#you can't make fun of me if i go along with the joke

[scullysdogkelly]

So are you Scully's wife or his dog?

does this answer your question?

[ugh-yoongi]

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[jirsungs]

DRUM ME, STUPID! ☆ p.js

pairing: drummer!jisung x fem!reader

drum me, stupid! synopsis: a story about a college student enjoying her life in school perfectly fine, until one of her friends drags the group along to watch their school's band perform. little did she know that day would be marked as the day her whole world turned upside down because of a particular, nonchalant, and difficult drummer boy. a drummer boy who spilled his entire drink on her brand new outfit at a party and never came back.

genre: college au, social media au (some chapters will be written though!), music band au, slight enemies to lovers, unrequited love (for a bit), whole bunch of fluff, angst, mutual pining, silly humor

warnings: explicit language, college partying, alcohol consumption, A LOT of banter between characters including sexual/kys/death jokes of the sort, reader's kind of an ass (in the beginning), jisung ends up being a lover boy once the "nonchalant" wears off, yeonjun flirts like 24/7, overwhelming feelings that the characters can't handle

author's note: hi! since i've always enjoyed reading smaus and always get writers block with full on stories, i decided to make my own :] please excuse my bad knowledge on any of these majors or experiences and none of this reflects the real lives of the kpop idols! this was written solely for entertainment and fun! enjoy!!<3

comment if you wish to be tagged for the story's updates!

profiles #1 ☆ profiles #2

chapters will be added once they're posted!

episode 1: i did NOT agree to this gc name!

episode 2: costumers of ningcreates?!

episode 3: the universe is out to get me

episode 4: p.y.t (pretty young thing) (written)

episode 5: jisung's a coward, we all say in unison

episode 6: the latte lounge incident (written)

episode 7: hating each other era

episode 8: future uncles and aunt

episode 9: apologies & new beginnings

episode 10: what a lover boy!

episode 11: love like the movies (written)

episode 12: super obvious, but still not a confession

episode 13: my wonderwall, at least i hope so (written)

episode 14: she's going ghost mode on me

episode 15: ain't no way a girl got you like this

episode 16: i missed you

episode 17: i missed you (too) (written)

episode 18: finally mine!

episode 19: ningcreates (expanded) fan club

episode 20: she fr got him liking musicals

episode 21: drummer's girlfriend duties

episode 22: i fear yeonjun's loyalty to latte lounge finally paid off

episode 23: first mistake: letting y/n out of your sight wtf

episode 24: you maam caller

episode 25: wym drummer boy has a driver's license??

episode 26: only losers make wishes at 11:11

episode 27: pussy boy stand up

episode 28: no girls allowed at rockway rehearsals! (written)

episode 29: crashed ynsung's date lol

episode 30: ning bag that shit

episode 31: drummed her stupid!

END! started: 06.23.24 finished: 09.03.24

BONUS CHAPTERS:

#1: close to you (written) tba. . .

#2: the not-so-silly apple or orange juice debate tba. . .

#3: finally meeting the parents? tba. . .

© JIRSUNGS. ANY TRANSLATIONS/REPOSTS/PUBLISHES OF MY WORKS ON ANY PLATFORM ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED! ALL COMMENTS, REBLOGS, LIKES, & FEEDBACK ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I LOVE YOU, MWA! <3

[songbirdseung]

pinky ring / sim jaeyun

synopsis: jake made you a promise to marry you when you two were toddlers. he would fake propose until he really did get down on one knee.

pairing: childhood besties jake x reader

wc: 1.1k

To your parents, it was all good fun. Seeing their child being proposed to by their childhood best friend at their favorite beach. Documentation was highly important to them, filming little you and little jake holding a candy ring pop in his hand, asking your hand in marriage. To them, it was adorable.

For young child you, you were petrified. At the time, your dad just gave a small talk on how to stay away from boys and you're definitely too young to get into a relationship. This happened when you called the actor on scene handsome when you were having a family movie night.

"We are too young Jake" pouting your lips, feeling bad for rejecting his proposal. Jake shrugs and hands you the ring pop anyway. "Fine, I'll just wait and get you a real ring".

That didn't last long because fast forward to the next year, he does it again. He has done it so much that for the next few following years, it had become an inside joke to everyone in your immediate family.

"You have rejected me for 4 years now" crossing his arms in a fit, Jake looks at you disappointed. "Maybe because we are only 12 years old?"

At this point, you aren't sure if he's doing this because he really wants to marry you or just to tease you and lead any guy interested in you far far away. Remembering all the instances where a boy would approach you during lunch and sit next to you and confess and say that they think you' re cute. There then comes Jake, wearing a smug smirk and says something along the lines of "I'm actually her future husband, please go away".

It makes you think about how you could never get away from Jake and his antics.

Even when you guys reached your teenage years, almost reaching adulthood, Jake never dropped the fake proposal joke. Like on your 19th birthday, at the restaurant he took you both to, he claims how he's your boyfriend and he's planning to propose soon, the waiter thought he was weird for saying that he wanted to propose soon with you sitting right there but nonetheless, he gave you both free desserts.

You thought at by the age of 14, he'd stop since you both are going through puberty, his feelings would change and he'd drop it due to his own pride and embarrassment, but no.

Now you both were 20, if you had to count how many fake proposals Jake has done over the years, it would reach 100.

"You can't say that we are too young, we're both legal adults and we basically known each other our whole lives." You turn over to him and flick his forehead, causing him wince in pain and shoo you away from him. "You're mean"

"You're the one that wants to marry me, so get used to it"

"Oh, so you're playing along now" He removes his hand from his head and pokes your side. "After years, you're finally warming up to the idea"

"Keep that up, I won't be anymore" Once you said that you realize how you didn't even deny it. Looking back at Jake who went back to playing video games, you take in his appearance and guide your eyes to follow the lines that make his side profile.

Jake was good looking, you knew that. He's always been the apple of your eye since you two were kids, then as you got to know him, his humor, personality, and behavior kind of sealed the deal for you.

"If you keep staring at me, I might disintegrate."

"Then, who is going to marry me?"

"We're still on that? I thought you didn't want to?"

"Make me your girlfriend and I'll rethink it" Now it was your turn to cause a ruckus in Jake's mind. He pauses the game and looks over to you, reading your expression wondering if you were serious or not.

That night, Jake stayed over. Unlike the other past sleepovers that you two had, this one was different because the way you cuddle into him now, it felt different. He was always yours and until now, just a different kind. He was now your boyfriend, not boy-friend.

With your dynamic and bond with Jake, it felt like sunshine and rainbows most of the times, being around each other all the time and knowing each other too well, you always found ways to fix things or any miscommunication that would come along.

Transitioning to relationship from friendship was surprisingly easy from the outside perspective but the thing with you and Jake was he was always a gentleman and treated you right and how you deserved to be treated, and of course vice versa.

When you told your mom the news, she did not show any surprised reaction, simply telling you how she saw it coming and was just waiting for this moment to happen, you dad shared a similar reaction, happy that it was Jake to be the one you were dating.

Fast forward to a whole year of dating Jake. People would say that you two were like a fairytale love, match made in heaven, meant for each other, all that. "Hey yn, maybe you should do that trend where you call Jake your husband"

"I'm pretty sure he's already seen that on tiktok, no?"

Still, even if he did, you were going to do it just to see his reaction. That same day, you two meet up after your last class ended. Waiting for you somewhere in the university's campus, you run up to him and give him a hug. "Someone missed me?"

In the car ride home, you guys both agreed to stop by your favorite restaurant and get some take out. Which was a perfect time to put your little prank in action. Just like everyone else, after placing your order, you ask Jake what he wants and tell the waiter. "Then my husband would like ___"

Once the waiter leaves, you finally take notice of Jake who is wide eyed, staring at you in awe. "There's no way you just called me that" To say he was a lovesick puppy after that was an understatement.

But now since you called him that, you have to keep calling him that. Because if you call him or introduce him as your boyfriend, he'll act surprised and startled. "Are you asking for a divorce?" "Do you not love me anymore?" "I thought I was your husband?" to name a few.

"I'm gonna have to propose now, for real this time"

[artificial-transmutations]

The wedding getaway

A mile in each other's shoes

"Oh, come on, you can't be serious."

Lance groaned and looked at Lisa, the bride's maid, who in turn didn't appear all that amused either, although for different reasons. She smiled a sweet and poisonous smile as she answered.

"Yes, I am, Lance. Dead serious. Apparently, you have no idea how difficult it is to find a hotel with enough free rooms on a Caribbean island in the middle of spring break."

Before Lance could answer anything, she continued with a sharp voice.

"Or how expensive. So, yes, I'm afraid you have to share your suite with one of the other singles for the duration of your all-inclusive stay. Deal with it."

Lance took a deep breath and fought down the urge to say something very inappropriate. Lisa was probably right, and he wouldn't die from having to share a room with one of the other guests for a few days. He would only go there to sleep, anyway.

"Ok, ok. No need to explode like that. So, who will be my... roommate?"

In an instant, Lisa had a list in her hand and looked at it until she found the name.

"Let's see... that would be Jamal, who also didn't arrive with a date. I trust the two of you know each other?"

"Jamal? Oh god, no! Why do I have to room with the n... with him? Isn't there any other option?"

Lance couldn't believe it. Jamal, really? Of all the guest, he had to endure Jamal?

"No." Lisa said firmly. "And now, if you excuse me, there are a thousand other places I need to be right now. Have fun and try to get along with your roommate, ok? I'm not gonna make any changes."

With a flip of her hair, she walked away.

Lance was fuming as he fingered the keycard to his room. This had to be a bad joke. Jamal and him... Let's say they never got along really well. And ‘never’ was quite a long time for them, actually. They've known each other since kindergarten and didn't get along very well even then, although they had arguably be friends back then. But ever since, their relationship became worse.

It wasn't Lance's fault, of course. That much was certain, he decided, as he drew the card through the door sensor. Jamal was just so...

The door opened and revealed the object of his disdain.

Black.

There was hardly any way to phrase it differently, Jamal had the unmistakable dark skin color of a dirty ... Black man. Lance didn't consider himself a racist, but the fact was that people who weren't white were less civilized, that was just the way it was.

"Lance."

Jamal's voice was just as dark as his skin as he glared at Lance. Unlike Lance, Jamal most definitely was racist. He was proud of his heritage and thought very lowly of Lance, no doubt because of his skin color. If things were allowed to continue like that, people like Lance would surely become even more oppressed by people like Jamal. He closed the door behind him.

"Yes, that's me. Do you have a problem with that?"

He approached the other man like a predator until he stood right in front of him. They were about the same size, and Lance could see the dark wide nostrils of the other guy flare.

"Yes."

Jamal spat the word.

"I do. What are you doing here, you white piece of trash?"

Lance gritted his teeth.

"What are you doing here, you filthy ni-"

Jamal's fist flew before Lance could finish the word and it was only due to the fact that Lance expected the hit that he could dodge and thus avoid having his teeth bashed in. He answered with a quick kick to the balls, and the two men began their brawl.

The fight was short and intense, but neither of them managed to seriously hurt their opponent. At the end, they sat at different sides of the large double bed, breathing heavily.

"Fuck."

Lance spit out a blood drop. Jamal had a surprisingly hard punch.

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

Jamal was massaging his wrist, and Lance guessed that his jaw would bruise pretty badly. He was more than surprised, however, when Jamal offered him his hand to help him up.

"It's no use, Lance. It looks like we're stuck together for the next few days, and I've got better things to do than beat your racist ass every time I go to my room. Truce?"

Lance considered the proposition for a few moments, before he nodded and grabbed the dark hand.

"Truce. At least as long as we're stuck in this room with each other, you fucking monkey."

A moment of silence followed before Jamal got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. From inside, he mocked Lance again.

"You know, Lance, you really need to learn how to control your racism. I bet the only reason why you're so angry about me is the fact that I have a big dick."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, asshole."

These were going to be a few long days. The wedding wouldn't be for another two days to give everyone time to enjoy themselves a bit. Originally, Lance had looked forward to this opportunity, but now it seemed like these days were going to be more of an ordeal than anything else.

Of course, there was no way he was going to sleep in the same bed as Jamal, and, luckily, Jamal agreed on that without argument and moved his stuff to the couch. They didn't speak a single word to each other this evening, and Jamal left the hotel room shortly after, allowing Lance some time alone. He was still bruised up and dirty from the short fight and took the opportunity to take a shower himself.

The water was somewhat soothing, and slowly, Lance regained his composure. He certainly wouldn't let someone like him spoil his vacation, and perhaps Jamal was right, and it was a good idea to just ignore each other as much as possible. He could live with that.

When he was sufficiently clean and calm, he left the shower and reached for a fresh towel, only to see a small article of clothing fall from the rack.

With some disgust, Lance noticed what it was: A piece of underwear, a pair of boxer briefs to be exact. It was previously worn, and Lance had no doubts who the owner was. Jamal must have forgotten it when he took a shower earlier.

Lance tried to ignore the unwanted textile as much as he could, but his eyes kept returning to it. Truth be told, it wasn't all that small. In fact, especially the pouch area was rather large, and the fabric looked like it had been stretched somewhat. Without really wanting to, Lance had picked up the piece of underwear and inspected it from all sides now. Frustratingly enough, what Jamal had said earlier appeared to be true. If this piece of underwear was any indicator, then Jamal's dick had to be fairly huge.

That only angered Lance further. Who did Jamal think he was, with his stupid large penis, mocking him? Did Jamal think he could impress him with that?

The piece of clothing had a slightly damp feeling to it. Most probably it was because of the steam from two showers, but was that really all? His body acted on autopilot when he brought the foreign item of clothing closer and sniffed. It was a bit musky, that was for sure, but he wasn't quite sure yet. He buried his nose in the front part of the pouch, right where the dick had been before and took another deep breath.

Oh, there it was. Definitely, Jamal's scent was embedded in the fabric, and the smell was stronger now. Lance felt a rush of shame and anger. Did he really smell the underwear of his black temporary roommate? That was disgusting. He was just about to drop the garment, when he noticed something else. His own -rather small- dick stood proudly at attention.

"What?" Lance said out loud? He was hard because of a man’s underwear? No, not just any man’s. Jamal's, his arch enemies if he had any.

No, this had to stop. With a quick motion, Lance pulled the underwear over his legs and left the bathroom.

Only when he pulled on his pants over the baggy and mostly empty cloth that concealed his erection, he took note of what he had done. Why had he put on the thing?! Well, now it was too much of a hassle to change that, he decided and closed his pants, pressing the damp sweaty fabric against his groin.

Luckily, Jamal didn't come back until late in the night, when Lance was already asleep. He half noticed the other man getting settled on the couch, but he was too tired to care.

When Lance woke up the next morning, he was covered in sweat and his boxers were uncomfortably tight. He groaned as the memories of the day before came back. A quick glance confirmed: Yep, the black man was still there, on the couch, and still asleep, as it seemed.

With a throb, his cock demanded attention under the sheets. It had been quite a while since he had woken up with such a severe case of morning wood, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He wasn't alone, after all. He couldn't resist, however, to reach down under his sheets to readjust himself.

Only when he felt the unfamiliar fabric, again somewhat wet, by his own sweat and precum did he fully remember. Right, for some reason, he had put on Jamal's underwear after the shower. And later, when he went to bed, he hadn't fixed his mistake. There was something else, though.

Lance carefully felt the outline of his cock. This wasn't right. The stolen underwear pouch was filled to the brim with a throbbing organ entirely unfamiliar to him. This wasn't his cock! It was much, much too large!

However, every touch on the large piece of flesh felt good, and he couldn't resist stroking the length stealthily, if only a few times. Why did this feel so good? Lance failed to fully suppress a moan, and saw Jamal stir in his sleep. He really had to stop this. Only perhaps one or more stroke.

Were before, when rubbing one off, he often resorted to only using three fingers to stimulate his length due to his tools size. Now, however, he found that his whole hand was unable to fully close around the shaft, and there was a lot of space for his hand to move up and down, too.

He threw Jamal another glance, but the unwanted roommate still seemed to be asleep. Perhaps he could continue just a bit longer, and perhaps pick up some speed...

This time, too, he failed to muffle his moan completely.

"Ahh, fuck, yes..."

He breathed as he pumped the thick organ faster and faster, using his other hand to caress his balls through the underwear, which felt unusually large as well. Not being able to keep it down any longer, he pumped faster and faster, through Jamal's underwear, until, with a loud groan, he shot a generous load into the fabric.

Lance saw stars for a moment, but the noise had apparently been enough to wake up Jamal, and he turned around on the couch and remarked with a sleepy voice filled with annoyance.

"Dude, what the fuck? Did you just jerk off?"

"Uhh, no. I was... not."

"Yeah, right. And I'm the president. What the fuck, dude? Couldn't you wait until I was gone or something?"

Jamal groaned and got up to go to the bathroom. As he was walking, Lance got a short glimpse at the other man’s groin for the first time. If one thing was for certain, his dick wasn't as large as Lance had suspected. Most of the front of Jamal's boxer briefs was obviously empty.

Jamal spent a surprisingly large amount of time in the bathroom, and when he emerged again, he was - as far as Lance could tell - pale as if he had seen a ghost. He didn't speak a word as he quickly got dressed and basically fled the room, leaving a puzzled Lance behind. What had gotten into that guy again? He shook his head and, finally, removed the sheets and pulled down his borrowed boxer briefs.

And then, he looked at his crotch dumbfounded. He had been right. It wasn't his dick, even though it was flaccid again now, it was much too large. However, that wasn't the biggest problem. Despite being too big, it was decidedly... Black.

And it wasn't just his shaft that was suddenly dark skinned. His balls, too, and the rest of his groin as well. When he turned in front of the mirror, he realized that even his ass-cheeks were a rich dark brown color now, and his pubes dark and wiry.

Lance's head was swimming. What in the world was going on? Was it an infection?

No, even a guy as biased as Lance knew that dark skin was not a disease you got infected with. He simply had no explanation for what he was seeing. Luckily, only his groin was affected. Both his legs and his torso were still as white as they were supposed to be. And his face was fine, too.

Lance shook his head. He'd have to get to the bottom of it, but that had time until later. Today, he wanted to enjoy the beach a bit. However, as he tried to put on his swimming trunks he noticed a problem with his new anatomy. Neither his swimwear nor his pants would fit without being extraordinarily uncomfortable. Not wanting to cut off the circulation to his now much larger tool, he glanced over to Jamal's suitcase. Judging by the pair of boxer briefs, Jamal's stuff should be about the same size, even though Lance didn't really understand why the other man brought clothes this big.

After rummaging through Jamal's belongings for a bit, Lance found what he was looking for. A pair of swimming trunks and a pair of pants that fit comfortably as he put them on without a second thought. He briefly considered fully dressing from the other man’s trunk, but decided against it and took socks, shirt and sunglasses from his own stash.

Finally, fully equipped, he went to the beach.

Given the time of the year, it was rather full, just as he had expected it to be. Nevertheless, he found a spot to lay down a bit and sunbathe, and soon, the warm rays had him relaxed.

For a while, nothing happened. Lance felt at peace, and his thoughts returned to the morning events. He was no stranger to masturbating, but it was the first time that he had felt the urge to do so while in the same room as another guy. Even stranger though, he didn't feel particularly ashamed about it anymore. So, what if Jamal had seen him? He certainly jerked off, too. Put aside all the obvious things that separated them, that was one thing they had in common. They were both men, and men had certain needs. Nothing wrong with indulging in them, right?

In fact, in the morning sun, his thoughts about Jamal were less hostile than usual. It was really hard to be angry all the time when relaxing in the warm seaside sand.

A few hours later, Lance decided to take a swim. However, as he wiggled out of his borrowed pants, he was confronted with yet another surprise.

Apparently, the dark skin had spread. Now, the whole length of his legs was decidedly dark-skinned. Lance shook his head as if he would be able to revert the skin color of his legs like that. But it was no use: The pigment was there to stay. This couldn't possibly be natural, or even healthy! He needed to see a doctor, right now!

Half-panicking, he checked his upper body but was relieved to see that there, his skin was just as milky white as it was supposed to be, as were his feet.

Against all logic, his panic subsided. Sure, he looked ridiculous like that, but it wasn't that bad. In fact, once he managed to look past the weird color of his skin, he found his legs somewhat better looking even, packed with lean muscles. It wasn't bodybuilder level, but a whole new level of power that he never had before.

Originally, he wanted to run, search for a doctor as quickly as he could, but now, he reconsidered. He might as well go through with his plan and swim a bit in the inviting ocean. He could look for a doctor afterwards.

The water was wonderful, and the feeling of his legs powerfully propelling him through the waves was intoxicating. Lance lost track of time, and it was only when his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten all day that he turned back, all thoughts of a doctor forgotten.

He grabbed his stuff and went back to his hotel room to change, but was surprised to meet Jamal in there, when he unlocked the door.

The other man was sitting on the bed with his pants at his ankles and was furiously beating his meat. When the door opened, he quickly covered his groin with a pillow, but there were two things Lance had noticed: First, Jamal's dick was really small! And, secondly, from the waist down, Jamal's skin was colored a bright tone of pink, a stark contrast to his dark torso. There was an obvious connection waiting to be found, something really profoundly easy, but it escaped Lance persistently.

Instead, for the first time in God knew how long, Lance smiled at Jamal briefly.

"Don't mind me, just carry on. I'll just get changed really quickly."

"O...okay." Jamal replied, obviously confused about more than Lance's statement. Hesitatingly, he removed the pillow and continued his work, his eyes glued at the other man.

Since Jamal was occupying the bed at the moment, and Lance didn't want to disturb him by accessing his own suitcase, without thinking too much about it, he grabbed a new set of clothes from Jamal's: A pair of socks, pants, fresh underwear, a shirt and a baseball cap. He got dressed and nodded at the furiously masturbating Jamal again as he left the room just as Jamal came.

Dinner was somewhat strange for Lance. His upper body, arms and feet felt all strange and tingly, and below the borrowed cap, his hair felt like it was shifting and changing. He was really hungry today and was glad about the all you can eat buffet.

However, the more he ate, the more the strange feeling took hold of his head and face as well, and with it, another urge awakened. Lance's thoughts consistently went back to the picture of Jamal masturbating on their bed. Say what you want, but that white boy really had a cute body. That was something Lance had always liked about Jamal James.

Lance Lamar felt his groin get tight again. It was difficult enough to find underwear for his large black python, but when he got aroused, there was hardly anything able to contain the beast of burden.

Finally, he stood up in all of his black glory and went to the elevator. Time to see if James was still around and was up for a length of his loving boyfriends large dick up his cute tight ass.

He was.

As he left the dining hall, Lisa smiled a thin smile and changed an entry in her list. Two less troublemakers and one more happy couple for the wedding.

What a great couple, in the end! After all, racism never pays.

If you like to read about another great couple, in a magical story, perhaps check out this novel!

[missnxthingg]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 - 𝑂𝑁𝐸

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Single Mom!Reader (Best friends to lovers) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando and Y/N have always been the best of friends, always there for each other through thick and thin. After years of sharing the paddock and building their own silly little family, both of them just can't hold their feelings inside anymore, even though they're are both afraid it would ruin their friendship. So who'll take the first step? 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 4.1 K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - None (so far) 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - All chapters come with a social media version. Click bellow and find more about this story!

smau version | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

“My hair is absolutely fine”, Lando complained. He had just woken up from his usual nap before the race and would’ve much rather have used the past five minutes sleeping then getting his hair fixed. Y/N ignored his whining and kept fixing his curls, making sure they fell perfectly into place. “Y/N, I'm literally putting on a helmet five minutes from now”.

“Shut up”, she furrowed her eyebrows and kept herself concentrated on his hair. “You’re gonna look perfect for the pictures before getting in the car with this hair”.

“Y/N L/N, full-time groomer, part-time comms girl”, he joked, making her open a small grin. It’s always nice to have small moments like those in the middle of all the mayhem that is the Formula 1 paddock, specially after so many years knowing each other. Lando and Y/N always found a way to make it even more fun by being there together.

“My job is to get the best image of you out there”, she dusted off his shoulders and winked at him. “Excited to be back?”

“Very”, he smiled at her. “Missed me over the winter?”

“Haven’t had the chance to miss you since you insist on us having a friendship outside work and keeps stopping by my house all the damn time”, she joked, pulling him to walk along with her. “Also, have you forgotten the headache you’ve given me on New Year’s Day?”

Lando went to Bali with his friends on the New Year’s and ended up partying a little too hard, which resulted in Y/N having to work all day as everyone else was enjoying their holiday. She had to stay at her hotel room all day in reunion with his PR team, trying to come up with solutions to his mess. When he found out, he even paid her dinner to apologize for the mess he made.

“I already said I was sorry”, Lando nudged her away with his elbow, making Y/N giggle. Then she toughened up and rolled his eyes at him. They soon were inside the McLaren garage, almost ready to start the first race of the year.

“You can apologize properly by doing great today”, she helped him close his suit, feeling his gaze burning on her face. Lando lowered his sight to pay attention to his friend, making her whole body tingle just with the looks.

“I'll try my best”, he shrugged. And Y/N knew that he was going to be good anyway, even if he didn’t really believe in himself. Lando had done great all weekend, so she knew he was also going to do great on track. She was known to have a sense of when her best friend was going to do good on the race, and today was one of those days. She just didn’t tell him.

It’s been like this since the very first moment they met. Lando and Y/N got to know each other when he was still in Formula 2, but already looking into enrolling in Formula 1 with McLaren. She had just got an internship at the team, working in communications, focused on their social media, and was starting to get into the motorsports world as she worked her way through a degree in college. Lando was also building his career, starting as a test driver and growing into a rookie. With both of them being new into this world, being friends made this entire experience less lonely.

“All good?”, she asked, opening a comforting smile at him to make sure Lando was cheerful enough to kick off the season. 

“Does my hair look good for the balaclava?”, he joked as he took his last pieces of fireproofs to wear. Y/N rolled her eyes and nudged him away. “Yes, curly king”, she giggled, earning a quick hug from the boy, who was now ready to get into the car. He sneaked a tiny kiss on her cheek and buried his nose on her neck. “Good luck, champ”.

“Thank you”, he winked at her, walking towards his engineers to have a quick chat before the race.

Y/N’s job was basically on hold for the rest of the race. She already knew the procedures of the media pen after the race, so all she had to do was wait and cheer for her team. It felt good to be back on track, and beginnings of seasons always give her a little bit more of power to do her job. And Bahrain was a solid start for McLaren, with both Lando and Oscar finishing above P6, getting good points for the team. 

“I knew you were going to do good”, Y/N commented when she saw Lando walking towards her; his suit already hanging low on his hips and with a tired smile on his face after he finished the countless post race interviews. He wrapped his arms softly around his friend as he stole her bottle of water. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you”, he held her a little tighter and immediately felt relaxed next to her. For years, Y/N has been the calm after the storm for Lando. “Tired?”

“Not really. Just a little bit”, she shrugged, as they walked back together to the McLaren motorhome, ready to get her things and walk away from the paddock.

“Want to grab something to eat before heading back to the hotel? I’m starving, and I really could use some time without talking to anyone but you”, he giggled, knowing his best friend knew how to respect his silence when he needed. Also, they had been working non-stop together for the past month, without a single time to just enjoy their time together. It would be nice to do absolute nothing next to each other.

“Oh, I’m heading back to London tonight. I have to be at the airport in… two hours”, she said, looking at her watch with a sad smile. “Little one needs me. She has a ballet presentation tomorrow, and I have to be there for her”.

“Of course”, Lando said, feeling the endearment on his chest with her words. “Ollie has the best mom in the world. She’s the luckiest little girl”.

Y/N got pregnant shortly after she started her second year in Formula 1, after being very careless with a college boyfriend, who took off the second he found out they were having a baby, only helping financially every month, but not being there to help her with anything. On the first years, when she was mostly required to be in England, it worked. But now that she grew on her job and was asked to travel the entire world, it was getting harder and harder to stay away from her daughter. So she always comes for the weekend and goes back home as soon as she can.

“You’re heading back to England tomorrow for the post-race debrief, right? You should come have dinner with us after the ballet presentation”, Y/N suggested.

“Am I banned from going to the ballet as well?”, Lando arched his brows, making Y/N's cheeks heat up.

“I mean, I thought it would be quite boring for you”, she shrugged, making Norris laugh.

“Are you joking? Olivia can never be boring. I always want to see her, especially on nice days like these”, he said. “I'll be there. And then I'll take you to her favourite restaurant”.

“She’s four, Lando. Her favourite restaurant is McDonald's”, Y/N rolled her eyes, but he shrugged.

“McDonald's it is!”, he giggled. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a safe trip back home”.

“You too, Lan”, he pulled her for another quick hug and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

Lando has been there for Olivia since before she was born. After her boyfriend took off, Y/N was left pregnant, completely scared for her future. She didn’t know how to keep doing her job and her studies. Norris was the one who stuck by her side, did everything in his power to not get her fired, or not to quit her job, and pushed her to keep going with her education. He was there to take her to doctor's appointments whenever he could, and he was there to hold her hand when the time came. Lando was one of the first people who ever had the opportunity to hold Ollie in the arms. And for everything he did for both girls, he immediately became the little baby’s godfather. There was no one else in this world Y/N trusted more.

She has been more than special in his life as well. Y/N understood him better than anyone, and was his home away from home. She made him laugh, and she made sure that he felt comfortable, loved and happy all the time. And if things weren’t alright, having her support always made things better. So before she left, Lando took one last glance at his best friend and thought: “How lucky I am to have her in my life”. But he kept that thought to himself, trying hard not to think too much into it. Deep down, he knew there was something more on the way his heart raced every time he looked at her.

For the next day, Lando felt anxious to finally get home and be with his tiny second family. He hasn’t seen his goddaughter since the pre-season started and was looking forward to being in her presence again. It was his favourite way to relax after a full weekend, being with the people he loved the most in the world. So it felt good once the meeting at McLaren back in Woking was over, which meant that now he could go to the ballet presentation and be with his girls.

He arrived at least twenty minutes before the presentation started and found Y/N among the crowd, sitting right in the front, using her Instagram as a pastime to wait until Olivia was on stage. She updated her social media with a few shots from the weekend in Bahrain before she was pulled out of her thoughts by Lando, who found his spot next to his best friend.

“Hello”, he greeted with a beautiful smile on his face. Norris was wearing an all-black outfit, trying not to catch much attention to his presence, not wanting to deal with the public eye in such an intimate moment between family. “Am I late?”

“No, don’t worry”, she smiled softly at him. “Ollie will on go on stage in a few moments, so you’re fine”.

“Good. I’m glad to be here”, he elbowed his friend and got comfortable next to her. “How was your flight back home?”

“It was fine, a bit tiring. I got home just in time to have some breakfast and get Olivia ready to go to school. My mom drove her and I knocked out on the couch until lunch. Then I got her from school, we had lunch at a restaurant, and then I took her home to get our ballerina ready”.

“Cute”, his cheeks tinted in a pretty pink shade. “At least one of us had some proper sleep. I woke up at four, then flew here and went straight into MTC. I got changed there, had a nap, and now I’m here”.

“You should’ve gone home to rest, Lando…”, she started, but he cut her through her sentence.

“I told you I wanted to be here. I always want to be here for Ollie’s big days, you know that”, he assured, and Y/N knew he was telling the truth. After all, he has always been there for her daughter, coming to see her whenever he could, never forgetting to get her gifts on Christmas and birthdays, always calling to make sure his goddaughter knew how much she was loved by him. Lando cared about Olivia as if she was his own daughter.

“I know”, she smiled, searching for his hand in the darkness of the room to give it a squeeze. “You’ve always been here for her big days. But I worry about your health”.

“Oh, shut up”, he laughed. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me”.

Then Y/N noticed that Lando was holding flowers in his hands, and her heart immediately felt full at the sight. He definitely is a treasure in her daughter’s life. 

“You brought her a bouquet?”, she commented, making her friend blush with the comment. “Oh my God, that’s so cute!”

“Of course I did! She deserves it”, he smiled, pulling the bouquet to show it to Y/N. “Do you think she’ll like the daisies? I thought roses were too boring and Ollie is never boring”.

“Obviously. She loves everything you give her”, she giggled, finishing just before the music started and the presentation began. 

Y/N obviously cried to see her daughter dancing beautifully on stage, knowing she was on the right path to provide the best life for her little girl. But her heart actually melted to see Lando’s smile as he sat next to her, admiring Olivia’s movements with a hug smile on his face. 

“She’s really good”, he commented, not tearing his eyes away from the girl. “Look at her, wow!”

Y/N threw her arms around him and snuggled close to his body, hugging him from the side. She just couldn’t contain her happiness by him being there for her family. Lando only tore his eyes away from Ollie to look at his best friend for a second. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and rested a hand on her knee. That was his way to tell her that she was doing a good job.

After the presentation was over, the duo went backstage to pick Olivia to go out for dinner. The little girl was still dressed in her ballerina attire, now with a huge smile on her face as she ran excitedly towards them. But there was only one person she had her eyes for.

“Uncle Lando!”, she shouted, rushing her pace to him, who squatted to hug her. Norris waited for the impact and relaxed once he felt her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. “You came!”

“Of course I came! I wouldn’t miss the best ballerina in town doing her beautiful performance on stage”, he leaned back to look her in the face, the smile never faltering from his face. “You look so beautiful, wow. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you”, Ollie giggled, her tiny hands landing on his cheeks, making his smile even wider. Then he pulled the bouquet in his hands and showed it to the girl, who sparkled her eyes at the sight of the flowers. 

“These are for you”, he said, and Ollie quickly wrapped her hands around the bouquet, pulling them closer to her face to smell it. She started jumping in excitement before pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, that’s nice”.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, Olivia said. “I love you, uncle Lando”.

“I love you too, baby”, he declared before picking her up from the floor, walking towards Y/N, whose eyes were welled up with tears from watching the interaction between them. He whipped it off with one of his thumbs before pulling his best friend for a group hug.

“Why are you crying, mummy?”, Olivia asked, her cheeks pressed between Lando and Y/N’s body. 

“Oh, it’s because you look so beautiful. I’m so proud!”, she giggled. “These are happy tears, I promise”.

“I love you too, mummy. Just as much as I love uncle Lando”, the girl declared, making Lando’s heart warm up with the comment.

“I love you too, Ollie”, Y/N pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Are you hungry, baby? Uncle Lando is taking us for dinner”.

“And you get to choose where”, he smirked, making Olivia even more excited with the proposition. 

“McDonald’s!”, she shouted, making Lando laugh. Then he looked at Y/N, who had that ‘I told you so’ look on her face. “I want a burger, nuggies, fries and ice cream. Oh, and the little toy”.

“Your wish is my command”.

Lando always bent over backwards to see Olivia smile. He bought everything she wished to eat, and she was stuffed with goodies that made her belly warm. Then she filled him in with everything that was going on in her life, making Y/N sit back, eat her burger, and admire the interaction between them. He had been helping her with food as he listened carefully to every single world she was saying. It was good to have someone else taking care of her, lifting the weight off her shoulders for a second. By the time they were done, Norris held both of his girls' hands and walked to his car, ready to go home with them.

Olivia fell asleep on the way home as they had a very quiet ride, only listening to some of Lando’s chill music. Then he helped carry her inside when they arrived, as Y/N opened the door and got her daughter’s bed ready for the night. She changed the little girl’s clothes and tucked her in bed, not forgetting her signature forehead kiss before leaving. Norris watched it from the door with a tender smile on his face. He pulled his friend by the elbow, engulfing her in a comforting, long hug. 

In the quietness of her house, everything felt perfectly into place. Lando rarely gets those moments alone with his best friend when they are rushing around the paddock. So whenever he sees the opportunity, he takes it. And they stood there, holding each other for a few minutes until he pulled Y/N out of the room. She takes care of both him and Olivia all the time. It’s only fair that he took care of her sometimes.

Norris sat her down on the couch and quickly picked a few items from her room, such as a soft blanket, along with some skincare to take off her makeup and make her relax. Then he sat next to her and patted his lap, just so she could lie down and rest. Lando softly ran wipes across her face, removing her make up before putting a relaxing face mask on her skin. Then he massaged her scalp as she sighed in comfort, enjoying every second of that treatment. He finished the skincare with moisturizer and a little kiss on her forehead, making her smile.

“I don’t deserve you”, she commented as Lando blushed. “Seriously, Ollie and I are so lucky to have you in our lives”.

“I’m just taking care of the people that I love”, he shrugged. “Do you want some tea?”

“I want some wine”, she giggled, making him tag along. “I think there’s a bottle in the fridge and the glasses are still in the same place”.

Lando shot up from his seat, but quickly came back with the bottle, an opener and two glasses. He wasn’t someone to drink much, but he would never refuse this bonding time with his best friend. Still, he poured just a little in his glass before toasting with Y/N.

“God, I’m so tired”, she vented. “I can't sleep when I'm away from Ollie”.

“I know”, he squeezed her knee and Y/N leaned her head into his shoulder. “It sucks having to be away all the time. But I promise you’re doing great in this parenting thing”.

“If you think so”, she shrugged. Most times, Y/N second-guesses herself, wondering if she was being a good mother by leaving her child every other week with their grandmother, only to travel to another country. But she knew that was the only way to provide Ollie with the best life she could have; after all, the salary is very good.

“I know it”, Lando assures. “Olivia is the sweetest kid of all time. She’s kind, funny, very talented and polite. And she absolutely loves you, because you are the best mother in the world”.

“Thanks, Lan”, she smiled at him. “I’m glad she has someone like you in her life. I’m glad to have someone like you in mine”.

“I’ll always be here for you and Ollie, you know that. I’ll take care of you both until the end of my days”, he promised, pulling his best friend for a quick kiss on the crown of her head. “And in the end, everything is worth it, right?”

“Olivia is always worth it”, she assured him, opening the biggest smile. “She’s everything to me. And it’s crazy how much someone can mean to you. But I guess motherhood is always like this”.

“I can’t wait to be a dad. I know I’m going to love it just as much as being a godfather”, he said. “You’re going to enjoy being a godmother someday too”.

“I will be the proudest auntie in the world! Your kid will love me because I’ll pamper them with all the love I can give”.

Deep down, Lando knew he didn’t want Y/N to be the godmother of his children. He has known for a while that he wanted her to be their mother; to be the one he raised a family with through the years. He was very happy whenever he was with her and Olivia, loving more than anything that little family he built with his best friend, so he wanted that to grow even more, maybe with some children of their own.

But confessing his feeling for Y/N tonight, or any night in the near future, wasn’t in Lando’s plans. He would rather just enjoy this little family without taking the risk of losing it for unrequited love. After all, if it didn’t work out, he loses both of the loves of his life.

“Are you staying the night?”, she broke the silence after a few minutes just listening to the sound of television, as they finished their wine together.

“Of course. Did you think I was going to pass the opportunity of cuddling with you?”, he frowned. “I was pissed when McLaren didn’t book us at the same hotel, so I could have an excuse to sneak into your room”.

“Well, you’re the famous driver, McLaren golden boy. I’m just the comms girl. Not all of us can stay at swanky hotels”.

“You deserve the swankiest of them”, Lando said, making Y/N flustered with his comment.. “Come on, you barely can keep your eyes opened. Let’s go to bed”.

He swiped her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom as she tried to laugh quietly to not wake Olivia up. Lando threw her in the mattress as he laughed along, but immediately went into ‘take care mode’ when they were inside those four walls. He chose a comfortable pyjama for Y/N and picked some of his clothes, which he conventionally left in her house for nights like these, then went into her bathroom so they could have some privacy to change.

After they were both dress, Lando hopped into bed too and quickly found his favourite spot: his head resting on her chest, with his arms engulfing her in the most comfortable hug. He felt the tiredness of the weekend crash his body, but he felt relaxed to be in his favourite girl’s arms.

“Does Ollie have school tomorrow?”, he asked, feeling Y/N nod, even with her eyes closed.

“She does, I have to be up very early tomorrow”, she groaned, already feeling too lazy to wake up early tomorrow. 

 “I can take her to school, don’t worry”, he said, wanting to take this weight off Y/N’s back. After all, he could very much take care of Olivia for her, as he had done countless times before. “And then after classes, we can all do something fun, like going to a park or something. Maybe I can take her to a toyshop and she can buy anything that she wants”.

“Don’t spoil my child too much. I don’t want her to grow as a spoiled kid. You’ll ruin her!”

“I will”, he giggled. “But Olivia deserves everything in the world and more”.

They fell quiet for a moment, and Lando was sure that Y/N had already fallen asleep. That until her fingers rolled in his curls, making him hum in satisfaction. He wanted that feeling for the rest of his life. He wanted to sleep next to her every night until the end of days.

And then came the three words he always adored hearing from her.

“I love you, Lan”, she mumbled. “Thank you for being the best friend one could ever wish for”.

Even after being friend zoned, Lando didn’t care about anything else, feeling his chest burning in adoration for his favourite girl. “I love you too, baby”, he whispered back, his words carrying more than he actually wanted to mean. 

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 . 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - @celestialams @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion @mrsmaybank13 @bborra @sltwins @riccdannyf1 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @lan4cha16 @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @hellyesjaehyun @tastebaldwin @sweate-r-weathe-r @carmenita122 @m0cha-bunny @lqvesoph @itscrzy @fangirlvibez @poppyflower-22 @livelovesports @logischeroktopus @happy-jj @saturnbloom77 @formulaal @secretgal66 @taisferrari-blog @sunsshinesunny @eclipsedcherry @tems13 @readingbringsjoy @timmispeach @kenzeyeballs @alilcloudy @rchitect-2015 @tillyt04 @eringaitskill @Honeyhatty12 @dreamercrowd @demig0d0fapollo @mxmtewnz @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @beyond-the-ashes @ijustgomessitupx @floraav @laiba26mindflay3r @marialovesf1 @sltwins @lizaschronicles @katieschry1 @loveofmylife12 @diaa-20 @urfavsgf @likedbygaslyy @notturlover @c-losur3 @brizzy-xo @gorgrussell @ellasaddiction2 @morketheduck @kravitzwhore @darkacademicvibes @jenna123456789 @crispymcniall @arsyao @phantomxoxo @noobmaster6931 @ohlahlaa @c0rpsecore @rafegirly @darleneslane @annalisenelson @nataliambc @amorydsmt @slytherinholland @hstylesmermaid @harrysdimples05 @xxbaby-dollxx @neilakk @xxx-betty

[lovely-peace]

Embarrassing!

Summary: The marauders are popular in school, sure. But that doesn't mean that they are really nice. In the end you are just living the basic high-school experience.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Low self esteem, past bullying?, This is no bully! Marauders fic!!

Part 2 Part 3

"You four back there, pull yourselves together now or I'll break you up!"

James' laughter could be heard all the way to the front, to my ears, along with the giggling of the girls next to me.

Great. So I must have been wrong again.

Professor McGonagall was now looking at me, teachingly. "To get back on topic. You have the right idea, but it's not quite that simple. To transform a body, it is of great importance…"

~

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. You weren't that far off the mark." Lily tried to comfort me. That was easy for her to say, she would never be wrong.

And the golden git Gryffindors would never make fun of her.

"Maybe."

"Evans, will you come here?" There stood the loverboy James, ready to have another go at her.

Lily rolled her eyes and smiled apologetically at me. "Don't take these idiots seriously, okay?"

With that, she walked in his direction, and did just that.

But I shouldn't be so hard on her because she was really trying to cheer me up, even though we're not really friends. She's clearly, well, more present than my friend Amy and me.

Amy was Gryffindor just like me, but didn't have transfiguration. She called the subject "A walking unnecessary babble".

Oh how I wish I had thought that when I chose my subjects.

I could still see Sirius grinning as James talked to Lily, Remus just stood there ashamed and Peter patted him on the shoulder.

Sirius noticed my look and whispered something to Remus, who flinched and turned away. I snorted.

Sirius' laughter was still ringing loudly in my ears, long after I had escaped to Amy's and my dorm.

~

"Well, I think they're really annoying. That's all." Amy pushed a plate of dinner towards me. She immediately realized something was wrong and I wasn't ready to go to dinner. I was very glad she was so good at the invisibility spell.

"Yes, but everyone likes them. Even Lily likes the four of them, even though she's always upset about them!" I groaned loudly and accepted the plate gratefully.

Amy looked at me with a smile. "Well, I don't really like them. They're entertaining, but I think they lack empathy."

"I think they're all stupid ego centers who only make themselves so important because they actually feel so bad about themselves." I took a big bite.

"And yet you can't stop talking about the four of them." Amy was grinning now. "I thought you said the other day that 'Remus isn't actually that bad and nice to talk to'?"

I almost choked at the mention of meeting the quieter boy of the group. It had been three months since we had met and talked in the library.

"That was something else. He just watches and lets the others get away with everything." I quietly turned to my food and Amy dropped the subject.

Oh, how I hated this cycle. Getting up. Eating at a house table where I know everyone and yet no one really. Subjects in which I will eventually make a mistake. Skipping meals to avoid the stares. Sleeping.

Hogwarts isn't that different from other schools. The same faces making fun of the same things. But we're all supposed to be adults soon, aren't we?

I should stop before I sound like an angsty teen.

~

Breakfast. New day, same course. I sat down opposite Amy and a laugh escaped my lips at one of her jokes.

But then another girl sat down next to me. Marlene McKinnon.

"Hey, you two, how are you?" she smiled, but something made me uncomfortable.

"Good, good." Amy laughed. "And you?"

"Oh, just fine." Marlene looked at my plate as if to check something. Suddenly I felt uncomfortable having a few chocolate cookies in the morning.

She turned to me. Oh no.

"Hey, this might be a bit sudden, but I'd like to know something." There was this twinkle in her eye that I didn't like at all.

I looked at Amy, who just shrugged her shoulders.

"Okay?" Very carefully. Don't make any big mistakes.

"If you had to date someone from Gryffindor, who would it be?"

I looked confusedly at Amy, who had to pull herself together not to burst out laughing.

"What?"

Marlene shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I was just a bit curious as I've never seen you in a relationship with anyone before."

I saw her eyes twitch briefly to the right. When I looked in that direction, not very inconspicuously, I saw Sirius whispering something to James. He grinned at Remus in response.

Oh.

"Well, I can't really think of anyone right now, sorry Marlene."

She looked at me in surprise and wanted to say something, but Amy gasped in shock. Shocked, she clutched her chest. "After everything we've been through!" she didn't exactly say that quietly. To my dismay, quite a few heads turned towards us. Including the idiots.

"Amy-" I began, but she talked herself into her theater rage. "Hush! I don't want to hear any excuses! I thought we were something special! But no. In the end, I'm just another one of the many picks that will never be taken." She stood up. She skillfully looked away and took in the audience. "I can reassure you. I was prepared for all of this."

"Amy, it's not what you think!" I played along a little now. "I couldn't be so open about something so… Say something like that!"

Amy furrowed her brow. "Girl, no homo."

The Gryffindor table laughed and we fled the room.

Outside, we also laughed a bit, but Amy quickly composed herself.

"Did you see how he looked at you?"

I furrowed my brow. "Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Remus, of course."

"Maybe it's because you made a big show," I said playfully, heading towards our next class.

"Hmm, but I think then he wouldn't have looked at you so longingly-"

"Amy!"

"With red cheeks and big heart eyes!" I walked faster while she laughed.

"That's all nonsense. Marlene only asked because one of those idiots requested it."

Amy looked at me confused. "Why would they do that?"

"Oh, they were looking at us too. And yesterday they were whispering among themselves. They probably find me really funny."

Amy became very quiet after that.

The only sounds were our footsteps and voices in the distance.

"You know," Amy began quieter than usual. "It's not like it used to be. We're all slowly growing up. We're not the odd ones out anymore. I think," she took a deep breath. "That the four of them won't make fun of us, of you, anymore."

How much I wished I could believe that. But I won't be able to, even if Remus talks to me in the library or Peter asks me if I like certain creatures.

Because in the end, I gave up on that a long time ago.

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero

Pt 2: A spider's nest is different to a bird's.

You exit the school building with two of your friends; Sherri Webster and Tia Hunt. You see Timothy leaning against the wall to the exit of the school building and you can't help but scoff, does he not have a life or friends?

Okay, judging by how the polls are going now, this one is winning!! I'll post the second part of Don't Drink The Kool-Aid soon (possibly tomorrow or the day afterwards). Don't be afraid to send in asks and such regarding anything! I love answering them and doing side stories/headcannons for this series or other series of mine!

The day rolls by painfully slow. How could it not when you're going to invite someone, who you're pretty sure would throw you to the wolves for a dollar, into your shitty apartment?

Tia notices your gaze and chuckles, you had already told them both about Tim and the project, they laughed and made fun of you - you'll get back at them.

Sherri pats me back "If you don't come back to school tomorrow we'll let the police know he probably murdered you!" Tia laughs at that and I grumble and elbow Sherri.

"Oh shut up! God, you're insufferable!"

"And you're about to be dead!"

"Oh please, no one in Gotham stays dead these days!"

"I'll make sure you do!"

Tia interrupts before the minor spat ends in the two forgetting Timothy is there - now looking at the three with the very hatred you'd give to your parent's murderers.

"Can you guys fight later? In the group chat maybe? I'm starving and want to go home - private school food tastes like shit." Sherri sighs but agrees and the two wave goodbye before leaving you.

You wave and after a bit of awkward silence you glance at Timothy who is now staring daggers at you, his eyes are calculating but aren't narrowed - like a feral wolf analysing it's target. You hold back a sigh as you raise a brow.

You make a hand motion for him to follow you and you start to walk along the path to your amazing, beautiful, posh, cool apartment that in no way is flawed.

The walk is silent and painful, at this point your willing to bust out the charms and joke with him but you're scared he's going to smash your head into the concrete as soon as you make a joke.

You walk past a poster that was hung up regarding the heroes of Gotham, Aranea is near the center hanging to the side of a wall. You scowl at it - the picture was bad and didn't flatter you at all.

Timothy catches your scowl and makes a show of rolling his eyes and typing something on his phone. You can't hold back any longer.

"What? You grading me or something? Speak the fuck up if you have a problem, Richy Rich." You sneer as you say the last part, he snaps his head up at you in offense.

"Oh, you want me to speak up?! Fine, you're a selfish brat who's got parents that fawn over you and you never lacked anything in your life yet you go after some sweet innocent girl who would a hundred percent save you if you needed it. Aranea is one of the best people in Gotham and it's disgusting that you are so rude to her!" Timothy rants. You can't help but raise a brow, you want to laugh so hard - the irony is right there.

Instead you roll your eyes "You hate me because I hate someone you fangirl over? How pathetic. Hate me for a real reason!" You try not to smirk when you see Timothy try to take deep breaths and calm down.

"... Let's just get to your apartment already." He states as he continues walking, you raise a brow. "Wrong way." He turns around and follows you silently.

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

Finally you stop in front of your stunning apartment. Out of the corner of your eye you see Tim raise a brow.

"How'd you get into a private school if your parents can't even afford an apartment building that doesn't look like it's had ten different crime scenes this week?"

You deadpan, ouch man...

"I got in through an engineering scholarship." You reply blandly, no point in spilling your emotions and true personality to a person like Timothy.

Timothy doesn't say anything else and you take that as the conversation ending and lead him into the complex and to the apartment you reside in.

It's home and you wouldn't want anything different. The plants are dead, there's a leaky tap, the clock that's stuck on the wall ticks annoyingly, there's a small spider making it's home in one of the corners and all the furniture looks one kick away from dust.

Your parents don't have much time to clean...

You look at Timothy out of the corner of your eye, despite loving where you live you know people will judge and Tim will probably use this against you some time in the future.

.............................................................................................

Tim's confused. You had always exuded "rich spoilt brat" behavior and seemed so stuck up yet live in actual filth? On top of that you got into Gotham Academy on a scholarship? Do high schools even do scholarships? It doesn't make sense.

Tim's not an idiot, he knows he's being petty but at the same time he can't bring himself to stop. Aranea is one of the kindest people he's met in Gotham, a saint, an innocent person who deserves a good life.

Yet, you hate her guts, you say awful things about her despite not even meeting her - or maybe you did, either way there's no reason for you to be acting like this.

Tim isn't petty, he won't use your living situation against you but the scholarship thing can be.. a small post can ultimately cause ridicule in the school.

He blinks a couple times, not noticing how he's already in a cramped bedroom - it's the size of a supply closet in the manor!

There's a bed in the corner, a window that's curtained up, a closet, a toy chest and a pile of sketch books that reaches halfway up the bedframe. It's cozy he supposes - for a sewer rat at least.

You mumble something about getting food before leaving the room. Seems you have some smarts and etiquette.

His phone buzzes and he looks down at the Gotham Vigilante Group Chat (GVGC), it's a message from Aranea.

Aranea: "Heyyyy!! I won't be able to go on patrol tonight, my mama wants to go out for dinner :("

Tim sighs, that's good. He can't go because of the stupid project so it seems he won't have to get horrendously teased for missing out on hanging with Aranea.

Tim's phone buzzes again and it's Bruce.

Bruce: "Message if (Reader) does anything sketchy. You can't trust someone so hateful."

Way to state the obvious. Tim already had multiple plans in case you did something.

He pockets his phone after responding with a thumbs up and he sits down, on the floor - assuming that's where they'll work.

.............................................................................................

Soon you come back with snacks in hand and had changed into more comfortable clothes - they were your dad's because in no way were you going to show Timothy your sense of style.

The clothes consisted of cargo shorts that were grossly oversized and tied with some shoelace to stop them from falling and an oversized shirt with the image of Garfield on it.

You raise a brow at where Timothy is sitting.

"Uh, why are you sitting on the floor?"

"That's where we'll work. Why?"

You think you're ready to go cry in a corner out of frustration.

"I have a bed."

"okay? I doubt it can even fit the both of us."

... Okay, that's true. Still, even if you hated him your parents didn't raise you to be rude to guests.

"Fine. You sit on the bed and I'll kneel on the floor."

You watch as his eyes widen, not expecting that response. You push him to stand up and make him sit on the bed before plopping down and taking a big sketchbook and flipping to the back of it.

"Okay, let's get started." You mumble, more so to yourself.

You two spend the next three to four hours researching, drawing things and writing down dates. By the end of it your tired and just want to sleep. It would have been done sooner if there wasn't an argument that caused you to storm out of the apartment and pace the halls and if Tim didn't leave to the halls to answer a call but at least it's over with.

You rest your head against your bed, you're still on the floor and more than content staying there, you doubt your body will even allow you to move.

Slowly your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

[bamfkeeper]

Pregnancy

RQ: 'Hi! Hope you’re having a good day! I Saw your requests were open! Would I be able to get some headcannons for Kurt as a father/with a pregnant reader? If not that’s perfectly fine!' - @cherri-leaf

Warnings: Kurt x f!reader, pregnancy topics, birth and baby themes

A/N: This is not helping my baby fever. Do I care? Nope. Soo happy to get one of these, I love writing things like this. Ignore any grammar errors bitte und danke.

Kurt would be the best father to be. When he found out you were pregnant, he was completely overjoyed.

He would absolutely do everything in his power to make sure that you are comfortable and happy throughout your pregnancy. He can hardly wait, and he'd want you completely stress-free during.

Kurt would always ask what he can do to help, he wouldn't want you bending over or lifting anything.

Kurt is an excellent cook, so he'd be cooking a lot of your meals. He doesn't want to control you, but he only wants you to be eating the best foods he can get you. And cooking it himself, he knows exactly what is going in your body and feeding your baby.

His German heritage comes out more, he likes to feed you typical German meals, most of which are high in protein and good for your body. Lot of meat and potatoes, and lots of fruits and veggies.

He does let you have desserts too, he makes them himself though. Or if you want to bake with him that's obviously okay! He loves to bake, as long as you don't get too tired with your belly.

He loves massaging you, knowing how laborious and exhausting pregnancy can be. He always tries his best to massage parts that hurt. Kurt massages your legs, ankles, feet, back. He also tenderly will massage your breasts, it's good for milk production and to help the tissue as your milk comes in.

One of his favorite things is to sit down and lay his head beside your belly. He loves listening to your little one most around, gently rubbing over it and speaking to it. He talks in German to your little one, speaking soft and sweet, laying kisses all over your stomach.

Kurt does a ton of research on pregnancy too. Before you are even pregnant and you're both trying, he reads books and watches videos of pregnancy and what it does to your body, getting as much information as possible about it. He wants to know what he can do to take the best care of you. Plus he wants to understand what's happening to the love of his life.

Some of it makes him cringe, and he frowns seeing how your internal organs shift, or all the symptoms and mental strain pregnancy causes. "Liebe...I will do everything I can to help you. It is scary, but I will be right here." he reassures, even if you have no worries about it.

Does he go nuts over the nursery? YES. Circus themed, naturally. Without the bad parts of his youth of course. Lots of fun colors, circus stuffies, (elephants, zebras, lions, tigers, bears, oh my!), and he absolutely paints it with you.

He also loves to shower you with gifts during your pregnancy, some for the baby, but some for you too. He always makes sure your friends know what you need when the baby showers comes along.

Baby clothes shopping? He goes nuts. "Liebe, bitte, bitte our little one has to have lederhosen! Bitte!" he begs and pleads with you, and you can't resist for long.

He makes a lot of jokes when your baby moves around a lot. "Heh, takin' after me already? Mein Gott...a little acrobat you are..." he coos to your belly, "Careful now, little one, you're gonna hurt your mama." he kisses your belly where the baby seems to be doing summer saults.

Kurt does really well with your hormonal changes too. He understands, sometimes you get impatient or lose your temper, never at him, but things are so overwhelming and stressful sometimes. You get frustrated with your self esteem or the fact that standing up is always a struggle. He calms you down, helping you ground yourself. "What do you need, schatz...anything. Food, space, love?" he questions, wanting to ensure you are okay.

When you go into labor, he tries his best to stay calm but...he can't help it. He freaks out. He rushes to you, no teleporting, it makes you too dizzy. He helps you to Beast's lab, no hospitals, he heard about how they treated Madelyne, he didn't want to deal with that.

You feel better surrounded by friendly faces anyway.

Of course it's just him in the room when you do give birth, he talks you through, telling you how good you're doing...how close you are, to breathe, etc.

He is so worried, giving you lots of love and making sure you're doing okay above all else.

When your little one arrives, he is in complete awe. Imagine how you want the baby to look ofc, but come on...it's gotta be a little blue!

It is such a sweet bundle of joy, it doesn't cry more than necessary when it's first born, and you hold your baby as it's placed on you. Kurt doesn't care if it is a boy or girl, that is his little one and he will cherish it with you.

Kurt respects the motherly bonding, so he steps back and lets you hold and be the first one to cuddle and kiss, and of course warm the baby with your skin. It's a sight he won't forget.

Ideally, he'd like to name the baby a German name, but he of course talks with you if you have any cultural or personal preference. You both come to a conclusion on what to name your new baby.

He's the best after too. He does everything he can while you recover with the baby, and helps wherever is needed. He helps if you nurse, he cleans and cooks still, makes sure you have hot showers ready, anything you could imagine.

You know you and your baby will be forever and always be loved by your adorning blue teleporter ~

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[freshl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧, his brows furrowing in confusion as he sees me standing in front of the toaster, phone propped against it. “Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks, his tone laced with amusement and a hint of puzzlement.

I turn around and grab Chris's arm, pulling him into the camera frame with me. I give him a playful grin as he stands there, slightly bewildered by my sudden move.

Chris gives me a confused grin, his eyebrows furrowed, clearly not quite understanding the situation. He looks between me and the camera, as if silently asking both of us, “What's going on?”

I extend the bag to Chris, a playful grin on my face. “Can you hold this for me, babe?” I say, my tone innocent yet mischievous.

Chris takes the bag and slips his arm through the straps, holding it on his side. He shoots me a quizzical glance, wondering what I'm up to. As I walk back to my phone, starting the Tiktok recording, I can't help but giggle at the image we create together. He stands there, looking casual in the tote bag, waiting to see what comes next.

“i love when beautiful girls have a little gay boyfriend. they just have a little feminine vintage levi’s wearing tote bag carrying…”

Chris's ears perk up at the sound of the TikTok starting, and the words immediately make him chuckle. He stands there, a playful glint in his eyes, fully embracing the joke.

I burst into laughter as the TikTok describes Chris as a “feminine, tote bag-carrying” boyfriend. Chris joins the fun, striking poses with the tote bag, channeling his inner femininity and enjoying the moment. He flashes the camera a playful grin as he poses, embracing the humor of the situation.

Chris, in the middle of his playful poses, turns around to see me laughing and admiring him, my happiness clear on my face. He walks up to me, a beaming smile on his lips, and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. The camera catches the sweet and playful moment between us flawlessly.

I laugh against his lips, my hands coming up to cup his face as we share this moment. The camera captures the joy and lightheartedness of our connection, with me holding his face between my hands, laughter echoing softly.

Chris pulls back slightly, looking into my eyes with warmth and affection. He speaks softly, a hint of amusement in his voice, “You're so silly, baby.” The words fall gently from his lips, the tone tender and playful. The corners of his mouth curve into a smile, the camera capturing the sweet exchange between us.

“You always find a way to make me laugh,” he adds, a hint of adoration in his tone. Chris's fingers gently brush against my face, his eyes filled with love and amusement at my playful antics.

I walk over to my phone, grabbing it with Chris's arms still wrapped around my waist. We both watch the video together, his chin on my shoulder, as I giggle at our playful moment. Chris chuckles lightly in my ear, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my waist.

I turn to him with a playful glint in my eye, “I didn't know you could be so sassy,” I tease him, laughter dancing in my voice. Chris smirks and shrugs, playing along with the joke with a playful hint of defiance, “What can I say? I'm full of surprises.”

With a grin, I take the phone and caption the video “My sassy boy @christophersturniolo,” officially sharing a playful moment from our relationship with the world through this soft launch on the media. Chris watches over my shoulder, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flickering in his eyes, anticipating how the public will react to this subtle but meaningful reveal.

As the video gets published, Chris takes a deep breath, the reality and implications settling upon him. He glances at me, seeking reassurance, his hand gently squeezing my waist. Even though he knew I was taking the step, fear of the unknown and how his fans would react lingers in the background of his mind.

I refresh the video and a flood of comments rolls in. Fans express their joy and excitement at our cute chemistry, remarking on how happy we look together, and surprise at Chris being in a relationship. Their words fill us with warmth, and Chris's eyes light up, a mixture of relief and delight filling him.

I turn to Chris, a warm smile on my face, and say, “I knew everything was going to go fine.” I wrap my arms around his waist, offering reassurance and love. He smiles, the tension easing a little, and pulls me into a tight hug, finding comfort in my words and our connection.

Chris, chuckling softly, looks down at me, his taller stature creating a slight height difference. “I would still have loved you no matter what anyone thought,” he affirmed, his tone full of sincerity. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, a warm smile playing on his lips, the depth of his emotions shining in his eyes.

I smile and playfully go on my tiptoes, reaching up to meet his lips, sharing a tender kiss that conveys affection and reassurance. Chris leans down, meeting me halfway, our lips gently touching in a moment of tenderness and love.

I wrap my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. I press close to him, our bodies brushing against each other as we share this intimate moment.

Chris's large hands find their way to my hips, his grip firm yet gentle as he holds me close. He gently squeezes my hips, pulling me flush against him as we continue the kiss, our bodies melding together in the embrace.

Nick's voice interrupts the moment as he walks into the kitchen, playfully commenting, “Congrats on soft launching your relationship, but please do get a room.” He walks to the fridge, casually teasing us as he tries to ignore the display of affection between us.

Chris and I break the kiss, both of us laughing at Nick's playful comment. I let my hands slide down to Chris's arm sides, our laughter filling the kitchen. Nick continues to ignore us, pretending to be focused on searching for something in the fridge, trying not to embarrass us further.

I chuckle and apologize, “Sorry Nick,” still giggling a bit. Nick laughs and walks back upstairs, leaving us alone in the kitchen. I wrap my arms around Chris's waist, nestling my head against his chest, our embrace comforting despite the brief interruption. Chris wraps his arms around my shoulders, holding me close in a warm embrace, his chin resting on my head.

We stand there for a moment, the silence settling around us, both of us finding comfort in each other's presence and the small intimate moment. Chris gently rubs my back, his fingers tracing gentle circles, as we stand together in this quiet kitchen, his chest rising and falling beneath my head.

Chris suddenly breaks the moment, releasing his hold on me. He strikes a playful pose with the tote bag, “Am I giving puss?” he jokes, a playful smile forming and amusement in his eyes. He pretends to vogue with the bag, trying to look as feminine as possible for added humor.

I burst into laughter at his diva-esque pose with the tote bag, “Yes diva!” I manage to get out between giggles, my eyes sparkling with amusement. Chris continues posing, leaning into the diva role, exaggerating his movements.

Laughing in delight, I reach for his hand, pulling him close for another kiss. Chris, still holding the tote bag, leans in, meeting my lips again, our laughter merging into a sweet and gentle exchange of affection. We break the kiss, still giggling, and Chris sets the bag aside as he embraces me.

Chris leans his forehead against mine, his words a gentle whisper, “I love you.” His voice is soft and sincere, his eyes shimmering with affection. I smile and bring my hands up to cup his face, my fingers tracing his cheeks, “I love you more,” I reply, filled with love and contentment.

Chris responds playfully, “That's impossible” His voice is a soft murmur, his eyes meeting mine. I laugh softly, playfully pushing him away, “It is!” I argue, giggling in his embrace. Chris shakes his head and pulls me back in as we melt into another sweet moment.

“You're impossible, you know that?” He teases, his fingers gently tracing my sides, bringing me closer. “Yeah, but you love me anyway,” I reply, nuzzling my face closer. “Unfortunately” He jokes, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly, but his playful tone betrays affection.

I feign offence, my tone exaggerated. “Chris!” I exclaim, pretending to be hurt. He chuckles, his hands cupping my face gently, “I'm joking, baby,” he says, and he leans in to kiss me, capturing my lips in a warm embrace.

I melt into the kiss, a playful sigh escaping my lips. Chris and I exchange a heartfelt kiss, filled with affection and just a hint of teasing. He pulls away, gently resting his forehead against mine, a playful glint in his eyes “You know I love you,” he adds, emphasizing his words, the playful banter a testament to the ease and joy in our relationship.

“Yeah, yeah I know” I respond, rolling my eyes playfully, trying to hide my amusement. Chris continues to hold my face, his thumbs gently tracing my cheeks, “Don't roll your eyes at me,” he teases, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

Chris, still holding my face in his hands, softly traces my cheek with his thumb. He locks his gaze with mine and whispered, “You're stuck with me forever.” His tone is gentle and playful, accompanied by an undercurrent of tenderness. The words have a depth to them, a promise of unwavering devotion.

I smile, my heart swelling with love at his words. “Forever is a long time,” I respond with a hint of teasing in my voice, but love shines through my eyes, acknowledging the promise he made. Chris nods playfully, “You heard me,” he teases, his fingers gently pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, a fond grin spreading across his face.

Our playful exchange continues, Chris gently teases, “No refunds, no exchanges.” He chuckles softly as he pulls back, his fingers still tracing my skin with tenderness. “You're stuck with me for eternity,” he repeats in a gentle murmur, the words a mix of tease and certainty.

I laugh softly, feeling the warmth of his words wash over me. “For better or for worse?” I tease, pretending to weigh the options, a playful smile curling my lips. Chris leans in closer, a soft chuckle escaping him, “For both, forevermore,” he whispers, sealing his promise with a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Forevermore?” I question, raising an eyebrow, but I can't hide the smile that lights up my face. His words hold a profound truth, a promise of forever, making my heart swell with love. Chris smiles softly, a mix of playfulness and tenderness in his eyes, “Forevermore,” he repeats, his thumb gently brushing my cheek, a comforting touch to seal the playful vow.

Chris holds me close, our foreheads still touching, and speaks gently, a tinge of poetry in his words, “Forevermore, in every moment, through laughter and teasing, my love for you will endure. I promise to stand by you, through joys and challenges, forevermore.” His words gently linger in the air, a sweet and playful poem that encapsulates our playful exchange, filled with love, and a promise to cherish one another for eternity.

TAGS: @st6rify ✮⋆˙ @jetaimevous ✮⋆˙ @certifiedstarrr ✮⋆˙ @slvtf0rchr1s ✮⋆˙ @l3sbiancvnt ✮⋆˙ @wh0remikasas ✮⋆˙ @r0s3luvr ✮⋆˙ @emely9274 ✮⋆˙ @mimiluvzpicklez

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃

[novvabee]

The Wrong Color

Summary: poly!jegulily x reader, Y/N and Lily wear the boys jerseys at the Gryffindor vs Slytherin game.

cw: suggestive

word count: 1.3k

The lovely Scottish morning light was always so peaceful when it glowed through the black lake and the Slytherin dorm room windows. The light fractured and bloomed along the green bed sheets you were tangled in. It would have been perfect, if only your boyfriend wasn’t running around the room looking for all his quidditch gear.

Regulus always gets like this before games, but especially games against your rival house, the house that your other boyfriend and girlfriend are a part of; Gryffindor. You love the other half of your relationship, but man, could they be annoying. You liked the rivalry, it made things fun, especially since it was two against two, you and Regulus, and Lily and James.

Regulus was worked up last night, meaning you two didn’t get much sleep, meaning you both woke up late and now he was rushing to get to breakfast before the match. 

“You know this is your fault right?” he explained to you. “If you hadn’t stayed the night-”

“My fault?” you interrupted sounding amused. “If I’m remembering correctly, it was you begging ‘please please, I’ll do anything-”

It was his turn to interrupt you, this time with a kiss. He broke away and smiled down at you. He looked godly in this light.

“You'll be in the stands cheering for me today right?” he asked, the smile still lingering on his lips.

“Of course not! You know I can't play favorites,” you explained “Plus why would I? I hate you.” You said, joking of course.

He raised his brows and cocked his head to the side. “Oh really? Was that hatred last night?” he asked before kissing you again, laying you back on the bed and climbing on top of you. 

You really wish you could stay like this, but you giggled and pushed him off, swatting at his arm saying “You’re already late! Go!”

He took your command and breezed out the door of his unshared dorm room, a perk of being a prefect. 

Right, now it was your turn to get dressed, only you and Lily had been scheming. You were going to show up in James’s spare Gryffindor jersey, and Lily in Regulus’s. You had always just worn your own house colors or the correlating boy's extra jerseys, but you and Lily wanted to see their reactions. 

You pulled on the red and gold, pairing it with some jeans and converse, a very casual, very James look. You looked at yourself in the mirror, it felt so unnatural, but that was the fun of it.

You met Lily outside your common room before heading to the stands to get a good seat. 

  Seeing her in the green and black jersey was odd, but she was striking, as always. The green brought out the colors in her eyes, making her red hair stand out even more. She was gorgeous.

“You look good in green.” you blushed as you told her.

She scoffed as she took you in. “You look good in red,” she said. “Come on, we should get going before all the front row seats are taken,” she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side and kissing your temple. 

You two caught up with Marlene and Dorcas, both sporting their own house colors, Marlene in her own jersey, and looked at you and Lily in slight bewilderment. 

“Uh, I think you two grabbed the wrong tops when dressing this morning.” Marlene examined, raising an eyebrow at the pair of you.

You looked at Lily, then back at your friends. “Huh, guess we were rushing.” you said, smirking. Lily nudged you with her hip, but the four of you continued on walking to the pitch.

Once there, you had gone right up to your usual spot, Peter had dutifully saved you all seats. You took yours, front and center, and waited for Lily to return from the concessions stand with the butterbeer you asked for. 

You turned and made small conversations with Peter about the previous quidditch matches and yesterday's boring potions lecture. 

“Oh, uh… by the way, what’s with the uh,” Peter said pointing to your choice of jersey.

“Just wanted to be supportive, that’s all,” you said with a fake tone of innocence.

He chuckled. “Yes but, on today of all days? They might just knock each other off their brooms.” 

“Oh don’t worry, Pete,” you said, “Lily is in Regulus’s.”

All of your friends knew about your relationship, and were happy for you all. They never judged or misunderstood anything, something that your entire group of friends was known for, being accepting and understanding of all types of love. 

They did, however, love to see the games the four of you played with each other. You four were known to prank and tease and provoke each other, but it was always in good fun and always stemming from the house rivalry. Other than that, the four of you didn’t play when it came to your relationship, you were wholly devout to each other, no matter what house you may belong to. 

Lily came up the stands, promised butterbeer in hand, and sat herself right next to you. She had perfect timing, the boys were about to start playing. 

James zoomed by on his broom, Regulus hot on his tail, warming up and having some fun teasing each other before the real game starts.

“Gyffindor has this in the bag.” Lily announced to all of your friends.

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure Slytherin has the better record this year.” you replied and shot her a devious smile.

“Remind me, who won the cup last year?” she questioned, giving you the same deviousness. You replied by playfully rolling your eyes, hitting her knee with your own.

The high pitched whistle sounded, signaling the start of the game. It was an intense, brutal rush of back and forth. Both teams playing hard, fighting for the win and the glory that comes along with it. The game turned dirty and aggressive almost immediately.

The match was tied, coming down to the final moments when you watched both your boyfriends diving and spinning toward the ground before pulling up at the last minute. They were no doubt chasing after the tiny golden snitch. 

You leaped to your feet, tracking them both the whole way. James was reaching out his hand, the snitch almost within grasp when Regulus suddenly slammed into his side, knocking James away, putting himself closer to the snitch instead. James didn’t take this lightly, he zoomed back to Regulus’s side and the two shoved and shoved. You would have been more concerned, but this is exactly how each match ended, the two of them fighting for the golden ball. 

The boys rerouted their course, heading straight over the section both you and Lily were sitting in. This must have been some sort of plan devised by Regulus, because this change made James’s gaze slip, fall to both Lily wearing Slytherin green and you in Gryffendor red with big yellow block letters spelling out ‘POTTER’.

This slight break in attention, the hesitation, allowed Regulus to capture the snitch while his opponent was distracted.

You cheered and hugged Dorcas, feeling prideful for your house’s big victory, Regulus taking a lap around the pitch. Lily cheered as well, not as much as you of course, not wanting to admit defeat, but still proud of her boy. You took her by the hand and pulled her along down to the field to meet your boys.

James met you first, flying down a bit disappointed, but obviously happy for Regulus. He spotted you and immediately hugged you. This sweet gesture was a guise, pulling you close to his body only to whisper “This is your fault you know,” into your ear.

You giggled. “Believe it or not, that is not the first time I have heard that sentence today.” you said, pulling away and looking up at him. He had that smirk, that look spread across his face, one that often came after he lost. Perhaps you wouldn’t get much sleep tonight either.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Prewar!Cooper Howard has a breeding kink because he loves being a dad. He and Barb married and started trying for kids later in life than most folks around them, so much of the sex they had, especially early on, was focused on getting Barb pregnant. If he'd had his way, they would have had a whole litter of children, but hey, sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want. Still, there's the fun of trying, and there was a lot of trying. After the divorce, he's shocked when he meets someone else, and even more shocked when he feels those same urges with you. He's been trained to try and knock one in basically every time, he jokes.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

He's also incredibly possessive, and it drives him wild to think about getting to see you all swollen and filled out with his child. Particularly with you being younger that him; the ugly part of his brain is barking at him to stake a more permanent claim on you every time a guy your age so much as looks your way. Personally, he thinks he's too old to have more kids, but between his secret urges, your forgetfulness when it comes to your pill, and your twin high sex drives, well...sometimes accidents happen.

He'd be over the moon, once he knew you were happy as well (he would also worry about the news potentially being hurtful to Barb, but that'd be an issue for tomorrow). Showing you off in public, knowing that other people see how gorgeous you are and know you fully belong to him, it really gets him going, and you certainly take notice of how amorous he is when you're out together (combined with how vigorously he fucks you when you get home). Thinks you're insanely sexy pregnant and likes to watch you ride him with a big belly. You'd both better be a lot more careful about your contraception after the first baby if you don't want another, because getting to see you that way only makes his kink worse.

The Ghoul has a breeding kink because he's incredibly possessive. It's been literal centuries since he's come across anything in this world that he cares for enough to want to claim it, and you're officially claimed. He wants everyone, including you, to know that you belong to him and only him. Other ghouls can smell him on you much more strongly if he cums inside you, and he enjoys the way filling you full scratches his most primal itch. It's just an added benefit that he's almost positive he can't actually get you pregnant, but...there are records of ghouls reproducing with other ghouls. Haven't stranger things happened?

The little thrill he gets at the idea is just nature trying to take over.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

You'd be hard-up to get him to admit it, but he wants you to need him. He wants an excuse to baby you and pamper you and force you to let him do things for you without the vulnerability of admitting that he wants to do those things for you anyway because he's deeply in love with you.

You complain that your feet hurt during your journey for the day? He'll carry you everywhere you want to go from now until the end of time, if that's what you want. Stomach and appetite troubles? Name whatever you want, he'll find it for you, no matter how many caps he has to pay. Tired? "Of course you're tired, sweetheart. Let's stop for today. Here, sit down. Do you need some water? Eat this, you need some calories. Let me rub your legs and feet for you." It is endless and sort of surreal for you to adjust to.

Speaking of journeys, I think he also secretly wants to settle down a bit. He does already after he meets and falls for you, seeing how much the constant trekking back and forth across the irradiated desert takes out of you, and he definitely would want to do so expeditiously if you were pregnant. It's not like secure places don't exist in this world. He can keep you, and anyone else who may come along, safe just fine.

He'd be afraid to fuck you if you were pregnant, worried that he'll hurt you or make you sick or make something bad happen with the pregnancy. But if you reassure him, maybe beg a little, he'll do his best to make sure your urges are satisfied. Sit on his face and let him slide his tongue through your insanely sensitive folds, lie back and let him fuck you with those agile fingers while he jerks himself off. You'll miss being properly penetrated, badly, but you won't go without.

He wants an excuse to be even more protective of you than usual. Give him a reason to literally pluck men's eyes out for daring to so much as look at you, a reason to never let you out of his sight ever again. If you thought he was ready to commit violence to keep you safe before, you haven't seen anything yet.

I can't imagine it would be easy to have a big family in the Wasteland, but reminding him how much he loves being a dad would certainly have the thought on his mind.

[authorscurse]

Jealous

[P.J Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[Now Playing!]: Jealous by Nick Jonas ❝'𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞❞

Synopsis: Percy Jackson is never the type to get jealous. He just never does. Tell him he is and he'll laugh at your face and tell you you're wrong.

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Aphrodite's daughter reader

Warning: LUKE DOES NOT BECOME KRONOS AND TURN TO THE BAD SIDE, Y/n is used multiple times in the story, violence, mention of liquor, getting drunk and tipsy, and all minor characters mentioned are AGED UP! The reader is mentioned to be a girl

W.C: 2.1k

Percy Jackson is never the type to get jealous. Or so he says he isn't. Tell him that he is and he'll laugh at your face and tell you you're wrong. He's Percy Jackson! He saved the world multiple times and has a wonderful girlfriend who he knows loves him and only him. So why would he be jealous of a new camper who keeps trying to make a move on his girl? Right?

"If looks could kill, I'd think poor little Colin would be in the Underworld with Hades by now," Leo says as he watches Percy glaring at Colin for the nth time this morning. "Woah dude, if you hate strawberries just say so, no need to murder them," Luke jokes, making Leo laugh alongside him.

Percy removes his gaze from the two and shakes his now-soaked hand, stained with strawberry juice. Lea and Luke exchange knowing looks and turn to the younger boy, who is now continuing to pluck strawberries from their bushes.

"Don't tell us you're jealous of the new camper, Jackson," Luke teases, which earns him a glare from the younger boy. That just made Luke's smirk wider than it already was. "You are jealous," Leo teases as well. "I'm not! Why would I be anyway?" Percy denies, but the two know better than their friend.

"If you say so, Perc," Luke says. He and Leo exchange smirks and glances before continuing their chores. Percy only tries to shake the unwanted feeling the whole time and tries to block out the beautiful sounds of your laughter and the annoying voice of Colin.

No, he is not jealous. He's Percy Jackson! And Percy Jackson is never jealous!

"Oh, you are so jealous," Annabeth laughs, along with Piper and Clarisse. "I am not! How many times do I have to say that?" Percy says, annoyed by his friends' pestering. His response only made the three laugh louder and started to gain the attention of other campers. "You very much are, Jackson. You can't deny it," Clarisse says to the boy. "Why are you even here, Clarisse? Shouldn't you be bullying some of the new campers?" Percy asks, which earns him a glare from the child of Ares. "Yeah, but teasing and laughing at your jealous state is more fun and enjoyable," Clarisse says back.

"Why would I be jealous of that Colin anyway? I'm Percy Jackson!" The boy says, making the three girls laugh at him even more. "Yeah, why are you so jealous of Colin anyway, Seaweed Brain? It's not like Y/n will leave you for the new kid anyway," Annabeth says. Yeah... She wouldn't leave me for someone else...right?

"Hey, Perce!" Percy hears the sweet voice of his girlfriend, making him look up with a big smile plastered on his face. "Hi!" He waves back. Annabeth glances at the couple before rolling her eyes and secretly hides a smile. "No need to hide that smile, Annie. I know you're not even a bit annoyed," You tease the blonde, making her roll her eyes and fail to hide her grin. "Shut up, lovebirds," She says before walking away. The other two said they had to finish some chores and left the two couples alone.

"So, how was your day so far?" You ask. "Going well so far," Percy says, completely forgetting his jealous and annoyance towards the new camper. (We all know that isn't exactly true). "How about you? How's your day been so far?" He asks and wraps his arms around your waist. "Good so far, yeah. I've been showing Colin the routes and everything else he needs to know to be properly accustomed here at camp," You say while playing with some strands of Percy's hair.

The mention of Colin's name made him feel a stingy feeling in his chest, but he did his best not to show it. Because the gods forbid the son of Poseidon gets jealous of some new camper.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, noticing his sudden change of mood. "Huh? Yeah, totally fine, my love," He assures you and gives you a wide grin. "Hey, Y/n!" Someone calls your name. Percy and you look up and see Colin waving his hand while carrying a plate full of food. Percy tries to secretly hide his annoyance and prays you wouldn't notice.

"Hey, Cols," You greet back, much to Percy's annoyance. "Would you like some food? You've been working with me since this morning, and I thought you might want to eat some first? Maybe we can sit beside each other too— Oh, hi, Percy!" Colin greets the dark-haired boy before turning back to you and offering you his plate of food.

"Oh, I—"

"You can't eat beside someone who isn't in the same cabin as you, Colin," Percy interjects. "Oh, I uh— I didn't know that. Maybe next time?" Colin suggests, and you nod politely before the boy walks back to the Pavilion to eat with the Hermes Cabin. You turn to Percy with a brow raised, and he just shrugs his shoulder. "What? It's true," He says, which makes you chuckle.

"Okay, waterboy. You better eat now, I know you haven't eaten anything since this morning—" Percy opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. "—Don't even lie to me, Perseus Jackson. Luke and Leo told me that you haven't eaten. Now, go eat!" You say and point towards the Pavilion. The boy could only sigh in defeat and walk with you to eat.

Laughter had filled the whole camp that evening. All the campers had gathered around the bonfire to sing, chat with other friends and have a little bit of fun. Percy sat beside Leo, and the two spent half of the night chatting about things they both took interest in. It was all fun and laughter, and Percy had even forgotten about his jealousy thing for a certain camper.

Since Chiron and Mr. D had turned in early for the night, the campers left behind had too much fun. The Hermes and Dionysus cabins revealed their secret stash of liquor, and everyone had started to try it out, making some campers drunk and tipsy. Of course, before that, the Demeter cabin had made the younger campers turn in for the night to avoid the young children trying out things they shouldn't be.

All were having fun and forgetting their exhaustion before a piercing scream erupted, gaining everyone's attention.

"Let go of me, Colin!" a familiar voice yelled. A too familiar voice for Percy. He stopped his conversation with Leo halfway to turn to the scene that had gained the attention of everyone. He saw his girlfriend with a disturbed emotion, with a drunk Colin pestering her even more despite her refusal. This made the boy see red. Absolute red.

He stood up from his seat and walked towards the scene. "Percy, calm down—" Leo said, trying to stop him, only to be pushed away by his friend. "Hey, man, she said let go," Percy tried to calmly say while trying to shove the camper away, not wanting to cause another scene.

"Oh, shut up, fish boy," Colin responded. Without thinking, Percy raised his fist and punched the drunk Colin to the ground. Campers gasped in shock to see the son of Poseidon become physical with someone who wasn't a monster. Colin was quick to stand up and give Percy his own fist. "Percy!" you ran to your boyfriend, and some campers held Colin.

"Can't fight without your little girlfriend, huh, fish boy?" Colin taunted. "Don't talk to my girl like that," Percy tried to walk closer to Colin, but he was held back by you, Leo, and Luke. "Let go of me," Colin shook himself off from the campers who were holding him and spit on the ground.

"We aren't finished here, fish boy," Colin warned and pointed a finger at Percy before walking away. "Oh, yeah? It looks like it is to me!" Percy yelled at him. "Percy, stop!" you said, continuing to hold him by his arm. He looked down at you, and even for a little bit, he calmed down.

"Alright, everyone! Go to your cabins! No one speaks about this again tomorrow morning!" Luke instructed, and the campers obediently followed the Hermes boy's orders. "You should get him cleaned up, Y/n," Luke said, and he and Leo let go of their friend. "Go to sleep, Perce," He ruffled the boy's hair before him and Leo bid their goodbyes.

The walk back to the Poseidon cabin was silent. Percy knew very much that you were angry at him, and he hated himself for showing that side of him to you. When the two of you entered his cabin, you quickly took the first aid kit from under his bunk and started to clean the bruise on his knuckles and his busted lip.

It was silent for a few more minutes before Percy found the courage to say something. "I'm sorry, love," he apologized. He looked down at his lap when you turned away from him and ignored his apology. "I'm not angry, Percy, but I am disappointed," Percy's face lit up halfway when you said you weren't mad, but it turned back into a sad expression after you said you were disappointed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he apologized again, and a small smile appeared on his face when you nodded at his apology. "I was capable of defending myself, Percy," you told him.

"I know, I just didn't like seeing that guy near you," he said, pouting, earning a laugh from you.

"What? What did I do now?" he asked, completely confused, making you laugh even louder.

"Annabeth told me something this afternoon," you said, playing with the soft hairs at the back of his neck. Percy rolled his eyes, knowing what you meant, making you laugh even more.

"For the nth time! I am not jealous! I just don't like the guy!" he said, making you laugh out louder, which brought a smile to the wounded boy's face.

"Yeah, and Leo also said you murdered several strawberries this morning, which explains why I saw Dionysus yelling at you this morning," you said between laughs. "Oh, my eyes are tearing up, waterboy," you said, calming yourself down and wiping the tears of laughter from your eyes.

"I'm still upset about what you did to Colin, Percy," you said, suddenly becoming serious, making the boy roll his eyes.

"Oh, don't roll your eyes at me, young boy," you warned him, and Percy shivered, remembering how his mother scolded him. "I still think what you did was not nice and very not camp counselor-like," you scolded, raising a finger at Percy, which he tried to bite, but you swatted him for it.

"He deserved it," Percy huffed in annoyance. You raised your brow at him before he grinned widely and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back to his bed, making you fall on top of him with a squeal.

"Percy!" you hit him lightly on the arm, but he just continued to grin at you. "I'm sorry, love, don't be upset anymore," Percy said, placing kisses on your face before you pushed him down to make him stop. "Okay, okay," you said. You lay down and placed your head directly on Percy's chest, and both of you stayed quiet for a little while.

Percy stared up at the ceiling and admired the glow-in-the-dark moon and stars you both had placed on his ceiling. You had your ear directly on his chest and heard the calming beating of his heart against his chest. Percy mindlessly played with your hair out of instinct, and after a few more minutes, he thought you were already asleep when he looked down at your figure on top of him.

"I'm not asleep yet, waterboy," you told him with your eyes closed after feeling him move around to get a better look at you. Percy chuckled, and you could feel the way his body softly shook from it, making you giggle. "Thank you for protecting me earlier, Percy," you said, making him softly smile at you. "You're welcome, pretty girl," he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"You should apologize to Colin in the morning, Percy," you said, earning a hum of acknowledgement from him. "Please, Perce?" you turned to him with your pleading eyes, making him sigh in defeat. "I promise, pretty girl," he said, making you smile. You lifted yourself up from his chest, making him look up at you with confusion. You lowered yourself down and connected both your lips together for a short kiss, earning a smile from the boy.

"I love you, waterboy," you said. "I love you too, pretty girl," he said, smiling.

The rest of the night was peaceful in the Poseidon Cabin. The two of you fell asleep in each other's arms, and the strong beating of both your hearts could be heard by those who chose to be silent and listen carefully. Poseidon's son and Aphrodite's daughter are a perfect match that even the gods could not deny.

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, “HE’S THE BEST BROTHER EVER”

ᡣ𐭩 summary: you prank them based on this | prank link

ᡣ𐭩 warnings: nsfw in cassian’s, crack

ᡣ𐭩 amara’s note: help this was so fun to make thank you for the req anon | based on this request

⊹ RHYSAND

"Rhys, come here! I'm making a cute video of us."

He practically runs to you, ensuring his clothes are smoothed out and his hair is laid to perfection.

You step back when you press the record button and then get closer to him, putting your hand on his abs.

"You see this man?" you say with an extra dose of possessiveness in your voice. "Yeah, if you wanna get to him, you have to go through me first."

Rhys looks down at you with a smirk, nodding proudly at the fact that you're claiming him for everyone to see.

Your hands travel from his abs to his neck as you bring him down for a long, sweet kiss.

He grabs your hips, pulling you closer for a heated makeout session, but you pull back before he can take it further

“He’s the best big brother ever in this world.”

Rhys immediately lets go of you, taking a step back with a horrified look before he desperately looks into the camera, then back to you, who can't keep from laughing.

"Out of all your practical jokes, this has got to be the worst one ever," Rhys protests, shaking his head. "No, I'm not her brother. We're mated, and what we do is very far away from sibling stuff."

He says the last bit to the camera with a broad smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

⊹ AZRIEL

"What should I say, sweetheart?" Azriel asks

"Nothing, Az. Just stand there and let me do the work," you reply affectionately.

"I've heard that one before," he says with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes, suppressing a smile, as you press the record button.

He immediately draws closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You smile up at him, mischief hidden behind your eyes.

“This man is mine, and if you want to get to him, you gotta go through me first, right?”

Azriel is filled with cringe and makes this face😲

“Oh! Um, yeah. That’s right.” he says, voice too high

Listen, he loves you but he is wondering how the fuck you’re not criniging out rn too. Like are you serious?

You squish his cheeks together and plant a dramatic, loud kiss on his lips.

“He is the best big brother ever.”

Azriel smiles, leaning in to kiss you again while casting a glance at the camera.

“No, she’s the best little sister ever.”

Your jaw drops at the sudden twist; he has stolen your prank.

“Damn it Az, you can’t let me have one thing?”

He shrugs, “Says the one with the incest prank.”

⊹ CASSIAN

“Cassie, just stand there, i’m going to record us. You don’t have to do anything, okay?”

“Alright, baby.”

You see Cassian behind you checking out your ass through the camera as you press record, backing into him

“Just a PSA, this is my man and if you wanna get to him, you gotta go through me first.” you said exaggerated with your hands on your hips before kissing him deeply

He smirked suspiciously before soaking up your posessivness. But before you could say your other line, he picked you up with one arm, throwing you over his sturdy shoulder as he walked over to your bed

“Wha- Cassian, we were recording!”

“Okay, we can keep recording. Make a fun little video, just the two of us.” he said with a low, lustfilled voice.

You didn’t even bother continuing the prank as you nodded, intrigued by making a whole different sort of video

You just prank him another time, right now you need big dick hot guy general massive wingspan big tattooed arms deep voice nice abs pullable hair daddy cassian (real asf)

⊹ LUCIEN

He already knows what you’re going to do but he plays along

You tug him to stand infront of your camera

The way he looks at you, makes you want to laugh but you bite your tongue

You pull him in closer by his forearm, holding him as you look into the camera

“This is my man so if you want him you will have to go though me first.”

Lucien supresses his smile at your attempt at a joke

“Yeah, you heard her,” he nods determined at the screen

You then pull him down and just as you’re about to kiss him you burst out laughing

Lucien tilts his down at you in mock confusion

“Is something funny? I thought i was the best brother ever, laughing at me isn’t very nice.”

Your eyes widen at him, jaw dropped. “No way, Luc, you knew?”

“Baby, i’m as chronically online as you are.”

⊹ ERIS

“What is this for?”

“For me, please just stand there and we’ll be good to go.”

He is a bit skeptical but listens nonetheless

“Very well. Go on, love.”

You press record and start the prank

“Hi guys, i just wanted to let you know that this is my man and if you ever wanna get to him you gotta go through me first.”

Eris looks at you a bit weird. He can’t take you seriously. The epitome of this face 😬

You grab his face and press a kiss to his lips. Eris warms at the action, smiling at you before his smile drop instantly

“He’s the best big brother ever.”

His entire face sours, a look of absolute disgust portraying his face.

“That right there is some Night Court shit.”

With that he simply leaves but not before scrunching his face in disbelief, sighing in disappointment

🏷️: @artists-ally @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @clairebear08 @cupidojenphrodite @redbleedingrose @fell-in-luvs

[comicwritesstuff]

okay this is so incredibly specific so please feel free to ignore BUT i’ve been wanting to read a fic for ages where the reader is Chase’s childhood best friend from Australia and she moves to New Jersey for a fresh start. She’s staying with Chase while she gets settled, and one day she comes to visit him at lunch at the hospital, where she ends up meeting House and he’s… intrigued by her 👀 either romantic or smut would be so very cool :^D <33 💐

YES. I LOVE THIS PROMPT IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT IM FINISHED!!!

Gregory House x Fem!Chases bsf!Reader

Warnings: None really, just cussing and tooth rotting fluff >:) 3k+ words.

Chase's POV: 

“Well I was just wondering if we could go out sometime, I think you're really-” My attention shifted as y/n's call lit up my phone, interrupting the conversation. It was a more pressing matter than pursuing a one-night stand.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I say walking away, the woman having an annoyed look on her face. 

I answer the phone.

“Hello, y/n? Whats up” 

“Chase! Long time no talk haha.”

“You called me yesterday.”

“Learn to take a joke, anyways, I have some exciting news for you.”

“I’m moving to New Jersey!!” 

“Wait what? Really?”

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell you and i'm actually at the airport right now, so I hope you aren't busy tomorrow so you can pick me up.”

“Wow, um alright, yeah I can pick you up, do you have a place to stay?"

“Um…no…” I sigh, “Just stay at mine for now.”

“Don't even with the sigh i’ve known you my whole life you can put the nightly hookups on hold for your best friend.” 

I smirk and shake my head, “Yeah yeah, I’ll see ya tomorrow y/n” 

Y/N’s POV:

I smile as I hang up with Chase, grabbing my luggage and pulling it along the airport. Ahh yes, crying babies, rushed parents, annoying couples and that one insanely attractive person you see for a split second, I love the airport. 

Glancing at my ticket I realize I might have to hurry to make it to the gate, speed walking I see a text from chase, “Have a safe flight.” Let's hope so. 

Time skip (to lazy to write all the details about fucking airports)

Relaxing on a 21-hour flight proved challenging, especially with a toddler nearby. It was unclear whether the toddler would be a source of annoyance or just be tolerable. The flight just started. So to entertain myself I decide to do some digging about Chase's job, he brags about it all the time and the infamous Dr Gregory House. To be honest I thought Chase was gay for a little while with how much he talks about him. Still speculating. 

The plane lifts off and I start my look, at first just looking up Gregory House, a surprising amount of things show up. An article titled, “Gregory House, Talented Doctor? Or a lying Narcissist?” Oh well that's a good first impression.   

Scrolling down I see another article, “The world's greatest doctor, and his deepest secrets” 

Now that's enticing. I click on it only to find out his deepest secrets, including using 3 in one shampoo and how his leg got hurt. I guess people hardly know anything about him. I click on the photos of him, there's only a couple, most of them blurry but to be honest he's pretty good looking from the photos I can see. I’d honestly be gay for him if I was Chase. 

The toddler next to me starts giggling, I glance at her and notice her staring at a picture of House. She's kicking her feet too. That's so relatable. 

For the rest of the flight I find some stuff about this guy named Taub, who somehow also figured out that he cheated on his wife which is why he had to quit. How did I find that out? I took a coding class in 8th grade. (I got lucky) 

Lisa Cuddy the Dean of Medicine, unfortunately only good stuff about her, boring. 

Remy Hadley, oddly, can't find anything on her. 

Eric Foreman, his brothers in jail, fun. 

And the others are just as boring. For the remainder of the flight, the toddler proved surprisingly chill. I passed the time by binge-watching random movies I had downloaded earlier

*Another time skip to plane landing* 

Finally, 21 hours on a fucking plane is horrible. 

I check my phone after I take it off airplane mode, seeing a text from chase a couple minutes ago. 

“I’m at the airport, is your flight done?”

“Yep, wya.”

“I’m parked in the front.”

“That's specific” 

“There's no other front dumbass”

I roll my eyes at his text, and get off the plane as soon as I can. I walk out and see Chase standing outside his car waiting for me. His eyes light up as he spots me, and a grin spreads across his face. Unable to resist, I rush forward and envelop him in a bear hug.

“Man you’re a lot uglier in person” 

I say jokingly, smirking.

“Oh shut up”  

We climbed into his car, and he drove us back to his apartment. When we arrive he helps get my crap into the house, before he gets a call saying he had to head to work. 

Eventually a week or two passes, I've gotten more comfortable in his apartment, applied for a bunch of jobs, and looked for places to stay so I’m not invading his “man” space anymore. Unfortunately there aren't a lot of options, and no jobs have replied to my applications, which is weird since im overqualified, it's almost like they aren’t even getting my applications in the first place. 

I’m doing the dishes when I get a text from Chase.

“Hey, I left my wallet on the counter, so I don’t have money for food, could ya bring it for me?” 

“Nah”

“See you soon”

I breathe out a laugh and grab his wallet, putting a coat on then driving to the hospital. 

When I get there I walk in, looking around before I call Chase, “Where do I go this place is huge” I can hear talking in the background, actually more like arguing. “Uhm just wait at the entrance i’ll be right there.” He says in a whisper.

He hangs up so I just stand there awkwardly waiting, that was a weird ass phone call. To be fair Chase is a weird ass guy with weird ass coworkers so what do I expect at this point. 

Before I see Chase I see Dr Gregory House, limping quickly towards me. And damn he’s even hotter in person than the pictures I saw of him. 

“Hey, no time to explain, you need to come with me.” He grabs my arm dragging me into the elevator. Before it closes I see Chase come out of the stairway, he sprints towards the elevator but it closes. I hear him trying to say something, but it's muffled and I can’t understand it. Wait why the fuck did I even follow House? 

“You're real compliant, you’d make a great hooker.” 

I turn around and side eye him.

“Thanks, so would you.” I say giving a fake smile. 

“Speaking of compliant, why did you drag me away from Chase? What's going on?’’

“I made a bet with Chase.”

“That's really specific and helpful thanks” 

“Oh yeah no problem” 

Sarcastic asshole. 

“If you don’t tell me, I'll stop following you and go with Chase.” 

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine, Mom! The bet is that I can convince you to work as my assistant here.”

“Really? That's it? I need a job. Why would Chase even bet against that?” 

“He thinks you’ll fall in love with me so he doesn’t want that to happen, in his words, “She has a thing for homeless looking, narcissistic assholes with beards.” So he’s trying to prevent it, and he’s sure he can.”  

Damn- I feel so called out. I stay silent before nodding.

“Well to be honest he isn’t wrong.” 

I see House smirk before we get out of the elevator, he hobbles and leads me to his office, locking the door then having me sit down. 

As I sit down in front of his desk, he grabs a ball and starts throwing it against the wall, while sitting down. 

“So are you gonna interview me or something?” 

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for Chase to get back up here so he can watch me interview you.” 

He really is an asshole…it's kinda hot though. 

“Fair enough.” 

We wait a bit before Chase comes jogging up to the door, out of breath, he’s clearly been running plenty. He starts banging on the glass door that House previously locked.

“House!! Y/N! Let me in! This isn’t fair!” He exclaims, House is grinning when he leans over his desk, crossing his arms.

“Okay! Let’s start this interview now.” 

“Y/n! You traitor!” 

Did I abandon my childhood best friend for some disabled doctor? No, I did it for the job. At least that's what I'm telling myself.   

Turning my attention back to House instead of the Australian cry baby outside the door, he asks me, “First question, do you want the job of being my assistant?” 

“Obviously”

“Great! You have the job!” 

I mean, easy enough. I smile and shake my head. This hospital really has some unique people. 

House shakes my hand, grinning as Chase is sitting on the floor defeated outside. 

As the days turned into weeks at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, I got to know everyone. Cuddy had to actually approve of me working as House’s assistant first, but once she saw a…normal enough individual, she welcomed me into the environment.

Getting to know House better, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t really expected. The bet between House and Chase, Chase thinking I would fall for House, I took it as a joke, until that joke turned more into reality. 

Despite House being a narcissistic piece of shit, there were small moments that I saw, or shared with him that made me fall for him. Ones where he seemed happy, or just easy to be around. At work he's serious but when Wilson dragged him out to bars, or other social environments, he could actually be fun. And though him being a dick is undeniably attractive sometimes, when he was…”himself” that's how I began to fall for him.  

One day, after an especially tough day for the team, and being forced to go break into houses and get coffee and food, I found myself alone with House in his office. The rest of the team had left, leaving us in a rare moment alone with each other. As I glanced up from the medical chart of the most recent patient, I caught House’s gaze lingering on me, his blue eyes intense and unreadable. 

“Something on your mind, House?” I asked, attempting to break the awkward silence between us. 

He smirked, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease, “Oh just wondering why a catch like yourself doesn’t have a boyfriend, or husband?” He responds, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, a faint blush on my cheeks. House and I had gained an uncanny camaraderie, made from me running around doing everyone's paperwork, being the designated “you get to tell patients they are dying!!” person. And as you’d expect people didn’t respect me a lot, but if someone was blatantly mean to me, House would step in and destroy their self esteem in a second and walk away like it meant nothing. That's another thing that I think made me fall for him. 

“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that a lot too.” I smile, placing the medical chart on his desk. 

“Do you want a boyfriend? Or girlfriend, or a pet or something.” He quips, his eyes looking like they are reading me, studying my every movement and reaction to what he’s saying, it's flattering and uncomfortable at the same time. 

“A boyfriend would be nice.” I say reassuringly, a laugh escaping me as I shake my head in amusement.

“Alright let's say *hypothetically* I asked you out. *hypothetically* what would your response be?” 

Raising an eyebrow I ask, “Are you trying to go on a date with me?”

“I said hypothetically, now answer the question.” 

A smirk plays on my lips as I roll my eyes in a mock annoyance. 

“Well.” I say, “Hypothetically, I would say yes.” 

“Great, meet me for dinner at (some random fancy place idk u make up a name i'm too lazy to), wear something cute.” 

 With that, he sauntered out of the office, leaving me to think about what just happened. Glancing at the clock, I realized I had just enough time to get ready for our “hypothetical date.” 

The anticipation bubbled within me, standing outside (IDK A RESTAURANT NAME IT), waiting for House to arrive. My heart raced with nervous excitement, unsure what to expect from a…unique…guy like House. I had used all the time I had to work on my outfit, settling for a simple dress (or suit, or just anything you're comfy in :) ). 

As I scanned the busy street, searching for any sign of House, I heard the obnoxiously loud sound of a motorcycle approaching. House rode in, parking his bike before getting off and walking (limping) towards me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw him, he looked impossibly handsome, in a tailored suit that made his rugged charm come out, good god he looked fine. 

“Y/n,” he greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine affection. “That outfit makes your ass look nice.” 

I scoff playfully, hitting his arm. “So much for acting like a gentleman, at least you look like one.” 

He chuckled, offering me his arm in a more gentlemanly gesture. “Yeah yeah, shall we?” 

With a nod, I looped my arm through his, savoring the warmth of his touch as we mad our way into the restaurant. The ambiance was elegant and inviting, with a soft candlelight casting a warm glow over the decor. 

As we were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. I’m finally going out with House, damn Chase was totally right. 

Throughout the evening, our conversation flowed surprisingly easily between us. I had half expected him to be rude or stuck up, but he seemed actually interested in me, in my life. He was asking questions, laughing and joking with me. Sharing stories of his own, and treating me like an actual human. Honestly it was scaring me a bit, but it was making me fall harder for him. 

House raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘So, tell my Y/N. What’s the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?” 

I laughed, shaking my head as I thought about the memory. “Well, there was this one time in college-” 

“Let me guess,” House interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. “It involved copious amounts of alcohol and very questionable decisions?” 

I chuckle and nod in agreement. “You could say that. Long story short, I ended up streaking through the campus fountain at three in the morning. I'm pretty sure Chase might still have a video of it still.”

House raises an eyebrow, an amused laugh coming from him. “I wish I could say I was surprised, oh and also. I am finding that video.” He states, with a determined and mischievous grin. 

The dinner continues and our connection just seems to get stronger, fueled by shared laughter, stories of shit Wilson and him did in college, things Chase and I did in highschool. With each passing moment, I found myself more and more under House’s spell, captivated by the complexity of himself, his character. His gaze, laughter, even his personality. Maybe it was the wine or something, but House was being nice, he had charisma, and was being attractive in general.  

I don’t even realize that we’ve spent almost three hours in the restaurant just talking. I check my phone seeing that it's 9:30 already. We had got and paid the check awhile ago, but had stayed to talk longer. The restaurant closes at 10, and I felt a sudden pang of disappointment that our date was close to being over with. I didn’t want it to end, I was savoring this moment I was having, this seemingly perfect night. 

When the waiter arrived to take our dessert order, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that the evening was drawing to a close. I wasn't ready for it to end—I wanted to savor every moment, to prolong the magic of our time together for as long as possible.

House notices my look of disappointment, “I’m aware how amazing I am, but if its up to me, this won’t be our last date.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks heating up as I blush. The butterflies in my stomach going absolutely insane. 

So with a quick glance around the restaurant, I rose from my seat, House grabbed my hand as he led me towards the exit. 

Stepping out into the cool night air, I felt a sense of happiness coursing through me. This was it, the beginning of a new relationship, a surprisingly healthy one so far. 

As House’s hand tightened around mine, his touch sent sparks of electricity coursing through my veins. I knew now that maybe Chase knows me better than I know myself, in all fairness he predicted this, but right now I wasn’t afraid to admit this, to admit the undeniable attraction that I had towards Dr Gregory House. 

His touch leaves mine, his hand pulling as we stand in front of the restaurant, close to each other, staring in each other's eyes. I glance at his lips before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, not sure if he expected it, but I pull back.

“Goodnight House. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that I walk away, to my car. When I get in my car, I look in the mirror, seeing House standing there with a lovestruck grin, one a child would have over some school crush. But it was cute, he was cute. And this was just the beginning of an annoyingly predicated relationship with a Vicodin addicted, asshole, who I suspect has a soft spot for me.

[beenbaanbuun]

air freshener w/poly woosan

It came as no surprise when San wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you up into his strong grip. His nose pressed into your neck as he inhaled deeply, sighing with the exhale.

“You smell of work,” he grumbled as he carried you through to the living room. He threw himself down on the couch, dragging you along with him. “That stupid lemon air freshener that Jaehyun keeps on his desk.”

You brought your blouse to your nose, sniffing it gently. Sure enough, behind the overwhelming scent of Wooyoung’s cologne (he wouldn't let you leave the house that morning without spritzing you a few times… possessive bastard) there was a hint of lemon. It was barely noticeable, but to San, it was the end of the world.

“You smell of that little weirdo again?” Wooyoung called as he poked his head through from the kitchen. He had that stupid joke apron on, the one San bought him for his birthday, and you tried to hold back the giggle that rose up your throat. The frown on his face and the cooking knife in his hand were hardly helping to make him look anything other than silly. Not that you'd ever complain about your boyfriends being adorable. “Seriously, babe! Who keeps an air freshener on their desk?”

“Someone who wants their work space to smell nice?” you lay back in San’s arms, letting him manhandle you a little until you were sat sideways in his lap, legs kicked out to the side. “Maybe he doesn't like the overwhelming scent of men’s cologne that comes from me day in, day out.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes over dramatically.

“You smell perfectly fine, brat,” he scowled, “besides, maybe we don't want you coming home smelling like another man’s lemon air freshener!”

“It's hardly like he can control where the smell goes,” you sighed, “you're just being jealous over nothing again.”

Wooyoung went to open his mouth, probably about to threaten you with a punishment, but San shooed him away with a flick of the wrist. With a perfectly on-character stomp of his foot, the shorter man retreated into the kitchen to finish whatever masterpiece he'd decided to cook for the three of you today.

But you knew you weren't safe, even with Wooyoung gone. While he may have expressed his feelings loudly and proudly, the man behind you wasn't exactly the silent type himself. You felt his breath against your ear, and you internally groaned.

“We're not jealous, baby,” San whispered against your ear, as if trying to soothe an angry dog. You weren't angry - far from it, you actually thought this was quite amusing - but San had always been the calmer, less explosive of your two boyfriends. “We just like it when you smell of us. You know how we get…”

He kissed the shell of your ear softly. Without prior knowledge of San, it wouldve been hard to tell whether it was an entirely innocent gesture or not. You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand, though. Before the night was over, you were going to smell like them again.

“Possessive?” You cocked your eyebrow at the man. He chuckled.

“Call it primal instinct, babe,” he said.

You snort as you giggle.

“My boyfriends are cavemen, got it.”

You could see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching, and you couldn't help but let out a little giggle. It was always fun to say the role of the mouse, tempting fate by dancing around the big bad wolf’s feet. He was often more patient than the fox that was now humming a little tune in the kitchen. One would pounce immediately, while the other would let you play a little.

You were grateful you'd landed in San’s lap rather than Wooyoung’s. After the day you'd had, being a little shit sounded like the perfect way to relieve some stress.

“You're pushing your luck,” he sang in your ear, “you're lucky I sent Youngie away. If it were up to him you'd already be bent over and your cheeks would be a pretty shade of pink, hm?”

“Yeah, because he's a brat who can't stand it when anyone else gets the last word…”

San chucked darkly into your hair as his hands began to roam across your body. They were gentle, yet possessive, only further proving your point.

“He's the brat?” San shook his head, “I think we both know that you're the only one guilty of that. Youngie just doesn't like it when you argue for the sole purpose of riling us up…”

“It's not for the sake of riling you up,” you whine as if you're not lying through your teeth. As if you're not fully aware of the fact that San knows you too well to believe you, “you're being jealous over nothing. It's an air freshener, it's not like he's been fucking me over his desk.”

And just like that, a switch flipped. Whether it was the blatant lie about their jealousy, or the final comment you made that pushed him over the edge, you couldn’t care less. All you cared about was the dangerous look that swam through his dark eyes. He looked ready to pounce and if you said much else, you had no doubt that he would.

His hands came to a still when they reached your hips. Strong fingers squeezed your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake with how hard his grip was. You should've winced, but you smiled instead, getting some sort of sick enjoyment out of the dull ache you felt.

“Bold words for someone entirely at my mercy,” San growled in your ear, sharp teeth nipping at the lobe, “you know just as well as we know that that man wouldn't even dare touch what's not his. He doesn't have the balls to even look you in the eyes, hm? Let alone fuck you…”

You squirmed in his lap, or at least tried to. The grip he had on your hips was tight, and it only grew tighter as you wriggled around. Your fun lasted just a few seconds before he pinned you in place again.

“Fucking behave,” he said with gritted teeth, “don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, brat. Carry this on and you’ll get nothing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you grumbled. He just laughed. Loud and brash as he tipped his head back against the couch.

“Good one, babe,” he squeezed your hip one final time before letting his hand move to rest upon the button of your pants, “now shut up and let me remind you who you belong to.”