to ruin Mina’s birthday. Again. Remember last year’s incident? With the cake.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but Keigo turned back to you. “Can we just go outside and talk then? Please. Just for a minute.”

“Fine.” You gave in, too tired to fight him. You’d never been all that good at saying no to him.

“This is not a good idea.” Katsuki growled, turning back to you, arms still caging you in.

“I’ll be fine.” You assured him, placing your hand on his arm briefly, before moving out of his hold and following Keigo outside.

***********

Forty-five minutes later you were in your shower, letting the hot water wash the day off of your shoulders. You were alone, exhausted, and a little too proud of yourself for successfully holding your ground. Keigo had wanted to get back together but you’d told him no. He’d hurt you too badly. He’d demanded to know if something was going on with you and Katsuki. You told him what you did was none of his damn business anymore. He had made sure of that. After your talk you were left more confident than before that you were over him but you’d just wanted to get out of there so you texted Katsuki and Mina and came home. You were going to have to do some serious groveling to Mina but that was a problem for tomorrow..

You were turning off the water when someone began pounding loudly on your front door. Wrapping a giant towel around yourself, you went to answer it. Confused as to who would be knocking on your door like they’d like to break it down, you pulled it open suddenly, blinking in surprise to find Katsuki standing there, fist flying uselessly through the air as he tried to keep banging on a door that was no longer there.

“Is something wrong??” You looked him over for an injury.

Katsuki glared at you. “I can’t believe you.”

“What?” You asked, confused. “Are you mad I left because-”

“Yes, I’m mad you left! That asshole completely shredded your heart and you still leave with him? Where the fuck is he? I’m going to kick his ass.” Katsuki pushed past you into your apartment and disappeared into your bedroom.

Wait. He thought you’d left with Keigo? You followed him. “Katsuki, no one else is here. Not that it’s any of your business, actually, but I told Keigo to leave me alone.”

“Not my business?” He asked, voice raising slightly. “Who has to hear about it every single time your shitty taste in men comes back to bite you in the ass? Who has spent a decade watching you choose wrong again and again?”

Ouch. Your chest hurt suddenly and you turned away from him. Katsuki had always been there for you and it had never occurred to you that he resented it. “Sorry, I’ll just keep my poor choices to myself from now on.” You tried to walk away but his hand shot out, grabbing your arm and stopping you.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” You turned to look at him, fighting tears.

“I’m saying choose better.” He pulled you closer seconds before his mouth crashed into yours.

The lighting you felt up your spine at the bar earlier returned, this time coursing through your entire body. You were frozen in shock, the last thing you’d ever expected was Katsuki to kiss you.

He pulled away suddenly and cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, you obviously aren’t interested in-”

You didn’t let him finish the sentence, pulling him back to you and kissing him this time. He kissed you back immediately, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you as close to him as you could get. His other hand, he brought up to cup your neck and you shivered at the feeling of his skin on yours. Your nipples hardened and you were suddenly very aware that the only thing you were wearing was a towel.

Katsuki’s mouth left yours and he trailed kisses down your jaw and to your neck, making you gasp. “Can I taste you? “ He asked suddenly and heat flared through you. “I’ve always wanted to know what you taste like.” His crimson eyes were dark with lust and you found yourself nodding. The sight of him dropping to his knees before you would be cemented into your brain until you died. He reached for the edge of the towel and tugged firmly, eyes drinking you in the moment it dropped away.

“Fuck” he whispered. His fingers brushed your skin, trailing up your legs almost reverently to grasp your legs and spread them. His lips touched your skin, kissing your inner thighs, before he turned his head and his tongue found your clit then snaked down to your entrance, lapping up the juices he found there then returning his attention to your clit until your legs shook and threatened to collapse. He pulled away, looking up into your eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Katsuki got to his feet and kissed you so deeply, you could taste yourself on his tongue. He moved you both back a few steps and laid you down onto your bed before stepping back and removing his shirt. Your eyes drank in his muscles greedily and then he removed his pants. Your eyes dipped lower and widened at the sight of his cock. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips which were suddenly so so dry and Katsuki let out a low groan at the sight before he was back on top of you. His mouth was everywhere. On your mouth, your neck, then your breasts, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and biting lightly while his fingers push into you, stretching you around them. His thumb rubbed circles on your clit as you felt pressure building in your lower stomach until you snapped, cumming around his fingers.

He removed his fingers quickly replacing them with the head of his cock. He put his fingers into his mouth, licking your juices from them as he slowly pushed inside you.

“Fuck” he grunted, head dropping to rest on your shoulder when he bottomed out deep inside you.

“Please” you whined, grinding your hips, needing friction. Needing him to freaking move.

“Hold on, I- fuck- I need a second or this is gonna be over before it starts.” He let out a deep breath then finally pulled back, almost all of the way out of you and thrust back in. “God, you’re perfect. Just for me.” He fucked in and out of you, his cock hitting just the right spot every time. “So wet and tight for me.”

“Katsuki” you whined, feeling amazing but needing more. “Harder please.”

He let out a rough laugh and pulled out of you, drawing a cry of protest from you. “So needy for me, huh?” He flipped you over, pressing your back down into the mattress with one hand and pulling your hips up with the other. He slammed back into you, immediately setting the rough pace you’d desperately needed. “Answer me.”

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, not sure he’d have been able to hear you over the smacking of his hips on your ass every time he bottomed out inside you.

“Such a good girl for me. You’re sucking me in so good.” His chuckle turns into a moan as your orgasm hits you and your pussy clenches his cock, milking it. He falls forward, hands gripping your sheets as you cum around him and he fights to keep the same pace, to keep fucking you through your orgasm.

You dimly register sparks in the corner of your vision and the sound of Katsuki cursing, but can’t concentrate on anything except for the longest, most amazing orgasm of your life. It makes sense for you to see fireworks really. You slowly come down from your high and register the scorched handprints on your sheets and Katsuki pulling out to cum on your thighs.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I- shit.” He’s staring at your sheets in concern but you laugh, pulling him down next to you.

“Worth it.” You tell him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiled at you and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“Should probably go ahead and get a few backup sets while you’re at it.” You teased.

“You think so?” He rolled over, nuzzling into your neck and nibbling at the skin there. “I suppose these are already ruined… We might as well take advantage.”

“Already?” You asked, laughing.

A knock at your door interrupted his reply and you exchanged a confused look.

“Maybe we were too loud?” You suggested but an annoyed knowing look had settled on Katsuki’s face.

He got to his feet, pulling on his boxers on the way to your door.

The sound of Keigo’s voice had you sitting up in surprise. You wrapped the sheet around you and made it to your bedroom door.

Keigo stood in the doorway to your apartment, staring at Katsuki in open mouthed outrage.

“She’s taken.” Katsuki snapped, slamming the door in Keigo’s face before he had time to respond.

Katsuki turned around, smirking when his eyes landed on you. “Now where were we?”

[piningforstan]

I just recently found your page and love your work!!

can you write an angsty Stan fic where reader and Stan are still dancing around their feelings and reader finally gets the courage to confess to Stan but maybe overhears a conversation with him and Ford out of context saying he won’t date them and r is crushed? Then cue r trying to move on and jealous!Stan and then they get together somehow?

Thank you!!💕

I ended up placing this fic when Stan and Ford are still in high school before their falling out. I apologize if the timeline with Carla isn’t canon, I just wanted to include her. Also, reader is mentioned as a female a few times but this can easily be read as gender neutral.

I hope you like it!

You loved alcohol as much as you loved getting bamboo shoots shoved under your nail beds. But Carla ���Hotpants” McCorkle had just broken up with Stan, and it was your duty as his best friend to support him. And if that meant drinking cheap beer on the beach with his brother, then so be it.

“I thought she was the one,” Stan grumbled. He crunched his empty beer can, belched, then reached for another.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that about every girl. Even that one you saw in a dream.”

You knew because you kept a detailed record of Stan’s revolving door of women, each declaration of love another stake in your heart. Secretly, you were pleased that Carla ended things with Stan. You could never date him in fear of ruining your friendship, but that didn’t mean you liked to see him with other girls. Especially not stuck-up bitches like Carla.

“I just dunno what she sees in this new guy.”

“He doesn’t litter?” Ford answered. He nudged the growing pile of discarded cans with his foot. Stan’s brother never drank, but he certainly lamented about how much the two of you did.

Stan continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “So what he can play guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Can you?”

“No.” Stan angrily kicked up sand. “But I would learn if I thought I had a chance of winning her back.”

“You don’t need her,” you told him. The beer in you warmed you from the inside out, initiating the familiar tingling sensation in your legs that happened when you drank. “You’re Stan motherfucking Pines.”

Stan grinned at you. “You’re right. I don’t need her.” After slurping down the rest of his beer, Stan grabbed the bottom of your chair and pulled you closer. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple.

It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to — Stan happened to be very affectionate, even worse when he was drunk — but it still sent your pulse skyrocketing.

“I got the only girl I need right here,” Stan said, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

Your insides turned molten. Of course, you loved when Stan called you “his girl” but the sting of the words were especially painful in the wake of his breakup. You would never actually be his girl in the way that it mattered.

You could never jeopardize your friendship with Stan, or Ford. You had been inseparable since you were children, when Stan received a particularly nasty note about you in class and instead of passing it on promptly ate it. You took a likening to him immediately. And, since Stan was never without his brother for very long, Ford became the reasonable cornerstone of your friendship.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that you realized you saw Stan as much more of a friend. To be specific, when he successfully grew out his mullet and you fawned over it instead of throwing up in your mouth. On anyone else you might’ve. But it weirdly fit Stan, who you’d watched go from a weird, skinned-knee little boy to a weird, broad-shouldered man with dark curls that you desperately wanted to run your hands through.

Ford shattered the moment. “Why don’t you guys just date then?”

You’d both been asked the question before. It was expected, when a boy and girl were friends. Parents, nosy teachers, old ladies peering at you from wiry glasses. Usually the two of you fielded the question with various degrees of hilarity — “he gave me an STD” or “that’s my sister!” — but tonight it felt profoundly different.

Perhaps it was because you were so close, physically. Or perhaps because you had confided in Ford the secret crush you harbored on his brother. You trusted him not to tell but to hear it now, spelled out in the air, made you stiffen.

“She knows all my disgusting habits,” Stan finally said to break the silence, “I couldn’t trick her into it.”

He grinned at you in your peripheral, a certain softness in the corners of his mouth that weren’t usually there. You rallied your best grin back,

“Yeah, it would be weird. Right?” You chuckled nervously.

Stan, with unprecedented exuberance, nodded in agreement. “S’weird. I’ve seen you in your retainer. Could never fool around with you after that.”

Ouch. You pretended it didn’t feel like a blow to the stomach. “And you smoke too much. It would be like kissing an exhaust pipe.”

“See? It could never work.” Stan tore another beer off the plastic rings, drained it, then announced he was going on a walk. You watched his retreating form until you were sure that he could no longer hear you.

You whipped around. “Ford! What was that?”

“I’m sick of you two dancing around the subject. If you just dated I wouldn’t have to sit out here every few months when you inevitably get dumped because you’re with the wrong person.”

You groaned and slid down in the lawn chair, covering your face with your hands. You actually liked the smoke that clung to Stan’s clothes, the deft flick of his thumb striking up the lighter. Why did you tell him you didn’t?

You’re a coward, your inner voice accused. You panicked. It wasn’t like you could exactly agree with Ford, especially not after what Stan said about your retainer. Did he mean that?

If he did, that was worse than anything else. Not only did he not harbor a secret attraction, but he was repulsed at the idea of you together.

Stan stumbled back down the beach a few minutes later, to your chagrin. It was much easier not to think of him when he wasn’t in front of you; even like this, swaying on his feet and looking slightly green.

“Stan, are you —?”

He lurched and fell face forward into the sand.

Ford glared at you like it was your fault. “This is the last time.”

“Sure. Just get his other side.”

“Thank you again, hun.” Caryn Pines smiled sweetly at you. The small kitchen smelled profusely of her perfume and cigarette smoke, wrapping around you like an embrace.

“Yeah, of course. No big deal.”

Caryn looked at you strangely, in that way that adults did sometimes. “You’re always takin’ care of my Stanley. I know he ‘ppreciates it, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I couldn’t leave him on the beach.” You took a bite of the babka that Stan’s Ma put out, chewing thoughtfully. “Again.”

Caryn always tried to feed you when you came over, no matter how fleeting of a visit. You had seen her sneak the food out of packages and container and pass it off as her own, but you didn’t care. It encompassed her parenting abilities — well-meaning but slightly manufactured, a desire to be the mother that she wanted to be but not exactly the drive to put in the work.

Either way, you knew she loved you like her own.

“Ya know, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure it out,” Caryn said.

Your face warmed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s crazy ‘bout you. I know my Stanley.”

“But what if…what if we broke-up ? I can’t lose him in my life.” Tears strained your voice. Here you were, admitting your feelings to another Pines family member except for the one who actually needed to hear it.

Caryn clicked her tongue and edged around the island, pulling you into a hug. “But what if it’s great? What if it’s everything you imagined?”

“Maybe,” you said, muffled in her side.

Caryn gave you a final squeeze. “I could only pray for someone like you for my son. Say, you don’t happen to have a sibling for Ford, do ya?”

You shook your head. Caryn made a gesture like too bad then fiddled with the coffee machine.

“Here.” Caryn shoved a steaming mug in your direction, then wiped her hands on her dress. “Take this upstairs for me, will ya? I’ve gotta check on Shermie.”

You stood rooted in place for an embarrassing amount of time, mulling over what she had said. What if it was great? Your heart jumped. Maybe she was right. You would tell Stan.

Emboldened, you crept down the hall and past the living room. The TV flickered ghostly blue lights over the couch where Filbrick snored, and you were careful to avoid the creaky stairs. It wasn’t ever said aloud but everyone knew in the house not to disturb Pa after work. He wasn’t abusive, that you could tell, but somewhere on the verge of it.

Stan and Ford’s voice drifted from their shared bedroom — Stan’s gruff, drunken mumbles and Ford’s clever quips lined with affection.

You were going to tell him. You loved him.

A hitch of agitation in Stan’s voice made you pause at the first step, just out of earshot, a silver of light falling across you from the cracked door.

The delirious, bubbly feeling of excitement in your chest fluttered uncertainly.

“Oh, would give it a rest, Sixer?”

“Stan, I just think —”

“You know how I feel about her,” Stan interrupted. From your vantage point you could see him sprawled out on his bed, one hand over his face.

Her? Meaning you?

Your grip tightened on the mug. Here it was, the universe delivering you a sign that Caryn was right. That you were right.

The view didn’t offer any insight on Ford but you could hear his desk chair squeaking as he leaned backwards, contemplative. “And how do you feel about her?”

A beat of silence, the covers rustling as Stan lifted himself onto his elbows. “She’s my best friend.”

“Uh huh.”

“And-And of course I love her.”

“Uh huh.”

“But I could never date her.”

Your blood turned cold. What? Didn’t he just say that he loved you? Whatever brief, sweet bliss you had went plummeting into the ground. You turned away, coffee in hand, unable to listen to more.

Stan stared up at the ceiling, at the water stain that looked like an elephant. Sometimes when he tried to get his feelings out, the words would run circles around and around in his head until he chased them down. It didn’t help that he had drank so much.

Towards the end it wasn’t even really about Carla anymore, but you. You, with your dumb perfect face and laugh. The way that you stuck around despite knowing everything about him, about his family, leaving him feeling raw and infested like an overturned rock.

His stomach churned. Stan waited for the nausea to pass, pinning down his words before eking out, “I would fuck things up with her. It ain’t worth it. Losin’ her. Ya know?”

God he hoped he was making sense. The room was spinning and the elephant was now doing summersaults.

“I wouldn’t let you,” Ford quietly replied. “I know you love her. I’d stop you from fucking up.”

Stan laughed, dry and brittle. “No one can stop me. I’m a one man fuck-up.”

“You’ve never been one man.”

Stan curbed his nausea enough to look at his brother. Really look at him. Any other given day and he might’ve kicked him for saying something like that. His throat bobbed. “Yeah. Yer right.”

A moment passed between them, one of those brotherly, twin moments that he hadn’t felt since they were kids. Ford clapped his hands together.

“My first declaration of not letting you fuck up is to tell her tomorrow how you feel.”

“What? Tomorrow! No way.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. Stan waved a hand and flopped back down onto the bed, resigned. “Fine, fine. Hey, can you tell that elephant to stop moving? He’s bein’ a real dick.”

After that night, you avoided the Pines family like the plague, dodging after-class visits and letting calls go to the answering machine. Your parents asked where your “boyfriend” was, as they lovingly referred to him, but it only felt like salt in the wound. Stan would never be your boyfriend. He said it himself — he could never date you.

You hated the heavy grayness that clung to you, and most importantly, you hated that the one person you wanted to talk to about Stan was…Stan. And you couldn’t. How mortifying it would be to confess something so life altering for him to say that he only saw you as a friend.

Stan left message after message, wondering what he had done and if you could. But you couldn’t bear to see him. You ate lunch in the girl’s bathroom and nearly sprinted to your car after school, peeling out of the lot as soon as the final bell rang. He tried to come by your house, too. Your parents, loyal to you no matter how much they loved Stan, told him you weren’t there.

It was safe to say that, after a month of this, they were relieved when you stepped out of your room in actual clothes. Your mother actually clutched her pearls. “You look amazing. Where are you going? Did you make up with Stanley?”

You ignored that line of inquiry. “I have a date. Not with Stan,” you added, well aware that was the follow up question.

“Oh.” Your mother’s happiness faltered slightly. “Who with?”

“Just someone from school. I’ll make sure they drop me off before curfew.” You pretended to be oblivious to their probing stares, kissing them each on the cheek before striding out the front door to the idled car in the drive.

A dark shape shot out of the driver’s seat and scrambled to open up your door. Eugene glanced nervously at your house as you climbed in. “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet your folks?”

“I’m sure,” you said, monotone.

Eugene had been interested in you for a while now, but you always hedged your answers, not wanting to commit. Last week you finally said yes. You needed to get over Stan — even though the first thing you thought of was how he would laugh at Eugene for opening your door. You could just hear his rasping, seething laugh. Pussy, he would call Eugene, and you would punch him.

Throat thickening with tears, you forced yourself to admire Eugene in the glow of the streetlights that passed by. He was classically handsome. Smart, kind. A musician. Everything that, on paper, would make the perfect boyfriend. It was incredibly sweet that he wanted to meet your parents and open your car door.

Yet all you could think about was Stan: his untamed mullet and cauliflower ears from boxing, the nose slightly too large for his face that was crooked from all the fights he instigated. The braying sound of his laugh and how he thought it was funny to snap your bra strap. The fact that, beneath the jokes and the crude humor, he was soft and compassionate and an excellent artist. He always made you laugh. He was a million things that Eugene would never be.

But Eugene was one thing Stan wasn’t.

Interested in you.

You shoved all of that down by the time Eugene pulled up to your date, flashing him your most winning smile. A drive-in movie seemed innocent enough. You were confident that Eugene wouldn’t try to make any moves, but you still directed him to park near a minivan of children.

“Want to steal some candy from them?” You asked.

Eugene’s expression shifted as if you’d suggested something morally offensive. “What? From the kids?”

“I was just teasing,” you said. You hadn’t been.

Stan would’ve happily jumped at the offer, distracting the family with one of his wild stories while you snuck a pack of candy. The two of you would then share whatever snack and giggle the rest of the movie over your cleverness.

You felt like throwing up. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about Stan?

Abruptly you shoved open the door. “I’ll just go get snacks then.”

“Wait!” Eugene’s voice was muffled, you had already shot out of the car and nearly closed the door. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll pay,” Eugene said.

“It’s fine.”

You needed to get out. Needed to get away. Without waiting for any further questions, you slammed the door shut and stalked off towards the concessions. The night air was uncharacteristically cool, brushing over your flushed skin.

“Okay, calm down, you’re okay. You’re on a date with a nice guy,” you coached yourself.

“You’re on a date?”

You wheeled on your heel. Stan stood a few feet away, brow furrowed. His fur-lined jacket bulged with hidden contraband. “Stan?”

“You’re on a date?” He repeated, the timbre of his voice sinking dangerously low.

“Yes.” You raised your chin.

His jaw feathered. “I haven’t spoken to you in, like, a month. You’ve been dodgin’ my calls and avoidin’ me. What’s goin’ on? Now you’re on a date?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you bit back.

“You don’t?” Stan barked out a scathing laugh. “You just stopped talkin’ to me without any s’planation. What am I supposed to think?”

You stepped into line at concessions. “I don’t know, Stan.”

“Talk to me.” Your name on his tongue was a prayer. “Please. I can’t take this.”

A knot formed in your stomach. You ordered for you and Eugene then brushed past Stan, ignoring his protests. He followed you to Eugene’s car. You wretched open the door, intending to fling yourself inside, but Stan stopped it. He leaned down to peer at your date.

“Eugene? Really? This guy?”

Eugene sputtered. You gritted out, “Stan. Go. Away.”

Stan’s dark gaze bounced from you to Eugene, then back to you. The look on his face was unreadable. “Fine.”

The door shut with a resounding thud. It took all of your strength not to watch him walk away. You tore off the top of a box of M&M’s and shoveled the candies into your mouth.

“Was that Stan Pines? I thought you guys were, like, friends,” Eugene finally said.

“Not anymore.” The candies slid down your throat, suddenly dry and pasty.

“Oh.” Eugene pretended to fiddle with the radio, switching through stations. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mercifully, the movie screen flickered to life and saved you from more awkward conversation. You kept putting handfuls of candy in your mouth to keep from talking or interacting with Eugene at all. Frankly, you just wanted this date to end.

Eugene respected your space, too, which only worsened your conflicting emotions of shame and regret. You wished you could apologize to him but you couldn’t form the words.

You were jerked from your self-loathing when a huge shadow played across the screen, disrupting the movie. Yells of outrage sounded from across the grassy knoll, until the dark shape on the screen split apart. The candy in your stomach threatened to come up. The profile was unmistakably Stan’s, confirming your theory when you twisted around to spot him in front of the projector, entangled with Carla McCorkle.

He grabbed her hand, smirking at the enraged onlookers, and ran off.

Carla? Again?

Eugene examined you. “Do you…want to go somewhere else?”

“Yes. Please.”

He took you to get Dairy Queen, then dropped you back off at home. The passing shadows in the window told you that your parents had anxiously been awaiting your arrival. Eugene moved to get out, to open your door again, but you laid a hand on his arm.

“I’m really sorry. About tonight,” you choked out.

Eugene smiled sadly. “It’s okay.”

You kissed his cheek and climbed out of the car, up the stairs to your house. Eugene waited until you were safely inside before pulling away.

School sucked. You were forced to see Stan with any number of girls. In fact, it seemed as if he was going out of his way to flaunt them, the lingering touches and kisses. It burned you inside.

He preferred anyone but you.

Another month passed, each day growing more and more unbearable without your best friend, without Ford, the reliable foundation of your friendship. With the end of school approaching, so was college, the awaiting jaws of a monster threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even tell them that you got accepted into your dream school.

When a hand grabbed your arm, the familiar face following, you were struck with a swell of emotions. But it wasn’t Stan. The body was all wrong, the measured expression never once belonging to him but his brother. Ford’s eyes were pleading. “We need to talk.”

“Stan can’t know about this,” you said after consideration. Ford nodded.

He brought you into a deserted classroom. You lingered near the door, not sure what to say after all of this time.

“Stan is falling apart,” Ford said without preamble. “I don’t know what happened, but neither of you can continue like this.” A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. “I can’t.”

You inhaled. It wasn’t fair to drag Ford into this, but it was hard not to. You could never make him side against Stan. “I just…I can’t do it.”

“Do what?”

You turned your face from him, ashamed. “I heard him. That night after we brought Stan home from the beach. He said…he said he could never date me.”

Ford’s face shutters closed. “Is that all you heard?”

“I didn’t need to stick around to hear about how abhorrent the thought of dating me is,” you replied, tone bitter.

Ford flipped open his messenger bag and rifled through it, muttering something that sounded a lot like “two idiots” before finding what he needed. He handed you a folded flyer. “Stan is throwing a party here this weekend.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You should go.”

You glanced at the paper. The address stated a beach not far from your usual haunt, promising alcohol and a good time. Leave it to Stan to make invitations to a party like this, complete with crude renditions of women in bikinis. You clutched the paper. “I’ll think about it.”

Ford was halfway out the door when he stopped. “He really misses you.”

The words resonated with you the rest of the day. Sometime between meeting with Ford and that weekend, you decided you would go. Eugene told you he couldn’t go, he had to study, so you informed your parents you were going out and that was that. They let you without complaint, probably because you had been moping around the house the last two months.

Tonight you donned your best dress, black and sparkling and totally inappropriate for a beach party but when you bought it, at the mall with the twins, Stan hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you. There had been no reason to wear it until now and you secretly hoped he had forgotten about it so you could shock him all over again.

By the time you arrived, sweat had gathered at the base of your neck and dampened your hair. You regretted wearing the dress upon seeing the other girls in their bikinis and hotpants, and made a beeline for the keg to soothe your nerves.

The beer was sticky and warm. You sipped it, wishing that instead of being here with people you didn’t know (or care about) you were with Stan and Ford on lawn chairs. The usual. Instead you gazed out upon the rest of the party and found Ford, trapping someone into listening to his theories most likely, and Stan presiding over a beer pong games.

Almost as if your gaze was a beacon, Stan looked up immediately as you spotted him. A cord of familiarity, of affection, tied you together and you could feel its tug behind your navel.

Stan stormed over to you, kicking up sand in his wake. “What are you doing here?”

“Ford invited me.”

“He did?” Stan searched for his brother, who had conveniently found somewhere else to be. “Why are you here?”

“I got invited, remember?”

“Where’s Eugene? Is he here, too?”

“No.” You didn’t feel like giving him an explanation, didn’t need to. You especially didn’t want to tell Stan that it was because you were still in love with him.

His dark eyes hardened. “Where is he?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Stan’s mouth moved as if he was biting back a retort, debating whether to say it. He raked a hand through his hair. He spit. “It doesn’t.”

You spent the rest of the party drifting from place to place, never lingering long. The bonfire funneled smoke into the air, as inconsistent and tangible as you, a ghost on the outskirts. You’re not sure why you came, why Ford invited, why you were still here. The beer had given you a nice buzz, a certain looseness in your limbs, and you decided that was enough. You started up the sandy dunes, shoes in hand, when you heard the sand behind you being displaced by footsteps.

Stan followed you, silhouetted by the fire in an orange haze. “What do you want?”

“I’m walking you home.”

“No. You’re not.” You marched off.

He trailed behind. You thought that he might get bored or fed up and leave you alone but he persisted. Only once you hit the sidewalk did you furiously spin around. “What do you want?”

“I ain’t lettin’ you walk home by yourself,” he replied.

“I walked here by myself. I’m fine.”

Stan took a few steps toward you. “Just let me do this, okay?”

“It’s your party, you shouldn’t leave,” you replied.

“Exactly. My party. I can do what I want.” Stan drew to his full height, shoulders back, reminding you that without his rounded posture he cut an intimidating figure. But it wasn’t intimidation he sought, but protection — protection of you.

Your back molars gritted together. “Fine.”

It actually felt nice, relieving, actually, to walk side by side with him. He maintained a step or two behind you, undoubtedly sensing your anger, but you didn’t correct him. You stayed like that, your strange, wordless dance all the way to your house. When Stan moved as if to follow you inside, what he would’ve done before, you barred him from the door.

“You shouldn’t,” you told him softly.

His brow furrowed and Stan shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket. The porch awning cast him half in shadows. “What did I do? I know you’re punishin’ me but what I can’t figure out is why.”

“I’m not…I’m not punishing you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Then what? Is it your new boyfriend?”

“Who, Eugene?” You shook your head. “No, this isn’t because of him. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?”

“No.”

“What ‘bout yer date?”

“It was just one time. And it was a mistake,” you admitted.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Stan’s infuriatingly handsome features were set in determination. You wanted to go to him, bury yourself in his chest and let him envelope you. But that same feeling twisted, grew sharp teeth that latched on and refused to let go.

“Why? What do you care?” You fired back. “You’ve been so busy with your tongue down every girl’s throat that I’m surprised you even noticed I wasn’t around.”

Something shifted in Stan, a spark igniting into an inferno. “You’ve been avoidin’ me and ignorin’ my calls, refusin’ to speak to me without telling me why. I don’t get it. If you’re so against me, then why do you care what I do?”

You hissed back, “I don’t. But it’s hard to miss when you’re dry humping your flavor of the week in front of the whole school.”

“How do you think I felt when I saw you with Eugene?”

You paused, his words soaking into your skin. The fist of anger in your stomach loosened at the pain in those words, if only slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to be there, Stan. And I didn’t think it would matter even if you were. You could never date me.”

“What?” Stan’s entire body stiffened.

“You said it yourself,” you said. You were loathed to say the words aloud, which made you cry, which only made you angry to be crying. “You could never date me.”

“When did I ever say that?”

“I heard you,” you said. You explained to him how you had overheard the conversation between him and Ford that night. He listened the entire time, quiet and unmoving.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face. “You didn’t stick around to find out why?”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to hear how repulsive and horrible I was,” you snapped.

“I told Ford that I couldn’t date you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. The last few months have been hell, doll. Going without you every day has been…unbearable.” Stan brushed his knuckles over your cheek, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Please don’t make me go through that again.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes swimming with tears. “I’m sorry, Stan. I only did it because I couldn’t stand to be around you if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Same way?” Stan’s mouth morphed into a tired, wistful smile. “I’ve loved you since that first day in class. Since you saw them passin’ that note and instead of bein’ upset you raised your chin.”

You faltered. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you.” Such a simple, genuine statement.

“Stan, I love you too. I’m so sorry —”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you how I feel. I’m an idiot.”

You touched his arm. “No, you’re not. Well, you are, but not because of that. I was scared too. And I hurt you.”

“I’m tough.” Stan lifted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. In his face you saw a whole lifetime of memories, of laughter. “But you gotta promise me not to ignore me again. Messed me up so bad that Ford said he saw me stare at a wall for two days straight without sayin’ a word.”

“You? Not talking?”

“I know.” Stan shuddered. His composure softened a bit, examining you as if seeing you for the first time. “When I told you that you were my girl, I meant it. You’re the only girl for me.”

In way of reply, you grabbed the front of his jacket and pressed your lips to his.

You had kissed before, in middle school, just to get the first one over with. It had been brief and awkward, his front tooth clashing off yours. This kiss maintained the same level of comfort, of familiarity and safety, but charged with a current of passion. He kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to do it again, pulling you into him in a frenzied manner.

Stan’s tongue ran over the seam of your lips, parting them so that he could slip inside, invited by your breath of surprise. You melted into him. Everything about him, this moment, felt right. Perfect. His hands in your hair and roving over the form-fitting dress you had worn for him, sighing and muttering praises on your flushed skin.

You didn’t stop until the porchlight flickered on and the front door ensnared you in its beam. Stan still held you to him, lips bruised, frozen. Your mother took one look at you entangled together on the porch and then sighed in relief.

“Well, finally.”

[assriels]

mamma mia!

pairing: cassian x reader x azriel

summary: cassian has loved and longed for you for as long as he can remember, despite your long established relationship with his brother. he teeters on the edge of giving up on the idea of you ever loving him back. until…

(heavily inspired by ripley’s rendition of the original abba song)

warnings: angsty cassian, cass’s inner musings and monologue, very slightly alludes to sexual content

word count: 2.5k

a/n: first writing post on this silly little sideblog of mine :’) toying with the idea of a pt. 2 but i’m not too sure yet & credit to cafekitsune for the cute banner!

Cassian had never been so completely and utterly in love with anyone the way he was with you. One look at you smiling up at him made golden bells ring in his head, reverberating in his chest and filling his limbs with a tingling urgency to hold you. The feel of your skin and body slotting perfectly against his made the world stop spinning on its axis, leaving him lightheaded with sheer bliss. You incapacitated him in a way that not even the most fearsome of enemies he’s faced have before.

But you were not his. You would never be his.

You were Azriel’s through and through.

Though he would never think to scorn his brother for finding love, Cassian had asked himself on countless occasions…Why did it have to be with you?

You, who he would shun the very moon and stars his court cherished for. You, who could bring him to his knees with a simple brush of your fingers against his hand. You, who he wanted so intrinsically but could not have.

When he brought you to the townhouse all those decades ago, he had never once thought feelings like this would develop for you. At the time, he had just thought you a skilled fighter, one who could be trained and honed for the advantage of the Night Court. You were his friend and training partner. Someone he could shoot the shit with at the end of a long day, someone who listened and empathized and cared for him in a way no one else had before.

Cassian wasn’t entirely sure when he started realizing that his feelings for you ran deeper than friendship. He presumed he had begun to become aware of them after he had told you the story of his mother and you cried for him, looked into his eyes and told him you saw him.

He knew for sure he loved you after you had come to him in the middle of the night once, waking him to train. You had hit harder than you ever had before in between telling him of your own losses and suffering, cueing him into the nightmares that often plagued you because of them. That night he had stayed up with you until day broke over the horizon, exchanging stories and laughter and tears.

It was that night that he had unwittingly begun planning his future around you. He thought he had all the time in the world to explore these newfound feelings, wanted to let them simmer and develop with the beautiful slow burn courting that you deserved. He had wanted to take his time to do things right, show you just how much he cherished you, how much you held his devotion in the palm of your hand.

Cassian knew himself, and knew he fell hard and fast, and he never wanted to risk ruining things with you until he was absolutely certain you felt the same. But, if Cassian could turn back time, he’d kick his own ass and tell himself to just fucking tell you.

He never stood a chance, though. Not when you looked at Azriel like he had hand placed every star in the sky for you.

Initially, Cassian had been so blinded by his own infatuation with you that he failed to see the burgeoning love between you and Azriel. What he once thought was camaraderie between you blossomed into something much, much more. And it wasn’t until you had confessed to Cassian during one of your nightly training sessions that you felt crazy for falling for the Shadowsinger did Cassian finally piece everything together.

The lingering gazes, the pink cheeks, the brushing of hands beneath the table when you thought no one was looking.

It was all right in front of his face and he felt humiliatingly moronic for not noticing it sooner. His best friend — brother — and the love of his life, falling together like two pieces of a puzzle. He had felt his heart shatter that night, unable to respond to your heartfelt confession. You had taken it as confirmation that he thought you were crazy, that Azriel could never feel the same way that you did, and panicked. Cassian had been quick to assuage your fears, telling you that Azriel would be the insane one if he didn’t feel the same way, that you were more than Azriel could have ever dreamed of having in his lifetime.

Looking back on it now, he supposed he was confessing his own love to you. In a twisted, cruel sort of way, hoping that you’d see he was speaking of his own feelings rather than Azriel’s, that he was so desperately wanting to give himself to you the way you were eager to give yourself to his brother.

Part of him regretted placating you, and he wondered what might have been different if he had lied and said Azriel didn’t feel the same way. But he knew that would hurt you, and though he could be selfish, he loved you too much to ever be the source of your anguish.

Cassian would rather tear himself to shreds than make you cry.

And so he stood on the sidelines for the first time since becoming General of the Night Court and watched you fall hopelessly in love with Azriel.

It pained him to admit it, but the love you and Azriel shared was one for the legends. More nights than not, Cassian had willingly tormented himself, asking Azriel of the state of your relationship. Cassian had listened with rapt attention — desperate to gain any morsel of you that he could — as Azriel waxed poetic about how perfect and lovely you were. That he would quite literally go to war for the way you smiled at him, a sentiment that Cassian so deeply empathized with that he wanted to rip his hair out. Azriel loved you so completely, though — maybe even in ways that Cassian himself had never done — and he’d do anything to preserve your happiness.

Everyone else saw it, too. Said it was only a matter of time before the mating bond snapped into place. And when it did, it would be a nail in Cassian’s coffin, cementing his feelings beneath an ironclad lockbox six feet under.

But it hadn’t snapped yet, and Cassian could continue living in his self-indulgent fantasy of you for a little bit longer. Over the years, his love ebbed and flowed, sometimes almost disappearing before rearing its head in full force. But for the most part, he kept it under lock and key, watching with an aching heart as you and Azriel fell deeper in love with each passing moment.

Even now as he looked on at you and Azriel, cozied up on the balcony watching the array of stars pass during Starfall, Cassian didn’t let so much as an eye twitch give way to his true feelings. You and Azriel truly were a sight to behold; two of the most beautiful fae in the Night Court — probably all of Prythian — illuminated by the light of the stars. The thought made Cassian sigh, unable to tear his gaze away from you so beautiful, looking at another male with so much adoration twinkling in your eyes. He looked and looked even though it was shredding every last bit of dignity he had.

You said something that made Azriel toss his head back in laughter, your own tinkling chuckle winding with his in a beautiful symphony that curled around Cassian’s ears mockingly. He watched as Azriel placed a firm kiss to your forehead, muttering something against your skin that made you blush. He was sure it was something complimentary (and maybe even a bit lewd), what with how you looked tonight. And Cassian didn’t blame his brother one bit for wanting to let you know just how captivating you looked. Dress shimmering under the starlight, you were radiant, a perfect imitation of the stars streaking across the blackened sky.

Cassian’s hazel gaze slid to the curve of your back where he found Azriel’s ringed fingers teasingly playing with the zipper there, his lips pressed to the crown of your hair, no doubt whispering the fantasies and plans he had for the two of you once the night ended. Cassian forced his thoughts away from the image of you bare and wanting on the plush sheets of your bed, reaching up to skate your fingers across the tattoos on Azriel’s chest.

It was a sight he’d move Heaven and Earth to see, even if it were through his brother’s eyes. Even if he knew you’d never look at him the way he so desperately wished you could.

The ache of pining lingered deep in Cassian’s chest and he snapped himself out of his longing. He was being ridiculous, he thought. You and Azriel had been together for years — it must’ve been at least a decade by now. It was about time that Cassian had started the painful ascent from his fall for you all those decades ago.

Cassian knocked the rest of his drink back, and resolved to enjoy Starfall with you and the rest of his family despite the complicated stir of emotions that had plagued him for decades. But before he could turn and find Mor or Amren or Rhys, you were approaching him, two empty champagne glasses balanced between your fingers.

You smiled at him and he felt his chest tighten at the exhilarating urge to feel it against his own lips, “Enjoying Starfall, Cass?”

“Not as much as you, clearly,” he said with a wink, gesturing to the glasses in your hand. “That’s gotta be…what? Your sixth glass tonight?”

Teasing you like he always had came easy. No matter how he felt about you, you were still his dear friend, something he valued above almost everything else; he could put his love for you aside for right now.

You rolled your eyes and swatted at him playfully, “Seventh, actually. And I’m here to collect my eighth.”

You weren’t as drunk as Cassian thought you were, but you were pleasantly lightheaded, feeling floaty as you maneuvered around the room. A heady feeling of light relaxation settled in your bones. But maybe you were drunker than you thought, as one staggering, misplaced step had you stumbling over the hem of your dress.

Before you could fall and knock the entire table of faerie wine over, Cassian caught your elbow and steadied you. You turned to him, sheepishly offering him thanks and making a joke about your state of intoxication and lack of coordination.

Cassian didn’t hear any of what you said, though. Only felt the electrifying pulse of your skin beneath his fingers and a persistent tug beneath his ribcage. It was like something whipped into place, and he heard those golden bells again, taunting him as the breath whooshed out of his lungs like he’d been punched in the gut with an iron fist.

Mate, the bells sung to him.

Cassian thought he would pass out, and by the look of concern that swiftly marred your beautiful countenance, he knew he looked the part.

“Cassian? Are you alright?”

He let go of your elbow so swiftly that if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you burnt him. He shook his head, schooling his features back into his usual playful demeanor with practiced ease, “I think maybe I’ll take this off your hands before you fall into the Sidra next.”

The Mother — cruel, cruel thing — knew he needed it.

He plucked the faerie wine from your hands and chugged as Azriel approached. The cocktail of emotions he swallowed burned their way down his throat much more painfully than the alcohol, and his head spun in such a way that not even the hard liquor at Rita’s could emulate.

The shadowsinger wrapped a steadying arm around your waist and Cassian did his best to tame the roiling possession that threatened to cleave his ribs apart.

Truthfully, Cassian didn’t hear any of the conversation that he partook in with you and his brother; he could only hear the thundering of his pulse in his ears as he grappled with his revelation and the bittersweet feelings that came with it.

Wasn’t this what he’d been wanting this whole time? He should be happy, but he wasn’t.

His thoughts drifted to the past, hearing Azriel talking about you like you were an angel sent to deliver him from the clutches of earthly suffering. He remembered snippets, glimpsing into memories of his brother looking at you with a softness Cassian didn’t think he was capable of, recollections of him worshiping you in small, meaningful ways. It was the way Azriel was looking at you now, and Cassian felt a wicked, torturous twist in his gut.

In this moment more than any other, Cassian was cruelly reminded that while he loved you from afar for decades, Azriel had cultivated a life with you filled with passion and love and plans for the future.

The sound of your yawn broke Cassian out of his mental turmoil, demanding his attention once more. He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at the cute way your nose scrunched when you yawned, sleepy tears collecting at the edges of your eyes. When he looked at you now, the noises echoing off the walls of the House were muted, muffled as his ears attuned to you and you alone.

You leaned into Azriel tiredly — something Cassian did his best to ignore — and fixed your gaze upon him.

“You should go and enjoy Starfall, Cass. You’ve been inside for the past hour,” you said, hints of fond amusement in your voice. “I heard that Feyre’s brought a friend that’s been dying to meet you.”

He knew you meant well, knew that you played matchmaker only because you wanted him to be happy and find the love that you knew existed. But your words and the conspiratorial wink you tossed his way, sent his heart into a painful spiral. Your encouragement that he put himself out there to find someone to love was a cruel reminder that you did not feel for him the way he felt for you.

“Maybe I’ll go find her, then,” Cassian responded, doing his best to maintain the nonchalant bantering tone everyone expected of him, despite knowing that you’d be going to bed with another male. His mate, happy in someone else’s — his brother’s — embrace.

It was only when Azriel led you away with a laugh and a quick goodnight in his direction did Cassian allow himself to loose the breath he was holding.

Mate, that persistent voice in his head whispered, which he pointedly ignored as he sauntered off to find Feyre, desperate to rid himself of the gnawing guilt and sick heartbreak that clawed at his chest.

Holy Mother above… the Cauldron was cruel and he was so fucked.

part 2

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @h34rtsformilli @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l (sorry about these ones that didn’t work ☹️) @yassedsblog @jissy22 @blank-blank80 @brynslverr @melinaaa3 @alex-1347 @lolbods @girlypop05

kalena speakss 🪽! this is a filler chapter, everything starts to ramp up and get more messy (as if it isn’t already) starting next chapter ;)

June 2025 — New York City, New York

“Don’t even bring that up, oh my God.” Rickea laughs, reaching one of her long arms over to slap at my knee.

Rickea, Cameron, and I sit soundly in the green room, makeup placed deliberately on our faces. We played the Liberty last night, in a game with an outcome I would rather forget than talk about.

But today, after the team hopped on the first charter back to LA, we had a date with GQ. They called it The Teammates Quiz, and we were given the honor of being the first women’s sports team with the opportunity. I thought it was a cool idea, a game that I would certainly win because I know my teammates well.

However, it seems like these two know me just as well because they are airing my business out to everybody in this room right now. Well, maybe not all of it, but close enough. 

“Kea, you fell on your face in the middle of downtown LA. I’m with P, I’m so bringing it up.” Cameron laughs.

“I was drunk!”

“You were more sober than P. And she drinks like a man going through a divorce.” I instantly pull back from my makeup artist, looking over at my teammate incredulously.

“I do not!” I attempt to defend. “You two insisted on buying drinks after the draft, not me.”

Cameron, who’s seconds away from bursting out in tears of laughter, speaks up through her ragged breaths. “You got so drunk you were making out with random girls in the club.”

“Least I ain’t fall on concrete in the middle of LA.” I laugh, sitting back in my seat and allowing Joanna to get back to doing my makeup. I let her and Brittany take control of my look, they know best after all. 

You would think with the way the three of us all talk to each other that our on court chemistry is terrible, but it’s the complete opposite. Probably why GQ asked us to do this little segment today. I cut my attention back to my teammates when Rickea’s voice cuts through the air again.

“Have you talked to Raye lately?”

The way she asks it seems skeptical. Like she knows something, or is suspicious of something and I can’t pick up why. We’ve been keeping our friendship pretty cordial— at least to our friends and in public.

Maybe Maraye told her about the kiss. Maybe Maraye told her literally nothing, and Rickea is just trying to pry as she does often.

“Uh yeah, we hung out a few nights ago.” I respond, so lucky that Joanne is angling my head in the opposite direction, successfully hiding my growing red face from my teammates. “She’s pretty cool.”

Which isn’t a lie, we did hang out a few nights ago. Only my lips start tingling whenever I think about it. I swear I can taste her still on them all these hours later; like a mix of every single dessert on the planet. So damn sweet. I wonder if she always tasted like that, or if she tasted different elsewhere. 

And yes, Maraye is pretty cool. Pretty funny, pretty smart, pretty talented, pretty. So fucking pretty.

I’m realizing now that three days has been too damn long. To see her damn near everyday, then not at all for a week, then again in which I end up with my tongue down her throat. To not have been within inches of her for 72 fucking hours has me going just a bit crazy.

“I didn’t know y’all were hanging out.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you that.” I fire back too quickly. It makes it seem defensive, and it’s not. I have nothing to hide. 

Well yeah I do, but I think I’m pretty good at hiding it.

“Paige.” Cam says, cutting into the conversation awkwardly. “Please don’t tell me you did something stupid.”

I slouch back in my seat and Brittany, who I swore just magically spawned behind me, slaps my shoulder telling me to sit up. “I didn’t! You guys can’t ever just trust me.” I laugh.

“‘Cause you get caught doing stupid shit!” Rickea explains.

“Caught?”

“Caught? Again?”

“You haven’t seen twitter?”

Those four words always make my heart beat out of my chest. The internet is cool when it comes to me, out of pocket sure, but cool. But on the off occasion that they aren’t, it’s because they are either making shitty posts about what i’m doing on the court, writing think pieces, or minding my business rather than their own. I’m assuming, in context to Maraye, that it’s the latter.

“The fuck happened this time.” I ask with a huff. The first time, I had gotten too comfortable at the club. Which was admittedly my own drunken fault. The second time I was trending because people swore up and down I was making goo-goo eyes at Taylor Rooks. Which I was, she’s absolutely unreal. And now here we are.

Cameron is the one who looks first, and by the look of her face I assume it’s pretty telling. Rickea hands me her phone. I take it, slightly shaking and I don’t know why. 

My eyes are stuck to the screen, and it’s four pictures. I’m not sure who took them, but Maraye has reached A-list status and I forget the Paps are everywhere when it comes to her. 

The first is us leaving the bar in Atlanta. Maraye’s head isn’t in the shot, she’s busy hopping into the backseat of our uber, but mine is. It’s very obviously me, my signature braids down the side of my face rather than in the usual ponytail. My hand is stuck comfortably in the pocket of my zip up while the other holds the door open for her.

The second photo is from when we’re seated at Waffle house. I’m showing all 32 while Maraye talks, and it makes us look like a fucking couple. Her arms rest on the table, head slightly tilted. From the angle, again, you can’t see all her face but her side profile is obvious. Anyone could point it out and recognize her.

But it’s the last two that make us look the most guilty. My arm draped over her shoulder is very incriminating. She held her pink lemonade flavored slushee in her hand, looking up at me. One more swipe and I’m looking at myself paying for those two slushee’s. It doesn’t help that my jacket from earlier that night is now zipped up over her body. 

‘Paige Bueckers and Maraye Carter in atl this weekend 😲’  Reads the tweet. It’s messy, even more when I scroll further and see people putting pieces together. The replies are full of videos from opening night, screenshots of my recent activity in her instagram likes, and of course, of course, someone had to have seen me in my seat at her concert.

It looks bad. I would say worse than it is, but it all doesn’t even scratch the surface. 

“We just friends.” I mumble, I wouldn’t be surprised if my nose grew a centimeter or two. “Y’know how people get.”

I hand Rickea her phone back. She’s the one I should be scared off, Cameron has been done with my relationship issues since I first met her as kids. But Kea? After the talk about leaving Maraye alone, and how I know better, and how I don’t need to get hurt. I’m terrified that I’m about to get caught.

“Has she seen these?”

“Ion know.” She responded. “Probably. But If you two are jus’ friends’, then don’t sweat it. Hollywood moves fast.”

Really fast. 

—

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

“You’re literally a fan, shut up.” I joke at the blonde sitting besides me.

She’s messily scarfing down her chipotle bowl as we sit in her car. The windows are tinted nicely and my album shuffles through her speakers, even though she swears up and down that she didn’t add it to her library.

“Am not.”

“Yeah yeah, pinocchio.”

It’s my first time seeing her since the night in my condo, and it’s awkward. Which is weird because Paige and I have never been awkward together. Everything was always smooth, fluid, when it came to her. But now I don’t know what to say.

I blame it on the kiss.

It should’ve never happened. She knows that, I know that. Even then I don’t regret it. 

I’ve never in my life had feelings for a woman before, until now. And it’s so weird because I think I still have feelings for Julian too. It’s not the same thing though. Julian is perfect for me. Good job, family man, tall, handsome, the most gorgeous and perfect curly hair I’ve ever seen. Then there’s Paige, and she just might be perfect for me too. Work oriented, funny, insanely smart even though I tell her she’s not. 

So I sit silent in her passenger seat, not a clue in the world of what I should say to her. She makes me nervous, she makes the bottom of my stomach twist up whenever I look at her and see those beautiful blue eyes. I shouldn’t feel that way, I know that. But damn does she make it hard.

“Maraye?”

“Yeah?”

Paige chuckles, reaching over to wipe a bit of Vinaigrette from my lip. “I said ‘you good?’”

I nod and my head moves slightly away from her reach. “Yeah. Why?” I ask, taking a generous bit from my burrito.

“Because you’re sittin’ there all quiet.” She explains. “I know we kissed and all that but I ain’t think you would stop bein’ cool around me.” She says in an attempt to ease the atmosphere, the obvious tension that bounces off walls.

“It’s not that.” I mumble.

She puts the lid on her bowl, reaching towards the back seat to drop the trash in the brown chipotle bag. When she turns back to face me, I get a great look at her for the first time all night. Her hair is in a messy bun, strands slightly framing her face.

“Then what is it, Raye?” Paige slouches in the seat. “‘Cause don’t get me wrong, I feel some typa way about you but we’re friends first—”

“I wanna kiss you again.” I blurt out. It’s word vomit, like I can’t help but tell her how badly I want her lips on mine and her tongue in my mouth. Hands on my waist, my ass, in my hair. 

She laughs, and I pray to God she’s not laughing at me. “That’s why you can’t talk to me anymore?”

“I wanna kiss you, but I know how wrong that is. I have a boyfriend, and everyone already thinks something is going on here.” My finger gestures between the both of us.

“You saw the pictures?” Paige cuts me off. Her hand slips forward to grab her phone.

“Did you?”

“Kea showed me them yesterday.”

We sit in silence. I’m trying to process her response. 

“Did, uh, did Julian see them?” She asks.

Shit. Julian. It seems like I’m constantly forgetting about him whenever I’m with her. Always. I’m such a fucking asshole. 

“No, I-I didn’t show him. I don’t think I needed to.” I explain through my stutter. He didn’t need to see them. One, because it wasn’t anything serious. The photos made Paige and I look bad, sure, but there was nothing to worry about. It would only make me and him argue, and we do enough of that already.

“Good.” She nods. “He probably shouldn’t anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Y’know I really wanna kiss you too.” Paige says. I thought that was it. The kiss happened once, and we were back to being friends. Being normal.

“Paige—”

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

“P, quit it.”

“I keep thinking about how you taste. Like all day. And I shouldn’t, I know that, but you make it fuckin’ impossible.” The blonde sighs. Her eyes fall shut like it’s painful, painful to not kiss me. 

I shake my head, hoping that it’s enough for her to stop talking about it. “Paige, you and I are friends. That’s it. I have a boyfriend, and you’re not a home wrecker. We aren’t doing that again.”

She goes quiet. Then her eyes open and she turns back towards the wheel. It’s 10:30 at night and she has a game in the morning. Paige’s hips raise slightly to fix her sweatpants. A pulse races through me when it happens. 

“You understand? We can’t.” I ask, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah. Yeah, just friends.” Paige says.

I want to believe her. I really do. But the look in her eyes tells me I shouldn’t. Those blue orbs I know so well are suddenly a deep color, pupils wide. She slightly bites the corner of her lip, staring at me like I could run away.

“Stop looking at me like that.” I push at her shoulder, a chuckle escaping my lips. “I’m serious. No kissing, no flirting. I’m not a cheater, P. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know, I know. I won’t.” She responds. “But if it happens?” Paige leans into me again. Her hand flicking a curl away from my face before playing with it. She stares at me with intensity.

“It won’t.”

“If it does, I’m not apologizing for it.”

And then she pulls back, sitting in her seat and pulling her seatbelt over her body. She turns the engine on without even a second thought.

I sit there speechless, burrito growing cold between my hands. And I know, without a doubt, no matter how badly I want to hold out and follow through on my promise.

Paige is dangerous, and I don’t think I have it in me.

She’s gonna win. Again.

[seospicybin]

ON THE ROAD.

PART I

Bangchan, Han & Jeongin x reader. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: A group of friends going on a road trip that, little did they know, will change their lives forever. (19,1k words)

ON THE ROAD PLAYLIST.

Author's note: My inbox is always open for feedback and your wild theories hehehe enjoy this one too! x

A famous author once said that friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too?"

For years, Chan believes that in order to make friends, he has to have common things with them, for example, having the same favorite books having the same hobbies, etcetera.

That's what he thought until he found out that in real life, that's not always the case.

Chan learns all about friendship when he meets his friends. He first met them at the art school 8 years ago and they remain good friends to this very second.

Because they're now living in different places and working in various professions, they have this weekly group video call every Friday at 8 pm.

Chan is so busy editing videos that he almost forgets that it's Friday and it's ten minutes to 8, he hurriedly opens his laptop to start a video call with his friends. He knows it'll take them some time to come online so he notifies his friends through the group chat too, not forgetting to add that he'll not make them watch a foreign movie tonight in the hope that they'll hurry.

That's one thing about Chan, he's passionate about movies and dreams of becoming a great movie director someday. Other than that, Chan has many great qualities about him. He's smart, he's good looking, he lives a healthy lifestyle, and a true social butterfly, something about him that makes people comfortable being around him. Those qualities combined with his dimpled smile create this magnet that attracts a lot of girls.

However, Chan only has eyes on one girl and one girl only.

"Oh, hi, Chris!" A voice that's way too familiar says through the laptop, a voice that evokes something deep within him and sends a tingle down his spine.

"Hi, Jinnie!" Chan says back with a smile.

-

Jinnie's Friday night is like any other night, she's drawing in her studio with the scented candle filling the room with the soft and sweet smell of vanilla. At times, she'll take a break to sip her tea and check her phone for the time.

It's almost 8 and she wonders why the group chat isn't blaring with notifications, she pouts thinking that everyone is too busy to have a video call tonight.

Just like the universe heard her wistful thinking, her phone chimes with a notification and her face lights up as she opens it.

It's Chan sending a link to the video call. Jinnie wastes no time to get on her laptop and clicks on the link that takes her to where everyone is going to virtually meet. A few seconds later, her face appears on the box on the screen next to Chan and that means she's the first to come online after him which is not a surprise.

"Oh!" She delightfully gasps, feeling happy to see a friendly face even though they had one of the video calls a week ago.

"Hi, Chris!" She greets him while smiling and enthusiastically waving her hand through the screen.

"Hi, Jinnie!" Chan replies with his sweet, dimpled smile.

It's kind of adorable to find him waving with his muscular arms and Jinnie can't help but smile. She adjusts her desk lamp to give her proper lighting then stacks her hands together.

"It's always us, huh?"

"What?" Chan asks as he leans closer to the screen.

"It's always you and me," Jinnie says, pointing at him and then at herself while half laughing.

Chan cracks a laugh at that, "And that means Jeongin will come next."

"Cause we all know who will come last."

"You mean who will come late?" Chan corrects him with a smirk.

Jinnie lowly chuckles and grabs her cup of tea from the other desk, "How are you, Chris?"

"I'm doing great, I guess," he answers.

"I guess?" Jinnie squinted her eyes at him as she repeated his words, "You've been staying up all night again, did you?"

"Well, uh..." Chan tries to make up an excuse but fails, he covers his eyes in embarrassment and laughs it off, "I tried not to."

"Are you working on something?"

"Yeah, I'm editing these videos for a short film I did with a friend," he answers.

"Oh? Is it the same one as the one you told me?"

"No. It's a different one."

"I know you're working, I hope you keep taking care of yourself well, Chris," Jinnie warmly tells him, genuinely concerned as a friend.

Jinnie has always been like that, kind, attentive, and a great illustrator, she's as gentle as the colors she uses in her art. She's beautiful but not solely because she's the only girl in this group of friends.

Jinnie's outer appearance matches her inside and you rarely find that kind of person.

The other often think of Jinnie as an angel that unluckily fell on this part of the earth, right in the middle of this friendship, and has become a blessing to everyone ever since.

"Oh, there's Jeongin!" She gasps, showing the same enthusiastic and bright smile whenever she sees her friends.

In other words, there's lucky to have Jinnie as their friend.

-

The letter feels heavy on his hand even though it's only a piece of paper, a piece of paper that holds his future and will forever change his life.

Jeongin should be happy, this is what he wants but something is tugging at his chest. He slips the paper back into its envelope and hides it in between pages of the book he's reading.

He reclines on his chair and runs his hands through his hair, feeling torn but he doesn't know what makes him feel that way. He closes his eyes as if it would help him shutting his mind off and ignoring the chimes that come from his phone until he remembers to check it.

Using his hand, he gropes around the table to find his phone without looking and unlocks it to find some notifications, the first three are coming from Chan.

Jeongin rushes on his chair realizing that it's Friday and he forgot about the video call. He immediately gets on his computer and logs into the link Chan sent him through the group chat.

Despite knowing that he's late, he remains calm because he knows he'll not be the last to join, there's someone else who will come later than him.

The screen takes a moment to load the video call and he appears on the lower box between his two friends, Jinnie and Chan.

"Oh, there's Jeongin!" Jinnie exclaims in joy, as beautiful and bright as usual like she's bringing her own sun wherever she goes.

"Well, Chan said we're not going to watch a weird foreign movie so here I am," Jeongin jokingly says.

"Thank you, Jeongin," Chan says, poking his cheek with his tongue, easily offended as expected which truly shows he's the oldest one in this group of friends.

"But the last one we watched was really good," Jinnie says, defending Chan with his exquisite taste in movies.

So here's the thing, everyone knows that Jinnie and Chan would make a perfect couple but it's a mystery why they're not dating yet.

Jeongin knows for sure that Chan has a feeling for Jinnie and it's so obvious, but he can't say the same about Jinnie even though it's impossible that she missed all of those signs.

Or maybe love is a simple thing because Jeongin is someone who watches from the outside and it's different for those two individuals involved. But still, Chan has been there all along and Jinnie doesn't see it, which infuriates Jeongin at times.

Whenever he sees them together, he gets the urge to point out everything but instead of that, he lets out a sigh and then puts on a smile.

"So, how are you guys?" He asks.

Jeongin has always been the quiet one, but don't take his silence as ignorance, he's very observant. He watches everything and remembers everything to the tiniest details, that's also why the others become extremely careful with what they say or do around Jeongin because they know he has their cards under his sleeves.

But being observant also means he has sound judgments about things, he's fair and sensible and that makes Jeongin the most reasonable one.

"I'm great. I'm having a cup of tea with me," Jinnie says, showing the cup of tea she's holding with both hands with her eyes forming two crescents as she smiles.

"And I'm good, thank you for asking," Chan says with his dimpled smile.

"I'm not asking you, Chris," Jeongin jokes.

Chan presses his lips together until they form a thin line and lets out air through his nostrils with his eyes closed while Jinnie is giggling.

"How was the recital going?" Jinnie asks.

"It went well," Jeongin answers.

Honestly, everything went so well, he's still playing piano as always and has shows to do but something about it makes him feel a little distressed that he feels the need to shift the talk.

"Well, we're not watching Chris' weird movie tonight—"

"It's not weird," Chan groans in disagreement and a glare aimed at him.

Jeongin refuses to correct his earlier remark and continues, "So what we're going to do tonight?"

Truthfully, Jeongin really needs the distraction tonight and he doesn't mind at all even if it means he has to endure three hours of watching a movie he can't understand, plot or language-wise.

"I have an announcement," Chan says.

"What kind of announcement?" Jinnie curiously asks with her eyes comically widening.

Chan swivels his chair to the side and plays with a stress ball in his hand, "I can't say anything yet until everyone gets here," he says.

Jeongin groans as he reclines on his chair and covers his face, knowing that it'll take only God knows how long until the last person finally comes online.

"In that case, I'll get myself a can of soda first," he says to everyone, then gets up from the chair.

When he returns to his room, Jeongin notices that the fourth person has joined the video call. Actually, he can hear it even before he enters the room from his babble.

"I know you guys have been waiting for me. No need to get that excited!" Han says, acting like he didn't just make everyone wait for him as usual.

-

Han is trapped in his own head like usual, arranging words in his head to make good lyrics for the track he made last night. He pictures those words in his head as he hums the melody to himself and then jots them down in his notebook.

He puts the headphones on again to hear the track once more, singing the lyrics to fit the melodies and only realizing that his mom is calling for him once she appears in front of him.

Disoriented, Han sits up on the bed and puts his headphones down, "What's wrong?"

"I've been calling you for dinner!" His mother scolds him.

He lets out a chuckle and takes his headphones off altogether, "But it's only five," he says.

His mother must have been so used to seeing him in his room and unaware of the time.

"I put the dinner in the oven," she informs with a dramatic head shake before exiting his room.

Is it dinner time already? He looks around for his phone on the bed, he's sure it's somewhere in there. He's flinging the duvet and then there's the sound of his phone falling onto the floor.

"Owh?!" He gasps, covering his small mouth with his hand.

Han rushes to the other side of the bedroom and picks it up, fortunately, his phone doesn't crack or break, but the time...

"Oh??!" He gasps again in a rather panicky tone.

It's almost 9, he's late for the video call again. He rushes to his laptop and it won't turn on because it runs out of battery.

"Ugh!" He groans as he struggles to plug it in the first time and groans again as he plops onto his chair.

It's always like this, losing track of time when he starts working on something. He remembers it was only four when he started writing his lyrics and now it's almost 9 pm.

It's like the laptop knows he's in a hurry it decides to take more time to boot and Han nervously taps his fingers against the desk, knowing that he makes his friends wait for him for the umpteenth time.

His fingers are typing as fast as they can to log in to his account but it takes him another moment to load the video call.

"Work faster you piece of a—"

"Welp. There he is!" Chan exclaims, looking annoyed but relieved at the same time.

"Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence," Jeongin says with the right amount of sarcasm in his tone.

"Oh, hi, Han!" Jinnie says, being the most welcoming out of the three.

"I know you guys have been waiting for me. No need to be that excited!" Han playfully says. He knows they're upset and tries to lighten the mood.

In his defense, he didn't do it on purpose. It becomes a habit at this point and he knows everyone will eventually let it slide.

"I guess you've been busy working on your lyrics again, huh?" Jinnie asks, propping her hand under her chin.

"No, I was helping my mom fold the laundry," Han makes a joke out of his own life.

Unlike everyone else, Han is the only one who hasn't figured out yet what to do with his talent for producing music. He's been working on some tracks but that's about it.

"Anyway, what kind of weird movie are we going to watch tonight?" He asks, shifting the talk to something else.

Chan clicks his tongue and says, "Thank you for making it obvious that you didn't read the group chat."

"Well, I opened them but didn't read them like all cool people do," Han confidently says with a sly grin plastered on his face.

Despite the uncertainty of his career, Han thinks he's the coolest of them all and doesn't care if anyone thinks otherwise. He's funny, and he's the mood-maker of the group but in all honesty, he's just being his authentic self 24/7.

"Okay, now since we're all here..." Chan says, sitting upright in his seat.

"Oh, so we're not watching a movie tonight," Han says in utter confusion, this is why he shouldn't be late so he won't miss out on a lot of things.

"Just shh..." Jeongin hushes him with a finger in front of his jutted lips.

"You're not like... dying, right?" Han hesitantly asks because Chan puts on a serious face, "It's cause you look so pale..."

"I've always been pale. What are you talking about?" Chan grumbles in disbelief, not accepting the fact that his pale skin makes him look like he's dying to him.

"Hannie!" Jinnie sharply calls his name, that is her way of sparing herself from using profanities

"I told you to just shh..." Jeongin scolds him more.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up," Han says with both hands raised in defeat.

"Anyway," Chan reels the conversation back to the main thing and claps his hands together to get everyone's attention, "I need you guys to get days off for a week at the beginning of next month."

"But why?" Jeongin asks.

"Jinnie, Jeongin, I give you guys a month of forewarning so there's no reason you can't do it," Chan explains, not taking any excuses.

"And you're not concerned about me?" Han asks, feeling left out.

"That's because I know you're always available," Chan shortly answers.

"I need to ask permission from my mom!"

"To do what?" Chan squints his eyes at him.

"Permission to go on a road trip with you guys," he innocently answers.

"You're not some 12-year-old going on a school field trip," Jeongin reminds him that he won't be needing that.

"Oh, yeah, okay," Han meekly says with a nonchalant shrug.

"Well, that means I only need to finish some of my drawings early," Jinnie calmly says.

Chan smiles at her through the camera, "I know you can do it," he sweetly says.

"Thank you, Chris," Jinnie says with a smile.

"Wait, wait, you haven't answered my question," Jeongin interrupts the tender moment between the two, "Why?"

Chan sucks air through his teeth and stretches his arms out, not sure if he's trying to show off his muscular arms or just wanted to stretch them out.

"Because we're going on a road trip!" He announces in a cheery tone.

Jinnie grins in reaction and then claps her hands in excitement, "That sounds fun!"

"Where are we going?" Jeongin further asks.

"I don't want to spoil it yet. It's a surprise," Chan replies.

"I doubt that it'll be a good surprise," Han says just to annoy Chan.

"Just trust me on this!" Chan remarks with a confident smile.

"I just can't wait to spend time with you guys," Jinnie warmly says, being not shy to show her excitement which makes Chan get a little flustered.

"For the rest of this month we'll stop the weekly video meeting," Chan comes with a shocking announcement.

It's the only way they can hang out with each other and knowing that they won't meet until further notice kind of bummed him out.

"Why? Why? Why?" Han repeatedly asks like a parrot.

"So you guys can sort things out," Chan explains, "and Jinnie needs time to finish the drawings, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Jinnie looks a little taken aback too, "I'm sad that we'll not be hanging out for weeks."

"But we'll meet again," Chan assures her.

He clasps his hands in front of him and goes into serious mode once more, "I need you guys to gather at Jinnie's on the first day of July and I'll pick you up there," he informs.

Jinnie nods

"What should we pack?" Jinnie asks, even getting her notes ready to write them down.

"Pack clothes for a week, swimsuits, sunblock, hiking shoes..." Chan lists various things.

"Hiking shoes?" Han gasps, "I'm not going then."

"Even better," Jeongin lightly comments.

"Any more questions?" Chan asks everyone.

Han raises his hand even though he's not in a class, "How's your little sister doing?"

This is where Chan gets a little more serious, he hisses and then says, "I'm not taking any more questions then."

"Why are you so against us dating?" Han pokes fun at him, knowing that he doesn't like it, especially when he asks about his sister.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we become in-laws? We can be brothers for real!" Han annoys him more.

"I'm going to say this once and for all, I don't want to become in-laws with any of you," Chan firmly remarks and then crosses his big arms together.

"So that means you're okay with us dating..." Han relentlessly annoys him with a smirk dance on his face.

Jeongin drops his head into his hands and shakes his head witnessing the interaction while Jinnie is quietly giggling with her cup of tea in hand.

"How am I going to survive not seeing you guys for weeks?" Jinnie sadly says with a pout.

"Not me. I'll manage," Jeongin coyly says, reclining on his seat while playing with his hair.

"We'll see each other soon," Han assures her this time.

Jinnie smiles and cups her cheeks with both hands, "I can't wait to see you all," she says.

There's a moment of silence but the comfortable kind and not conjure any questions, everyone lets it go on for another moment before it gets to the time to end the video meeting.

"See you guys soon," Jinnie says, blowing air kisses through the camera.

"See you guys. Don't miss me," Han says with a sly grin on his face.

"There's no being late," Chan warns a specific someone.

"Jeongin, don't be late!" Han averts the blame to Jeongin.

Jeongin shakes his head again and raises his hand at everyone, "Bye, everyone!"

"See you guys in a few weeks," Chan says, waving his hands close to the camera then ends the video meeting.

-

A FEW WEEKS LATER

When you asked Chan if you could tag along on their road trip, he said no for what you guessed these two reasons: one, he hates seeing you around the boys and two, he hates for you to see him act around the girl he likes.

But, of course, in the end, he said yes for one solid reason: because you're his sister and he can't say no to you.

It's so obvious that Chan is nervous and you guess it's because he's going to meet the friends he hasn't met in weeks and more importantly, a certain someone that he secretly misses but can't tell.

As Chan's little sister, you notice these kinds of things, the change of attitude or how he gets nervous all of a sudden.

"Unclench your jaws, Chris," you remind him.

"I'm not—" he stops himself from talking and does as you told him, unclenching his jaws.

He may have unclenched his jaws but now his shoulders tense up. You take matters into your own hands and push his shoulder down.

"You're way too nervous to see a friend," you poke fun at him.

"Shut up!" He spews out and you know it's coming out of his nervous system.

Everyone knows that Chan likes Jinnie and he's always been for only God knows how long, you guess you're not the only one annoyed by the fact that they're not dating yet because they're just so perfect for each other.

"Okay, shutting up now," you say, making a gesture of zipping your lips together to not let the scary mad Chan come out.

The car makes a turn toward an apartment building and Chan parked it next to the entrance. It seems like Jinnie has been waiting for his arrival, she comes rushing down the stairs from the second floor where her apartment is.

"Oh, my God! Chris!!!" She excitedly comes up to him with open arms

Chan is obviously as excited to see her and catches her right into his arms, he even lifts her off the ground for a moment and gives her a spin.

They're so stinking cute that you can't help but smile watching them through the rearview mirror.

"Good to see you!" She says once he puts her down.

"Good to see you too," Chan says back while holding her hands in his.

When you deem that it's the right moment to insert yourself into the scene, you get out of the car and slowly make an entrance.

They're so immersed in each other that you hesitate to burst their cute little bubble.

"Hi!" You awkwardly wave your hand at her.

Jinnie's face lights up when she sees you, "Oh, hi! Long time no see!"

You come up to her to exchange a hug with her, "Long time no see, indeed."

The fact that she, possibly, would become your sister-in-law doesn't bother you at all, Jinnie is as perfect as one can be. She's beautiful and kind, the nicest human you've ever known, you couldn't be happier if that becomes true.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought her along," Chan says, flashing a thin smile at you.

You shoot him a side eye in return and stay by Jinnie's side.

"Are you kidding? I'm happy that I have a girl companion," she says, pulling you close to her side and squeezing on your shoulder.

"Jinnie, do you mind if I use your bathroom?" You ask, getting the urge to pee all of a sudden.

"Not at all. I'll take you—"

"That's okay. I know where to go," you kindly refuse her help to show you where her bathroom is.

That way, you can give them another moment to catch up with each other. As you climb the stairs to Jinnie's apartment, you see how Chan is grinning from ear to ear and it seems like it will stay like that until the road trip ends. Maybe that's also another reason why he agreed to let you join the road trip, Chan needs a good wingman by his side.

-

The moment he got out of the taxi, Han immediately thanked Jeongin non-stop.

"Thank you Yang Jeongin," he says, calling Jeongin by his full name.

"If you didn't pick me up, I'd be dead late," he grumbles, lowering his voice as he's a bit ashamed to admit it.

"I just knew you'd be late," Jeongin says while hoisting the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder.

Han hurriedly puts on a smile to greet his friends, acting like he almost got here late for the road trip. He sees his two friends, Chan and Jinnie putting their stuff in the back of the car.

"Rejoice everyone. Your favorite boy is here!" Han announces his arrival while walking in big, confident strides.

Chan and Jeongin just leer at him and Jinnie is the only one giving him a proper welcome.

"It's so nice that everyone's here!" She exclaims, smiling even brighter than the scintillating sun.

She gathers everyone into a circle and puts her arms around Han and Chan's shoulders.

"I missed you guys," Jinnie says, jumping on her feet like a child. She really is the special glue that sticks them all together.

Deep down, everyone feels the same way, Han must say it feels good to reunite with them, it evokes the same feeling of coming home. They're huddling together for a big group hug, relishing that longing for each other.

Han breaks away first to take the last empty spot on the trunk for his backpack, "Dibs!"

Chan and Jeongin groan in unison but at the same time, not surprised to see this display of childish behavior from Han. Chan continues organizing everyone's stuff in the trunk with Jeongin's help while Han comes around the car.

"I'm riding shotgun!" Han shouts, calling dibs for the passenger's seat.

Jinnie appears from behind the car, "I think Chan's sister will ride shotgun," she informs.

Han thinks he misheard her, he lingers by the car door and turns to ask her, "Who?"

"Chan's sister, she's coming with us for the— oh, there she is!" Jinnie points at the stairs.

Han's eyes are following where she's pointing and turns his head that way.

"Oh, everyone's here!" You say as you look at everyone from the top of the stairs.

Time suddenly goes so slowly as you descend the stairs, softly smiling as the gust of wind blows your way, sending your hair flying, and with the sun shining down at you, it creates a halo around your head.

Jeongin accidentally bumps him as he opens the car door, "sorry," he shortly says.

Han is completely gobsmacked to care, his eyes just can't stop following you even after you arrive at the base of the stairs and walk up to the car.

"I think it's true," Han foolishly says with a gaping mouth.

"Huh? What?" Jeongin asks in confusion.

"When the love is real... it finds a way," Han dramatically sighs with eyes big and wide like seeing something so wondrous.

Jeongin gives him the side eyes, but he decides to ignore him and gets into the car.

"I'm going to lock my apartment first," Jinnie informs, going up the stairs to her apartment.

"Hi, Han," you greet him.

Han tries not to crumble hearing you calling his name and instead of answering, he awkwardly raises his hand at you with a stupid grin on his face.

"Are you sitting in the front?" You ask.

Han's brain is not well functioning yet and it takes more time for him to compute a word.

"Well, then I'm going to take my bag," you say, stepping forward and getting in between him and the car door to take your bag from the passenger's seat.

The smell of your perfume is sweet and soft yet it's enough to get him intoxicated, he wants more of it. He suddenly has no desire to ride a shotgun and arranges a new plan in his head.

He rushes to the back of the car and yanks at Jeongin's jacket, "Jeongin, get in the backseat!"

"What?" He asks in utter confusion.

"Get in the backseat! Hurry!" He urges him, opening the seat to the back so he can move.

Doesn't want to deal with him, Jeongin reluctantly moves to the back as requested and Han sets the seat right back up, then keeps the car door open for you.

"Get in," Han says to you.

"Oh, thank you," you mutter, carrying your bag in one hand as you get in.

Noticing Jeongin in the backseat, you smile and greet him, "Hi!"

"Hi," Jeongin sheepishly says to you.

Han sees that Jinnie has returned from locking her apartment and hurriedly opens the car door for her, "You can sit in the front, Jinnie."

Jinnie looks at him, perplexed, "I thought you are..."

He can't hear the rest of what she's saying as he gets into the car and sits next to you.

"I hope it's okay that I tag along for the road trip," you say, putting your bag on your lap.

Han realizes that he should get his act together and forces his brain to function, "It's more than okay," he says with a smile.

This road trip turns into a chance of a lifetime for him. What could be more fun than being stuck in a moving vehicle with a girl he likes?

Chan gets into the driver's side, sighing as he's exhausted from arranging the trunk, and puts the keys into the ignition.

Oh, fuck, Han forget about the part that her brother is in the mentioned moving vehicle too, and drives it. Now, his sense of protection is heightened after seeing you sitting next to him.

"What's with this seat arrangement?" He asks, glaring at Han through the rearview mirror.

He innocently shrugs while Jeongin is staying quiet in the backseat by himself, enjoying the spacious seat for himself.

Jinnie is the last to enter the car and lets out a delighted sigh once she buckles her seat belt. She then looks around at the people in the back and asks, "Everyone is ready to go?"

In response to her question, Jeongin raises a thumbs-up while Han is weakly cheering with his fists in the air and you're laughing at him.

Jinnie then turns her head at Chan and says, "Let's go!"

And just like that, the road trip begins.

-

Everyone else thinks that Han's liking toward you is just a joke and he does that as a way to annoy Chan. Unfortunately, it's not.

He admits that at first, he didn't think of you that way. The very first time he received the information that Chan has a sister, he thinks of you not more than that, a younger sister of his friend.

That night Chan invited everyone to the bar to celebrate his birthday and you've recently turned 21 that year which is why your brother finally took you along with him to hang out with his friends for the first time and he believes that was when things take a different turn.

Han met you once, briefly at Chan's graduation and you've just entered college at that time. When he met you again that night, he almost couldn't recognize you because you've grown so much.

You were just a young girl when he met you for the first time and that night, he saw that girl had flourished into a grown woman and attracted him immediately.

He was so deeply mesmerized by you that he just stared at you the whole night that Jeongin had to constantly snap him out of his head.

The one moment that got him enamored is when you decided to take your jacket off that night and revealed the white camisole you wore that night, he could tell you were wearing nothing underneath because your nipples were poking through the silky fabric. He remembers watching you enjoy the night and dancing your heart out with Jinnie the whole night.

Han couldn't get you out of his head ever since, he grew some sort of infatuation with you, and he followed you on your social media.

When he feels bold enough, he slides into your DMs and asks how you're doing. Chan doesn't know and the fact that he's still oblivious about it means that you don't mention it to him and that's good, it spares him from his doom coming sooner than everyone else's.

Now that he gets to see you in person, sitting side by side when all he could do was just admire you through the pictures you posted. It feels a little surreal that he has to pinch himself a few times to convince him that you're real.

Since Chan is busy talking with Jinnie in the front, he takes it as an opportunity to talk with you because he's wasted three hours secretly staring at you.

"So, how are you doing?" He awkwardly asks while still getting used to sitting next to you.

"I'm doing great," you shortly answer, placing your hand on the space between you and him.

"I heard you're working at the magazine now?" He asks, making it sounds like he heard it from Chan but he actually knew it from your Instagram post.

"Yes, I am," you answer with a sheepish smile.

"I think that's great!" He praises and tries to keep his excitement in check.

"I'm just a copy editor for now. I don't think it's that great," you sheepishly say.

"No, I think that's great," Han feels the need to convince you so he seeks validation from a third party, "Right, Jeongin?"

Jeongin scratches his chin and stifles a nod, "Yeah. That's great!"

"Thank you," you mutter with a shy smile and tuck your hair behind your ear, "How about you? How are you doing?

"Good," he shortly answers but he knows you need more from his answer, "I've been working on a few tracks."

When it comes to you, Han doesn't feel like the coolest person but the objective remains the same, he wants to impress you.

"And I worked on that thing," he scratches his head while considering whether it's right to share it with you.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and look at him, "Worked on what?"

"I made this jingle for an ad," he hesitantly shares.

You shift your body toward him and ask further, "Do I know this ad or...?"

Seeing that you're genuinely curious about it, Han gains a little confidence to share more.

"It's for a shaving cream commercial and it goes like this..." Han starts humming the melody and serenading it to you.

"Didn't you do that thing last year though?" Jeongin interrupts his serenading with a truth bomb.

Han looks over his shoulder and glares at him, making Jeongin see his displeased expression that he's not a great wingman at the moment.

"Yeah, but..." he turns his body more to look at him but can't find something to defend himself.

"I did that," he continues as his confidence deflates in each passing second, "nonetheless."

"Everyone," Jinnie says from the front, "We're going to stop for gas."

Even Jinnie makes a better wingman than Jeongin and she's clueless about what happened in the back earlier.

"Oh, great timing! I need to go to the bathroom," you exclaim, gathering your hair to put it into a ponytail.

This is not a good start, he can tell that you're not impressed at all and far from attracted to him. He consoles himself with snacks, eating them right outside the convenience store.

"I blew that up," he sighs, then shoves chips into his mouth.

"That's because," Jeongin says, then pausing to take another sip of his soda, "you keep staring at her like a creep."

Han elbows his side quite hard that Jeongin yelps, "and you didn't help at all," he grumbles with his cheeks full of food.

"You're hopeless," Jeongin easily replies and steals some chips from Han.

"And you didn't think that's why I need the help?" Han grumbles again and shoves more chips into his mouth.

Jeongin coyly shrugs as he drains his can of soda empty then proceeds to crumple it and toss it into the trash bin.

"Hey, what are you guys having?" You appear from the corner along with Jinnie.

"Where's Chris?" Jinnie asks while fixing her hair.

"He's inside," Jeongin points to the convenience store.

Han quickly swallows everything in his mouth and brushes the crumbs on the front of his shirt, "Do you want some?" He offers you his bag of chips.

"Do you have something sweet with you?" You ask.

"I do, I do," he eagerly answers, rummaging through the bag of snacks he bought and pulling out a pack of strawberry jellies, "I think you'll like this."

"Oh, no, I'm allergic to strawberries," you inform.

Han quickly pulls out another pack of snacks from the plastic bag, "How about this?"

You take it from him and delightfully gasp, "Oh, I love these."

Chan comes out with Jinnie carrying packs of drinks for everyone and without warning, he tosses the car keys at Jeongin, fortunately, he has a good reflex and catches it right into his hand.

"Your turn to drive," Chan says to Jeongin.

Jeongin doesn't say anything else but walks up to the car with everyone following him from the back.

Han opens the car door for you when Chan grabs your hand and stops you on the track, "You ride shotgun."

"Yes, sir!" You also obey without complaint.

"And you," Chan points at Han, "Get on the backseat!"

Han frowns that Chan purposely separates the two of you and reluctantly goes to sit by himself in the back while Chan and Jinnie sit in the middle.

From the back of the car, Han can only watch you share the pack of chocolate maltesers with Jeongin in the front.

-

After four hours of driving, the car stops for dinner and everyone gets so quiet once the food arrives.

Chan makes sure everyone has finished so he can have all of their attention as he explains what the next plan is. Before you can ask for his dessert, he slides his plate towards you.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" He says.

Jeongin is mindlessly stirring his glass of soda with the straw but putting his attention on him meanwhile Han is slowly dissociating so Chan snaps his fingers right in front of his face to reel him back to reality.

Han swats his hand away and groans, "I'm listening, I'm listening."

"Okay, so, we're not going to continue to drive," Chan announces.

"Oh? We're sleeping somewhere for the night?" Jinnie asks, then dabs her mouth with a napkin, "And I need you guys to sleep early tonight because—"

"Because of what?" Han asks as he lazily brushes his hair to the back.

Chan sighs because Han cuts him off instead of letting him continue talking, "Because we have to leave early tomorrow morning."

"And where are we going?" You ask, sliding the plate back to him. Chan glares at you for leaving a small piece of dessert for him and you grin at him in return.

"Let me guess, surprise?" Han says with a mocking grin.

Chan scoops the last piece of cake into his mouth and ignoring Han's insinuation, he has a way to get back to him.

"Who voted for Han to pay the bill?" He says with his hand already raised in the air and Jeongin is the next one to raise his hand.

"W-what? Why? Why me?" Han blabbers in a slight panic.

Everyone turns their heads at Jinnie and since two of his friends already voted for him, she follows the majority and hesitantly raises her hand.

"Sorry," she meekly mutters at Han.

When it comes to you, you hurriedly shake your head and refuse to be a part of their shenanigans. Chan intensely glares at you, pressuring you to also raise your hand.

"Please, leave me out of this," you plead.

Having no other way to make you do what he tells you to do, Chan grabs your hand and raises it in the air. He then triumphantly grins at Han until his dimples sunken into his cheeks.

"Everyone says 'Thank you, Han'!" He orders.

"Thank you, Han!" Everyone says in unison while Han is slumped on his seat, suddenly not looking drowsy anymore.

With the information gained from the restaurant staff, Chan easily found the motel a ten-minute drive away. Arrive there, he immediately goes to check in while everyone is getting their belonging from the trunk.

Without saying anything, Jeongin hands you a bag and you look at it for a moment until you realize that it's yours.

"Oh, thank you," you mutter.

You also take Chan's bag, it's so heavy and you bet he's taking his laptop and camera with him which only reminds you to be careful with it. Once he gets back with the room keys, you hurriedly hand him his bag.

"This one is for the ladies," Chan hands one of the keys to Jinnie.

"Got it," Jinnie says, linking her arm with you to start walking to your room.

Everyone is heading the same way since the boys are staying in the next room. You can't wait to lie down after spending more than ten hours sitting in the car.

"It seems like we're sharing the bed," Jinnie says, seeing there's only one bed in the room.

"Don't worry, I don't snore like my brother," you immediately remark as you throw yourself onto the bed and sigh in delight.

Jinnie laughs as she unpacks her bag, "Wait... Chris snores?"

You roll to the side and prop a hand under your head, "I thought you knew," you say.

"I've seen Chris sleeping but he didn't snore," Jinnie shares, taking clean clothes out of her bag.

"Of course," you talk to yourself, Chan wouldn't let his crush know about his sleeping habit especially something as bad as snoring.

"What's that?" Jinnie asks, hearing you mutter to yourself.

"I just remember I need to charge my phone," you lie, rolling over to the other side to rummage through your bag.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?" Jinnie politely asks, holding her clothes close to her chest.

"Sure," you answer with your hand still groping around to look for your phone charger. Getting hopeless, you call for Jinnie as she's about to enter the bathroom.

"Hey, Jinnie, can I borrow your charger?"

She stops on her track and then puts her clothes on top of the dresser, "Sure," she says, going back to her bag to get it and give it to you.

"I think I dropped my phone in the car," she mutters as she looks through her bag.

"Oh, no," you mumble but an idea comes to mind.

"I can call Chris to help you find it," you offer, turning her misfortune into an opportunity to set them up.

"No, it's okay. It's probably under the seat of the car," she says but she looks worried.

"Are you even sure that you dropped it in the car?" You ask, making her doubt herself.

Jinnie looks concerned now that she clasps her hands together in front of her, "I don't want—"

Before she gets to finish her sentence, you hit call on Chan's number and he picks up on the third ring.

"What's up, baby sist?" He slurs his words, he's just as tired as everyone.

Without greeting him first, you talk straight into the phone, "Jinnie dropped her phone in the car. Can you help her find it?"

You hear rustles from the other end of the call and his tone changes all of a sudden, "Just need to get my car keys and I'll be on your door in a minute."

There's no need to plead or beg, you only need to mention Jinnie's name and he's ready to do anything, he'd probably move mountains for her too if she asked for it.

You hold the urge to laugh and calmly look at Jinnie, "He'll be here soon," you tell her.

"Oh, thank you," Jinnie says, canceling her plan to wash up and putting her sweater back on.

A few minutes later, the knocking comes on the door and Jinnie goes to open it. You peek from the side to watch the interaction.

"Heard you dropped your phone in the car," Chan says to her.

"Yeah, I hope I didn't disturb you," Jinnie says.

"Not at all," he immediately says.

Jinnie looks at you and you pretend to be busy looking at your phone, "Hey, I'm going out for a bit."

"Yeah, sure, take your time," you say with a smile then realize that you're not using the right tone.

"Hope you find your phone," you quickly add.

Jinnie is trailing behind Chan as they walk back to the parking lot and he hurriedly unlocks the car at the first sight of it.

"I'm sure it's somewhere in the middle seat," Jinnie says, opening the car door and going straight to feel the gap between the seats.

"I'll look from the other side," Chan says.

He walks around the car and looks from the other side, he turns on the flashlight from his phone and shines it under the seat. All he finds are candy wrappers and he knows who the culprit is.

"Let's get these seats up," he suggests, turning the lever to fold the seats and making it easier to search for the phone.

As they're busy looking for the phone, their heads meet in the middle, and bumps against each other. Chan reflexively reaches for Jinnie's head and rubs on it.

"I'm sorry," he says while giggling, "Are you okay?"

Jinnie can't answer as she's busy laughing and after taking a breath, she nods, "I'm okay."

"You know, it'll be much easier to call you," he says, coming up with a faster way to find the phone a little too late.

"Why didn't I think of that earlier?" Jinnie says, feeling embarrassed as she holds her hair from curtaining her face.

Chan looks for her number and presses the call buttons, he waits for the dialing tone while Jinnie looks around in the dark.

"Oh, I heard it!" She gasps.

The muffled ringtone comes from the back and Chan flips the seat to the front, discovering Jinnie's phone caught between the seats. With his long arm, Chan outstretches his arm to get it and hurriedly hands it to her.

"Thank God!" She sighs in relief and takes the phone from him.

Chan closes the car door and quickly locks it again, he checks by pulling at the car handle to know if it's locked for good.

"I was so scared that I dropped it somewhere else," Jinnie shares, clutching her phone close to her chest.

"I'm glad you found it," Chan says, smiling because he feels good knowing that he makes Jinnie happy.

"Thank you for helping, Chris," Jinnie sincerely says with a smile that is as soft as the moonlight.

Chan would do anything to see that smile on Jinnie's face again, he then looks away before it gets too intense.

"Don't mention it," he coyly says.

As they walk back to the rooms, their hands lightly grazing each other's, and on a nice, summer night like this, Chan feels tempted to hold her hand.

He looks down and her hand is right there, a grasp away from him. All he needs to do—

Jinnie draws her hands and crosses them together in front of her, "I'm so curious where you'll take us tomorrow," she says.

Chan clears his throat and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"Trust me, you guys will like it," he confidently says, "especially you."

Jinnie looks at him with a bewildered expression, "Me?"

"Yeah," he nods and grins.

"That only makes me more excited for tomorrow," she says, hugging herself tighter as a gust of wind blows their way.

Jinnie stops right in front of your shared room, she looks at Chan who's standing on the door to his room, "Thanks once again, Chris."

"It's not a big deal," he says with a smile.

Jinnie knocks on the door and a while later, you open the door with your head wrapped in a towel, "Did you find it?"

"Yeah," she answers, showing you the phone in her hand.

"That's a relief!" You exclaim, then step to the side to let her in.

Jinnie looks at Chan for one last time and smiles, "Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight," he says back, and once Jinnie gets inside, his foolish smile drops from his face knowing that you're watching him.

"Get back inside. Lock the door and sleep!" He strictly orders.

"Yes, sir," you reply along with a salute.

You grab the handle of the door and take one more chance to poke fun at him.

"Goodnight, Chris," You try your best to copy Jinnie's soft tone of saying it and quickly close the door before Chan gets the chance to scold you.

-

When Chan said they needed to leave early the next day, Han didn't think it would require him to wake up at 6 in the morning.

He doesn't know how Chan did that because he was the last one to sleep but he also woke up the earliest and even brought breakfast with him when he came to the room.

"Your turn to drive today," Chan says, throwing the car keys and clanging against the floor as Han fails to catch them.

"Ugh..." he lets out an exhausted groan and picks them up from the floor.

Concerned with his state, Chan grabs his shoulder and squeezes, "You sure you can drive?"

Han knows that if he says no, then Chan will take the task from him and he doesn't want that, Chan already did so much. He's sure he's more tired than everyone.

"Yeah, I can drive," he assures him with a not-so-convincing smile.

The doubts linger in Chan's eyes, he gives him a pat on the back and then says, "You know what? I'll get you another cup of coffee!"

The sun is peeking from the horizon and slowly climbs its way out, the sunray hits his eyes as Han arrives at the parking lot.

He unlocks the car from a meter away and puts his bag in the trunk first before walking to the driver's side.

"Ugh..." he groans again with one hand on the handle of the car door.

The last person who drove was Jeongin and thanks to his long limbs, Han has to readjust the seat because his arms aren't long enough for the steering wheel.

He's yawning as he takes his phone out and connects it to the car stereo, at least, being a driver means he has full control over the music.

"Morning," Jinnie cheerily says, with a smile that shines brighter than the morning sun.

Something about her smile that makes him can't help but smile back.

"Morning," he says back, "Do you need help with the bag?"

"It's okay. I'll do it myself," She says, heading to the back of the car.

Not long after, Chan comes carrying bags on each shoulder but looking unbothered by them, he ends up helping Jinnie with her bag. Jeongin comes next, handing his bag to Chan before getting into the car and sitting in the back.

Han is busy scrolling his phone to compile a playlist for the trip to realize that everyone is already getting in except for one person.

He looks to the back and sees Chan sitting in the middle with Jinnie so that means...

"I have your coffee with me," you say, climbing into the passenger's side.

He turns his head to the back to check if Chan approves of this seating arrangement but he's already snuggled up in his hoodie to sleep.

"Americano, right?" You ask, handing the cup of coffee to him.

"Oh?" Han looks at you and then at the coffee.

The second he realizes that you're waiting for him, he hurriedly gets it from you, "Thank you!"

Sensing that the coffee is hot, he carefully puts it into the cup holder and turns on the car engine. He waits until you're buckled in to start driving.

"So, where are we going?" He asks in utter confusion.

You let out a chuckle thinking that he's joking and Han chuckles as well, maybe it is a joke that he didn't ask Chan where to go before he started driving.

"Chris said you only need to follow the GPS," you inform.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," he feels embarrassed to ask and even more embarrassed to say that he is not good at multitasking.

It feels as if you read his mind, you look at him and say, "Don't worry. I'm a good navigator."

The cool morning air is so refreshing that Han doesn't feel sleepy anymore and with every sip of coffee, he feels more awake than ever.

He looks through the rearview mirror and sees that everyone in the back is sleeping so that means only you and him are awake in the car.

"Oh, wow, look at that," You sigh at the view of the sun rising on a hill, "It's beautiful!"

Han briefly glances away from the road to see it but the view he sees is of you and your hair flying around your face basking in the soft glow of the morning sun.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," he mutters and looks back at the road.

He's only an hour away from the destination but he likes this scene, the view and the road ahead of him, the person sitting next to him, also the faint music that plays through the car stereo. He wants to stay in it for a little longer.

"I love this song!" You exclaim out of the blue as the playlist plays a new song.

Han recognizes the song right away because it's coming from his playlist and it's one of his favorites.

"You know this song?"

"The Beatles, right?"

"Yes."

"It's in one of the playlists you sent me," you tell him.

The playlist is Han's love language. When he likes someone, instead of flowers or chocolate, he compiles a playlist of songs that reminds him of that person and gifts it to them.

When he sent them to you, Han isn't that confident that you will heartily listen to them because it's just a playlist of songs and you'd barely see the romantic gesture behind it.

"I'd like to be under the sea..." you start singing along to the song.

"In an octopus's garden in the shade..." Han joins in on the second line while keeping his eyes on the road.

"He'd let us in, knows where we've been. In his octopus's garden in the shade..." Together you sing the rest of the verse while smiling as the sun is getting higher in the sky.

"In an octopus's garden with you... In an octopus's garden with you..."

The GPS says the destination is only ten minutes away and it's directing him to turn onto the small road with nothing but trees that line up on each side.

"Are we going the right way?" Han asks you in a slight panic, not seeing any road signs.

You check the GPS and turn to look at him, "You're going the right way, yeah," you confirm.

Han bends down to see if there's any sign of life or if Chan accidentally puts the wrong address into the GPS.

"I'll wake my brother," you offer, turning around in your seat and outstretching your arm to reach Chan who's still sleeping.

You manage to grab the sleeve of his hoodie and yank at it, "Chris, wake up!"

Instead of Chan, Jinnie is the one who answers your call, "Mmh, are we there yet?" She asks.

"We're not sure," you answer and yank harder at Chan's hoodie.

Jinnie notices you need the help, she places her hand on Chan's arm and gently shakes him awake, "Chris?"

On the second try, Chan finally wakes up to Jinnie's call and you roll your eyes because it's getting ridiculous now that he recognizes her voice well instead of his sister.

Han decides to pull over to the side of the road and turns his head around, "are we going to the right place?"

Chan pulls down his hoodie and quickly brushes his curls to the back, he closes his eyes for a moment to adjust them to the light.

One glance at the GPS and he slumps back on his seat, "Yes, it's right," he slurs his words.

"Why am I not seeing anything else but trees?" Han hesitates but keeps driving anyway.

"Just keep going," Chan mumbles, getting a bottle of water and drinking it.

A moment later, Han's doubt is answered as a sign appears in front of him and it says that the campsite is 100 meters away.

"Oh, my God!" Jinnie loudly gasps, making everyone in the car startle in surprise, including Jeongin who's just woken up from his nap.

She looks at Chan with eyes widening and sparkling, "We're going camping?"

With a stupid grin on his face, Chan answers, "Yes."

-

While the boys are busy setting up the big tent, you and Jinnie are making sandwiches for lunch. Jinnie does most of the work while all you do is unwrapping the cheese singles and preparing the loaf of bread.

This is one of those moments that makes you think how can someone be this perfect? Jinnie is beautiful, smart, kind, and patient, she's great at drawing and now, you find out she's good at cooking too.

"What can't you do? Really?" You praise in awe as she meticulously arranges the ingredients from the vegetables to the condiments.

She lets out a shy chuckle in reaction and doesn't let it get to her head, she's concentrating hard on putting everything together without making a mess.

"You're an only child, right?" You curiously ask.

Jinnie wraps each sandwich with a food wrapper and does it so meticulously as if she's wrapping a gift, "Yes, I am."

"Would you like a younger sister?" You jokingly say.

She smiles at you and hands you the first sandwich she wrapped, "I already think of you as a younger sister," she says.

You grin at that and put the wrapped sandwich into the basket, "We should make it official then," you teasingly say.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"You know... you can be my sister-in-law," you coyly say while paying attention to her reaction.

Jinnie shakes her head in disbelief and shyly laughs, "You silly!"

It's too obvious for her to miss it, right? She should have known that you're hinting at something and it's your way to cajole her to open up but in the end, you're always the one left puzzled by the mystery of why Jinnie and Chan's ship is not sailing yet.

The peaceful nature sounds are interrupted by the sound of Chan hammering the spike to pin down the tent while Jeongin is setting the canopy. He pauses once he notices that you're struggling to carry the cooler box by yourself. He rushes to get it from you and puts it down next to the tent.

As a form of gratitude, you grab a can of soda from the cooler and hand it to him, "Here!"

Jeongin softly smiles and it's enough to make his dimples appear on both of his cheeks, "Thanks!"

"Baby sist, I want one too!" Chan grumbles as he sits on the ground, also exhausted from setting the tent.

It's fine when he called you that ten years ago but as you grow older, he should know that you've outgrown that pet name. You let it slide because his friends got used to hearing him calling you that around them.

"Catch!" You warn before tossing it his way and he catches it right in his hand.

Jinnie comes not long after, carrying the sandwiches along with some snacks on the side, "Lunch is ready!" She announces, putting everything on the table.

Han hurriedly carries more folded chairs and arranges them around the table. Everyone stops working to huddle around the table for lunch.

"Is it done?" Jinnie asks while distributing the sandwiches around.

"Yeah, we just need to put the mat and sleeping bags inside but we can do it later," Chan answers, ripping through the wrapper and taking a hearty bite.

Despite it being the beginning of summer, there are only two other campers on the site. But that's a good thing, it's not crowded and it won't spoil the serene, relaxing experience of camping.

The lunch feels so rewarding, especially to those who worked on the tent and everyone gets so quiet after. You and Jinnie work together to gather the trash and put it into a plastic bag.

"So... what now?" Jeongin asks, glancing his eyes from side to side.

Chan crumples the empty can in his hand and puts it into the trash bag, "We're resting for now and we'll go hiking in an hour."

"Hiking?" Han asks in panic, not in favor of the idea.

"I told you to bring hiking boots for one specific reason," Chan explains, putting his hat backward and then reclining on his seat.

Han slumps on his seat and makes those high-pitched groans while flailing his arms in the air.

To avoid the harsh sunlight, the hike starts a little after three and the boys are tasked to carry a backpack full of snacks, water, and clean clothes.

The forest hums with life as the five of you walk the trail with the sun breaks through the cracks, lighting up the dirt path ahead, decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers, and fallen leaves that crunch beneath your feet.

You're gazing up at the canopy, searching for the birds that sing sweetly against the soft sound of the wind whistling between the leaves.

Chan leads the way and once in a while, he looks back to check if anyone needs a break. Seeing that everyone needs a break, he stops on his track and turns around.

"Let's have a quick break!" He announces to everyone, then uncaps a bottle of water to hand it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter.

You lean back against the tree and reorganize your breath to finally have a long sip of water that quench your thirst.

"Is it still far?" Jinnie asks, taking a new bottle of water from Han's backpack.

Chan swallows his water and wipes his lips after, "About half an hour more of hiking."

Han takes off the plaid shirt he's wearing and hangs it on one shoulder, "And how long have we been hiking?"

Chan looks at his smartwatch to be able to answer him, "About 25 minutes."

"Fuck!" Han curses, scaring away the small animals hiding between the bushes, "Why does it feel like we've been walking for hours?"

"That's just you," Jeongin sneers, drinking his water like he's shooting an advertisement video.

"It's going to be worth it, I swear," Chan convinces, brushing his hair to the back before putting his hat back on.

Hanging on to his words, everyone continues the hike, following Chan's lead while enjoying the greenery. Jeongin catches squirrels running in between tree trunks.

"Han, say hi to your friends!" He says to Han.

Funny that Han decides to play along with it, "Furry babies, hi!"

Chan notices that you're getting exhausted as beads of sweat roll down your neck, "Here! Hold the back of my t-shirt!"

You don't see why it would help you walk, "Why should I?" You ask in utter confusion.

He grabs your hands and makes you hold each side of his t-shirt, dragging you along with him as he tirelessly keeps following the trail.

"I swear to God if it isn't worth it like you said..." you grumble as you feel every muscle in your legs strained and screaming in pain, and your mouth is dry from you constantly panting, running out of breath.

The scenery slightly changes the further you walk, there are no more dead leaves on the path and the rich earthy smell is soon replaced by water-saturated air.

"Oi, look!" Chan taps your hand and then points at the view ahead of him.

Getting a glimpse of what lies ahead, you walk past Chan to discover a view that is too beautiful for your eyes to comprehend.

A white, frothy cascade of water falls into a plunge pool with mist billowing out in soft clouds, creating a mystical atmosphere but when the sun hits and refracts the lights, a rainbow appears.

It's a waterfall, a majestic one.

"Be careful! It's slippery!" Chan shouts, watching you walk down the rocky outcroppings. He knows that there's no stopping you and you can't hear him anyway.

Han dashes after you with the backpack bouncing on his back, trailing after you like a puppy.

"I was right to trust you," Jinnie stands by his side and places a hand on Chan's shoulder, "It's worth the one hour of hike."

Jinnie shoots him a warm smile that makes Chan's inside melt and turns into jelly and in response to that, Chan unknowingly grins at her, the kind that shows how much of a fool he is for her.

Unbeknownst to him, Jeongin has been quietly watching this interaction, including the shit-eating grin Chan has on his face.

"You're pathetic," Jeongin says to him once Jinnie leaves.

"Hey!" He yells in disagreement but Jeongin ignores him and walks away.

Taking a little rest from the hiking, Chan sits on the sun-baked rocks while admiring the waterfall and the serene surroundings.

"This is a beautiful place to tell someone your feelings," Jeongin says, taking out a can of soda from his backpack.

Chan scoffs and plays dumb, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on!" Jeongin groans and subtly rolls his eyes at him.

"We all know you have feelings for someone," he pauses to gesture at the figure standing on the rocky perch, "There she is!"

This proves two things, their years of friendship and that Jeongin always observes, either way, he feels so caught by his own ineptness.

Worse, Chan decides to keep playing dumb and looks away even though it's too late for him to do that, there's no way he can escape Jeongin's observant eyes.

"Why-why should I..." he scratches his head in a slight panic.

"Just tell her how you feel," Jeongin says, "I think she feels the same thing for you."

At first, Chan wants to keep it to himself but since Jeongin knows already and it's tiring to have to keep hiding, he decides to tell him.

"It's hard," he openly admits with a heavy sigh, "We've been close friends for too long that I can't tell the difference anymore."

It feels so good that Chan is finally able to get that out of this chest and he knows he can trust Jeongin to keep it between them.

"And she's just... she's just perfect," Chan says with a hopeless sigh, he picks up a pebble and throws it into the water, "and I don't want to lose my good friend."

Jeongin leans back by propping his hands behind him and lets out a sigh, "It doesn't matter if the guy is perfect or the girl is perfect, as long as they're perfect for each other," he eloquently remarks.

"Wait, I think I heard that somewhere before," Chan's forehead wrinkles as he rakes his brain to recall where he heard this line before.

All of a sudden, Jeongin punches him in the arm, "It's from your favorite movie. Good Will Hunting!"

"Oh?!" Chan loudly gasps, it feels like a crime that he doesn't recognize the quote taken from his favorite movie.

"At this point, Han will beat you up to it."

"What?"

"He'll date your sister faster than you get to date Jinnie," Jeongin says with sheer indignation.

Chan's eyes dart at you and Han talking under the shade of a tree that stoops so low it's almost touching the surface of the water.

"Ugh, no, that can't happen!" He says in disgust.

"I bet he's serenading your sister with the jingle he made, again," Jeongin mumbles.

At the same time, Jeongin and Chan look at each other and start singing the jingle together, surprising themselves by how well they memorized it.

"Are you guys talking about me?" Jinnie jokingly asks as she walks by.

They immediately shut up and Chan turns his head away even though his eyes are searching for her, demanding her to always be in his sight.

"Are we waiting for Christmas to swim or what?" Han shouts, fussing like a child with his hands planted on each side of his waist.

-

Han once thought that if someone ever gets to see your body, he believes they'd turn to stone and that's because he thinks no one can handle that much magnetism and sex appeal.

Today, he gets to put that notion to a test even though he's risking himself to the possibility of getting petrified. He tries to keep his cool as you stand not far from him, tugging the hem of your t-shirt and then pulling it over your head, revealing the top half of the swimsuit you're wearing underneath.

So far, he still finds himself breathing and able to move his limbs but let's see when— he holds his breath as you unbutton your denim shorts and pull it down, slightly bending down to get it off your legs.

His eyes immediately travel down your body, admiring every curve of your body as you bask in the warm sunlight and the tiny droplets of water land on your skin.

You flip your hair to the back and slip your fingers under the strap to adjust it on your shoulder, his breath hitches as you pull it and let it slap against your skin.

Now, he's petrified. He knows he shouldn't be ogling at his best friend's sister, especially with her brother around but he can't help it, he's instinctively attracted to you like a moth drawn to light.

Jinnie offers her hand at you as she's already in her swimsuit as well, "Come on!" She says.

You take her hand and giggle as you slowly make your way toward the water with pebbles against the bottom of your bare feet.

"Ack!" You shriek, feeling a shock of cold water touching your feet then back to giggling again.

Han realizes that if he doesn't want to miss anything, he should get changed now. He gets up from the bed of rock he's sitting on and finds Chan is already hallway to get naked, exposing his muscular upper body, his pale skin shines under the sun.

"Show off," he mutters, placing a gentle slap on his abs as he walks past him.

"What's that for?" Chan says with a perplexed look.

The breeze plays with Han's hair as he treads the water and more droplets of water hit his skin the closer he gets to where you are

For a second, he loses sight of you until you emerge from the surface of the water, glistening wet with your swimsuit stuck to your skin, enhancing the features of your heavenly body.

You're saying something to Jinnie as you're floating in the water but the words are lost in the roar of the waterfall. With a grin plastered on your face, he doesn't need to hear it to know you're having fun.

"Hey, come here," you shout in his direction.

Han looks around thinking you're talking to someone else but there's no one else but him there. He looks back at you and you're already making your way to him.

"I want to show you something cool," you say, taking his hand and dragging him with you.

Honestly, he's willing to go anywhere you take him even if you take him to the pit of hell and sweat he'll follow you there.

"Now, we have to dive in," you say, getting to the center of the pool where it's deep enough for a dive.

Han draws a big, deep breath before following you where you lead him, he sees through the blurry water where your figure is diving to and then comes out of the water.

You wipe the water off your face and put your hair away, "It's cool, isn't it?"

Han doesn't realize it at first but once he rubs the water off his eyes, he's standing on the other side of the waterfall, and behind him is a tall, slippery wall of rock.

It's just you and him, concealed behind an iridescent wall of water.

"Yeah," he nods as he looks at you to which you respond with a smile.

Out of nowhere, two figures emerge out of the water and startle you both. It's Jeongin and Jinnie, discovering the spot and finding you both there.

"Wow! This is amazing!" Jinnie gasps as she looks around while wiping the water off her mouth.

Jeongin doesn't say anything but stands close to the back, his skin a contrast with the dark of the rocky wall behind him.

The smile on Han's face slowly fades knowing that someone has shattered the tender moment he's having with you. He looks at you and your eyes are nowhere near his eyes, the next thing he knows, you dive your way out back to the world.

The fun continues as you and Chan team up to fight against Jinnie and Han. He's carrying you on his shoulders and clashing you at Jinnie who also rides on Han's shoulders, coming at each other until one of you falls into the water. Thanks to Chan's strong lower half body, you won most of the time.

Tired from swimming, everyone is chilling on the big bed of rock, drinking and eating the snacks they packed while drying up under the warm afternoon sun.

With your fingers pruning up, you're struggling to open a bag of chips and someone takes it to help you to open it.

"Here," Jeongin says, after swiftly opening it for you.

"Thanks," you mutter.

Jinnie let out a sigh as she hugs her knees, "I think this is the most fun I ever had in a long time."

Han gets up from lying down and puts his arm around her shoulder, "That's true."

Chan triumphantly grins as he uncaps a new bottle of water, "I told you guys to trust me."

"I trusted you," Jeongin mutters in defense.

Chan points at Han as he drinks his water, hinting that he's talking about a specific person. Grinning as he sees Han feeling called out by that.

"I didn't say anything," he defends himself, waving his hand in front of him in strong disagreement with Chan's accusation.

"Yeah but you were like whining the whole hike," Chan says, giving him a head shake of disbelief.

"I didn't," he resists to admit it, then looks at Jinnie to seek someone on his back, "I didn't, right?"

Jinnie looks at him and then looks at everyone, "Well, I wouldn't call it whining," she says.

Han glares at her as he senses a but trailing behind Jinnie's sentence. He puts his arm away from her and grumbles, "You know what? I'll not say anything on the hike way back."

On the hike way back, Han doesn't whine like he promised but he makes grunting noises. Chan knows he wants to complain but he wants to stick true to his own words.

He guides the hike back with you by his side and he's been catching you looking back a few times. He scoffs, knowing his sister so well to know that you're not just looking, you have eyes on someone.

"Who is it, baby sist?" He curiously asks.

You snap your head back and look ahead, "Huh? What?" You play coy.

With his hand on your shoulder, he stops you on your track and looks into your eyes, "I'm your brother. I know when my sister likes someone," he states.

You sigh because that's true, you can't hide the things from someone you've grown up your whole life with.

"Yeah, okay, you got me," you say in defeat.

"I didn't think much about it then but now, he's always in my head," you share, surprised that you don't find it awkward to tell personal things like this with him. Deep down you know it's not awkwardness you feel, you fear that Chan wouldn't be accepting of your choice.

"So, what do you think?"

Chan softly laughs and offers his hand at you as support to climb the outgrown tree roots, he waits until you safely land on the other side to answer.

"Well, I don't really have a say on that, do I?" he says.

"As far as I remember, you're really against it," you say, reminding him of the same ultimatum he says to his friends plenty of times.

"Yeah, but you know, as long as you're happy," he answers, along with a coy shrug.

Out of the blue, he playfully nudges your shoulder with his, "Ooo, baby sist is falling in love," he teasingly says.

You shove him hard until he's staggering to the side, "Stop calling me that!" You slap his big arm with each word.

Chan is as protective as a brother can be but he knows that he can't dictate every aspect of your life, including the person you like. However, as your brother, his opinions matter and it feels good to know that you have his approval.

-

The sun is setting when everyone returns to the campsite, painting the sky with bursts of red and yellow, gradually sending the day into the calm of night.

Before it gets dark, Chan orders everyone to work for dinner, he and Jeongin immediately build a campfire and the rest are setting the gas stove to cook.

"Can I help you with something?" Han offers his help to you and Jinnie who's busy prepping ingredients for dinner.

Jinnie hands him a pot, "Can you fill it with water?"

"How much water?"

"Just fill it full," she answers.

"Got it!" He takes the pot with him and comes back a few minutes later, carrying the pot of water with a lot of focus and cautiousness.

"Where do I put it?" He asks in a panic.

Jinnie gets out of the way to make space for him, "Here! On the stove!" She says.

He is concentrating hard on putting it right on the stove without spilling a drop, "How do you turn it on?"

You look away from the vegetables you're chopping and notice something on Han's leg, it seems like he scraped his knee without him knowing.

"Goodness, Han!" You gasp.

"Wh-what?" He asks in panic, looking at you in worry when he should be worried about himself.

"Your knee is bleeding," you point at the blood gushing out of his scraped knee. You scramble to find something for his wound.

Jinnie gets ahead of you, she comes with a bottle of water to wash the blood and tells him to sit down as she runs to the tent to get a first aid kit.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, finally find a napkin for it.

Han is surprisingly calm about it as he gently places the napkin over his wound, "I think I hurt my knee when I was getting water."

Chan pauses on grilling the meat to know what the ruckus is about, "What's going on?"

"Hannie scraped his knee," you shortly answer.

Jinne comes through with her bag of first-aid kit and pulls out a tube of ointment, she takes a dollop with a cotton bud and with so much gentleness, she dabs Han's wound with it.

Han hisses and winces in pain, reacting to the treatment and Jinnie quickly blows on it to soothe the pain.

"I just need to put a band-aid on it," she says and proceeds to take one from the pack. She puts a lot of care into covering his wound with it then sighs in relief.

"Thank you, Jinnie," Han sincerely says while holding the side of his knee.

Jinnie looks up as she's kneeling in front of him and warmly smiles, "You're very welcome, Han."

Despite the minor incident, dinner was a success as everyone finished the food in under an hour, and there was no better way to end a tiring yet fulfilling day than with cans of cold beer.

The night brings such a silence that the crackle of the campfire is all that could be heard with the sparks flickering and drifting upward. The smell of smoke mixed with the sweet smell of roasted marshmallows.

Being the good brother he is, Chan hands you the smores he made and takes the stick of marshmallow you're still roasting.

"Thanks," you mutter, wasting no time to bite into that gooey, crunchy sweetness.

Han wants to do the same for you, he makes smores out of the marshmallow he roasted a little too long and nudges Jeongin by the elbow.

"Pass it to her," he whispers, asking for his help to deliver it to you.

Jeongin doesn't say anything but takes it from him and without hesitation, he bites right into it.

"Hey, I made it for her!" He scolds him, putting his hands around Jeongin's neck to choke and force him to spit the smores he ate. That doesn't faze him, Jeongin has another bite to finish it and has no problem swallowing it down.

Thinking that Han is mad because Jeongin ate his smores, Jinnie gives the one she made to him as a consolation, "Here. You can have mine."

Han looks at it and feels bad to take it, "I– It's okay, I'm full anyway," he lies with a grin.

The night is a special kind of blackness, the kind that wants only to hold the stars and help them shine all the brighter. You tilt your head up and see those stars like pinpricks against the dark of night.

"Woah, look at those stars..." You sigh in wonder.

Everyone else follows suit, looking up at the night sky and feeling the same feeling of awe. When we realize how vast the universe is, our matters suddenly feel so small, don't you think?

"I have something to share with you guys," Jeongin suddenly announces.

Everyone stops staring at the night sky and looking at Jeongin, some are merely curious and the rest are anticipating what he tries to share.

"Remember when I told you guys I auditioned to join the Royal Orchestra?"

"Yeah, a couple of times," Chan says, bobbing his head at him.

"Last month I got the letter," he shares further.

"Oh!" Jinnie gasps in excitement even though Jeongin is not finished with the announcement yet.

Jeongin looks down at the blazing fire that gnaws on the logs of wood, making everyone wait for him to continue. After a while, he looks up and finally announces, "Well, I got in."

"Oh, my Gosh..." Chan sighs in relief with one hand clutching his chest.

"Yeah, man!" Han gives him a celebratory punch in the arm then puts his arm around him, "I just knew you'd get in."

"Duh!" Jinnie eggs in, "You're a great pianist, they're stupid if they didn't let you in."

"Congratulations, Jeongin! We're so proud of you," Chan says, giving him a pat on the back and a proud smile that exudes his paternal side towards Jeongin.

Jeongin looks at you and his eyes drop to his hands, "Which also means that I'll leave soon," he continues with shocking news.

The smiles on everyone's faces slowly fade at that announcement, it turns quiet again as everyone processes that there's a downside to this happy news. Jinnie looks devastated and she rests her head on Chan's shoulder to seek comfort.

"When do you have to leave?" Han asks.

"Next month," Jeongin replies.

"So... this will be the last time we're going to be together?" Jinnie sadly asks even though she's on the verge of tears already.

"Guys, I'm not dying," Jeongin says with an attitude.

Everyone lightly chuckles at that, Chan rearranges the logs to keep the bonfire alive and looks at Jeongin.

"How long will you be there?"

"It's a two-year contract," he answers.

Jinnie sniffles and puts on a small smile, "Just promise us that you'll always come to our weekly video meeting," she demands.

Jeongin chuckles and nods, crossing his fingers together as he says, "Promise!"

"Two years isn't that long," Han coyly says, poking the burned log with a tree branch.

"By the time I get back, I expect one of you to already be married to someone," Jeongin jokingly says, secretly throwing a glance at Chan and raising his eyebrow at him.

"I'm getting drowsy," you say, stretching your arms up and tilting your head side to side, "I'm going to head in and sleep."

Jinnie lifts her head off of Chan's shoulder and crosses her arms together in front of her, "Yeah, I'm going to sleep as well," she says.

It's getting late and the night only grows colder, Chan decides that it's time to sleep. He volunteers to put out the bonfire while Jeongin heads straight into the tent.

After taking a quick trip to the bathroom, Han enters the tent and sees that the sleeping bags have been arranged. Jinnie takes the farthest right and you're sleeping next to her, bundled in the warmth of your sleeping bag.

The middle one belongs to Chan and since Jeongin takes the farthest left which means he's going to be sleeping between them. He slips himself into his sleeping bag and turns his head only to find that you're still awake.

"I thought you're sleeping already," he lowly mutters.

You don't say anything but smile at him with your eyes soft and tender, blanketing his heart with warm feelings.

When it occurs to him that he's sleeping in this shared space with you, he gets that fluttering feeling inside, a kaleidoscope of butterflies flying around in his stomach.

"Goodnight, Han," you lowly murmur.

"Goodnight," he murmurs back, not taking his eyes off of you until you turn your head to the other side.

Han continues to admire your profile from the side, your eyes, your nose, and the plump of your lips that he's dying to taste. You're so beautiful and he gets to enjoy that beauty as much as he pleases.

"I'm surprised I didn't find you snoring already," Chan says as he enters the tent and zips it close.

Then there's the brother who always ruins this special moment. Han turns his head away and scoots slightly to the side to make more space for Chan, knowing how big he is.

"Let's see who gets to snore first," Han dares him.

The next thing he knows, Han finds himself in the forest again and he can hear you laughing. He looks up and finds you standing next to him with your hair wet and your feet bare.

"Take you somewhere..." you vaguely say.

Han doesn't answer but takes your hand, together you're walking through the forest. He feels the rough stone handholds against the palms and fingertips and tall lush grass sliding across calves.

Then he looks at you and you're smiling at him, your eyes bright and droplets of water are dripping down the end of your hair.

"It's cool," you say, laughing at him.

He thinks you find something funny about him so he starts to grope his body around and checks what is it that makes you laugh.

"Come here," you say, giggling with your hand still holding his.

"What?" He asks.

"It's cool," you say again, then you take the straps of your swimsuit and pull them down your shoulders. You're giggling while keep pulling the straps down, revealing your bare chest to him little by little until—

"Han, wake up!"

The image blurs as someone shakes his body awake. He ignores it and tries to go back to sleep, hoping that he gets to continue the dream.

"Wake up!"

"Ugh... mmh," he incoherently complains and curls up in his sleeping bag.

"Just let him sleep," you say to someone.

Han's eyes snap open the second he hears your voice, he then scrambles out of his sleeping bag, disoriented with his hair tousled.

"Are you coming?"

Without looking, Han can tell that it's Chan's voice.

"I'm coming, yes, coming," he mumbles with half-shut eyes.

He shivers as cold air blows into the tent, he gropes around for his jacket with eyes barely open, "What time is it?"

"It's four," Chan answers.

"In the afternoon?" He gasps in shock, can't believe that he slept through the day.

"In the morning," Chan corrects him.

It's even more shocking that he wakes up at four in the morning when the sun is not even out yet. He opens his mouth to complain but he sees you coming into the tent.

"Chris, can I borrow one of your hoodies?" You ask.

Han grabs what he assumes is his hoodie and hurriedly gives it to you, "You can wear mine," he offers with a sleepy smile.

Chan takes it from his hand and then gives it to you, "Hurry up! It's sunrise in any minute now," he rushes him.

Han is barely functioning but he tries to keep up with the group, walking through the path in the dark of the night that still lingers and the stars that insist on shining bright against the bruised sky.

He rushes to walk next to you while hugging himself to shield himself from the cold, "Where are we going?"

"Just to the top of that hill," you answer, looking beautiful even with your face bare and your eyes puffy from the lack of sleep.

It gets tricky as the path turns into climbing the rocky outcroppings and it's a bit embarrassing that you're the one helping him not the other way around.

"There she is," Chan says, pointing to the golden disk that rises on the horizon with its honeyed glow.

It is the time when the day casts away the cloak of night and makes an entrance with a bright, gold light of warmth, making it known that she rules the day once and forever more.

Jinnie walks up to Chan's side and stands so close to him, arms brushing and elbows grazing.

"It's like you have to whisper," Jinnie murmurs, thinking that she would disrupt the serene view by talking loudly.

When Chan looks at her, he realizes one thing. Jinnie is like the sunrise, she doesn’t care if anyone watches it or not, she will keep on being beautiful, even if no one bothers to look at it.

"You know what, Chris?" She suddenly asks.

"Yes?"

"This is one of those moments that I'll share with my future husband and children," she says, her eyes set on the sun that keeps on rising, gently and swiftly at once.

Hearing her talking about the future makes Chan wants to make it all true for her and have the chance to tell her future children, 'Yes, Dad was there too'. Just the thought of it already makes him so giddy that he finds himself smiling.

Jinnie slowly rests her head on his shoulder to enjoy the sunrise together and Chan gets what she said earlier, he also feels like saying things out loud would only ruin the moment so he decides to keep it in his heart a little longer.

"Ugh! He's stressing me out," You mutter to yourself, seeing Jinnie and Chan sharing an intimate moment and instead of using this as an opportunity to say something, Chan does nothing but stare at her like usual.

"That's my hoodie," Someone says.

You turn to the side and find Jeongin there, "Sorry?"

"You're wearing my hoodie," he says, pointing to the hoodie you're wearing which you thought belonged to Han.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," you meekly say, torn between keeping it on or not, but you know you need it, it's so cold to take it off.

"That's okay," Jeongin says, leaning on the rock next to you.

It's hard to interact with Jeongin because he rarely talks, he only talks when he has important things to say or has savage takes on things. You hesitate to talk to him without feeling like you'll waste his time. Still... you muster up the courage only to get interrupted by Han's head lolling onto your shoulder.

You check on him and see that he's falling back to sleep. You quickly put your arm around him to keep the back of his head from hitting the rock.

"We should have let him sleep," Jeongin says.

"Yeah," you respond with a soft laugh.

Now that he's speaking to you, you use this as an opportunity to congratulate him, "I didn't get the chance last night but congratulations for joining the Royal orchestra," you tell him.

Jeongin brushes his hair to the back and then clears his throat, "Thank you."

"I went to one of your shows two months back," you share and instantly regret doing it, what are you expecting though? For him to thank you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jeongin asks, he seems to find it important to know the reason.

"Well, I just... I don't know, I don't want to disturb you and I was with a friend anyway so..." you vaguely explain.

There's no other reason why you came to his show except to watch him playing his piano, you thought of seeing him after the show but you were afraid that he'd be too busy for that.

"We could have hung out. I'd treat you to dinner," he says while scratching his ear.

"That sounds nice," you comment with a smile.

"I'm not a cheapskate like Han," he jokingly adds with a soft laugh.

"Well, I was think— Oh!" You abruptly stop talking as Han nuzzles his head further into your neck and puts his arm across your chest.

Jeongin gets on his feet and makes you switch places with him. He takes Han's arm from around your shoulder, offering himself for him to lean on instead of you.

"Is Han sleeping?" Chan asks, noticing his friend is draping on Jeongin's shoulder.

"I told you to let him sleep," you grumble at him.

The walk back isn't as bad as the climb, Han is being dragged by Chan to make sure of his safe return to the campsite. Jeongin is tasked to brew coffee for everyone while Jinnie and Chan are making breakfast together. You volunteer to tidy up the tent and fold the sleeping bags.

Once you're done, you join everyone around the campfire and Jeongin immediately hands you a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," you mutter, holding it with both hands to absorb the heat.

Chan mischievously slaps Han's shoulder, startling him awake from his sleep and making him jolt on the chair.

"Time for breakfast!" He informs him.

He looks at him with wondering eyes, stretches his arms out, and then lets out a big yawn. Even with a barely functioning brain, Han knows that it's time to eat, he takes a plate and a piece of toast.

"Here. Have an egg," Jinnie says, sliding an egg onto his plate from the frypan.

She then turns at you and says, "You too."

You hurriedly grab a plate and mutter your gratitude at her, wasting no time to start digging in. Soon, everyone is stuffing their mouth with food and it gets quiet that you can hear the forest come alive around you.

"We're going to drive the whole day today," Chan informs out of nowhere.

"Can we know where we're going now?" Jinnie asks, taking a bite of her bread.

Chan pulls out something out of his jeans pocket, a piece of paper but he continues to unfold it open. With an excited grin, he turns it around and reveals a poster.

"How long have you been keeping that poster in the back of your jeans?" Jeongin curiously asks, then takes a small sip of his coffee.

Not getting the reaction he expected, Chan frowns and his shoulders slumped. Han snatches the poster from his hands and looks at it with utter bewilderment.

"What? Did you get tickets to this? How?" He asks with his cheeks full of food.

You don't recognize it at first until you see the logo of the band and gasp in surprise, "Am I seeing The Hare concert poster?"

The grin blooms on Chan's face once more, "More like the poster for their secret gig this Friday night," he humbly brags.

"What?" You ask again with eyes widening.

Han roughly yanks the sleeve of Chan's sweater, "How did you get the tickets?"

"Let's say I knew someone who knows someone," Chan cryptically says, deciding not to tell everyone how he acquired those tickets.

"Anyway, I think it's better if the girls take turns to drive first," he continues with the planning.

"Yep. It's best if you boys get some rest before driving all night," Jinnie agrees, already collecting the trash from around the table.

You're representing everyone when you say that Jinnie and Chan make a great team, they're the ones who came up with the planning and handled the financial stuff, and they make sure everyone is doing well and having fun. They're basically playing parents to you, Han, and Jeongin which adds one more reason why they should date as soon as possible.

-

Jinnie offers to take the first turn to drive and Chan is the last one to get into the car as he has to return the rented tent and pay for it.

"Everyone please make sure you've checked your belongings," Chan says as he puts his safety belt on.

Jinnie turns on the car engine and checks everything, her safety belt, and the angle of the rearview mirror, and then adjusts the seat.

"Do you mind if I play music from my phone?" You ask.

"Not at all," Jinnie replies, tucking her hair behind her ear as she backs the car from the parking lot and starts driving.

Not long after the car driving through the main road, Han startles in the backseat and then asks, "How long have we been driving?"

Chan glances at his smartwatch and turns his head to the back, "About 35 minutes. Why?"

"I want to pee," Han says, his face doesn't show any expression but it makes his face appear so round.

"Can you hold it?" Chan asks.

Han considers it for a moment then slowly leans back on his seat, "Yeah, I'll– I'll hold it," he doubtfully says.

"Distract yourself, you know, think of something so you don't want to pee anymore," Chan suggests.

"Think of the waterfall we went to yesterday," Jeongin playfully adds with a suppressed laugh.

"Hey!" Chan slaps Jeongin's arm, saying the opposite of what he suggested.

"I'll try to sleep," Han finds a better solution to detain his urge to pee.

"That's a great idea!" Chan says.

It's a good thing that Han is one of those people who can sleep anytime anywhere. He manages to sleep through two hours long of drive until the urge comes back.

"Guys, I don't think I can hold it anymore," he mutters, biting his lower lip until it turns pale.

Jinnie looks at him through the rearview mirror and sees how he can't hold the urge anymore, "The sign says rest area is only 10 kilometers away," she informs.

Han grips the headrest of Jeongin's headrest, "Okay."

"Are we good?" Jinnie asks.

"Yeah," he meekly answers.

"Just a few more minutes," you convince him.

There's nothing you can do to help him but you can relate to that feeling, you look back to check on him once in a while.

"Jinnie?" He calls again.

"Yeah?"

"Please step on the gas!" Han says, looking a little pale now.

Considering the urgency of the situation, Jinnie allows herself to go above the speed limit, she steps on the gas and the car picks up the speed, launching the car forward.

Sensing the change in speed, Chan wakes up from his nap and looks around in confusion. But the first thing he does when he gains his sense is check on Jinnie.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Han needs to pee," you answer for her since she focuses on driving.

"Almost there!" Jinnie says as she changes the lane to enter the rest area.

Han hops out of the car once the car gets to the parking lot of the rest area and immediately runs to search for the bathroom.

Once the car is parked, Jinnie lets out a sigh and leans back on her seat, "That was the most intense ten minutes I ever had in my life," Jinnie says.

Seeing the hilarity of it all, the three of you burst into laughter almost at the same time, making it one of those memorable little things that happened on this road trip.

The laughter wakes Jeongin up from his nap and he looks confused as to why everyone is laughing, "What's happening?"

No one is answering him but keep laughing until we're running out of air. Oh, there's nothing like the deep breaths after laughing that hard. 

-

Since they're stopping at a rest area and it's close to lunchtime, they may as well take a break from driving to ear. Everyone scatters the second they step into the food court to order the food they want. You decide on a bowl of ramen and get in the queue with Jinnie behind you.

Even though he's already carrying a tray of food in his hands, Chan stops next to the queue and scans the menu.

"Hey, baby sist!" He loudly calls you.

The people in the queue turn their heads to see who he calls baby sist, you hurriedly turn your back to them and glare at Chan.

"Please don't address me with that name in public," You scold him through your gritted teeth.

"Order a portion of fried dumplings for me," he says, ignoring your complaint and leaving with a grin.

Everyone gathers at one of the long tables in the middle of the food court with their choices of lunch, you slide the plate of fried dumplings at Chan and steal one piece with your chopsticks.

"You better not drink a lot of sodas if you have a weak bladder," Jeongin and his savage intake make an appearance.

Han pretends not to hear him and continues to stuff his cheek with more food.

The lunch is not enough, so everyone scatter once more to buy snacks. You're getting a bag of mini fish-shaped cakes for desserts and Han appears behind you with a big smile on his face.

"Got you ice cream," he says.

"How nice of you!" You delightfully exclaim.

"I don't know what you like so I chose three flavors at once," he explains the different flavors of ice cream in one cone.

"Thank you," you mutter your gratitude with a smile.

"I have to go for another bathroom break," he says with a grin lingering on his face, then leaves the other way.

The ice cream would make a great dessert if it didn't have strawberry ice cream in the mix. It's obvious that Han completely forgot that you're allergic to it, you can't eat it, or throw it away. You can give it to Chan but Han would know that you're not eating the ice cream he specifically bought for you and he would find that disrespectful, or worse, upset him.

Making your way out of the food court, you carry the bag of snacks in one hand and the ice cream in the other, still have no idea what to do with it.

Out of nowhere, Jeongin comes from the side, also carrying an ice cream in hand. He takes the one from your hand and switches it with him, a chocolate-flavored one.

"You can have mine," he says, not waiting to bite right into the ice cream.

Not only that he remember your allergy, but he also comes with a new ice cream and you find that endearing. You let out a mix of scoff and laugh, "I've never seen someone bite into ice cream."

"Well, there's always a first time to everything," he coyly says.

-

It's your turn to drive now and thankfully, you have set up an hour-long playlist for it. Jinnie remains in the front, sitting on the passenger's side and putting her legs up as she draws on her sketchbook.

The boys don't find it hard to fall back to sleep after a hearty lunch, you lower the volume of the music and only hum along to the song currently playing in the car to not wake the sleeping beauties in the back.

"What do you think?" Jinnie asks, holding her sketchbook out to you.

You keep the steering wheel steady to glance at the rough drawing of you from her point of view, then look back straight ahead.

"Wow. That's good!" You compliment.

Jinnie is a great illustrator, she mostly does illustrations for children's books and magazines which explains her exceptional talent for drawing.

"Please tell me you'll finish it and then email it to me," you say, already planning on making it your profile picture for your social media.

"I'll finish it when I'm not in a moving vehicle," she says, putting her pencil back into its case and putting it on the dashboard along with the sketchbook.

"I think it's cute," Jinnie says while stretching her arms to the front.

"What cute?" You ask with a perplexed smile.

"The way Chris calls you baby sist," she answers.

Oh, she must be talking about that little incident that happened back at the food court. You nod and tap your steering wheel to the rhythm of the song playing.

"Look, I don't mind when call me that in front of you guys. Just don't do it in front of a bunch of strangers," you explain, briefly shifting your focus to driving by a big truck.

"I mean... what if there are cute guys there and they heard it," you playfully remark.

Jinnie softly chuckles and grabs a bottle of water from the cup holder, "You're beautiful and smart, you shouldn't have any problems getting a cute guy," she says.

"That I agree!" You jokingly say with a sassy eyebrow raise.

When it occurs to you that this would be the perfect opportunity to have another crack at her, you arrange the words in your head before saying them out loud.

"I can say the same thing about you, Jinnie. You're beautiful and smart, except you have a lot of patience in you," you pause for a chuckle and briefly glance at her, "you shouldn't have any problems getting a hot guy."

Jinnie gets quiet and you begin to think that your words offended her in a way yet you give it another moment for her to digest your words thoroughly. She suddenly looks back, probably making sure that none of the boys are listening in on this conversation.

"I'm just a girl," Jinnie meekly says, lowering her voice as she slightly slumps in her seat, "All I can do is wait for the other person to profess their feelings to me."

Oh, finally! You manage to successfully crack her this time. You keep your cool and continue to crack deeper into it.

"I have to stop you right there!" You tell her with your hand raised, making a stop sign at her.

"You're not just a girl, you're incredible!" You may have exaggerated your tone a little bit but she needs to hear the truth in your words.

"You're not just beautiful and smart, you're kind, compassionate and you're strong and gentle at the same time. And if I'm being honest, I look up to you a lot," you openly admit.

"Aww..." Jinnie coos, she seems to be taking your compliments well along with a shy smile.

"And a girl like you shouldn't wait. A girl like you take matters into your own hands and you know, tell him how you feel," you encourage her.

Yeah, okay, maybe there's an underlying motive here but that doesn't make what you said to her a lie.

"It's a different thing when the person you like is your friend and you've been close with that person for so long," Jinnie sighs, her voice drops lower and she seems smaller than ever.

However, the mystery is now solved. Jinnie is indeed having the same feeling, she's hesitant only because they've been friends for too long. You get it that sometimes it's a bit scary to date someone who knows so much about you but if you focus on the good side, it means that they'll be more accepting and understanding towards your qualities.

If there are two people who truly deserve each other, it's Chan and Jinnie.

"Isn't that a good thing? You've known each other long enough to learn so much about each other and understand each other better," you give her your opinion and secretly glance to see her reaction.

Jinnie plays with the lint on her jeans as she digests your words while looking at the ever-changing scenery as the car keeps moving forward.

"You're right," she finally responds to your words.

Now, that you've tried your best to give her that little push, you can only hope for the outcome and hopefully, it'll be the best one.

"I know I'm right," you confidently remark, then burst into laughter.

Unbeknownst to you and Jinnie, Chan has been listening all along and behind his dark hoodie, he's smiling from ear to ear.

-

After stopping for dinner, the trip continues with Chan behind the wheel and Jeongin on his side. Jinnie takes the middle seat with Han and you occupy the backseat, using the extra space to curl up and sleep.

It's a bummer that you're not sitting next to him but this way, Han can easily look to the back and see you peacefully sleeping with a hand under your head, lost in your sweet dream.

"Hey, Han, can you get me a can of soda?" Chan asks without looking at him.

Since he's too busy watching you sleep, Han doesn't hear it the first time and snaps his head to the front, "What?"

"Get me a soda," Chan repeats while holding his arm out to the back so Han can hand it right into his hand.

Han rummages inside the small cooler box next to his feet, grabbing the first can that rolls into his hand and putting it into Chan's hand.

"Thanks!" Chan shortly says to him.

The road is eerily empty as it turns smaller from four into two lanes and the last sliver of sun has fully disappeared, replaced by the soft moonlight on a hot summer night.

Having nothing to do, Jeongin looks into the GPS to assess the route and the final destination.

"It says we'll arrive at 7 in the morning," he says.

"Yep, there's no hurry. We have plenty of time until the gig," Chan calmly says, still holding the soda in his hand, unopened.

Jeongin reclines on his seat and crosses his arms together on his chest, "And what we're going to do until then?"

"I booked us rooms at a hotel nearby," Chan informs, "we'll have some rest before leave in the afternoon."

"Hotel, right? Not motel?" Jeongin asks with suspicious eyes because the last time they stayed at the motel, he had to share the bed with Han.

"Yes," Chan hastily answers.

"I'm going to get my own room," Jeongin says.

"I thought you like sharing the bed with me," Han jokingly says.

"That's the least of my worries," Jeongin says, then gives each of them a glare.

Han pops his head in the middle of them, "Then what's the problem?"

Jeongin gives each of them a glare, "It's you guys snoring. It's like a whole orchestra in there but all the instruments are tuba," he says with a shiver.

Han grabs the front of Jeongin's shirt in response, "My snore sounded nothing like tuba!"

"How do you know what your snores sound like?" Jeongin asks, giving him the side eyes.

"Last time I checked it's Beethoven's Symphony No. 9," Han answers without a beat.

Jeongin leans at him and gives him a perplexed look, "What?"

"What?" Han asks back with daring eyes.

"Beethoven's Symphony No. 9," Chan says, finding himself giggling to it and his giggles gradually turn into laughter that fills the small, enclosed space.

Chan slows down the speed and holds the steering wheel steady with his forearms to open his can of soda. The second it pops open, the carbonated drink fizzles and spills out of the can.

"Oh, no, man..." he groans in complaint, seeing the soda get all over the steering wheel and dripping onto his lap.

"You made a mess, Chris," Jeongin grumbles, pulling multiple tissues out of the box and then handing some to him. He helps to wipe the droplets that somehow land on the console.

With one hand steadily holding the steering wheel, Chan keeps on dabbing the wet patch on the jeans with a ball of tissues.

"Ugh, it's sticky," Chan groans in disgust and then looks down at his lap to see if he misses anything.

The moment Chan's eyes are off the road, the headlights shine on an object that comes into sight, and Jeongin, as the only one aware of the deer standing in the middle of the road, reflexively grabs the steering wheel and turns it hard to the right.

Losing control of the car, no one can do anything to stop it. The tires are screeching against the asphalt as the car spins around, and eventually stops as it hits something with a loud banging sound, but no one is moving.

-

Support my blog by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!

@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @idkluvutellme @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @hanjisunginc @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @yourmomscuntis2tighy @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @avyskai @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @jebetwo @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @cutiespaghetti @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss @schniti-is-in-the-house @jisunglyricist @9900z