#I want to write but I feel so jumbled so everything I write just seems bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leclsrc · 10 months

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decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver.

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are).

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases.

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.”

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max.

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest.

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed.

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving.

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?”

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm.

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck.

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up.

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

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reidslovely · 9 months

Note

Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”

sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now

Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again

please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼

“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?”

“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder.

“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.”

“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away.

“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?”

The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying.

“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?”

“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”

“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply.

Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round.

“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”

It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away.

“Offended, whose number one.”

“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps.

“Mhm can’t be mad at that.”

Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt.

“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”

“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”

Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope.

“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out.

Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about.

“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can.

“This is nice.”

Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.”

“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer.

“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”

“No no, I'm good sitting up.”

You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you.

Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.”

“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”

“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly.

“How do you feel Parker?”

“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.”

“I hate sex after dinner.”

“No, no we come back here and finish the show.”

“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock.

“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.

“Oh baby it has.”

Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.

___________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker #bambi writes #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter #tasm peter smut #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter fluff #andrew peter parker #tasm peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #frat!peter

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forhereyesonlyyy · 1 year

Text

cupid’s work. — a jang wonyoung x reader short.

word count: 1.9k

author’s note: trying something new! a lot of the things in my drafts are super long, so i wanted to try my hand at writing a short that is actually short (and very vague) where i’m less strict with spelling and grammar and all that jazz and just try to vibe, ha. anyway, i hope you enjoy this~ if i see that you guys like this enough i might make a cute little continuation too <33

author's note 2.0: YA'LL... tumblr is becoming my worst enemy idk why the order of the paragraphs(?????) is getting jumbled up PLS BEAR WITH IT 😭😭

warnings: none.

sometimes you wondered if you were extremely lucky, or horrifyingly unfortunate.

when your managers had told you and your group that you would be filming a variety show with another girl group, you were overjoyed. you have always wanted to make friends with your colleagues, but have been too shy to do so. jayoon was more fit for that kind of thing; socializing. but you thought that you would finally try to come out of your shell in this variety show by making the first move on whoever the other girls may be, until you were told of them.

“ive.”

you didn’t miss the way chaeyoung and sieun gave you a sideways glance at the mention of the popular group. while jayoon and seeun shared a high five, and yeeun and sumin nodded excitedly, you were sinking into your seat.

“what, (y/n)? not happy with the other group?” your manager asked, noticing the distraught look on your face.

you perked up, “i am!”

“i bet you are.” jayoon teased. you kicked her leg under the table, but she only laughed.

your managers decided that it was better not to know whatever it was that bothered you, and had concluded the meeting right after they dropped the date when the groups will meet up for further discussions about the show. nobody talked for the first few minutes after the meeting ended, but when you saw chaeyoung smiling at you, you knew all of them were going to speak of a certain someone.

“so,” sieun started. you busied yourself with looking at your nails, pretending as if you didn’t know that sieun was talking to you. “i think i speak for everyone when i say that you should shoot your shot during this show.”

“absolutely not,” you replied immediately. “that’s... that will never work out! right, sumin?” it was your futile attempt to pull someone on your side.

much to your dismay, your leader only smiled sheepishly at you, “i agree with sieun. it’s getting a little sad seeing you pine for her from afar.”

“and trust me, we all want to be spared of your awkward greetings and even more awkward small talks in the music show hallways.” seeun added, shaking her head. you scoffed, crossing your arms, but you didn’t find the grit to fight back. it really wasn’t your fault that you get tongue-tied in the presence of the idol of this generation!

“hey, we’ll help you as much as we can. but seriously, have faith in yourself! everything will work out fine! you’ll see in the meeting that we’ll have with them that you two will get along well!” chaeyoung, bless her heart, holds your hand in consolation.

“unless you shit your pants, then i don’t think we’ll be able to help you with that.” jayoon said. you groaned, hiding your face in your hands while chaeyoung scolds jayoon in the background.

seriously, what were you going to do?

“i feel like my heart is going to break out of my ribcage and make a run for it.” you paced around the practice room restlessly. it was the day that stayc and ive will have their meeting for the variety show. when the news was announced on the internet, everybody seemed excited for it. what was better than having one girl group in a variety show? two, of course! both fans of the groups were excited for all of the members of be interacting, and your heart warmed at the encouraging comments of you fans, saying that you will finally have your moment to make friends, like you have always said you wanted to do.

“they’ll be here in a sec, girls.” one of the staff said. you heard jayoon and yeeun snickering behind you, but they both patted your back for good luck.

“i’m gonna faint.” you told sieun.

but you weren’t going to lie, it felt like it was the end of the world.

“you’re not gonna faint.”

and then almost immediately, the door swings open and the first face your eyes set on were jang wonyoung’s. she towered above everybody else and in your eyes, she always had that glow around her that made it hard for you to ignore her. and really, it was your big pathetic crush on her that just automatically made you look at her.

chaeyoung, who was genuinely worried that you would pass out, places her arm around your waist and had you bowing towards the other group with her, as well as the rest of your group.

“hi, (y/n)!” rei greeted, grabbing both of your hands and shaking them. you got acquainted with her a long time ago, after bumping into her in a bakery and finding yourselves being completely at peace in each other’s company. ever since that, you’ve been friends, but you hadn’t told her about your infatuation towards her fellow member though.

“hello.” wonyoung greeted you, bowing again. you found your words stuck in your throat, and only bowed back. you avoided looking at her because every time she was around, it was hard to keep yourself together. (which was a shame, because you would’ve seen the slightest look of disappointment on wonyoung’s face when you avoided her eyes.)

once the groups were introduced to each other, the producer of the show, who was a relatively young woman, ushered you all to sit down on the floor with her. you sat in between seeun and rei and about three seats away was wonyoung. you continued to look at everyone else but her.

“oh, (y/n). are you not feeling well today? you look a bit pale.” the producer said.

everyone turns their head towards you, making you flinch. even jayoon seemed genuinely worried. she was afraid that she might have taken her teasing too far and had actually scared you into ignoring your crush. but you frantically shook your head, laughing nervously, “i’m alright!” you told the producer.

seeun puts her hand on your forehead, “you’re not sick, are you?” she asked.

you gently took her hand and rested your joined hands on your lap, “no, no. i’m fine, really.” you said.

(wonyoung studied you closely. she noticed the way you didn’t know what to do with your hands after seeun lets go of it, the way your eyes darted everywhere, and the way you didn’t look like you were listening at all. she got worried.)

after that, the producer then went on to the details of the show. the groups will be traveling together in popular tourist spots and will occasionally have friendly competition from time to time. the show is mostly about building friendships between idol groups and overall just wholesome content for the groups’ fans. everybody loved it, and you felt genuinely excited about it all.

“speaking of games, there’s no way we can’t not do the lie detector game.” the producer said, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. the lie detector machine was filled with bullshit, as you have come to know, but every time your members get shocked by it, it was always fun.

plus, it was the only time that you got to do the teasing.

“although we might need to protect anyone who might be weak to being poked fun at,” the producer joked. your members nodded, and of course the producer sees the way jayoon and yeeun looked at you while they giggled. “(y/n), you’re not good with jokes?” the producer asked.

you shook your head, playfully glaring at jayoon and yeeun. “it’s just that you don’t really need a lie detector to find out if she’s being truthful or not.” sumin clarified, which really only made things worse on your end.

the producer laughed, “really? should i try it out then? (y/n)-ah, do you have a crush on someone right now?” well, that was a conveniently timed question. your members laughed, so you couldn’t help but laugh with them while your cheeks inhabited a very deep red color.

rei looks at you with wide eyes, “whoa.” she said. you covered your blushing face and leaned into rei, shaking your head. while your members started teasing you about how big of a trouble you were going to be in once you all play the game, you made eye contact with wonyoung, who had a fond smile on her face, and only blushed harder.

you looked away, but you couldn’t hide your shy grin.

(wonyoung’s heartbeat started racing. no way. her own cheeks started flushing pink. oh, good god.)

when the meeting ended, it only felt like there was the start to a great friendship. you hugged rei goodbye and gave yujin and leeseo a warm side hug (those two talked to you a lot during the meeting, always adding onto your ideas and looking at you attentively as you talked).

“goodbye for now.” wonyoung tells you as she approached the door with her members.

“goodbye—” your mouth clamps shut and your heart drops when wonyoung suddenly squeezed your hand before waving and bowing towards your members. once ive was out the door, you stared at your hand with wide eyes.

“holy shit, (y/n).” seeun, who witnessed the whole moment, said.

you nodded and breathlessly you replied, “holy shit.”

“i’m not the only one who saw that, right?” yujin asked, nudging wonyoung with her elbow. wonyoung has been smiling for a while now. “i can’t believe you’re going to get a girlfriend before i do.” the leader said, sighing.

ive was a mess in high up entertainment’s parking lot.

“i knew i wasn’t hallucinating when i saw it!” liz exclaimed, bouncing on her feet. they were, of course, talking about the very brief moment you looked at wonyoung when the producer mentioned crushes.

yujin smirked, “how did you know she was talking about (y/n)?”

“what? (y/n) didn’t even say she was crushing on me! also, that would be ridiculous. i’m just me, and she’s (y/n) of stayc.” wonyoung said, forcing herself to laugh.

gaeul stared at her, simply amazed to see the wonyoung looking so infatuated, “you’re in deep, huh?”

wonyoung paused, and once again, she found herself blushing.

yes. terribly so. jang wonyoung has had the biggest crush on you for... wow, she can’t even say exactly when. but she remembered it as clear as yesterday. being friends with rei, it made sense that you would do everything to support her and her group. so, it didn’t surprise wonyoung when you made a surprise visit during an ive comeback show. what did surprise her was how you had apparently worked hard getting the perfect bouquets for each and every member.

wonyoung found herself feeling completely enchanted by you when you handed her a beautiful bouquet. her heart melted at your words that day too.

“i saw these light pink tulips and thought of you. they’re candid, yes, but they’re very beautiful. i felt like they suit you the best — simple, but that factor is what made them so perfect. a-ah! i hope you don’t take that the wrong way! i-i wasn’t trying to insult you, or anything...”

wonyoung spent the next couple of minutes consoling you that time. those tulips were long gone now, but wonyoung never forgot about your words. ever since then, you have been on her mind, as well as her heart.

her holding your hand for a brief moment was only the start of her attempt to finally tell you of her feelings, which she hoped that you shared.

throughout the ride back to the dorms, wonyoung was smiling quietly in her seat, with only the thought of holding your hand a lot more in the future in her mind.

#ive x reader #ive imagines #ive scenarios #ive oneshots #ive reactions #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung oneshots #jang wonyoung scenarios #jang wonyoung reactions #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x fem reader #wonyoung imagines

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akutasoda · 5 months

Note

helloo, i hope you’re doing well!

may i request kunikida, akutagawa, and atsushi who are just… a bunch of lovesick mess? T_T down bad for their co-worker but too shy and / or stubborn to admit it. i imagine they would have pent up feelings for months, until one day these men could barely behave properly being in the same room with said co-worker, even having trouble getting their paperwork / workload done (heavy on kunikida, poor man). thank you in advance 🫶🏻 (and ty for feeding us bsd fans w/ ur writings)

nothing but my love for you

synopsis - love makes people do crazy things and for some reason they can't function properly around you

includes - atsushi, kunikida, akutagawa

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, denial, hinted confessions, down bad characters, wc - 921

a/n: hii!! im doing alright, hope you're doing well too? :D

atsushi nakajima ★↷

it was a correct assumption that atsushi had never fallen in love nor really knew what it meant or how it worked. afterall he never really had time to learn something like that and he definitely just overall never had the best education.

so working in the agency and more specifically working alongside you gave him loads of new feelings that he didn't know whta to do with. and soon he developed his crush on you but he had absolutely no idea what to do ot how to get across to you that he liked you.

and even if he did, he was way to shy to admit himself. when he figured out that he was indeed crushing on you he panicked and started overthinking. further deterring him from confessing as he feared you would reject him. so he settled for bottling up his feelings and awkwardly stumbling on his words around you.

you weren't blind to the signs but you knew that confrontation would make him feel more awkward and worse than he clearly was feeling. but what you hadn't really anticipated was the fact that because you tried to let him figure out his feelings, he carried on for months.

he was so deeply in love with you but for months was too shy to properly address it. and he got worse by the day. if you even were stood in the same room he would constantly get distracted and often lead to him messing up his reports or jumbling his words up and stuttering like crazy.

and even though you wanted him to figure it out on his own, you feared he may only get worse. so eventually you had to take matters into your own hands and tell him your feelings. validating his feelings and giving him the confidence to also confess.

doppo kunikida ★↷

kunikida's love life was in simple terms complicated. of course he had his oh so famous 'ideals' which quite frankly was absurb and sometimes he would realise that himself. but he also never had much dating experience because of that fact.

so when he noticed how distracted he became when you were on the area he became very confused. he didn't understand at first why he always found himself staring at you or how his heart would always beat that little bit much faster whenever you were nearer.

he began denying any signs that he formed a crush on you and instead always chalked it upon stupid reasons that he was eventually sure he had run out of excuses. and so even when he knew he had to come to terms with the fact that he did indeed have a crush on you, he denied it.

he denied and ignored everything. he denied how his face would heat up and he had to look away so you wouldn't see the blush forming, how if you were in the room he would constantly stare at you.

and the worst one for him was the fact that he simply couldn't focus anymore. he seemed to not be able to properly finsih his paperwork as his mind constantly drifted to you. so much so that even dazai started teasing him about how he was on his downfall.

for months he pushed it to the back of his mind. but eventually he started longing for you even more and the amount of mistakes he was making was starting to annoy him. so he got over his denial and told you point blank that he liked you. admittedly rather stuttery and with a face full of blush but he had finally got it out there.

ryunosuke akutagawa ★↷

it would be yet another correct assumption that akutagawa has never fallen in love or really been bothered to even know much about that. he saw it as unnecessary and especially growing up in the port mafia it wasn't really the biggest priority for him. if anything it was irrelevant.

and in honesty he barely knew what those types of feelings were or the signs of them. so when he finally started letting his wall down around you he started noticing these new feelings creep up on him.

he noticed how you made his heart beat slightly more and how he felt his face heat up. and yet he still kept that nareow faced mask so for a while you barely had a clue and it didn't really help that you always expected him to never gather feelings for you. but eventually you would notice because he didn't understand these feelings and therefore not be able to hide them well.

he hates how you made him so distracted. you didn't even have to be there and his mind would drag to you, why were you consuming his thoughts? he was so confused on why he was acting so uncharacteristically.

and this would continue for months until gin realised how much her brother was struggling all because of his feelings. she told him straight and he finally realised but immediately began being in denial as he never thought he would have such feelings for someone. gin quickly got rid of those ideas.

and then you started realising how weird he was acting around you. even weirder than before, like he had something to tell you but didn't want to. it became very awkward for you and you eventually just confronted him and that's when you managed to fully realise why. and while it may take him time to properly come to terms, you could wait.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd atsushi #atsushi x reader #bsd kunikida #kunikida x reader #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader

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killuagirly · 21 days

Text

Xiao x Reader

Summary: Xiao has been experiencing some feelings that are new to him, and he only realizes what they are once it's already been said out loud. Luckily, those feelings aren't one sided.

Notes: I'm not really back into the Genshin fandom but here we are, writing this on a whim. I don't really like it if I'm being honest, but oh well. I haven't written anything decent in months now anyways, so hopefully you'll enjoy this short piece!!

CW: Mentions of Xiao's past, denial maybe? Not much really, just some unexpected hurt/comfort?? I don't know what this is.

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Xiao

☆ Xiao was not the biggest on affection, anyone who knew him could tell you that. Recently however, his view of the subject may have been swaying a bit. You were the one at fault, as once his fingertips brushed yours he only seemed to crave more. He had never felt a need to be close to someone before, so why now? He wasn't sure he could answer even given forever to think.

☆ Or maybe, it was just because being around you felt so euphoric. Every time Xiao looked at you a sense of comfort and warmth would fall over him, leaving him in a frantic mess to get away. It wasn't because he wanted to leave you, but he just couldn't place his finger on what he was feeling. He wasn't too keen on the idea of speaking to you about it, so he just kept quiet and hoped you didn't notice his odd behavior.

☆ Eventually the day he dreaded came as you approached him on the topic, "Xiao, you've been off lately. Is something wrong?" He could feel his heart drop to his stomach hearing your voice, his favorite sound, weaving words together he hoped he'd never have to hear. You knew Xiao didn't like you worrying about him, or at least he that's what he told you, but you just couldn't help seeing him so distraught without any explanation.

☆ For a moment he was silent, unsure of whether or not he should tell you of his thoughts. Perhaps it would burden you, but he knew very well by now that was just his own consciousness eating away at him. So, he allowed himself to cave in for once and told you everything you could've ever wished to hear. It was quick, and a lot of his words were jumbled together, but the meaning came across.

☆ Xiao visibly stopped after hearing himself voice his thoughts as a realization hit him like a pile of bricks. He was so obviously in love with you. It never really occurred to him, the idea of loving someone. After all that he had been through, it was understandable that he didn't associate himself with such topics.

☆ His eyes met yours in a haze, tears threatening to fall and you took a step closer. In his mind, this could go wrong in so many ways. For instance, what if you didn't feel the same? He didn't see how you could with his cold and dismissive demeanor. Then again, what if you did? That weighed a heavier fear than the instance of you hating him forever.

☆ In the cloudy heap of anxiety surrounding him, you raised your fingers to his pale cheek and wiped away stray tears he hadn't noticed were falling. A gentle smiled crossed your features, one he swore could've only been from an angel. "I love you too, Xiao," you spoke in a hushed tone, as if he would flee at the slightest mishap. That was the only time Xiao could be seen wrapping his arms around another, letting his emotions flow as they pleased.

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Masterlist

#KilluaGirly #Genshin Impact #Xiao #x Reader #Genshin Impact x Reader #Xiao x Reader #Genshin Impact Xiao x Reader #Hurt/comfort #Fanfiction #Genshin #Genshin x Reader #Genshin Xiao x Reader

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hydroj1ns · 7 months

Text

drunk with venti (fluff)

cw: cute lil makeout, alcohol i guess

isn’t it fine for an ex-archon to let loose sometimes?

venti often goes to the pub go get drinks with you, and the events that unfold each night are more or less the same.

tonight, you two are already on your 6th round, your tab is getting dangerously hefty, and diluc is about to kick you out.

smiling hazily at seemingly nothing, you turn to meet the bard’s eyes. were they always so green? like lone emeralds in a dark mine.

he looks up at you, and you can feel your breath hitch. the apples of his cheeks, drunkenly flushed, a satisfying hue. his glorious smile, smooth pink lips parting just a bit to reveal pearly white teeth. the few freckles spanning across his nose that not many knew of; others don’t get as close to him as you do.

of course, like every night, diluc grabs yours and venti’s arms harshly and throws you out of his bar by your 8th round. the two of you stumble disconnectedly into some alleyway. you pin him to the wall. your thoughts are jumbled, but one thing is clear: you need to kiss him. venti, your drinking buddy. venti, the bard with the prettiest voice in teyvat. venti, who you know keeps secrets from you— those striking green orbs seem like they’ve seen everything that is to be seen.

so you do. your lips are on his, and you can feel the dandelions prancing from his mouth to yours. he begins to reciprocate, opening his mouth to give you access. your tongues meet, and the clash of the different wines you had are like sparks that only compliment the amazing warmth of his mouth.

by the time you come up for air, there is a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, and both of you are panting heavily, cheeks impossibly flushed, and eyes dilated with love and lust.

venti can still feel the cold wall behind him, a stark contrast to the warmth you just gifted him.

this happens every night without fail, and each time it does, he can feel all that you give him inside his heart, where there was a previous vacancy. he no longer needs to pretend to be a happy-go-lucky bard; you gave him authenticity. he writes songs about you now, though you might not know it.

he wants to tell you about his life before you, he really does. but maybe some other time.

#hydroj1ns fluff #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #venti x reader #venti x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin fluff

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milkiematcha · 1 year

Note

jeno would be so mean… he’s the type to deny you of an orgasm even after hours of working you up just to stop midway through and go off to do something else

amazing request anon, i had a ton of fun writing it!!

jeno would love hearing you beg for him, your huge teary eyes and trembling lips that couldn't seem to say much more than his name. he'd love pulling back the moment before you cum, a smirk resting on his face and a half laugh escaping his lips.

"you wanna cum, princess?" his voice was half teasing, but with the touch of sincerity that always lurked in his voice when he spoke to you.

"please-" a sobbed caught itself in your throat and you grasped for his hand, fingers entangling with his. "please nono i'll be good- i'll be such a good girl, please-"

"hmmm." the smirk dropped from his lips, eyes flickering to yours, his remaining hand coming up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing at the tears dripping from your eyes. "no. i don't think so."

you burst into sobs, shaky hands grasping at anything you can reach, but he pulls back, pulling at his belt. your sobs subside, and he coos at you in that half sincere way he always does.

"if you're good, i'll let you cum after one more time. deal?"

you nod, lips falling open into another whine when he returns his lips to your core, trying with everything you have to not tangle your fingers in his hair and grind against his face. and you're already so, so close, already on edge from the times he'd teased you beforehand. you'd lost count, or maybe you hadn't and your brain was just so mush that you didn't know if you had counted at all.

and then he pulls back again, leaving you on the edge again, leaving you sobbing and writhing and so fucking unsatisfied that you wanted to slam your head into the bed frame. he stands up, pulling at his pants and you finally get some semblance of relief. it's like the end is in sight, and you can feel the warmth already rebuilding in the pit of your stomach.

and then he yanks a pair of sweatpants on, tying the knot lazily while you survey him in confusion.

"nono- jeno you promise, you said that- nono please" the words are jumbled, and he's smirking again when he tugs a loose t-shirt, the edge just long enough to hide the prominent bulge in his pants.

"you can cum. later." he says shortly, ruffling his hair and leaning down to brush his lips against your cheek. "after i get back from the gym."

you beg, plead, but all the words come out in a jumbled mess, unintelligible to even you, but he just smirks and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "good luck, princess. love you."

and then he's gone, leaving you shaking on the half-soaked bedsheets.

fuck him.

but preferably, he'd fuck you instead.

karina learn how to end smut challenge(failed). i hope y'all liked it, all requests should be finished... eventually. thanks for reading!!

#lee jeno smut #jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #i want him to rail me:D

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writersblockedx · 2 years

Text

Careful What You Wish For

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary - Dean's been pining for his best friend for years now. Though, it isn't until he breaks out from the Jinn's dream world (in which she took the role of his girlfriend), that he comes clean. - Based off 2x20 Warnings - None I don't think (lmk if there are.) Words - 2.5K

A/n - I know I’m a little late, but I’ve just finished binge watching the first four season of Supernatural. I wasn’t really going to write any fics for the show, but this idea came to mind so.

MASTERLIST

Dean should have realised something was wrong when he woke up in the same bed as his best friend, surrounded by walls that weren't covered in tacky motel wallpaper. He didn't know it yet, but he was in a reality that wasn't his own. One of which he would soon learn was much better - at least so it was seen such on the surface.

Dean had attempted to wake Y/n, slightly nudging at her side that had only prompted her to stir, mumbling something the boy couldn't make out. So, he rushed from the bed, around this apartment he truly didn't recognise. Once he finally located his phone, he rang his brother, thinking that was his life line. But as Dean rushed out the words of 'Jinn' and other jumbles of words that this Sam didn't understand, the phone call ended, leaving Dean just as much in the blue as he had been prior.

"What's going on?" A voice had asked. Dean swirled on his feet, facing his best friend.

She wore only a t-shirt which hung by her thighs. His t-shirt. "Honestly, wish I knew." Dean muttered in reply as the girl wondered towards him.

His breath was suddenly caught in his throat when her hands wrapped around his neck. "Do I even want to know what time it is?" She questioned, a smirk gracing her lips.

He was barely able to shake his head, his thoughts bound to the girl in front of him. The girl who had been at his side for years. Who'd sit in the passenger seat of the car, fighting over what music to listen to. The girl who he just so happened to have been pining over for them many tormenting years.

Dean wasn't sure what sort of magic was in the mix, but he thanked God for it.

Y/n leaned into his lips and Dean could have sworn his whole body halted, just to catch up with what was happening. And by the time she pulled away, it was too late to settle into the feeling. "How about we get you back to bed, hm?" She encouraged.

The boy nodded, "Yeah, yeah." He agreed as she started stepping away from him. A part of Dean wasn't sure where he might wake up. Whether it would be here, in this apartment he wished he could know as home, or whether it would be that tacky motel room. "I've just got to check something."

Y/n glanced back at him, flashing a smile, "Okay." And then she disappeared back into their room.

The boy was taking a moment. His eyes scanning the living room where he found a certain photo that made all else seem like nothing. He moved forward, taking it into his grip as if to check it was real. A family photo with his mother. His living, breathing, mother. Maybe that was when he knew this was all too good to be true. He just didn't want to believe it yet.

Y/n had been quick to call Mary that night. With the smashed photo frame and the great escape Dean made, she had no idea what was going on. And the girl would be lying if she didn't say it worried her.

The only thing that got her through her shift the next day being the text Dean had sent her, assuring that everything was fine. She still left work early. No text would be certain to calm her mind. Yet, as she pulled up to the family home, birthday present in hand, her thoughts had yet to simmer.

Dean was sat on the steps to the porch, nursing a beer. He stood to his feet as the girl exited the car, wondering towards him. "Not going into work either?" She questioned him with one raised brow.

The boy shrugged and sent an uneasy smile. "Got the day off."

"You didn't tell me." Suppose running out the house in the middle of the night didn't give much time to. "You scared me last night, Dean, with that little runaway act." She admitted to him.

A sting of guilt hit Dean. Something he attempted to supress. "I'm sorry, but I promise I'm fine now, great actually." He assured.

Y/n didn't believe one word of it. Whether he was telling the truth or not, the girl could sense something was off. Her palm reached his forehand, checking for any sign of temperature. "What are you doing?" Dean inquired as he took her hand, lowering it from his temples.

"Checking for fever." She answered with a deadpanned expression that urged a smile to the boy's lips.

"I'm fine." He repeated. But it seemed no matter how many times he would say so, Y/n's mind wouldn't ease.

Yet she sighed in defeat. "Well then, since she's your mother, you should probably give her this." The girl untucked the present from under her arm, passing it to the boy.

Once again, the worry set in when he looked down at the wrapped gift as if it were a bomb. "What-" He stuttered out with narrowed brows. Though, Dean was unable to comprehend what had just happened, the sound of a car engine hitting his ears. The boy's gaze followed, landing on his brother's car, with a girl he knew to be dead in the passenger's seat. "I don't believe it."

Y/n lurked behind him as he wondered towards the car, squeezing Jess into a tightly knit hug before she'd even had a moment to exhale. The night followed with the same, odd, behaviour. And while Dean was simply basking in this new reality he seemed to have stumbled into, Y/n was growing more and more worrisome. Rushing after thin air in the restaurant, then wanting to spend more time with his brother than needed. To Y/n, at least the one in this make-shift world, it seemed cause for concern.

As the night drew into a close, and the couple made their way back home, things seemed to settle. Dean found himself laid across the couch, taunted by the lack of relationship he now had with his younger brother. "You feeling better now?" Y/n spoke as she joined him on the couch, tucked under his arm.

He looked back at her as if he had just snapped out of it. Y/n took that as a no. "Huh?" Was all he managed to get out.

"Maybe sleep will bring you around." She suggested. "Just, try not to run out in the middle of the night again yeah?" Dean nodded lightly but Y/n could tell he was somewhere else entirely. "Hey, whatever it is that's going on, you can talk to me about it. You know that, yeah?"

Y/n waited, searching through his pupils for any sign he might finally admit to whatever it was. "You'll think I'm insane." He told her.

She shrugged, "Don't I already?"

Dean glanced away for a moment, debating whether it was worth it. "This, here, everything, it's like a dream come true. I know how that sounds, but a lot is different today than it was yesterday." And yes, Y/n did think the boy was insane.

"And what's so different?" She questioned through soft eyes.

"I mean to start with, you, this place." He scanned around the apartment. "When I woke up yesterday, it was in a motel room, and you were in the bed across from me. And me and Sam, we were actually close. All three of us worked together." What Dean had feared was starring back at him: disbelief.

Y/n reached out her palm, brushing it over his cheek as to soothe him. But, instead, it seemed to have sent shivers down his spine. "I'm sure it was just a really vivid dream." She attempted to comfort him.

Dean bit his tongue after that.

It wasn't a vivid dream. And with his mind yearning at him to snap out of it, he knew he had no choice.

Dean couldn't look at Y/n the same way when he came back. His body aching with the blood that the Jinn had drained him off, clinging to the girl that carried him out of the warehouse. The feeling of her skin brushing against his suddenly came with memorises of holding hands and kisses. And she had no idea.

Once they made it back to the motel, Y/n demanded that Dean didn't move from the end of the bed until she gave him a once over. She perched next to him, legs cross as she inspected his neck where the needle had once pricked his skin, literally sucking the life out of him. "I told you, I feel fine." Dean said as her hand dropped from his skin.

"Well excuse me for giving a shit." She replied in a stern tone.

Yet, Dean responded with a smile. "Somethings never change."

Y/n's brow raised, "What does that mean?"

"Even in my fantasy dream world, you were still worried sick over me." Then his smile twisted into smirk that Y/n wanted nothing more than to wipe off him.

Instead, she let her eyes roll. "Next time, I'll make sure you to leave you suffering."

Sam wondered back towards his bed, ending the call he'd once been taken away with. "The girl's been stabilised." He informed as the two glanced over at him. "Good chance she's gonna pull through."

Dean nodded, "That's good."

A pause followed and Y/n noted the way Sam was debating something in his head. "So we really didn't get alone then?" He questioned.

The boy laughed at the Sam he had met in said dream land. "No."

"What about me?" Asked Y/n as her brow quirked in question. "Was I any different in this world?"

Silence came from Dean for a moment. Once again, he chuckled at what only he knew. And it was a humours thought when it came to preppy Sam being in law school, pretty much scared of the dark. But when it came to what had changed with Y/n and with them in this fantasy, that was something he truly wished for and now with it snatched from his grasp, his heart just couldn't help but ache.

So, in that moment, Dean opted only to smile as he faced Y/n. "A story for another time." He settled on.

Both Y/n and Sam fell into confusion at that. Dean soon pulled himself from the bed, wondering into the bathroom while the other two shared a look. "Did that seem odd to you?" Y/n questioned, her finger gesturing to where the boy had just been seated.

Sam nodded, "Sure he'll tell you the story after he's had a drink."

While Sam meant that as nothing more than a passing comment, it was plan the girl was sure would work on Dean. So, as they moved for the next town over, in search of a next job, Y/n suggested they spend some time at the local bar. There weren't many a time they were settled in a town where no demon, monster or creature was yet to be crawling for them. Which led both brothers to agree.

They must have only been three drinks in when Sam put his empty glass back to the table, a sigh following. "I think that's me done for the night." He uttered already grasping for his jacket.

"What? No, Sammy, come on." Dean urged through his own swig of beer. "Y/n was right, when are we next gonna be in bar because we're not investigating some spirit?"

Sam was standing from his seat, "Don't be back too late you two." He stated as he passed Dean, patting his back.

"Sleep well, Sam!" Y/n called, prompting the boy to glance back with a smile before he was gone.

Y/n looked over at the older brother, brow raised as she noticed the cogs in his brain were running. His eyes lit up, "Shots?" He smirked.

Had it been any later than it already was, Y/n probably would have declined. Yet, she found herself nodding. In a split second, Dean was out of his chair and to the bar, soon returning with two glasses of something shiny. "Cheers." Y/n spoke as the two raised their drinks, clinking them together. In sync, they swigged the liquid, burning at their throats before putting the glasses back down to the sticky table.

"So," Y/n started, her eyes exploring Deans in an attempt to grasp where his head was at. "Is this the time for that story?" She was testing the waters with her words.

Dean peaked at her over the shot glass, "What story?"

"About the dream world the Jinn sent you to." Dean's expression moulded into one Y/n was unable to depict. "When I asked about me in this world, you said it was a story for another time."

"Maybe after another shot." Y/n thought for a moment as they both went silent. And in one swift movement, she was at her feet, heading for the bar. "What? Y/n! I didn't mean that literally..." She was already gone.

Dean waited for her return, his fingers fidgeting as he attempted to look as held together as he was able. Even with three beers and some strange spirit down his throat, it didn't make this any easier. "Here." Y/n said, placing the glass down in front of him before taking her seat once again.

"What? No shot for you this time?" He questioned as he glanced down at the empty space on Y/n's side of the table. "This is extortion, you know?"

Y/n huffed as her elbows leant against the table and she got closer to Dean. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything Dean, but I've never known you to keep secrets from me." The boy could have laughed at the irony in that this secret was one of which he had been keeping from her for years now. "Which makes me think that whatever this something is that you're not telling me, it has to be bothering you."

Dean is silent for a couple of moments. He has to grip at all his thoughts. All of which are demanding he retreat as he does every time. But his heart can't help but yearn for his best friend sat in front of him. "When I woke up in that place, I was in this apartment. It was really nice. And in the bed I woke up in, you were sleeping next to me. But not as my best friend, or roommate. You were my girlfriend."

Oh.

Y/n's pupils were wide as she stared back at Dean. She was in doubt with every word. "That's what the Jinn does though, isn't it? Changes some things?"

Dean shook his head, "No. I had wished for it. I wished for it in that moment like I have been doing for years now."

Silence followed.

Dean was holding his breath. He was now the one scanning Y/n, hoping to dig inside whatever thoughts were floating around her head. "Dean..."

Her voice came out in sympathy that the boy had mistaken for pity. So, he was quick to retreat once again. "I know you probably think I'm stupid for even th-"

Y/n was leaning over, her finger tip grazing the bottom of his chin before meeting his lips. Dean was too busy trying to process the moment that he hadn't realised the kiss had happened until she was pulling away. A grin was quick to pull at his lips, "Wish we'd done that earlier."

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winhester x y/n #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #x reader

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mins-fins · 3 months

Text

all flights are delayed !

"i like to call myself a pretty man connoisseur.."

synopsis: your sad to say it, but you don't have much going on in your life. you have a very time consuming major, just a few friends, barely any time to go out, and spend most of your free time either a: working, or b: sleeping. so for once, when you finally have the friday off, and your dragged off to go watch a football game between a rival school of yours, you really do wish you were anywhere else. somehow though, it turns out to be one of the best things to happen to you, because a charming oreo–haired musical theater major from your rival school just happens to saunter his way into your life, you didn't expect to fall in love in your junior year, but your also not complaining!

pairing: xiao dejun x male!reader

genre: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, musical theater major!xiaojun x health science major!reader, fluff, like the lightest of angst, lowkey fast burn 😖

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing(?), gay people, a little miscommunication, reader having a crisis over oreo xiaojun, probably a lot of repetitive phrases, huang guanheng is EVERYWHERE

word count: 12.8k

notes: OKAAAAAAAY hello! now in the beginning i really did enjoy writing this but after like the fourth scene its all so disgusting and jumbled up but i am also very proud of myself because this is the longest ever fic i have ever written (it is all xiao dejuns fault), actually it is ALL of nct's fault because why do i have a bunch of 8k word fics of so many nct members..😢 anyway if this seems any rushed or makes absolutely no sense at times its because im tired and i worked extra today but it doesn't really matter because constructive criticism is good (i shouldn't even publish this tbh) but there is a first for everything! enjoy!

YOU'VE NEVER BEEN A FOOTBALL FAN. now you know that might be a little of a sour opinion, especially to the men in your family, but it's just never been a sport you enjoy. it is just a little fun to watch, especially when drunk, because the sight of men in tight ass clothes running around a field chasing a ball is possibly one of the funniest things you think your drunk mind has ever seen. which is why now— in the stands, listening to the loud shouts and screams from your schoolmates, and rival scholars, you feel as if your ears have just been popped.

after all the days of working, and doing nothing but schoolwork, you were glad to have the rest of the friday off. there was nothing else you wanted to do but put on an oversized sweater, make a bowl of ramen and rewatch gossip girl for the seventy fifth time already (yes, you keep count), but no— guanheng decided he was going to drag you out of the dorm to watch stupid football game, one about "school spirit" or whatever, you weren't paying attention to him when he decided to go on his ramble, and now he's abandoned you once again! probably off to go talk to one of his 1000 other friends or something.

you almost consider leaving, but then you witness the amount of people you'd have to maneuver through, the amount of excuse me's you'd have to utter, the amount of pushing you'd endure as you tried to make your way through the crowded stands, besides, you can't leave without guanheng, your pretty much the only person responsible for keeping him alive at this point.

so you somehow suck it up and manage to stick around. your ears are practically on fire right now, and you desperately want to take off your shoes because of how they are poking you at the moment. you almost feel like your being pressed together by all the people in the stands, as if walls are slowly pushing in and crushing every single bone in your body.

"that team is doing horribly.." you mutter to yourself in an attempt to calm your crazy mind.

"i know, we suck".

at first you think you've made up the voice, because in the past hour and a half all you've heard is shouting, cheering, and loud music blasting on your ears, no one has made any attempt to talk to you since guanheng up and left you alone in the stands, so the response almost seems like muddled up words created by your brain as a response—

but it's not.

someone actually did respond to you, and in a split second there is a completely new person standing beside you, also observing the game but not looking as pleased to be there. when you do glance to your left, you come across possibly the most beautiful boy— no, person, you come across the most beautiful person you think you've ever seen in your twenty years of living, for once it feels like everything stops.

you are not the kind of person that just.. does that. now you've met tons of pretty people, you've met so many people that you could definitely say are so beautiful they could be displayed in a museum as an art exhibit, but never in your twenty years of living have you ever seen yourself go silent at the sight of a beautiful person— your brain feels like it's malfunctioning, you're not exactly sure what to say, you open your mouth but no words come out, and you almost consider punching yourself because you probably look like a complete idiot right now.

"oh? you don't go here?"

that's what you decided to say? of all things you could've said, of course he doesn't go to your school, he just implied that the other team belonged to his school, why would that be the best thing to say out of everything else?

the stranger looks up, then he laughs, and your not sure how you keep your composure. "oh no, i go to vixsith" he replies, using his thumb to point backward, though he's not pointing at anything in specific, just pointing to point. you're not sure why you pick up on that, or why you're even watching where his hands are going anyway.

"your insulting your own team?" you inquire, and he laughs even harder at your question, covering his mouth with his hand. "this is about school spirit, have faith in them" you joke, and all he does is continue laughing, crossing his arms as he tries his best to calm himself down.

"i'm being honest, the only person on that team who knows how to play is mark, he deserves better" he remarks, eyes focused on the player he just named. he then seems to have a random realization and turns to you once again. "i'm dejun by the way" he holds out his hand for you to take, and you just blink at it like an idiot, before coming back to your senses and quickly shaking his head.

"y/n".

at the sound of your name, he seems to have yet another realization. he points at you and narrows his eyes. "we have a mutual friend don't we?"

at the question, you narrow your eyes, cogs turn in your brain as you think about who he could possibly be referring to, then it comes to you—

"guanheng".

the two of you say his name in unison, and the two of you both try to stifle your laughs as the realization dawns on you. "he knows everyone i swear" you mutter, and dejun snorts, looking away from you to laugh. "even from other schools.."

"oh we go way back" dejun responds, moving his hair out of his face. "middle school actually" he adds, and your eyes widen, as if your shocked, of course guanheng has friends from way back when, why are you surprised?

you don't feel as surprised as you do lucky..

"was he still as inhumanely flexible as he is now?"

dejun laughs again, he does that a lot. "yes, yes he was".

"he talks about you a lot.. you know" dejun comments out of the blue, tucking his hair behind his ear. "he basically lives with us, and if he's not sleeping over we always assume he's with you".

"oh so that's why he always just.. appears and disappears.."

"yeah that's kind of his thing" dejun scrunches his face, looking bored by the lack of action happening on the field. "i can never find him unless he directly comes to me first" he doesn't look at you as he says those words, but you're very much staring at him the whole time.

you almost feel like a creep in a way, you want to punch yourself in the face again for continuing to stare at him. you blink a couple times before turning your face away, trying to correctly articulate your thoughts.

"both teams suck".

you only say those words because you want him to continue talking, you want to hear him talk, it's nothing that crazy, having a conversation with him is just so intriguing to you for some reason..

"well yeah— but you guys get more training so you have an advantage" he comments, narrowing his eyes at the field, arms crossed over his chest. "the guys on our team have no idea what their doing".

"do you like football?" you ask, not sure why your so interested in his answer, you just are, you have no explanation for your sudden intrigue of this charming oreo–haired boy that goes to your rival school.

your much too distracted by how gorgeous he is to worry about giving yourself an explanation.

dejun laughs again, shaking his head. "not really, my dad does, so i just know things because of all his screaming and shouting" he replies, arms still crossed over his chest. "i'm not really a sports person, i do musical theater for pete's sake".

"oh so you sing?" you don't mean to ask another question, you're worried that you might be bothering dejun with your constant inquiries, but he actually seems glad, excited that someone is asking him about his major.

"well yeah" he responds, his smile growing. "all things theater, i write the songs, i act the parts, i play instruments, sometimes i even take offstage roles instead of my usual onstage ones".

he fiddles with his fingers, picking his nails. you assume, from his mannerisms, that he doesn't know what to say because most people don't really ask him about his major, or what he does, it's like he's elated that you even asked him.

"what about you?" dejun instead asks, veering away from the topic of his major and instead making yours the main topic of discussion. "what do you do?"

"health science" you say the words as if it pains you to, like it's the single most uninteresting thing you've said this whole interaction. "i know, it's boring".

dejun laughs again; "no no! i didn't say that!" he waves his hands in a disagreeing manner as he chuckles at your words. "i just don't meet a lot of people interested in pursuing science.."

"it's more of the health aspect than science actually" you mutter, and dejun just looks even more interested in what you have to say now. "but science is a big part of it so.."

"you must be very smart then" dejun remarks, smiling as the two of you make eye contact.

"i'm alright" you just say, finally pulling down your formerly rolled up sweater sleeves now that the air outside has begun cooling down. you only lightly shiver, and you glance back at dejun one more time..

"where do you think guanheng is?" he asks, clearing his throat as he scours the still full and lively bleachers, searching for your friend. "off doing whatever he does.."

you're currently very distracted, and you don't even realize what's going on when you snap out of whatever daze you were having and everyone is suddenly standing up and cheering like there's no tomorrow.

dejun looks over at you, and he can clearly see how confused you are because he laughs for one last time. "you guys won!" he somehow manages his voice over the roar of the crowd. "congrats!"

he's yelling, but he's not exactly loud, he still manages to sound so gentle whilst yelling at you.

"thanks!" you blurt out as a reply, and you feel like a complete idiot for that, but dejun smiles, so you don't feel all that embarrassed.

the game is over, and people are going to start to leave soon. dejun looks back, spotting a group he recognizes, then he looks over at you, a smile on his face. "i've gotta go now" he says, almost disappointed in a sense. "it was nice meeting you y/n!"

you nod, not knowing what to say. "yeah! you too!"

you too? you too?? is that what you say y/n!?

dejun gives one more beautiful smile before heading off, and you blink, having absolutely no idea what just transpired in those few minutes.

holy shit i forgot to ask—

but you couldn't— because he was gone, gone in such a flash you couldn't even spot his oreo hair in the crowd.

YOU FORGOT TO ASK FOR HIS NUMBER. YOU FEEL SO STUPID, your not even sure why you wanted to ask him that, but in the back of your mind that was the question you were preparing yourself to ask from the moment he told you his name, that he was friends with guanheng, the moment the two of you began laughing about your majors and stuff like that. the whole interaction with a pretty oreo–haired musical theater major at a football game is all that you were thinking about last night, as you tried to find pretty much anything else to think about as you struggled to sleep.

how did you forget to ask him for his number? you want to smash your face into your computer screen because of how stupid you are. you said "you too!" like a fucking idiot, but maybe you were just too distracted, he was smiling at you with that beautiful smile and staring at you with his absolutely gorgeous fucking eyes, how could you even think coherently whilst a beautiful man (from a whole other school but who cares?) was staring at you with his pretty brown eyes like you were the only person in the world?

okay your pushing it now..

but there is just something, something about him that drew you in, your not sure why you were so adamant on getting to know him, but he was just so— you can't explain it right now! you are currently very sleep deprived and also moody because of your disappearing roommate that always decides to appear at the worst times.

you don't remember the last time you ever got an actual eight hours of sleep, these days that seems like a dream more than a reality, but guangheng is just never tired. he's somehow always up, doing something, hanging out with people, he never sits down in once place and just stays still.

when he walks into the room, hands on his hips and gaze immediately focused on you, you barely bat an eye at him, just spare him a quick glance, noticing how pissed off he looks. you scour your mind for an explanation as to why he must be mad now, probably something someone said, or he got into yet another argument with one of his classmates, your not even sure anymore, you don't know where he is half the time.

"could you do me a favor?"

you almost laugh out loud, not at him, but at the idea that he wanted you to do him a favor. at this point, he probably owes you thousands of favors considering how many you do for him, but he seems upset, and you don't have any of that pettiness leftover to ignore him, so you move your eyes to look over at him.

"why should i?"

okay— you lied, your still just a little petty, but you totally have every right to be! guanheng deserves just some sass from you after disappearing each and every time he decides to take you out somewhere.

guanheng blinks, then he pulls out the signature guanheng frown, a sad stupid frown he always makes when he wants to persuade you into doing something. you're not sure how you've even ever fallen for that signature frown, maybe it's because he's just so great at looking sad, at looking upset, he somehow always manages to make you feel bad for him, and therefore, end up doing the favor for him.

"because i'm your best friend, your roommate, and you love me so much" guanheng smiles wide, like he just found out he won the lottery, and clasps his hands together as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

"i don't know.." you mumble, looking back at your computer screen. it's a saturday, you have no classes saturday, you can just sit down, relax, be the absolute lazy motherfucker you were put on this earth to be. "i don't feel like going out today".

guanheng huffs, crossing his arms. "one last favor! just one! then i'll get off your back!"

"your horrible at following your promises, heng" you comment absentmindedly, your tone is much meaner than you intended, and guanheng's gasp is enough to tell you that he indeed takes offense to those words. "what? i'm not lying".

"y/n!" oh great, he's whining now. "i will get you anything i can, anything! just this one favor! please?"

your about to say no again— but then it's like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you get a spectacular idea. anything? he did say anything, and he can give you something you want.

the number of a pretty boy preferably!

you let out a sigh, and guanheng knows what that sigh means, it means you agree. "fine, i'll do you this favor, but this is the last one".

guanheng's smile brightens, and he cheers like a kid that just got the best christmas present one can receive. "thank you! thank you! thank you! i love you!" he kisses your cheek, and skips off to another room.

"get your jacket!" he shouts, already rooms away from you, so he has to shout.

"what?"

"get your jacket! were leaving!"

you furrow your eyebrows at his words, but you don't say anymore, because you did agree to do this favor for him after all.

so, without questioning it more, you get up and go grab your jacket.

"SO WHEN YOU SAID A FAVOR..?" you don't continue on with your sentence, pausing to let out a breath as you shove your hands into the pockets of your jackets. guanheng looks over at you, and he just chuckles at the unreadable expression on your face. when you agreed to do this favor for him, you didn't know it included leaving your dorm and having to be dragged out to yet another unfamiliar place. "did you forget to mention the fact that we'd have to leave the school?" you finally finish, eyes focused and narrowed on your friend, who again, smiles at you with that signature guanheng smile.

"it's a saturday, most of us don't have classes anyway, they won't question it".

"is that supposed to make me feel better?" you ask to yourself more than to guanheng, but he hears you anyway, and that results in a snicker from him. despite that, he doesn't respond to your silent question, making you frown just the slightest.

"stop pouting".

"i'm not pouting" your quick to rebut, rolling your eyes at his words. you almost bump into him when he suddenly stops, and your about to yell at him again for being stupid when he places a finger on your mouth.

he knocks on the door in front of him, not paying attention to the burning glare your currently sending him.

"i'll bite off your finger" you threaten, moving forward and pretending your about to do that. guanheng squeaks and quickly moves his fingers away from your lips, a flash of true fear in his eyes. all you do is give him a menacing and totally not threatening smile.

"psycho.." he whispers, he looks like he's about to say more, but the door opens, so he closes his mouth and turns around.

"come on!"

he grabs your wrist and drags you into the dorm, and you felt your heart rate increase. maybe he knew these people, but you sure didn't! what if they thought you were weird? you want to pull him back and tell him that he shouldn't just drag you into some strangers dorm, but he is much too distracted to even notice your uneasiness.

"i've returned!" guanheng yells, letting go of your hand to place his hands on his hips, as if he was proud of himself.

"can you slam the door on him!?"

"ten! come to me!"

before you can ask him what the hell is going on, he sprints down the hallway, you assume to go after this ten person, you just blink, shoving your hands into your pockets as you begin to rock back and forth on your heels.

"hello stranger!" an unfamiliar voice exclaims, you look up and come face to face with a pink–haired boy with a bright smile.

"hello" you reply politely. "i like your hair" you immediately remark, pointing at his hair like an idiot because you don't want to touch it and make him uncomfortable.

his face lights up, as if you were a millionaire that just gifted him a life changing amount of money. it was as if no one ever told him that his hair was pretty before, or that they liked it. he jumps up and squeals, excited. "thank you! ten said it was stupid!"

you furrow your eyebrows, then chuckle. "what? no it's very pretty, pink suits you!"

"hah! i told you guanheng! pink does suit me!" he yells down the hall, and you can hear the small shout of rebuttal that guanheng responds with from all the way down the hall. "thanks! only a few people actually noticed that i dyed my hair".

you laugh again, okay he is very funny, you like him!

"oh! i'm yangyang! the nicest person who lives here!" he introduces himself in the same fashion a reality tv star would, and quickly grabs your hand to shake it. you don't complain, just laugh again as he vigorously shakes your hand.

"y/n, it's nice to meet you".

he gasps, recognizing your name. "oh you're the famous y/n! guanheng always talks about you, for a long time i was convinced he was in love with you!"

"why are you tarnishing my brand!?" guanheng shouts again, sounding even more pissed off than he did before. "huh!? liu yangyang!?"

yangyang shakes his head, ignoring guanheng's loud shouts and flapping his hand, mocking him. you laugh as you watch him mock the other, who has absolutely no idea what he's doing right now.

"you have a project to do!" another unfamiliar voice shouts.

yangyang gasps again, suddenly looking stressed. "fuck yeah— um!" he turns around and reaches over to grab his laptop, then he turns back to you and gives you a smile.

"yeah, my apologies" you just wave it off, urging him to keep going. "um i'm doing a project where i have to interview people on their majors.. trust me i don't know either, but! i've interviewed like the whole school already, and i need one more person.."

"and that person is me?" you ask, but you already know the answer to that question, yangyang nods, much more quickly than he seemed to intend to.

"yes!" he exclaims, but then he clears his throat. "but only if you want to, i don't want to force you into anything you don't want to do—"

"no no no it's fine!" you cut into his sentence, shaking your head. yangyang, again, looks elated that you agreed.

okay so this was the favor guanheng wanted you to for him! (not for him necessarily— but his friend). he could've just told you about this straight up instead of being vague about it, it wasn't even that burdening of a favor, not like the other ones you've done for him.

"guanheng! why don't you bring him around more often? he's better than you are!" yangyang yells again, probably for the nth time that hour.

guanheng doesn't answer, but you knows he's pouting, you can just sense it at this point, you call it your "roommate instincts".

"oh hi y/n".

now that's a voice you recognize, and you almost don't believe your eyes when the one person that kept you up all night walks into the room and smiles as he sees your figure. "dejun, hi" you smile back at him, hoping you don't sound as awkward as you feel.

dejun looks so so pretty, as he always does. he fiddles with the necklace hanging around his neck, his eyes lingering on you for an unspecified amount of time.

"ten hit me with his shoe" guanheng suddenly storms into the room, arms crossed over his chest. "asshole.." he mutters under his breath, huffing like some sort of baby.

dejun then laughs, covering his mouth with his hand, and that causes you to laugh, turning your head to the side as to not make it obvious.

guanheng exchanges glances between the both of you, a prominent glare in his eyes, but then the look in his eyes changes, and he points at the two of you. "you two have met?" he asks.

dejun pauses, still humored by the previous words said by guanheng, and your brain almost malfunctions once again. "i— um" great, you just sound so natural and not awkward.

"we met at the game" dejun immediately says, saving you the awkwardness of having to collect your words in your brain. you thank whatever god or deity up there for dejun's quick response, and he just flashes you that familiar pretty smile. "yesterday, you know, while you were off doing who knows what.."

guanheng gasps, looking at dejun like he'd just cursed his entire bloodline. "you— your just such a bitch! you know!?"

"ow! don't punch me! i'm fragile!"

guanheng lands one more punch on his shoulder, and it gets one more squeak out of dejun, who jumps once again. "i don't care, your horrible".

yangyang blinks, probably already used to their little quarrels. he then turns to you, just shaking his head as they continue to whisper–argue. "so, what do you major in?"

it's almost like you totally forgot, his project, the thing that guanheng dragged you here to help him with. "health sciences, i take courses in everything related to healthcare and like— half actual science courses?"

"so your looking to work in healthcare?"

"yeah basically, i've already taken courses in emergency service's, becoming a paramedic is my top option!"

yangyang gasps at your words, he looks over at guanheng, then quickly back at you. "are you single?" he asks, again with the same quickness.

dejun snorts, hitting guanheng as begins laughing hard. guanheng scrunches his nose, staring at yangyang like he's crazy. "what kind of question is that!?"

"what? that is a totally valid question to ask!" he exclaims, crossing his arms. "it's for my project! clearly!" he lies.

"your— oh my god, unbelievable".

"so are you?" yangyang asks again, looking at you with suspenseful eyes. he is very much interested in your answer it seems.

your finally finished with your laughing fit, and nod, still very amused. "yes i am, i'm single".

"good, this is very important information".

yangyang gives you a giddy look, and dejun just continues to laugh.

you're not sure why your so focused on him though..

YOU AGAIN, HAVE NO LUCK SLEEPING that night, and after the first hour and a half of tossing and turning, you gave up on trying to chase slumber you knew you wouldn't be able to catch. you assumed that the longer you stared at your computer screen, the quicker you'd get tired and the quicker your eyes would become heavier, but no! it's now almost two in the morning and you still aren't sleepy in the tiniest bit, you didn't know insomnia got this bad, if you knew this prior to coming back to school this year, you would've bought more of those sleeping pills. you lean your chin onto your hand as your computer continues playing audio from a random episode of brooklyn nine–nine.

the millions of thoughts rampant in your mind were probably distracting you, rendering it impossible to sleep, and also rendering it impossible to focus, seeing as your just looking around your room, which is pretty much boring you considering all you've been doing for the past thirty minutes is looking around your own room.

you think your gonna bore yourself to death, you pretty much prepare to stay up for the next five hours until your alarm rings and startles you out of your daze (which has happened way too many times for your comfort), but then your phone rings.

it's almost two in the morning, who exactly is calling you at this time? who knows that you're awake at 1:56 in the morning and decided to call you? they probably knew you'd pick up..

and you know who it is— it's so obvious.

dejun.

you don't mean to pick up your ringing phone as fast as you do, you want to punch yourself in the face for how desperate you seem, and you almost don't answer the phone because you feel so embarrassed. "hello?"

"hi!" dejun sounds way too joyous for someone who is sleep deprived, and up at 1:57 am. "sorry? was that too loud?"

"no no your fine" you reply, even though the speaker is on, guanheng can quite literally sleep through anything, there was one time the fire alarm was going off for a good ten minutes and he didn't even budge. "guanheng is a pretty heavy sleeper".

"he's lucky, i can't sleep" the sound of shuffling on the other line resonates in your ears, and dejun huffs, sounding frustrated. "you were the only person i assumed would be awake".

you snicker. "why is that?" you inquire, he was right, of course, but you just wanted to hear his reasoning, and also wanted him to keep talking.

you really like dejun's voice for some reason, it just scratches the right part of your brain. in these past two days you realized that you like a lot of things about dejun, many more things than you thought you might.

"your major has the word 'science' in it so i just assumed the amount of sleep you get is slim to none".

now that gets another laugh out of you, you laugh much more than you intend to, but also— it's dejun, and you can't resist the loud laugh that escapes your lips.

oh your such a desperate little bitch—

"well you'd be correct" you respond, humming as you pick at your nails. "at this point sleeping is beginning to make me tired".

there's a long pause, and your worried you made everything more awkward, because you don't hear anything from the other line. for a moment, you're almost convinced dejun hung up on you, but before you can speak he beats you to it.

"i can keep you company until you get tired" he immediately suggests, and you almost choke on your spit when he says that. "i don't mind".

you go silent, feeling as if all logical thoughts in your mind have suddenly disappeared into the air. you might sound like a complete loser right now but that was just so sweet of him to suggest, you smile much too wide for your own comfort, but you don't even think about that, because your just so charmed by the words.

"you are.." you pause, clasping your hands together as you think about what words to say next. "yeah yeah, that's fine" you finally continue, your new words having no connection to the previous ones you previously said, you just hope dejun doesn't notice.

"good! it would've been awkward if you said no" dejun giggles, and you just can't get over how cute he sounds. "plus, i wouldn't want you to be tired in the morning, lord knows how much you do in a day.."

you feel an unfamiliar fluttering feeling in your stomach, because he is so considerate? he wants to help you, he's just being so nice to you at.. two! two in the morning! you bite down on your bottom lip, hoping it doesn't bleed from how hard your tooth drives into it.

"aww, you care about me that much?" you ask, just wanting to hear him talk again. you feel like a teenage girl giggling and kicking her feet over a high school crush, except you can't kick your feet and giggle because then dejun would know.

"okay, be quiet, don't make me hang up".

"okay okay don't do that!" you say, totally meaning to sound as desperate as possible this time. "if your not here i won't ever fall asleep".

you hear something similar to a squeal on the other line, as if dejun had heard your words and just freaked out.

the realization honestly boosted your ego.

"you— you suck!"

"you offered to help me jun, don't get like this now!"

you're not sure how long it goes on for, but you swear you two laugh all night while on the phone.

"SO WHOSE THE GUY?" the question is asked so abruptly that at first, you assume you heard your friend wrong. when you look up, he stares at you with that deadpanned gaze, and that's when you realize he's completely serious. you chuckle at the realization that your friend is sure that your in love with someone (well you are— your just surprised that he figured out so quickly). "what guy? there's a guy?" you tilt your head, acting as if you have no idea what he could possibly be talking about. you giggle as you watch him slowly get even more irritated by your answer.

"you always come in here looking a little less miserable each day" chenle observes, leaning forward as he narrows his eyes at you. "someone is making you excited to live life?"

"do i always come in here looking miserable?" you ask, completely diverting your attention from chenle's previously asked question, which makes him pout.

"yep!" renjun exclaims, sitting beside you, he crosses his legs in his chair and presses his lips into a thin line. "so! who is he?"

the two seem way too excited to know about your never talked about before crush on dejun. now— you didn't know it was so obvious that you were now smitten for this new guy, you're usually the friend that's known from straying the furthest away from love, you don't remember any people you've legitimately liked that weren't elementary school crushes..

so yeah, your friends totally had every right to be surprised, because your absolutely smitten for a man and they just want to know who this man that is making you so happy is!

you hate that you give in so easily. "he's one of guanheng's friends.." you mutter, picking at your nails, looking down to make sure you don't witness renjun and chenle's reactions with your own two eyes.

renjun gasps, sounding like those ladies at the hair salons that just heard the juiciest gossip. "ooh! who? does he go here? do we know him? is he pretty?"

chenle looks over at renjun like he's crazy, that familiar judging stare in his eyes as he watches renjun lean closer to you with a totally not creepy smile on his face. "don't you think your acting a little too interested in this?"

"i just want to know!" renjun shouts, playfully glaring at the younger. he then turns back to you, and you assume his cheeks must be hurting from how hard he seems to be smiling. "tell me please?"

"he's— he's just your run of the mill pretty guy who is nice, and smart, and absolutely adorable who tells horrible jokes that still end up being funny in some way and he has a pretty laugh and i just love his voice, and talking to him, and, i can't even explain it because it'll sound stupid!"

"you sound like a psycho" chenle immediately says, laughing at you like you just confessed to an atrocious crime against humanity. you sink into your chair, slumping towards the side.

"aww! the pessimistic y/n is in love!" renjun squeals, again, like those women at the hair salon who just heard the juiciest gossip. he grabs your arm and shakes you vigorously, causing you to get dizzy in the slightest bit. "i can't believe i've lived to see this day!" he shouts, continuing to shake you as you can't properly get out your cries for help.

"renjun you're gonna kill him" chenle pinches the older in the arm, making him yelp and jump, he giggles as he witnesses the glare the older male sends him, his crushing grip remains around your arm, but you don't even mention at this point, because at least he's not shaking you anymore.

"sorry" he remarks, definitely not sorry as he squeezes your arm once again, beginning to get overly excited. "it's just.. exciting you know?"

"it's exciting that i'm in love with someone?" you raise an eyebrow, and though you expect renjun to respond, chenle quickly does.

"yep! you'll finally be gone!"

his cheer results in a gasp of offense from you, and all chenle does is giggle in victory.

THE ONE THING YOU'VE LEARNED FROM THE now excessive amounts of times you've hung around guanheng's other friends is that they're loud, they are all really loud (even sicheng! who, for a good majority of the time, is always quietly staring at his friends with clear concern in his eyes), even if they don't mean to, they're somehow always either yelling, shouting, or making some sort of scene. they're all just naturally hilarious, like comedians that don't realize they're comedians because they're just being themselves. in the past few weeks, it's like you spend more time with these people that don't go to your school in comparison to people that actually go to your school and that you can see easily.

but if you're being honest, you don't really mind that your spending all your free time with them, because they are indeed very fun to be around (and you get to see dejun much more regularly, which is something you rather enjoy), and because life would be insanely boring if guanheng didn't decide to drag you out of the dorm every other day to go do stupid things with his friends that go to a whole other school.

"you are such a cheater! i won fair and square!"

"you did not! your the cheater! sicheng is my witness!"

sicheng, who was not listening to anything either ten or yangyang had to say, looked over at the younger with a look of concern washed over his features. he blinks as he's suddenly put on the spot, smiling nervously as the youngest stares intensely at him, waiting for his answer. "uh.. i— i don't know".

his delivery makes you burst out laughing, and you cover your mouth with your hand as to not make yourself look like an absolute fool. you don't even realize that you picked up on one of dejun's habits, you might be spending too much time around him..

actually, forget that! there is no such thing as spending too much time around dejun, and that might make you sound like a "simp" but you don't care.

you've fallen, and you've fallen hard.

"okay.." guanheng presses his lips into a thin line, ignoring the way ten and yangyang now begin discussing the logistics of cheating in card games, unfortunately dragging poor sicheng into their argument. he turns to dejun and scoots closer to him. "can you do me a favor?"

dejun groans, playfully rolling his eyes. you assume he's done as much favors for guanheng as you have, and you barely stifle the snicker that dares to escape your lips.

dejun hears the sound, and smacks your arm hard, making you jump. he only gives you a teasing smile before turning to guanheng, having to give him a response.

"at what lengths do i have to go for this favor?"

guanheng scoffs, crossing his arms. "it's nothing insane or anything, i just want you to get me something.."

"and you can't get it yourself because..?"

"i have no money on me" and there goes that signature guanheng frown, dejun opens his mouth to argue but then he shuts it so quickly it seems like he just got out in some sort of trance.

"fine fine" dejun rolls his eyes once again, surrendering much too quickly. "you owe me though—"

"take y/n with you".

there's a pause, both you and dejun go very silent for a moment. whilst dejun is just confused, you absolutely know what guanheng is doing, and you have to use every bit of patience in your body to restrain yourself instead of jumping over the table and tackling him right then and there.

dejun is clearly clueless, though, because he just raises an eyebrow. "why?" he inquires, somehow sounding so sweet even though his question is asked with so much confusion.

"y/n knows what i want".

what a smooth lie, dejun glances over at you, and you just shrug, having no idea what more to say. "he needs to take a walk anyway" guanheng lies again, wow, two in a row! he's on a roll.

"okay..?"

so that's how you find yourself on a walk with the person that you are very much in love with, a somehow comfortable silence spread between the two of you as dejun hums an unfamiliar tune to himself, hands in his pockets, eyes closed as he slowly sways back and forth.

he looks very peaceful, just doing what he does, being effortlessly pretty as he does so, and you observe his behavior, almost entranced by it in a sense.

you only stop when he speaks up—

"do you think they're still arguing?" he suddenly asks, and you snap out of whatever daze you were having, praying that he totally didn't notice you admiring him like a creep. "or are they just.. conversing calmly now?"

you don't want to seem like even much more of a weirdo, but you feel like he asked that question just as an excuse to talk to you, and maybe your thinking too much into it, but you've definitely done that before, so you know what it looks like.

"i hope they aren't still arguing" you answer, and dejun looks up at you, smiling. "that'd be a long ass time to argue".

"well they like arguing just to argue" dejun replies, fiddling with his necklace. "but they're harmless.. for the most part".

his delivery makes you laugh, and you look down at your shoes. "you're a very calm person, you know, the opposite of guanheng".

the sudden statement from dejun makes you look up at him once again, and this time, he's staring directly at you, as if he had been waiting to make eye contact with you the whole time. "calm?"

"well compared to my roommates you are" he giggles, and maybe he doesn't mean to, but he stares at so intensely that your legs feel shaky.

"who knows? maybe i'm a fraud" you tease, purposefully leaning closer to him so your words have an effect. dejun's eyes widen, and he lightly leans away from you, looking speechless. "you'd never know, though".

you don't know how you suddenly got so bold, or why you were so amused at the sight of dejun freaking out, you feel like some sort of genius for what you just did, and you snicker at yourself before leaning back.

dejun takes in a deep breath, looking like he's trying to fix himself. he clears his throat and stumbles through his next words. "i— uh.. you're such an idiot!" he decides to say, crossing his arms over his chest.

your not sure how the two of you became so casual in this amount of time, a few weeks ago, dejun wasn't such a regular figure in your life, and you were just any other college student doing their best to get by, not thinking about falling in love with a gorgeous oreo–haired man—

but you're also not complaining.

you aren't sure how you got so lucky, how it just happened that you could continue to spend time with the cute boy you met at a stupid football game simply because the two of you shared mutual friends, it's one of times guanheng's actually done you a favor, without even realizing it too!

"okay i'm sorry" you giggle, shoving your hands into your pockets, you once again begin taking from dejun's habits and sway back and forth. "seriously!"

"you're unbelievable" dejun exaggerates, rolling his eyes, but it wasn't serious, and you knew it wasn't serious. "but i meant what i said, your calm".

you raise an eyebrow at him, wanting to know more about the observations he has about you. "could you elaborate on that?" you don't mean to laugh, but you do, and it causes dejun to laugh too.

"you just.. seem content with what you have" he explains, but he doesn't explain it enough, so he continues. "like someone could get you a piece of paper as a birthday gift and you'd be pleased".

you laugh, hard, because he somehow managed to get you spot on. you almost feel like he is reading your mind, because he nailed you down with each word. "really? i guess i am like that".

"ah, so my prediction was right then!"

you laugh at how glad he is. "yeah, i am truly not that hard to please, gifts are gifts and if someone gets one for me, there's no use in being mad if the gift isn't something i like, at least they remembered to get me something!"

dejun stares at you for a specifically long time, looking you up and down. he stares at you with warm eyes, a gaze that seems so near and dear to his heart, a gaze so loving that it looked like he was about to get down on one knee and propose to you.

"i like any and all gifts" you continue.

"are there any specific kinds of gifts you like?"

dejun asks that question in a tone that makes it seem like he's totally not trying to sound suspicious, but he is totally asking you that question for a very specific reason.

guanheng must've told him something..

at least, that's what you assume, but dejun is patiently waiting for your answer, and you can't daydream the whole time about the true meaning of his words.

"i like books, plushies, music tapes, vinyl's, you know.. regular gifts that people like receiving".

dejun hums, as if he's noting down the information you're telling him in his mind, still, you don't say anything about his mannerisms, just keep it to yourself.

"are you noting down my reply?"

"i'm just keeping it in mind!" he says, smiling brightly at you. "just in case your special occasion comes up and i don't know what to get you".

oh! so guanheng definitely did tell him something..

"i mean— were friends! any gift from you will be a good gift".

at the word friends, dejun seems to pause, cogs in his brains turning as he tries to process your words. you don't understand why he would be trying to understand your words, because the two of you were clearly friends, did he think you two were something else?

you see the flash of disappointment on his face, but it quickly reverts back to a smile and he simply acts like nothing happened. "sorry, the word 'friends' just caught me off guard".

a lie..

how interesting.

"seriously though, i just want to get you a gift you'll appreciate forever".

but you're already enough for me— do you know how much you've changed my life?

your own thoughts manage to surprise you, because the words that you just told yourself in your own mind startle you enough that you make a judging face at yourself. luckily, dejun is turned away from you, so he doesn't notice.

"well that's thoughtful of you".

"i try my best.." he responds, finally looking back at you with that same loving stare, one that wants to lure you in and make you trip on your own feet.

for some reason, the two of you stop. there's an uncharacteristically long pause, like the world just decided to cease for a moment, and you both are completely stuck in place, just there, staring at each other.

dejun's eyes move, as if scanning your face like a camera, and they (of course) stop at your lips. he stares at them for what seems like forever, and it almost looks like he's restraining himself, but by the way he bites his bottom lip, it's clear—

he wants to kiss you.

and maybe there's a small voice at the back of his head that tells him to cut it out, because he almost immediately snaps out of whatever daze he was having, and clears his throat, his cheeks going a bright red.

"uh— sorry, yeah, um, we should get going" he says, shaking his head as he pulls his sleeves down.

"guanheng will yell at us if we're late".

okay, so he just decides to not talk about it? you want to ask him why he didn't just do it, because he clearly wanted to, but before you can even open your mouth, or get any words out, he grabs your hand and the two of you continue walking back to the group.

he doesn't say anything more, doesn't try to make anymore small talk, and while you do want to bring up what just happened there, you don't.

you just bask in the feeling of dejun's hands intertwined with your own.

it's a good feeling, you decide.

THAT MOMENT IS STUCK ON YOUR MIND for what seems like years. you can't get over it! how he was looking at you, how he clearly wanted to kiss you, but for some reason, decided to stop himself from doing so. you're not sure why you didn't just tell him that it was okay, that you would be completely fine with him kissing you, but you guess that you're just a complete idiot as well, because you just stayed silent throughout the whole thing, the two of you equally deciding in silence to not bring it up, just sitting next to each other in awkwardly for the rest of the night.

and yeah, it's become normal for dejun to constantly run through your mind these days, it's like he has his own subsection in your mind, dedicated to thoughts about him and him only, but it's like he's just become rampant in there ever since that.. thing he did (or should you say, didn't do, considering he decided to not kiss you when the opportunity was right there), maybe you should've pulled him in, maybe you should've (for once) been impulsive and done the first thing put to your mind.

and this crawls through your mind for days, then those days become a good week and a half. now— you and dejun aren't not talking or anything, it was just sort of difficult to look at him without thinking about that.

you're so into your thoughts these days, that you are much more spacey during your classes, at home, and somehow, guanheng picks up on your weird turn, which is crazy, because guanheng was the last person you expected to notice something like that, he usually never notices most things in front of him anyway.

"okay, what the fuck happened?" he decides to randomly drop it on you when he seems to have had enough, which is funny, because he's technically the person that started the whole thing.

you look up from your phone, blinking at him like he just said something out of this world. "hm?" he scoffs at your lack of a response, shoving your shoulder, which results in a glare from you.

"what happened?" he asks again, this time without the extra swear word, he makes himself comfortable on the other side of the couch. "you are acting weird" he points at you accusingly, like you'd just been accused of a crime and he was trying to figure out if you were truly suspicious.

"i don't know what your talking about.."

"stop stalling!" he complains, grabbing your arm and beginning to shake you back and forth. "tell me! you can't keep acting weird and just not tell me what's wrong".

now you want to tell him, but in your mind it sounds so stupid that you feel like guanheng would laugh at you the moment you uttered the first few words of your sentence. "you're going to laugh".

guanheng gasps, offended by your response, though it is true, he just wants to be dramatic. "i won't! i'm concerned! i'm being a good roommate and asking you what's wrong!"

so, you roll your eyes, taking a deep breath. "okay so hypothetically.." you begin, because you have no other idea how to start your sentence.

hypothetically just means = it was indeed not hypothetical!

"hypothetically, uh huh.." guanheng hums, understanding the true meaning your words have. "okay sorry, continue".

"let's just say that, hypothetically, i am totally in love with one of your best friends, and that friend totally wanted to kiss me but then chickened out last minute and like an idiot i didn't say anything and i have no idea how to go about it".

guanheng's eyes widen at your words, and his jaw almost drops. "hypothetically though" you add to the end of your sentence after a long pause.

"right right! hypothetically.." he nods, though he can't contain his look of excitement at the words. "and you didn't kiss him back!?"

you're almost knocked off the chair from how intense his yell is. you groan and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed and ashamed. "i didn't know how to bring it up and not be awkward!"

"just say 'hey dejun you could totally kiss me and it'd be fine because we are both mortifyingly in love with each other'!" guanheng shouts, louder than his previous words. he's always so straight up, and you almost wish you didn't tell him anything. "it's that easy!"

"it is not!" you shout in rebuttal, crossing your arms and frowning. your acting like guanheng at this point, but that's not what you're noticing at this very moment. "it's easy for you! you date people and you kiss people all the time! i don't do that!"

"excuses excuses!"

you're at a loss for words at his lackluster words, you once again, frown and turn away from him. "i'm sorry! i have never been hardcore in love with someone like this before! i don't know how to talk about it!"

guanheng looks like he's about to yell again, but he takes a deep breath and relaxes himself, leaning back in the couch. "okay, i'm sorry for yelling.."

"y/n, you really just need to tell him how you feel straight up, because if you keep stalling than none of you will end up confessing in the end and you'll both just be going through a loop of 'should we or should we not?'"

you blink, staring at guanheng for a good few minutes, honestly surprised. this is probably the best advice he's ever given you, usually, you’re the one that has to give him advice because he always ends up doing something stupid and has someone that wants to murder him because of that stupid thing he did.

"that was actually.. good advice" you reply, laughing at guanheng's eye roll. he just shoves you, making sure he does extra hard this time to get his point across.

"shut up! i always give good advice!"

"you usually don't give any advice at all.." you mutter, running a hand through your hair as you look away from your roommate, who just glares at you like you just committed a federal offense.

"say something again and i'm gatekeeping dejun from you!"

"your what!?"

at the sound of your shout, guanheng giggles as he scurries away, proud of himself for the words that escape his lips.

YOU'RE NOT SURE HOW YOU SOMEHOW LET guanheng drag you off to a party on a friday night where all you wanted to do is relax. parties have never truly been your thing, but that's because being surrounded by a bunch of drunk and high adults just isn't your idea of fun, you're also just not a big drinker, so the only reason you usually even end up at parties is to take guanheng home when he gets too drunk and can't fully articulate his thoughts. so, the fact that guanheng was somehow able to convince you to get out of the house and go to a party when you truly should've been at home, watching horrible sitcoms.

but no, you're here! and you can't leave without guanheng because if you did, he'd probably find a way to end up killing himself, or he'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and would end up getting punched in the face.

so you find yourself in a familiar spot, your back against a wall as you stare at your phone, somehow able to ignore the hundreds of screaming drunk people that surround you, it's become a skill of yours, and you're not sure how exactly it developed, you've just become such a natural when it comes to ignoring others.

guanheng, of course, has already walked off to do his own thing, but not before reminding you of the advice he'd given you a few days prior, yelling at you to 'just tell the boy you like him!'

maybe his advice is burned into your brain, because now all you wish is that you were with dejun, talking about something stupid, or just talking.

and there must've been somebody listening in on your thoughts, because he suddenly walks around the corner, head whipping around like he's searching for someone.

your not trying to look at him, but he catches your gaze immediately, and he skips towards you like a kid in a candy store.

"hi" he greets, a little giggle to his words. his face is a shade of bright red as he giggles once again, though nothing's funny. "pretty".

he whispers the last word, with the intention of you not hearing it, but his mind must be too clouded for him to realize that he said it much louder than he thought he did, but you don't say anything, just hum.

"hello" you greet back, and he laughs once again, covering his hand with his mouth. "are you okay?"

a loud snicker leaves his lips, and he moves closer to you to link his arm with yours. he rests his head onto your arm, a content smile spreading across his face. "i'm drunk".

his honest answer makes you question his state for a moment, since when do drunk people admit that they're drunk? or maybe he's only just tipsy.. your not sure, but he's not acting like a totally sober person right now.

"are you sure?" you raise an eyebrow, dejun just responds with a small 'hmph', and he keeps your arm linked with his. "dejun".

"yes! i am!" he yells as rebuttal, shaking your arm a few times. "do you wanna smell my breath?"

"oh no no no" you reply, covering his mouth with your hand. he laughs at you, his cheeks as pink as yangyang's hair, he grabs your hands, and whilst yours are cold, his are burning hot. "okay you have energy".

"i'm sorry" he suddenly blurts, another snort escaping his lips as he leans his head against your chest. you give him a look, confused as to why he felt the need to apologize.

"for what?"

"for doing that thing" dejun responds, closing his eyes as he sways back and forth. "i probably made everything awkward, i didn't mean to".

that's what he thinks? he thinks that he made everything awkward? you feel your heart break at the realization, but all dejun does is laugh sadly.

"you didn't— you didn't make everything awkward, it's okay".

dejun laughs again, clearing his throat. "just tell the truth, y/n.."

you chuckle, not at dejun, just at his words. he wants you to tell the truth? fine.. you will!

"dejun" you begin, using your pointer finger to tilt his chin up so the two of you make eye contact, you watch as his eyes widen, but he doesn't move, just lets you do your thing. "you can kiss me, it's okay".

he blinks, as if trying to figure out if you were lying or not. he opens his mouth, but no words come out, so he closes it again. "it is?" he asks again, just wanting reassurance, you hear his voice crack, but he's getting impatient, he wants your answer.

"yeah it's fine".

that's all the conformation dejun seems to need, because he finally presses his lips to yours after what seems like years of waiting. your arms naturally rest on his waist, and there's just something, something about this that makes you smile.

there's an urgency in the way he kisses you, and his hand comes up to hold your face. he is just so desperate, and it would be a lie to say that you weren't just as desperate as he is. you'd been wanting this for so long, you don't even know how many times you thought about what it would be like to kiss dejun.

his fingers caress your cheek, and the contact feels like your skin was set ablaze. maybe this is what you needed, and you assume it's exactly what dejun needed to, because he pushes on your shoulder with a seemingly inhumane amount of force, which makes you gasp a little.

while your one arm is around his waist, the other one goes up to run your fingers through his hair, somehow causing the two of you to both smile, barely stifling your laughs.

after what seems like forever, dejun pulls away, and while you're standing there, breathless, he just smiles, relaxing as you play with his hair. "you like my hair?"

you aren't sure why out of all things, that's what he decides to ask, but you laugh, completely enamored by the boy in front of you. "yep, it's soft" you reply, biting your inner cheek. "the color suits you".

dejun tilts his head, looking up at you with his insanely pretty eyes. you just want to squish his cheeks, or wrap him in a blanket and hold him forever, you aren't sure why you just have this surge of loving emotions for absolutely no reason, maybe it's the way he's staring at you, or that he just left you breathless and did it so flawlessly.

he hums, not knowing how to respond to your compliment. he just suddenly gets shy, his ears turning red at your words.

"you're so stupid.."

that's probably his favorite phrase to say to you by now, but you don't mind, you just smile as he hides his face away from you.

"dejun" you call out despite him being right in front of you, and he looks up at you again, gaze warm as he gives you a small smile.

"yes?"

"i love you" you immediately spout, not even surprised by how high your voice has gotten. "like— in the i'm in love with you kinda way and not in a i just want you to kiss you but not call you my boyfriend kinda way".

dejun pauses, snickering at your words, he looks at you like you're the only person in the world.

what other way could there possibly be?

but you don't get any response, at least, not from him, because all he does is lean forward and press his lips to yours.

YOU'VE NEVER REALLY BEEN A FAN OF YOUR BIRTHDAY, and you aren't sure why. it used to be a fun thing up until you turned twelve and it suddenly felt like a switch had flipped, as if your birthday was making you miserable. now it's not like you always feel depressed on your birthday, it's just that sometimes you don't want to have a huge birthday celebration. most of the time— you only request for huge birthday bashes on specific days, like when you turned ten (you were very excited about becoming a double–figured age), or when you turned eighteen (you became an adult, not that exciting but it was definitely something, you could finally legally drink), but it's truly only specific days that you don't mind having large, people–filled birthday parties.

and not only were you not exactly anticipating your birthday, you already had something even bigger on your mind the whole time.

like dejun ghosting you! that's definitely one!

okay so you tell the guy you love him, you make out with him at a party (in the opposite order but oh well), he doesn't give you a response and then he decides to just ignore you?

maybe he just didn't know what to say, and that also lead to him just not picking up his phone for a good two weeks as he completely ignored your calls and texts and voicemails!

and with this being the only thing on your mind, your birthday seemed to be the least important event at the moment.

you didn't really want to think about it, and the campus was starting to make you feel sick, so this year you planned on visiting your parents after the day was over, considering your special day fell on a friday—

but guanheng, guanheng had other plans.

he practically begged you to let him throw the party for you, he wanted to do it so bad that he vowed to never ask you for a favor ever again (which is a lie! he never keeps his promises!), he was acting so desperate, it was like you'd just saved his life or something.

you're not sure what made guanheng so eager to throw a party for you, especially because you just didn't know what you would do with a bunch of people in your dorm.

but he insisted, he would throw you the best party in the world.

and after what seemed like forever, you two finally agreed on something—

you go visit your parents friday evening, and guanheng throws your party on saturday, easy!

"what do you mean strawberry isn't a good flavor!?"

you scoff at his question, nodding your head, as if confirming your words. "i don't like strawberry flavored things, you get me a strawberry cake and i'm making you sleep outside".

your threat results in a gasp from your roommate, who looks genuinely hurt by your words as he places a hand on his chest, horrified. "you are such a horrible roommate! threatening me when i'm throwing a party for you".

"it'll be a horrible party if you get me a horribly flavored cake".

you totally mean what you say as well— you truly dislike strawberry cake.

and when guanheng said party, you didn't exactly anticipate how many people he would decide to let into your dorm.

now you know a good chunk of these people, but most of these people probably decided to come just because they knew guanheng, all they did was utter some happy birthday's and then they ran off to do their own thing.

guanheng got most things right, he just invited a bunch of people that really didn't care for your birthday, just wanted to be around him.

so it's no surprise that you felt just a little disappointed about the people at your party that just didn't give two shits about your actual birthday.

and guanheng was off doing something else, though you could actually see him this time, he was telling people where to put the gifts they brought for you.

your beginning to feel suffocated in your own dorm, which is ironic to you, because this is quite literally the place you go to get away from a bunch of people, it's the only place of yours that isn't full of people.

so, you clear your throat, and push through people to get to the door, not wanting to stay inside with all these people, you'll probably end up throwing up everywhere if you stay inside even longer.

when you exit the dorm, you take a deep breath the moment you close the door, letting your back fall against it. you immediately jump as you see a person behind the door—

okay so dejun (who you confessed your love to by the way!), is pacing back and forth in front of your door, totally stressing. you blink, a look of confusion spreading across your face. "um.."

"are you okay?"

you aren't even sure why you opened your mouth, but if you didn't, this would just go on for a good twenty more minutes.

dejun jumps, clearing his throat as he smiles awkwardly. "you— scared the shit out of me".

he's acting so casually? after not talking to you for a good two weeks!?

"sorry—"

"i'm sorry!"

dejun immediately yells, covering his face with his hands. "i'm so sorry for not texting you! or calling you! or giving you a response! it was so stupid of me to not consider your feelings and instead of just telling you straight up how i felt i decided to ignore you but i was scared that i wouldn't be able to tell you without making it awkward and it—"

"dejun" you place your hands on his shoulders, turning him around to face you. "your rambling".

he sighs, eyes darting away from your face, he frowns. "but it's not okay, i didn't talk to you, i probably came off as such an asshole! you were probably so confused, and i just.. said nothing!"

you observe his features, and he looks even more anxious at your silence. his face goes red, and his leg begins bouncing up and down, whilst his hands look for something to hold.

"okay, calm down.." you mutter, reaching for his left hand and lacing it together with yours. "it's okay, there's no need to be worried".

"i'm sorry" he says again, finally looking up at you. "i get it if you don't forgive me—"

"dejun" you cut into his sentence, squeezing his left hand. "i forgive you.. i love you".

you repeat your confession once more, and dejun blinks, processing your words.

"i love you too".

and finally, after what seems like forever, after what was so long, he gave you a response.

before you could say anything more, dejun pulls you in for a hug, his arms circling around your waist. you're a bit taken aback by the sudden display of affection, but you also don't mind, because he squeezes you tighter.

"happy birthday" he mumbles, a small smile coming to his face as he feels your hand comb through his hair. "i'm sorry".

"stop apologizing" you say, lifting his chin up so you could look him in the eyes. "i forgive you, it's okay".

and it is, you're being completely honest, but dejun doesn't say more, immediately pulling you back into a warm hug

but suddenly, the door to your dorm swings open and guanheng peaks his head out, eyes widening as he witnesses the current thing. he has absolutely no context to anything which was happening at the moment, he just opened the door to witness a totally unaware dejun hugging you.

"uh.." he blinks, glancing between you two, but not asking anything, just clearing his throat. "it's time to cut the cake?" he laughs awkwardly, and you just smile, giving him a i'll be right there look.

"o...kay" he doesn't say anything more, just goes back inside and closes the door.

dejun giggles as guanheng closes the door, pulling away again to look up at you. "oh he is totally tired of us".

"we didn't do anything, though".

dejun snickers, lightly hitting your arm. "okay okay, you need to stop, it's your birthday, you have to go cut your cake".

"and.." he pauses, pulling a box out of nowhere and handing it over to you. "open your gifts".

you raise an eyebrow, confused. "where were you even hiding that?"

"that's irrelevant! it's your birthday, come on!"

and you let him drag you back into your dorm, smiling at him the whole time.

YOU ALMOST CONSIDER THE WAY YOU are acting to be absurd, and it's funny how much of another side dejun can just bring out of you. now you would never consider yourself to be a grumpy person, but people usually do describe you as having a 'natural frown'. you never really thought of yourself as being like that, but you guess that people don't see you look so happy much, because they continue to point out how it's like some glitch in the matrix to see you just a little less miserable as each day passes. chenle especially makes comments, talking about how you need to "put your smile away" because not seeing your resting face constantly freaks him out, renjun on the other hand, is elated, or maybe he's just glad he can finally be rid of you, you don't know.

but all that put aside, you are happy, and you have a cute oreo–haired man to thank for that.

and maybe this is all you really need, just dejun, the two of you don't even have to do anything, he can just lay his head down onto your shoulder and you'd be having a good time.

you like it when he sits down and paints your nails for you, or when he watches you bake over your shoulder, not knowing what to do but happy to watch you do your thing, or when he coerces you to win prizes from carnival games for him with his absolutely adorable eyes (he doesn't even need to try to coerce you, you'd do it either way).

"i'm pretty sure this is illegal".

"it's not!" you reply, though you mean to reassure dejun, your words seem to worry him more than anything. you take his hand, squeezing it. "dejun, i'm not getting you into any illegal activity".

"i can never tell with you" he retorts suspiciously, keeping your hand in his as you lead him up, he would have tripped if not for you holding your hand and guiding you up.

you clear your throat, patting the spot beside you as dejun immediately sits, so close to you that your legs are touching. "if i ever wanted to do something illegal, i'd know better than to bring you along".

he gasps, and you can't resist the urge to laugh at how offended he sounds. "what is that supposed to mean!?"

"you" your pointer finger touches his nose, and he doesn't even try to move. "are a snitch, you would be horrible to commit a crime with".

dejun slaps your hand away, and you laugh at the way he crosses his arms, a familiar pout gracing his absolutely beautiful features. "you— i.. take that back!"

"it's true! even yangyang would be a better option than you!"

dejun is even more offended by the words, and he slowly scoots away from you, arms still crossed as he pouts. you giggle as he remains scooted away from you, still angry about the words you said.

"uh— jun, i was just joking!"

"you suck".

dejun glares, but his glare is anything but serious, as you can see the way he slowly starts to break under your gaze, resisting the urge to burst into laughter. "i hate you".

"you love me".

he does, and he can't pretend he doesn't, because he almost immediately snickers, looking away from you as to not laugh more.

oh he is just so adorable.

you scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist, making him yelp. "you're so cute" you mutter into his shoulder, and at this point, dejun doesn't even try to pretend anymore.

"you're so corny" he says, patting your arms that currently circle around his waist. you lean your head down onto his shoulder, making yourself comfortable, and he just lets you, because at this point he can't really push you off him.

"don't fall asleep, i'm not going to carry you back to your place".

"you would be too weak to carry me anyway— ow!"

you yell loudly as dejun nudges you in the stomach with his elbow, and while he looks absolutely proud of himself, you just glare, absolutely done with him.

but you don't say anything, just lets your fingers run through his hair, probably your favorite thing to do with him. he just cups your face, and he just smiles at your face, giggling. "your just as cute as when we first met".

the statement makes you snicker, because you did not expect for him to say that out of all things he could've said. you get why he says it though, because you are at the place where it all began, the bleachers, the same bleachers where you two were standing when you shared your first interaction.

you tilt your head, wanting to tease him more. "so there were moments where i wasn't cute, then?"

dejun scoffs, turning away from you. he lightly pinches your arm, and you yelp once again, inching away from him. "why do you enjoy hurting me?"

he smiles innocently. "i don't, i have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!"

your face drops, and all dejun does is laugh, squeezing your cheeks. "don't be mad, babe, you know i love you".

and you do, you do know, he never fails to remind you of how much he does.

"i love you too.."

with your eye rolls, and tiny mutters, dejun knows, he knows that you're telling the truth.

#xiao dejun #xiaojun #nct #wayv #nct u #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv drabbles #nct x reader #nct x male reader #wayv x reader #wayv x male reader #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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dreamingofep · 7 months

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Sinned Awakening pt. 11 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, mentions of blood/gore 🩸

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 11! I couldn't stop writing these last few days and needed to share with you all what happens next🤭 It's a bit shorter but I wanted to break up this part up accordingly. I love this pic of him here and the red glare makes me giggle.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the begining, start here 🩸

I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think!🖤

The crunch of leaves under your feet breaks the stillness of the forest. The wind whistles through the trees and brings a slight shiver to you but you don’t mind. The trees break away and a sparse area comes into view. There you see a lone white piano in the middle of the clearing and you grow curious.

You walk closer to it and that’s when you can hear it playing music with no accompaniment. It’s a familiar tune but you can’t seem to remember the name. The song becomes louder and you look around for any other people around. The wind picks up and you bring your arms up to your chest, hugging them tightly as the temperature begins to drop.

The notes on the piano become distorted and jumbled no longer the melodious sounds a moment ago. You hear a whisper behind you and snap your body in the direction of the sound, not seeing anything though. You look back at the piano and the keys are slamming down violently, blood starting to come streaming out of the keyboard and the top board.

You stumble backward, frightened at the sight before you. The blood keeps flowing and reaches your feet, making you scream out in horror. As you’re retreating, your back hits something hard and you grunt at the feeling.

You turn around to see Elvis’ bright eyes stare down at you and grab onto your shoulders.

"Run." he growls.

You gasp as you pop open your eyes and revive back into consciousness. You grab at the bed sheets, unaware of where you are. Anna quickly comes rushing to your side and holds your hand.

“Woah, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here,” she assures. “Are you okay?”

You’re not exactly sure how to answer that. The last few hours were a blur for you and you hardly remember getting to Anna’s apartment. You realize you’re in her bedroom with blankets covering your body.

Your body feels exhausted and soreness spreads along it when you try to move.

“Woah let’s take it easy. You took quite a fall,” she says softly.

“What time is it?” You grumble, rubbing your eyes.

“Uhh, one o clock. Honey, what happened? You scared the hell out of me and-and your neck…. What’s going on?” She asks concerned.

You put your hand over your neck and feel it’s been bandaged.

“I’m okay. I really can’t tell you about this but I’m fine,” you say referring to your neck.

“No, you’re not! You come in here bloody and collapse on my floor! When was the last time you slept?!” She presses.

You stay silent for a moment, trying to figure out when you did get a good night's sleep.

“Umm, a few days ago…” you say embarrassed.

Anna covers her eyes and worry shrouds her face.

“That’s not good! You need to take care of yourself. Does Elvis have something to do with this?” She accuses.

You look at the ceiling, frustrated with the entire situation.

It has everything to do with Elvis.

“It’s not about him. I just need some time and figure things out.”

Anna sighs, frustrated at how you’re deflecting everything. But it’s the only way you know how to. You sure as hell couldn’t tell her that he’s a Vampire and he lost control. It felt wrong to lie to your best friend but this was necessary. You knew you had to protect Elvis’ secret.

“Did you call out of work?” You ask.

“Yes of course I did, I was worried sick. I’m not going anywhere til you get better and rest,” she says firmly.

You nod in agreement, not in the mood to fight. She hands you a glass of water and you take a few sips.

“Can I take a shower to freshen up? I’ll be fine, I promise I feel a lot better,” you assure her.

“Yeah, I’ll grab you a towel from the closet,” she says before walking to the other room.

You shut the bathroom door behind you and flip on the light. There's a full-length mirror in front of you and you unwrap the blanket from yourself. You didn’t want to look at your body at first, you knew what you’d see.

You look anyway and see the welts that he sucked onto both of your breasts and the marks his hands left as he squeezed your hips tight riding him.

The more you look at the marks he left behind, the more you can see and feel how those talented hands felt on your body, making you ache for more from him. How he knew just where to touch you and make you feel things you’ve never experienced before. And that mouth of his, it must have been one of your favorite things about him. How it can turn you on with a kiss or eat you out like he was starving for it.

You snap yourself out of the memories surrounding him and turn on the shower, needing a distraction from your aimless thoughts of him. You’re about to step in when you realize you still have the bandage on your neck. You take a deep breath to rip it off quickly so it doesn’t hurt as much. You close your eyes and rip the bandage off in one swipe. The idea of how your neck looked terrified you, knowing it wasn’t going to be a pretty picture. You open your eyes anyway and assess the damage.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at what you see. The bruise has grown but the bite mark was visibly gone. You lean closer to the mirror to get a better look and swear you could be going crazy.

There wasn’t even a scab. He never told you how or if a bite from a vampire could heal so quickly. It scared you either way and you wanted answers. You knew that wasn’t going to happen any time soon with Elvis’ lack of control. But you honestly didn’t care. You needed to know.

You take your time in the shower and let the hot water run down your body. You had to figure out a time to see Elvis and see how he is. You’re sure he felt bad about what he did but there was a lot to talk about like the next steps to get out of your apartment and somewhere away from Daniel.

Everything that’s been going on with Elvis, it felt like part of you was stalling from fully moving out from Daniel’s. For a time, you thought you’d stay with Elvis and have him help you figure things out but now, a lot has changed. You found out the truth about him and you weren’t sure if he could handle you around him all the time.

But every part of you didn’t want to give up on him. There was no way you could leave him so broken and lonely. He tried so hard to be good. And it was all because of you. He found a reason to try and not be so ravenous. In a way, he made you see more clearly how awful Daniel treated you and how you do deserve better. You borrow some clothes from Anna but you know you need to go to your apartment and pack your stuff up. You also ask her for a scarf, not wanting her to stare at the huge bruise that's sitting there.

You join Anna in the living room and she starts fixing you lunch. She makes you a sandwich and you eat it quickly, not realizing how starving you were.

You small talk about things and she convinces you to go to a bar with her. She thought it would be a good idea to get your mind off things and honestly, she wasn’t wrong. A distraction was exactly what you needed.

Her phone suddenly rings and she walks over to answer it.

“Hello?” She says cheerfully. Her eyebrows suddenly furrow and she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

She looks at you confused.

“It’s for you,” she whispers, taking the receiver off her ear and offering it to you.

You sit there in shock, not understanding what is going on as you haven’t given anyone Anna’s number to call you on. You take the phone from her and raise it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say unsure.

“Mr. Presley needs to see you,” the familiar voice grumbles.

“How did you get this number?” You snap.

“He will not be kept waiting, I suggest you hurry.” The click of the phone ends the call and you look up at Anna perplexed.

“I uh, can you take me to work?” You ask.

“What? Are you insane? No! You really want to go back there and see him?” She accuses.

“Please, I need to go. I’ll be fine I swear,” you assure her.

She huffs in protest, rubbing her temple and shaking her head at you, “let me get my shoes on,” she says frustrated.

You both get in the car and she drops you off in the back of the hotel. Something about it seemed so eerie. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it but deep down, you knew you should not be here. You know you should trust your instincts and stay in the car, but you open the car door anyway and hug Anna.

“Thank you. I’ll be okay and I’ll call you if I need you,” you say, squeezing her hand gently. She nods her head at you and gives you a quick smile.

You make your way through the locker room and up to the elevator. The amount of times this elevator has made you anxious is becoming too much of a regular occurrence.

You get to the penthouse floor and the elevator doors open. You’re scowled at by the same men in the hallway and quickly rush to the suite’s doors. The man standing in front of the door steps aside and opens the door for you. You cautiously step inside and see Elvis at the piano, his back turned away from you. A flashback from your nightmare earlier flashes in your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut to try and get that out of your memory. You continue to stand by the door as you hear it get shut behind you. He’s wearing a midnight blue shirt and black pants with his hair tussled out of place.

His fingers lightly press the keys, not making any particular music but aimlessly touching the key to distract himself from something. You don’t want to say anything, he called for you, not the other way around. You thought for a second he couldn’t stand the sight of you after what happened early this morning.

He turns his head slightly, his back still facing you, “come here,” he says shortly, his voice raspy.

You can feel your heartbeat grow louder and louder with each footstep you make closer to him. Your instincts told you to run away, there was danger here, but the other side of you knew there wasn’t. You had this unwavering trust in him, one you couldn’t quite explain. You knew there was good within him. He needed someone to help him see that. And you really think you might be able to do it.

You reach the side of him and stop there, waiting for him to say anything else. He’s wearing his sunglasses and is puffing on a cigar. You pinch yourself from staring at him for too long. He was always looking so tempting and your brain always threw the danger out the window when it came to being so close to him. He pulled you in every time even without trying. You notice how abnormally pale he looks today, sickly almost. It was pretty dark in the room so you weren’t sure if your eyes were seeing things.

“Thank you for coming… how do you feel?” He asks gently, still not looking at you.

“Fine.” You say shortly.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grumbles.

“I’m not, you don’t need to question me like that,” you snap.

He finally snaps his head to you, looking at you with hunger. Your heart leaps out of your chest as he looks at you, not making a move.

“I will do whatever I want.”

“What did you call me in here for?! I don’t think it was to berate me with stupid questions,” you scathe.

He stands up quickly and and points a finger at you.

“When are you going to learn to not speak to me like that?! I will not tolerate it,” he reprimands.

You stay silent, staring at him with a scowling stare.

“What. Did. You. Need.” You say again, “And how did you get Anna’s number?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m not that inconsiderate,” he growls.

“I’m fine, just a bit sore.” You quip.

He hums to himself lightly and circles you slowly, making you wary.

“I called you up here to let you know I won’t need your services for a while,” he explains.

You’re confused and shocked, this felt like he was firing you in a way?

“What? I don’t understand. I-I-I work solely for you. I have no other way of income,” you tell him not understanding what is happening.

“I’ll pay you still don’t worry,” he says shortly.

And then it hits you, his Vegas engagement is going to end soon. He won’t be back til the summer. You didn’t want to wait that long to not see him. You figured you were more to him than just some hook-up.

“Well, how long do you not want me to come by? You leave in a few weeks…” you trail off, not wanting the answer.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

You look at him annoyed, shocked he’s treating you like this.

“What do you mean?! Elvis, why does this feel like you’re just pushing me away?” You spat.

“Because I can’t stand to be around you! I can’t do it anymore y/n! Every time I am, I risk hurting you and losing control. Just like I did this morning. I’m not good for you,” he scowls.

Your heart races out of your chest and you look at him in disbelief. You feel the tears well in your eyes and wish you could wake up from such a bad dream.

“Elvis- you, you can’t do this. Not after everything you’ve said and done to me. I wanted to help you become better because I see it in you. But now I don’t know what to believe in anymore,” you snap at him.

“Don’t waste your time. It’s not worth it,” he says walking away from you and pacing the room in frustration.

“You haven’t let me even help you! Why do you always do this! You always block me out and wallow in self-pity. No wonder you’ve been so miserable all these years!” You yell at him.

You can see him fuming, looking at you like he could attack you at any moment.

“You better watch it,” he says through his teeth.

“So that’s it. You want me gone,” you say bluntly.

“Yes. I can’t hurt you again. I’ll never touch you again,” he says weakly, regret coming out of those words.

It feels like a punch in the gut. His words cut you like a knife and you felt like all of this was for nothing. The way he can just toss you aside like you are nothing. Your entire life felt like it was in shambles now with nothing going right. The men in your life have ruined it beyond comprehension and there was no clear exit route.

There suddenly comes a harsh knock on the door and makes you jump. Elvis quickly goes to answer it and opens the door.

“What is it Jerry,” he spat.

He looks down as he speaks to Elvis, “Sir your um… meal is waiting for you,” he says quietly but you can hear him loud and clear.

You stare craters into the back of Elvis’ head, fuming with anger.

“Your what.” You yell, feeling your cheeks redden.

In comes walking in a long-legged blonde, hair piled high and enough makeup on to cover you twice over. You realize this is the same girl from the party that was sitting on his lap. That’s why she looked so familiar. She looks at you and scoffs, putting her attention on Elvis and reaching up to kiss him. She makes a spectacle of it, making sure to press her body into his as much as she can to make you jealous and moan into his mouth.

You know he can hear your heart leaping out of your chest and you hope he can smell the rage that is boiling off of you. He looks at you for a brief moment, seeing the hurt on your face.

“Wait for me in the bedroom honey, “ he whispers in her ear.

She giggles and nods up at him, going to the bedroom before staring you down like you’re a piece of trash. You hear the click of the door behind you close and you rush up to Elvis, not giving a damn whether he can’t control himself around you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! You couldn’t have waited an extra minute so I could leave?!” You yell, pounding your hands on his chest in anger. He doesn't move an inch as you try to push him and feel stupid for even trying to.

"I don't understand why you're so upset..." he scoffs.

"Are you kidding me?! Because I know what you're going to do to her in there! Did you forget I've walked in on you before! You're probably going fuck her and wish it was me!" you say spitefully. "But the only difference is you can compel her to forget it all so that makes her your dream girl doesn't it?" you rasped.

He looks down at you with regret on his face and you can tell he doesn’t like to see you like this. He doesn’t answer you, just keeps breathing shallowly. He looks down at you hungrily, smirking as he looks you once over.

"Hmm... maybe I will," he snarls.

“Why?! Why did you tell me that you wanted to change and then go around doing this! Falling back on your old ways because that’s what’s easy,” you snarl in his face. “I thought you had blood vials, I thought you’d feed from those,” you ask.

“They’re not enough,” he rasped.

“What- I’m not understanding I thought-.”

“You make me starved! Having tasted your blood makes everything else not enough! Nothing is fulfilling like yours! That’s why I need to feed from something… alive!” He yells, sending chills through you.

You couldn’t hide how this scared you. It took his possessiveness to a whole different level. You didn’t need to know much about vampires to know that this was not normal. You thought all blood was the same to him. But it seems he is ruined now and any blood won’t do.

You stand there trembling, unsure what to say.

“What does that mean-,” you ask and watch as he starts to walk away from you.

“I don't have time for this,” he bellows.

“Don’t walk away from me! I deserve answers!” You snap. “What happened to my neck?! What do you call this?” You ask as you pull the scarf off your neck and show him.

“What do you-,”

He doesn’t look right away until you step closer to him and he does a double take, furrowing his eyebrows together. His eyes grow large, shocked at what he is seeing.

You watch as he fights the urge to touch you, clenching his hands into fists on the side of him.

“I… I have no idea. I’d call it luck that I didn’t bite any deeper," he says menacingly, "I need you to leave now so you don’t also become my next meal,” he growls, heading for the door of his bedroom. He gives you one last look before entering, a look of astonishment and hurt.

You too make it quickly out of the suite doors and rush to the elevator. You feel sick to your stomach and wish you could actually talk to him and get the answers you need. You’ve never felt so low in your life. It was bad enough you saw Daniel be unfaithful to you but you never thought Elvis would do something like this to you. You truly believed it when he said how much he needed you in his life. That you weren’t just anyone to him.

You decide to not call Anna and just take a cab instead back to your apartment, you needed to pack your stuff up eventually and tonight seemed like the perfect night to do so. You feel like you lost all sense of direction in your life. Nothing made sense with or without Elvis in your life and you wanted to erase it all. In a way, you wish you could be compelled and forget all the memories you two had. But for whatever reason, you couldn’t and now you have to figure out a way to move on.

You get to the apartment and thankfully, Daniel isn’t home. The place looks disheveled but you don’t care, you just had to focus on your stuff so you don’t have to come back here.

You lock the bedroom door and get the suitcases down from the closet and start piling everything in, you didn’t care how much of a mess it was. You’re moving too fast and you stop to take a breath, feeling the tears fall from your eyes.

You realize you have nothing now. You’re completely on your own and have to start from scratch. It all scared you and made you regret some of the decisions you’ve made. You lay on the bed and let all the events that happened sink in. It’s time for a change and you were the one to make it. Maybe you should look for other jobs in the area. You had plenty of experience and you were sure that another hotel would hire you. The room feels like it’s spinning and you close your eyes, praying that this was all a bad dream.

You slowly wake up groggy, rubbing your eyes and trying to get your bearings. The sun was starting to come up and was lighting the room a bit. You look at the clock and it is four-thirty already. You decided to put your two weeks in today and start looking for another job, it was probably for the best. Getting as far away as possible from Elvis might be the best thing for you both.

You sit up in bed and feel a set of eyes on you coming from the side of the room. Your heart pounds away, not wanting to look because you know what you'll find You quickly look over anyway seeing Elvis standing there motionless.

“What are you doing here?” You say coldly.

“I told you, I can’t stay away from you,” he says weakly.

Tagging 🖤:

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@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis presley imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x oc #elvis imagine #sinned awakening #70s elvis #samfangirls #elvis fans #au fic #elvis presley

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youatemylollipop · 1 year

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A/N: This is another variant of the requested one-shot based on what the requester actually wanted. I also wanted to pinpoint that this is my first time writing a direct one-shot about Izana, so I apologize if I had accidentally made him a bit ooc. But let’s hope that this time it will apply to what you had in mind!🖤

Request: “I loved your Izana headcanons! Can I possibly ask for something with Yan! Izana snatching Mikey’s s/o away from him?”

Original Version: The Year Spring Never Arrived

Synopsis: Manjirō wasn’t the same boy you once knew. You understood where he was coming from, of course. Still, there was nothing strange in wanting your boyfriend to show you at least some bits of the past love he once held for you.

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Characters: Kurokawa Izana X Reader X Sano Manjirō

⚠️ WARNING: Angst, obsession, jealousy, possessiveness, romanticized yandere behavior, yandere Izana, grief/mourning, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self hatred, emotional and physical cheating, mentions of death, miscommunication, signs of manipulation, explicit sexual content, underage? (Reader is 16/17 years old and Izana is 19), implied dub-con, cursing, mind break, MDNI!!

Word Count: 12.4K

“I slept with Izana,” you say, the words hanging in the thickening air like a weighty confession. The bouquet of fresh blue hyacinths falls from his hands and lands on the pavement with a soft rustle. Mikey's eyes widen, and his body seems to freeze as he processes what you just said.

A long silence follows, filled with tension that thickens the air around you with each passing second. You can feel the weight of Mikey's gaze on you, his eyes dark with a mix of shock and disbelief.

“I was actually just on my way to your place,” you say, your voice carefully measured as you try to ease the ever so growing tension. “I—I mean, I care for you a lot and didn't want to keep it a secret from you.”

The tense silence is thick enough to cut with a knife, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. The blond boy standing before you interrupts the uneasy stillness, his voice barely above a whisper. Gaze, fixated on the two pairs of feet beneath, one belonging to him.

“Was it me?” His voice is quivering with a mix of uncertainty and fear as he speaks. As if he already knows the answer, but can’t bring himself to accept it. His mind, consumed with the possibility that he might have been the one responsible for the situation that has led you to this moment.

“I’m so sorry Manjirō!” You cry out, tears falling down your cheeks. “I never meant to hurt you!”

You hiccup, trying to find the right words to explain, even though you know it’s meaningless. “It’s just that I’ve been feeling so lonely and neglected lately and Izana was there and-”

Your voice catches in your throat as you struggle to articulate the complex emotions roiling within you. The weight of your loneliness presses down on you like a physical force, and you feel like you're drowning in it.

As you speak, your words tumble out in a jumbled rush, tripping over each other in their haste to escape your lips. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, and you can feel your heart racing as you struggle to make sense of them. Your breaths come in short, sharp gasps, and you feel light-headed and disoriented.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and trying to center yourself. The air is cool and crisp against your skin, and you can feel it filling your lungs as you inhale. Slowly, you begin to calm down, and your stuttering voice steadies itself.

With a sense of mounting dread, you realize that you're about to say something that could change everything. But you can't keep it inside any longer—the words are burning a hole in your chest, and you have to let them out.

"And I couldn't help but question your love for me," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air like a death knell, and you feel a sense of despair wash over you.

“[Name]-chin…” Mikey sniffles, taking a step closer. “I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I’m not angry with you, it was my fault not yours.”

Mikey stands before you, his eyes filled with remorse and regret. His voice quivers as he addresses you, his tone laced with sorrow. You can hear the sadness in his voice as he apologizes for the pain he caused you. With each word, you can sense the weight of his guilt and the sincerity of his remorse.

As he takes a step closer, you notice the tears that have welled up in his eyes. His vulnerability makes your heart ache. You can feel the tension in the air as he swallows hard. “If you want, I’m willing to look past this.”

You shake your head, “No, you shouldn’t.” He really shouldn’t. Because it was you who had screwed things up. So you stand your ground, unwilling to let him take the blame for your mistake.

If only you were more patient and gave him time, things wouldn't be this way. God, how much you hate yourself for putting him into this position. As if his life isn't hard enough already.

"You're not at fault, [Name]-chin," as he speaks, the words seem to hang heavily in the air, as though they are reluctant to leave his lips.

His voice is soft and gentle, like a soothing balm to your troubled heart. As he falls to his knees, you can feel the chill of the hard ground seeping into your bones, but you don’t care. All that matters is the warmth of his presence next to you.

"I promise I'll do better," he adds, looking up at you, eyes filled with misery. You close your eyes as his thumb goes up to brush away the tears, before settling on your damp cheeks. The touch is gentle, yet firm, as though trying to erase the pain and hurt that has been etched there. You can smell the faint scent of his cologne and feel the warmth of his breath against your face.

It's quiet for a while, and sniffles can be heard coming from both of you. Then, he embraces you, whispers of promises filling your ear. Your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw emotion in his expression. His eyes are pleading with you, silently begging for forgiveness. You can feel your resolve melting away under his gaze, like ice thawing in the warmth of the sun.

It's hard to resist the pleading look in his eyes and the intensity of his emotions. However, you know that things won’t ever be the same, and that you should stand up and walk away. So you stand your ground, ignoring the sudden stab that pierces your heart, and as you speak, the words come out strangely refreshing, as if a boulder had been lifted from your shoulders.

"I'm sorry Manjiro, but it's time to face the truth. We've grown apart. It's nobody's fault, but we can't keep pretending everything's okay."

The downpours had been unusually aggressive that night, making it impossible for you to get any proper sleep. You were currently in the kitchen, standing near the microwave and waiting for the popcorn to finish. Since you couldn't fall asleep, you had decided to embark on a quick movie marathon with all the films that you had at some point wanted to watch but never found the motivation to actually do so.

As the popcorn continued to pop, a few knocks sounded from outside the corridor. You tiptoed toward the front door—which was kinda stupid you now realized since you knew that it was pretty unlikely that anyone would be able to hear you over the howling wind. Besides, the fact that the lights were on already made your presence obvious.

It was difficult to make out the silhouette, but deep down, you knew who it was. The tight squeeze in your chest spoke volumes for it, and something told you that it had to be serious in order for your boyfriend to come here at this hour, in this kind of weather.

“[Name]-chin…” His voice was hoarse, and due to the puffiness of his almost completely red eyes, it was evident that he had been crying for a long time. This was fairly unusual since Mikey had never been one to openly express his vulnerabilities.

You quickly ushered him inside, helping him to take off his shoes and coat before sending him to the bathroom so that he could take a warm bath. In the meantime, you found some of your dads old and unused clothes as well as one of your oversized hoodies that you knew would fit him just fine.

It took a while for him to finally come out, but even after he did, Mikey seemed both less bratty, but also more bratty, than usual, appearing conflicted. On one hand, he didn't want to bother you because he feared you might eventually grow tired of him and leave him. On the other hand, he wanted you to spoil him and show his vulnerability since you were the only person with whom he felt completely comfortable and trusted.

The movie marathon was now canceled as you had mentally decided that you would put all your attention on your boyfriend who clearly needed it the most. You led him into your bedroom beckoning him to take the side that was pressed against the wall. However, instead of laying down next to him, you sat on the edge of the bed, caressing his cheek gently, like your mother would do when you were little before going to sleep.

“Do you want some dorayaki?” Onyx eyes blinked sleepily up at your figure before nodding his head slightly. Giving the male a gentle smile, you quietly padded toward the kitchen, hoping not to startle your sleeping parents, before returning to your bedroom.

Mikey was staring through the window with a dazed expression, the aggressive bursts from the wind outside receiving no reaction from the blond. His mind was seemingly completely elsewhere, and whatever it was that was occupying his attention made him completely ignorant to his surroundings.

Only as you placed the plate of his favorite pastries, did he finally acknowledge your presence, but paid little attention to the treats. Noticing this, you crawled over the bed to get closer to him.

“Is everything okay?” Paying no mind to your question, the male simply scooted closer to you, as he wanted to feel your body against his. He wrapped his muscular arms around your waist while nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. For the first time that day, Mikey felt grounded when he caught the familiar combination of lavender and chocolate.

“I have another brother,” he mumbled quietly, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion at the sudden statement. He had another brother? Then how come he didn’t know about this till now?

Why does Manjirō look so sad?

"What do you mean?" You asked tentatively, gently running your fingers through his long ash blonde locks. This made the boy let out hums of appreciation as you did your best to comfort him.

“[Name]-chin…” He whispered quietly, pulling away from you slightly in order to get a more proper look of your face. “You won’t leave me right? You'll stay with me?”

Where was this coming from?

“Why would I ever leave you, silly?” You tried to word it as a lighthearted joke in hopes of easing his nerves. However, it did not seem to work as Mikey looked at you with the same urgency as before, if only a bit subsided.

“It’s just that I know that I’m not a pleasing person to be around, and,” he trailed off, not finding the strength to meet your intense gaze. “Izana already seems to hate me…”

Izana?

Taking notice of your increasingly confused gaze, Mikey pulled away completely. He then sat himself straight. You followed his course of action and put your legs into a cross-legged position.

“Remember when I told you about a newly formed gang called Tenjiku a few days ago?” You pursed your lips in concentration as you tried to recall exactly what Mikey had told you. The name sounded awfully familiar, but more as a distant whisper, until a lightbulb appeared above your head and memories began to flood back.

“Right, isn’t it that the gang from Yokohama that’s been taking down Toman members recently?” Mikey nodded his head solemnly, and you could tell that the topic seemed to take a toll on him. A part of you wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to talk about this right now if he didn’t want to, but another wanted to be there for him and let him vent everything that he’s been suppressing so far.

The boy, with ash blonde locks falling over his face, explained in a subdued manner, “He's leading it.” His downcast eyes and refusal to make eye contact betrayed his struggle to maintain composure. His voice was so faint and weak that you had to lean in to hear him.

You hated seeing him like this. So fragile and sad. This wasn't your Manjirō. You didn’t know who this Izana person was, but you sure as hell did not appreciate the way he made your usually bright ball of sunshine feel. You knew just how much family meant for him and how destroyed he must feel to know that his apparent brother was doing his best to ruin him.

Taking a hold of his larger hand, you gently squeezed it as a form of reassurance before reaching out for one of the untouched dorayakis. “Here, I bought these today,” you cooed, pecking his cheek sweetly.

“I tried visiting you today,” a small pout appeared on your face as you tried to bait him with the dorayaki while holding it right in front of his face. “But Ken-chan told me that you weren’t home and needed some time for yourself.”

Mikey could feel a faint smile forming on his lips, hidden beneath the strands of ash. Shaking his head slightly, the boy opened his mouth, a silent request for you to feed him. Deciding to humor him, you swayed with the dorayaki in a similar way that he would quite often play with his taiyakis. Mikey couldn’t help but giggle since it looked more like a floating pancake than a fish in the deep sea.

However, as soon as he took a bite of the seemingly entrancing pastry, the dream-like state he had previously found himself in instantly vanished. You noticed the sudden change in his facial expression and furrowed your eyebrows, taking a small bite of the fluffy pancake, as you wondered what could have caused such a reaction from him.

Widening your eyes, you sent Mikey an apologetic smile before explaining what had happened today. "I'm sorry, Manjirō,” you said softly, “that strange boy took me by surprise, and I didn't see which flavors I took.” Deliberately not bringing up the fact that you had initially contemplated which flavor you wanted to buy for him.

As you decided to take the other pancake pastry to ensure it had the right flavor, the boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What boy?” He asked, staring at you intently, causing your hand to freeze in midair.

Blinking at him dumbly, you simply let out a barely audible, ‘Huh?’ escaped your lips as you continued to stare at him with a blank expression. Mikey didn’t seem to buy it, however, as his gaze remained fixated on you.

"Oh, did I say boy?" You laughed awkwardly, trying to divert his attention from your slip-up. "What I meant to say was a completely harmless old man who was actually going to buy some freshly baked pastries for his grandchildren."

“[Name]-chin…”

“Did I mention that he looked awfully similar to Grandpa Sano?” You dared to sneak a small glance in your boyfriend's direction as you finished that sentence, only to be met by the most adorable expression you’ve ever seen. Lies. Any expression your boyfriend makes could win the award for the world's most adorable.

The male puffed out his cheeks, and you couldn't help but coo at him. Your hands instinctively reached up to pinch the soft flesh, but Mikey half-heartedly swatted them away. He was about to say something, but you interrupted him before he could speak.

“Do you know how much you resemble a chipmunk whenever you puff your cheeks out like that?” You spoke teasingly, still hoping that you’d manage to make him forget about the previous conversation. And it seemed to work, since you saw the way his right eye twitched at the comment. Though, the newly found pinkness dusting his cheeks showed that the displayed annoyance was anything but true.

The boy huffed, sending you an annoyed glare. “That cheap trick wouldn’t even fool Baji, and you think that it’d work on me?” His expression was screaming ‘tantrum throwing child’ and you're pretty sure that you have never seen the blond look so offended before.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his comment, subconsciously imagining what Keisuke’s reaction would look like had he been here right now. Though, amusement was also accompanied by bits of nostalgia and sadness as past memories of you together with your childhood best friend suddenly came rushing back intensely.

“What happened?” You blinked, Mikey’s voice somehow managing to bring you back to the present. Focusing your attention back on him, you noticed the look of concern that his eyes were carrying. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shook your head, pursing your lips while trying to find the right words to say. “No, he didn’t hurt me,” you spoke carefully, left hand rubbing your other arm as you tried to rid yourself of the growing tension inside your body. “It’s just that he said something…strange.”

Mikey’s concern grew with your answer, as an uneasy feeling settled within his bones. “What did he say?”

You fumbled with the hem of your pajama top, doing your best to remember the orchid-eyed male’s parting words. “I’m not sure if I remember, but…” you trailed off, trying to recall which exact words he had used.

As you peruse the array of pastries on the counter of the quaint shop you are visiting, your eyes linger on a particular dorayaki filled with precious red bean paste that you know your childish boyfriend adores so much. But a mischievous impulse tugs at you, tempting you to buy the curry-filled option that you know he despises.

You are too far gone in your own little world, contemplating which option to choose. Suddenly, a shiver runs down your spine as you feel as if somebody is watching you. Just as you are about to turn around and survey your surroundings, the bell jingles merrily as someone opens the glass-tinted door, announcing their arrival to the shop.

Blinking a few times, in order to bring yourself back to reality, ordinary [e/c] are met by a pair of gorgeous yet unfamiliar lilac—or perhaps pink—eyes. It isn’t the first time you see someone with eyes falling into this color palette, yet somehow they seem to be in a completely different category.

As you continue to gaze into the stranger's eyes, you are struck by the unique shade of color that dances within their irises. The hue is reminiscent of an orchid in full bloom, with delicate petals that curve and twist like the tendrils of a dream. You can’t help but feel captivated by the hypnotic beauty of the orchid-colored eyes that now hold you in their gaze.

“How long are you planning on staring?” A honeyed voice soon reaches your ears, forcing you out of the strange trance that you once again find yourself in.

The male’s voice is mostly monotone, though you can still identify a hint of annoyance lingering within it. He’s not exceptionally tall, but still strikingly beautiful. The tanned skin contrasts with the platinum blonde hair that looks to be almost strands of silver falling down his face.

“Haha,” you shake your head in order to bring yourself out of the trance that you once again find yourself in, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly as you send him a shy smile. “Sorry, it’s just that you’re so beautiful that I was at a loss for words.”

A pregnant pause soon follows as the male’s annoyed gaze gradually grows into one of curiosity and intrigue. You, on the other hand, can feel your own cheeks flare up in embarrassment, not believing that you just said something like that to a stranger. Not to mention, that it was the first sentence you had uttered.

Before he can utter another word, you quickly put two dorayakis of respective flavor into a paper bag and speed-walk out of the shop. You think you can hear somebody chasing after you but don’t pay much attention to it. Only when you feel a large hand take a hold of your arm do you stop, as the unknown person’s other hand goes up and covers your mouth preventing you from making any sound.

“Be quiet,” a hushed tone speaks gently into your ear as your eyes frantically search for an escape route, readying your left leg to lend a powerful kick if necessary. However, only as the man uncovers your mouth, do you notice how gentle his hold actually is, causing you to instantly relax.

You aren’t completely sure of what you were expecting, but you can’t help but believe that it should have been the tanned male from the pastry shop that had chased you. For some reason, it makes more sense than this. Yet instead, It was some unknown male with a large scar on his face. You simply have no clue as to why this man had been the one to do so, when you’ve never met before.

"You owe me 400 yen," says another, more familiar this time, voice. It’s low and menacing and seems to come from the beginning of the alleyway that you had suddenly found yourself in. You recognize him as the same boy you had just run away from, but he appears much calmer and put-together than you, with his tanned skin and well-groomed appearance.

You wonder why he’s demanding money from you and what he will do if you don’t pay him. As he observes the bewilderment in your [e/c] eyes, the male rolls his own.

“You didn’t pay for the pastries that you took,” he states plainly, gesturing towards the paper bag that you are clutching onto for dear life. After a moment, his words finally register in your brain, and the confusion that has been showing in your eyes transforms into embarrassment.

You hurriedly begin to search for your purse before pulling the brown square-shaped item out of your school bag. It’s then that you finally realize just how stupid you must have looked, running away from a pastry shop simply because you had accidentally complimented some random stranger.

"T-Thank you," you say, bowing your head. "And… uhm… I’m sorry for putting you in such an uncomfortable position." As you speak, the male steps closer to you, placing his fingers beneath your chin and tilting it upwards to face him.

“Interesting…” The male’s face is now uncomfortably closer to yours, orchid-colored eyes watching you carefully as if he’s inspecting you. “I think I’m starting to understand why he is so smitten by you.” Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you silently watch as he exits the alleyway, his scarred friend not far behind.

“He did say something about understanding why someone is smitten by me,” you spoke after recalling the event. At the mention of your words, Mikey's expression instantly grew serious, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips pressing together in concern. He leaned forward slightly and asked with a tone that showed a hint of suspicion. “What did he look like?”

You let out a deep breath, the weight of the conversation heavy on your mind. Your response was hesitant and quiet, almost as if you were afraid to speak too loudly. "He didn't look fully Japanese," you said, the words tumbling out almost reluctantly.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to recall the details of the encounter. "Maybe Filipino, I think?" you added, your voice trailing off as you searched your memory for any distinguishing features. The room was quiet as you spoke, the tension palpable as you struggled to put your thoughts into words.

The blond's face was a portrait of contemplation, his lips pursed tight in concentration as he gazed down at his lap. His piercing onyx eyes seemed lost in thought, as if he was grappling with a weighty decision. You strained to read his expression, but his luxurious ash blonde hair cascaded down in a veil, hiding his features from view. Despite your curiosity, you couldn't help but admire the silky strands as they shimmered in the light, creating a mesmerizing sight.

“If you see him again, I want you to tell me, alright?” Despite the fact that it had been phrased as a question, you could clearly hear the hidden demand behind the words. He wasn’t asking, but telling you that this was how you should act the next time this guy decides to approach you.

As you gazed deeply into Manjirō's eyes, you could sense the weight of his unease and anxiety. His fingers quivered in your grasp, their hold tight and unrelenting. Your brow furrowed, and you felt a pang of sympathy for his fears.

Drawing nearer to him, you caressed the back of his hand with gentle strokes, feeling the roughness of his skin against your fingertips. The warmth of his touch against yours offered a sense of solace.

"Manjirō," you whispered, the words caressing his name as they escaped your lips. You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his cheek. "There's no need to be afraid," you reassured him, your voice a soft melody that flowed like a gentle stream.

As you spoke, you could feel the tension in his body begin to ease, like a knot slowly unraveling. His eyes flickered with uncertainty, but he leaned into your words, like a sapling bending towards the sun.

With a gentle touch, you placed your hand on his shoulder, offering a comforting presence. "Nothing bad has happened," you repeated, your voice a soothing balm to the fears that plagued his heart.

But Mikey shook his head adamantly, a hint of desperation creeping into his quivering voice. "Promise me, [Name]-chin," he pleaded. "Please promise me you'll tell me."

You pursed your lips, your heart heavy with compassion. Slowly nodding your head, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tenderly as you made your vow. "I promise," you murmured. "If he ever comes near me again, I'll let you know."

Your whisper was faint, but due to the close proximity of your lips to his ear, your words were impossible to miss. Despite the angry howling of the winds outside, Mikey could feel himself slowly relaxing inside the safe space of your warm and loving embrace.

As he nestled his face against the crook of your neck, Mikey's cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink that trailed down to his neck and ears. Breathing in your heavenly scent, he felt certain that, with you by his side, he could overcome anything.

“For fucks sake!" The boy snapped as all the pent up emotions that had been boiling up from within suddenly exploded. “Will you get off my back!”

Mikey's face contorted with rage as he yelled, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. The air was thick with tension as he struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions that had been building up inside him for so long. Finally, with a primal scream, he let it all out.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as you watched the young boy struggling with his pain. Despite the anger in his voice, you knew that he was hurting deeply and that he needed help. With a heavy heart, you raised your voice to match his, hoping to break through the wall of emotion that surrounded him.

The tension in the room was palpable as the air crackled with frustration and pain. Mikey's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, his face twisted into a mask of anger and hurt. You could see the tears glistening in his eyes, and your heart ached for him.

Tears began to pour down your cheeks as the two of you continued to hold eye contact. The blond looked like he wanted to say something, but was quick to cut himself off before he could accidentally cause any more damage than he already had.

You carefully took a step forward, nose stuffed with snot from all the crying. Gently grasping his hand, you pursed your lips slightly before meeting his hollow gaze. “P-Please just…” you hiccuped, “just let me be there for you.”

Mikey pressed his lips into a firm line, guilt gnawing at him from inside his throat. He felt nauseous, hating that he was the reason for your current state. His eyes stung as tears threatened to spill like a flood. He didn't deserve to cry, not when he had caused so much agony to the person he cherished most.

"Just leave me alone," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't deal with this right now."

"Manjirō, I understand that you're hurting," you said softly, trying to keep the compassion in your voice. "But this isn't healthy. You need to talk to someone about what's going on. I'm here for you, and I want to help."

He pulled away from your hands and turned away, his shoulders hunched in defeat. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, but you could hear the desperation in his voice.

"Okay," you said, taking a step back. "I won't push you. But just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

The silence that followed was heavy, and you could feel the weight of all the unsaid words hanging in the air. You just hoped that eventually, Mikey would find the strength to open up. But instead of answering your silent plea, he simply turned around and left you alone in the now-empty hallway.

You could hear his footsteps fading away until the sound of a lock turning indicated that he had isolated himself in his room—the room he used to sleep in before Shinichiro passed away. You guessed it was too hard for him to think of not only one, but two people who had left him to the invisible shackles called grief.

Mikey failed to understand why he just couldn’t let you in. But the male felt as if a wall had suddenly built up between the two of you, completely disregarding the fact that he was the reason behind it. Only blaming the circumstances.

You stood there for a while, surrounded by nothing but complete silence. Hues of [e/c] empty, not very different from the way Mikey’s abyssal ones had seemed to be after Emma had been pronounced dead. Slowly, you crouched down to put on your shoes and pull your coat over your shoulders before leaving the building—the building that you had once called your second home, filled with warmth, laughter, and life.

The cold autumn air hit your face painfully, the never ending streams of tears only adding to your current sensitivity. The warmth that seemed to follow them practically burned onto your skin. But you paid no mind to the pain, welcoming it even as it gave you at least some form of evidence that you were still alive, well and breathing.

Body shaking, your arms slowly wrapped around your waist, as quiet sobs began to leave your throat. You weren’t fully aware where your body was taking you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you believed it was your deceased friend that was leading you to an unknown destination.

You've known Mikey since childhood, but even now, you can't shake the feeling that Emma has always understood him better than anyone else. Maybe you were deceiving yourself however, and the golden-haired beauty before you wasn’t really guiding you towards the answers you seek. Perhaps the soft, honeyed whispers in your ear were nothing but a figment of your imagination, like a distant waterfall in a wild, untamed place.

“You’re going to catch a cold like this, angel,” another soft whisper reached your ear, but this time you found yourself flinching at the unexpected warmth that had begun enveloping you. A faint blush coated your cheeks as you came face to face with none other than Kurokawa Izana.

Although you mumbled his name almost inaudibly, he still managed to hear it as if your voice were impossible to miss. Amidst the symphonies of the streets, the people, and nature itself, your voice seemed to come from a completely different dimension. Its sound carried across any distance and drowned out any noise, demanding attention.

It was only after a minute or so had passed that you noticed how close he was standing to you. His body pressed against you, slightly pinning you to the railing, and suddenly you became hyper-aware of your surroundings—the sound of moving water and the wind passing by your figure. You wondered, at what point had you reached the port?

“What’s gotten you so sad?” You closed your eyes, relishing in the softness that he was expressing as one of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of tears that were present. You couldn’t help it. You just missed being cared for like this.

Mikey has been neglecting you for months, while Izana has been nothing but good to you. Although there were moments when he could be a bit aggressive in his approach, you didn't blame him. Perhaps he was just being impatient, as he wasn't used to being denied things.

You shook your head at his question, not wanting to go over the same conversation as the two of you have been doing for the past few months. Opening your eyes, as you felt him wrapping something around you—his scarf. It smelled nice, like freshly baked dangos. You figured he must have gone to the pastry shop earlier today.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, taking in the pleasing scent that was emitting from the thick and warm lilac fabric. The scent was just plain Izana. At what exact point you weren’t sure, but somehow it had become your new sense of comfort. Your new sense of home.

But then you furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, gaze filled with worry. “Aren’t you going to get a cold now?” The male smirked, letting out a low, seductive chuckle as warm puffs of air barely grazed your face.

Suddenly his face was almost touching yours, an unfamiliar predatory glint hidden within the orchids that were his eyes. You weren’t certain, but there was something dark and unsettling in his expression. Strangely enough, however, you didn’t feel threatened by it. More like excited, as you felt how some unusual bubbly feeling began to swarm inside your stomach.

Before you did something you would later regret, you carefully placed your hands against his chest as you gently pushed him off of you. Reality slowly catching up, forcing a heavy feeling to settle within your bones, completely replacing the previously elated one.

Noticing the abrupt shift in your emotions, the platinum blonde felt his left eye twitch in annoyance. Letting out an exasperated sigh, the male shot you a look while speaking, “You can’t wait for that idiot forever.”

He spoke matter-of-factly, his heavy gaze practically boring into yours, making you feel like a small, fragile animal led into a corner by the big bad wolf. You pursed your lips as you felt a lump form in your throat.

Guilt seemed like an endless cycle; once you fell into it, it was difficult to escape. You weren't certain how much responsibility you should feel for Izana's emotions or for Mikey's potential reaction when he discovers your inner turmoil. However, in both cases, you were aware that each person involved was equally at fault for whatever issues may soon arise in this—whatever this was.

Starting to feel impatient with your lack of response, the male leaned in, assessing your awareness, before suddenly crashing his lips onto yours. One arm snaking around your waist as the other cupped your rosy cheek. You didn’t react at first, far too shocked to understand what was happening. But as Izana’s lips began to softly rub against your own, your eyes slowly closed as your own hands took a harsh grasp of the fabric of his coat.

It felt like a sensual dance, where the predator had claimed dominance right from the beginning. Izana was kissing you feverishly, impatience noticeable in every caress and act that he made. Hands squeezing your hips gently, as he pushed you further against the railing. Tongue poking against your lips as a way to ask for permission to enter.

But before things could escalate, you pushed him off of you once again. Looking at him through half lidded eyes, you noticed how breathless he was and figured that you must have looked no better than him. Though, you doubted that the lovely shade of pink coating his cheeks looked as prettily on you as it did on him. A certain urge to tug him back for another kiss appeared, but you were quick to dismiss it.

“We—We shouldn’t be doing this Izana,” you spoke, feeling your blush deepen at the sultry look that he was giving you. “Ma—Manjirō needs me right now.” Tears were streaming down your face, but the male in front of you only seemed to become more bitter as you finished.

He huffed, before placing his fingers under your chin—just like he had done the first time you met—and tilted it upwards. Biting your bottom lip rather harshly, you felt yourself shrinking at the expression that he was making. It was somewhat crazed, not like the previous ones where he had been simply expressing his dissatisfaction.

You swallowed harshly, a whimper escaping your lips as your eyes closed shut. A brief moment of silence followed after, until you felt him withdraw his fingers from you before hearing him take a step backwards. This made you find the courage to peek out from your closed eyelids before opening them up fully.

The tanned male wasn’t standing in front of you anymore, but rather beside you. You peered at him carefully without making it too obvious and noticed that he wasn’t even paying attention to you. His gaze, instead, fixated on the sky, and you couldn’t help but admire him like this.

He looked truly mesmerizing to you. Platinum blonde hair flowing softly in sync with the cool breeze that was coming from the ocean. Hanafuda earrings dangling prettily, reflecting bits of the light that came from the sun.

Turning around to face the front, you began wondering what to do. But you didn’t get to ponder about it for too long, as the feeling of a pair of cold fingers suddenly touched your cheek. The caress was soft and caring, but it didn’t stop your body from tensing up as you stood completely frozen without any knowledge of how to react.

“I’m sorry, angel,” the male spoke, his voice growing a few octaves deeper. “But I can be quite an impatient man, especially when it comes to you.” You flushed at his words as the male gently guided you face closer to his.

“Zana…” A faint, barely audible call of the nickname that you would sometimes address him by, was the only word that you were able to produce in your current state. Even after all this time, still failing to understand, how this peculiar person always managed to leave you completely speechless.

Ever since that fateful day in the pastry shop where you first met, you realized that Kurokawa Izana was the personification of an oxymoron. The warm aura he exhibited was very inviting, radiating a certain softness that was rarely found in males. However, that didn't stop him from coming across as overly haughty and distant, seemingly impossible to approach.

And this time, it was no different. His voice, gentle and understanding, conveyed warmth and empathy. His fingers, though cold to the touch, felt soft as they traced circles on your chilled cheek. However, his eyes betrayed a different emotion, showing a calculated coolness that left you feeling conflicted.

“Think about it,” was all he said before leaving the port. Only the aroma of freshly baked dangos lingered in the air, a testament to his recent presence. You buried your face in the lilac fabric that Izana had draped over you, and a wave of nostalgia washed over you. A memory of your now-estranged boyfriend flooding your mind, filling your being with a kind of fussiness that caused a small smile to play on your cold, numb lips.

“Come on Manjirō, try something new for a change!” You whine, tugging at the blond’s sleeve childishly while sending him a pleading look. “We’ve been eating so much dorayaki and taiyaki recently that I’ve started having nightmares about them!” Mikey pouts at your insistence, but finds himself relenting as you are far too adorable to ignore.

You beam, feeling pleased with your accomplishment. Not too far away, you can hear your dearest friend—and perhaps older brother figure—Ryūguji Ken letting out a painful groan. This urges you to giggle as you are fully aware whose wallet will be left empty at the end of the day.

The dragon tattooed boy gives you a dirty look, knowing that whatever it is that you have in mind, will most definitely be more expensive than a few packages of your boyfriend’s favorite snacks. Mikey, however, lets out a laugh as he instantly recognizes the look on his tall friend’s face. Frankly, it is a look that screams agony.

It is a rather cold day in the month of December. The three of you are equally oblivious to the upcoming changes that will soon come in the span of a few months. You intertwine your hands, squeezing each other teasingly as you occasionally tug one another in the opposite direction, waiting to see who will be the first to lose balance.

Draken rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, but there is a barely noticeable lift at the corner of his mouth. You and Mikey, however, are too immersed within each other to take notice of the slight softness that can be spotted in the tattooed boy's dark eyes.

The snowflakes are dancing in the air, like an endless waltz. But unlike the two of you, each of them looks lonely, cold, breathtakingly beautiful, and yet pain strikingly lifeless. Like a small piece of something grandiose, however, still separated from the mass.

You walk over to Draken, your steps feeling light and weightless as you lightly jump with each one, the snow crunching softly beneath your feet. You send him the sweetest smile you can muster, but he narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, his exhaustion deepening with a sense of foreboding. You let out a snicker like the spawn of Satan that you are.

“Ken-chan,” you say in a sickeningly sweet tone. “I want some of those.” The male quirks an eyebrow, his gaze following the direction of your index finger as you speak. Sighing, he nods at you, but not without mouthing some very peculiar words that would probably make any mother give a look of disappointment.

“You just had to choose the most complicated dish on the menu?” His reply is snarky and biting as he mentally prepares himself for the next thirty minutes he’d probably have to wait before your order would finally be ready. It’s not the food in itself, just the awfully long queue that he now has no other choice but to wait through.

“Now, now, Ken-chin," your boyfriend says, crossing his arms as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “That's not how you're supposed to treat a girl.” The tall blond groans in frustration, struggling to hold back his urge to kill the Toman commander. Mikey, on the other hand, is sporting a cheshire grin, looking pretty much like the cat from Alice in Wonderland.

“Exactly, exactly,” you add, nodding your head in approval of his statement. “And you keep asking yourself why Emma doesn’t believe me when I tell her how much you like her.”

It takes a moment for Draken to finally register what you had said. However, before he has a chance to commit a double homicide, you feel someone’s fingers snake around your wrist. Seconds later you and your boyfriend are running down the streets, laughing like a pair of goofballs—which you probably are at this point.

Cold air brushes your face as you both continue the pointless war of tugging. At some point, you slip over the snow, making the both of you fall. Luckily, the river that Mikey loves visiting so much is completely frozen, saving you from a potential disaster. It's already too damn cold; you doubt you'll be able to survive walking wet around the city until you reach home.

You are rolling down the thick layers of pale, white snow. Mikey’s muscular arms are tightly wrapped around your waist, while yours find home around his neck. Snickers leaving your lips as you reach the frozen water.

You pull your face away from his chest, pools of [e/c] color meeting a pair of pitch-black eyes filled with childish glee. One of your hands trails up his neck before settling on his cold, pale cheek. There is a faint pink hue dusting them from the cold, biting air.

He’s smiling up at you. The expression is so contagious that you can’t help but mirror it with one yourself. His arms pull you slightly closer to him as your gaze fixates itself on his lips. His plush and pink lips that seem to be oh so kissable. You brush your own against his softly, before withdrawing from him slightly.

Before you have the chance to repeat the motion, Mikey quickly changes your position. You are now lying down on the cold, but surprisingly smooth surface. The blond leans in closer, so close that your noses are brushing and your hot breaths are mixing together. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, feeling your heartbeat accelerate in response to how intensely he is looking at you.

However, instead of being met by a long and sensual kiss as you were expecting, only a light peck grazes your lips. A pregnant pause soon follows, and suddenly you are attacked by a dozen kisses. Giggles escape your lips as his thin nimble fingers run along your clothed body to tickle you. You gasp as you try to fill your lungs with much needed air, but Mikey is having none of it.

“W—Wait, Manji-,” you try to speak up as tears continuously stream down your cheeks from all the uncontrollable laughter. “Hmm? What was that?” The male teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Stah—stop!" You manage to choke out, sighing in relief as the male finally gets off of you. He lays himself beside you, his coal-black eyes filled with adoration, making you flush red. You love the way he gazes at you, his expression portraying nothing but pure bewitchment, looking absolutely smitten.

You lie like this for a while, the cold breeze pushing past the both of you. The temperature seems to have gone a few degrees lower, causing you to shiver. You start blowing into your palms, which you have cupped and placed in front of your face. It doesn’t help much, however, and you are about to ask Mikey if he wants to go back.

You sit up, but stop yourself from voicing your question as you feel something soft and fluffy wrap around your neck. Peering down, you are met by strikingly vibrant red. You didn’t even notice at what point your boyfriend had gotten up. A pair of ecstatic giggles escape your lips as the familiar sensation of long ash blonde strands soon fall over your shoulder.

Mikey is hugging you tightly from behind, face tucked into his red scarf that is now securely wrapped around your neck. Half lidded eyes peering up at you from the soft, ticklish fabric, blonde locks falling down his face, making it slightly obscured. He looks surprisingly snuggly like this, pliant even.

“Feeling warm now?” His voice is slightly muffled, but you still somehow manage to catch onto what he’s saying. A small smile grazes your lips at the thought of how cute he is right now. He arches an eyebrow at how suspicious you’re looking, but doesn’t question it further.

It takes a few more minutes until Mikey’s phone begins to ring. Draken’s gruff voice, appearing from the other side. There is a smile on your boyfriend’s face, as he tells you that Ken-chin was nice enough to still buy him some dorayaki. The aforementioned sounds annoyed, but you both are aware that it’s just an act and that he doesn’t actually mean it.

Then Mikey gets up and stretches his sore limbs before lending you his hand. When you reach out, your stomach rumbles, urging the both of you to giggle in sync. You hear some distant sounds of barking dogs and furrow your eyebrows as you don’t seem to find any nearby, despite how close the sounds are.

Mikey watches you with concern, his mouth moving, but his voice sounding too far away for you to understand. You close your eyes briefly and try to concentrate on his words, but they only become less coherent for you to understand.

Suddenly the noises around you became clearer, but it wasn’t his voice. It was the barks of the dogs that you could not find beforehand. It was the sound of rushing water coming from the ocean. It was the rustling leaves that had fallen on the ground, following the whims of the winds.

You swallowed thickly, a heavy feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. Eyes stinging as tears, once again, threatened to spill. This time, however, cheeks and lashes remained completely dry, as you refused to shed any more.

As the cool breeze flowed through the neighborhood, the streets seemed less busy than usual. They were quieter, despite it not being very early in the morning. It was no surprise, however, as it was the weekend and many people were still sleeping at this hour, preferring to stay in the comfort of their homes.

Despite the cold weather, signs of approaching spring could already be detected. The melting snow was a big indicator, though there was still much left from the now leaving winter. March was already hot on its tail, but it seemed like even this month would remain white for a while.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the bright sun greeted you. The white, transparent curtains hung lifelessly in front of the closed window, doing little to block the aggressive rays of sunshine that were penetrating your room. Right hand flying up to protect your vulnerable eyes from the blinding light as you rolled onto your other side.

Thin strands of platinum blonde were splayed across another pillow. You rubbed your eyes slightly, trying to rid yourself from the remnants of sleep that was still very much present. Pushing yourself up into a sitting position as the creamy bedsheets slid down your body, you concentrated your gaze on the person sleeping beside you. On the boy sleeping beside you.

Fuck.

You stared at his sleeping figure—at Izana’s sleeping figure. In that moment, he looked angelic, so peaceful and serene that it felt as if the outside world couldn't touch him. His thick, white lashes fell down so beautifully—appearing even whiter as they rested on his lovely sun-kissed skin. It was as if the fiery celestial body had worshiped him throughout his life.

As you trailed your left hand down your body, it eventually settled on your chest. It felt heavier than usual, nothing like the usual heaviness that had been stored inside you for the whole year. Burning up. You were burning up from the inside. As if somebody had forced you to swallow a tube of hot lava, which had later cooled down and solidified.

But it was only then that you realized the lack of clothes on your body. Your cheeks burned at the sudden realization, and you were quick to scramble out of bed to put some clothes on. Your body grew numb as you were not quite sure what you were supposed to feel. Events from the previous night flooded your mind as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

Doe-like hues are met by a pair of stormy orchids. The light from the hallway illuminates his face in such a way, it makes his tanned skin emit a golden glow. From your standpoint, the male almost resembles a god. The way his gaze seems to be looking down on you—height difference having no matter in this case—makes you look like a worshiper, ready to bow down on your knees before him.

Stepping inside your house, the male’s eyes never leave yours as he seems to be analyzing you. You, on the other hand, face the other way, unable to keep his steady gaze. Izana clicks his tongue at your defiance. His thin nimble fingers find their way to your jaw, tracing it tentatively. The platinum blond guides your face to meet his own, before keeping it in place.

“You’ve been avoiding me, my love,” it’s not a question, but a statement. Although his voice is soft, you can still hear the hidden demand beneath. Velvety smooth voice, only used as a mask to conceal the secret intent. In Izana’s eyes, you are a fragile doll, his to protect. And you are well aware of this fact.

Not wanting to dig deeper into the topic, you purse your lips into a small pout before you voice your complaint, “You didn’t have to send me a threatening message, Zana.” A childish lilt in your tone as you purposely widen your eyes to make them look more innocent.

The male scoffs before sending you a condescending smirk, indicating that he’s not buying your act in the slightest. “Nice try angel, but don’t even think for a second that trick’s ever gonna work on me.”

You laugh sheepishly at his words, not quite sure of how to respond. An awkward silence follows soon after where he seems to be studying you. Like some unidentified object he recently found.

Swallowing the ever so growing lump in your throat, a shiver runs down your spine. You suddenly become much more aware of the chilled air surrounding the both of you as the tension grows thicker by each passing second. It’s quite hard to pinpoint at what exact moment you had reached your bedroom, let alone began to undress.

His skin is hot against yours, despite how cold it must have been outside before you let him in. You let out a sigh of contentment as his soft, warm lips trace your overly sensitive skin. Each of his caresses, so prominent that you can’t help but feel overwhelmed from it all.

Things get rather blurry from then on, and rather than butterflies, a strong urge to vomit envelopes your senses. You feel hot, and there is something thick, throbbing, yet sensual, penetrating your core. The room is filled with moans, and you know that they are coming from you. But for some reason your brain fails to register this fact, the voice sounding much more foreign to your ears.

A buzzing sensation on the palm of your hand, pulled you out from your pondering. Eyelashes blinking before you automatically pressed the contact name that had suddenly appeared. You stared at it for a while, until the content of the message finally registered in your brain.

From: MyKey♥️🗝️

‘Let’s go on a date today.’

‘I guess you don't want to go on a date since you’re ignoring me🥺’

Read 9:34 AM

Shame spread through your veins, and suddenly you could feel yourself getting closer to throwing up as nausea began to hit you in powerful shock waves. You weren’t even given a chance to reply before you suddenly jolted out of your bedroom and sprung out in the hallway.

The second you entered the bathroom, you crouched down in front of the toilet. Your throat felt as if it was burning up, stomach churning in uncomfortable ways, yet nothing seemed to come out. Faint, barely noticeable waves began appearing in the water below, and you realized that you were crying.

How could you? Just as things finally seemed to take a better turn in your relationship, you go and do this? Fucking his goddam brother like some cheap whore.

You squeezed your teary eyes shut, salty droplets tickling down your cheeks as you bit your bottom lip harshly. Despite the growing pain, you couldn't stop yourself and felt compelled to continue. Some sick part of your mind, enjoying it even.

Stop crying, you little bitch. Ha! You think you deserve to feel self pity? A selfish slut like you? Look at you. It didn’t even take a minute before you willingly decided to spread your legs for him! As if it wasn’t you who had initiated the contact to begin with! Or did you forget all the times that you reached out to him yourself? God, you’re such a two faced sna—

“Darling, please stop hurting yourself like this,” you blinked, feeling yourself getting pulled away from the seemingly never ending loop of self hatred. Endless streams of tears still spilling, like a broken fountain. Everything was blurry, and despite your slightly disoriented state, you still managed to make out Izana’s voice.

His head was slightly tilted as he crouched down beside you. Eyes half-lidded, indicating that he must have just woken up from a deep slumber. You figured you must be the reason for it, with the way you had sped out of the room without any care for how much noise you were making.

But you weren’t concerned about that. The term of endearment that he used, echoing in your mind instead. You knew what he was doing. What he was always doing whenever he addressed you in such a way. And you hated how much it was affecting you.

“Izana, this has to stop,” you stated, looking at him with pleading eyes. “We just can’t continue on like this anymore.” As you felt even more ashamed due to the way your body was reacting to the close proximity between the two of you—hating how flustered he was making you feel. “Why can’t you understand that we're hurting Manjirō?”

As soon as his brother's name was mentioned, you noticed a shift in his eyes. They seemed to darken with emotion, but then he quickly looked down, causing a sense of dread to wash over you. His long platinum blonde hair hung lifelessly over his face, hiding his eyes from view. “That bastard took everything from me, it’s only fair I do the same.”

What?

“It's really pissing me off that I can't just kill him like everyone else,” he paused, tilting his head slightly upwards to regain eye contact with you. Despite the laziness behind the gesture, it still made you feel queasy. “But I know that it wouldn't be as satisfying as watching him crumble when he's got absolutely nothing left.”

“Izana…”

“[Name], I love you, I really do,” he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. The male cupped your cheek—damp from the tears that had been flowing non-stop—thumb caressing it softly as he pressed your foreheads together. “And I know that you feel the same way about me.”

“No,” you shook your head in denial as you refused to believe otherwise. The urge to vomit, increasing the more you were forced to stare into his intense gaze. “No Izana, I love Manjirō.”

Manjirō. You loved Manjirō. The sweet, but bratty, boy whom you’ve known since childhood. The boy who never shared his food with anyone but you. The boy whose name you would sometimes teasingly mispronounce as ‘MyKey’, which he didn’t understand at first, but later on grew flustered as you explained to him that he would always hold the ‘the key to your heart’.

You loved the way he would sometimes scrunch his nose up in irritation whenever things didn’t go the way he had wanted. You loved the way he would smile at you—those rare moments when he would keep his eyes open and a spark could be noticed if you watched closely. You loved especially the way he would always cling onto you like a koala after you had a sleepover together. You loved everything about him.

Mikey has always been your safe haven. He was your person and you were his. The zone of comfort in the empty space of dawn. The light that shone past any other. So how come each time you tried to imagine the color of love and comfort now, rather than pale gold and pitch-black, it became silverish white and a soft combination of flowery pink and purple?

The platinum blond sighed, and you swallowed hesitantly as he withdrew himself from you and stood up. He brushed his slender fingers through long silverish locks, as a look of frustration settled on his face. “Just accept it [Name],” he said. “Mikey has grown out of love with you, and it's clear that you've grown out of love with him too.”

“I-”

No. You shook your head, refusing to believe that he didn't love you anymore. There was no way he would do that to you, right? Manjirō wouldn't lie. Your boyfriend was no liar.

You know that he didn’t mean to hurt you. He was just protecting you. He didn’t want you to get entangled with his problems—with his dark impulses—so he pushed you away. That must be the truth. You know it’s the truth. It just couldn’t be any other way.

As you stood up, Izana took a step forward, backing you up against the white, polished wall. “I’m the one you love,” he said. Your lips trembled, and you weren't sure if it was out of fear or the overwhelming rush of emotions that threatened to explode inside you.

You didn’t like this. The way he was making you feel. It was overwhelming and imposing. Like somebody had penetrated your soul, forcefully leaving it completely naked and exposed.

“N—No, I want Manji-”

Izana was kissing you so aggressively, it almost made you think he couldn’t breathe without you. His movements were so frantic, you were afraid he’d completely lose it. You tried to speak up, but only some incoherent and muffled sounds could be heard. Broken exclamations of Manjirō’s name that always failed to never get interrupted.

“Man-!” A call of his name, but it went unanswered. The worst part, however, wasn't the absence of the person you wished would come; it was that you were enjoying what was happening. You loved it even, as you felt more alive than you had in a long time, just like every instance you had spent with Izana had always brought you.

Every move Izana made had a sense of desperation. They were frantic and needy, but there were also some signs of aggression, frustration and urgency that you took notice of. However, what shook you to the core were perhaps the hints of love, adoration, and possessiveness and obsession.

Your skin felt as if it had been set on fire. Cheeks flushing a deep shade of cherry red. Body twitching and fidgeting with extreme need. Breath turning erratic and irregular. Sounds of pleasure escaping your muffled lips as you felt something rubbing against your core.

Noticing your decreasing struggling the male stopped his frantic kissing, leaving your now swollen lips out in the open and went for your neck. Kissing and biting the entrancing skin, his right hand let go of yours as he felt your body finally relaxing under his touch. Your head resting against the cold wall, while his hands began tracing your warm and soft body.

Izana took a hold of the underside of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist. He detached his lips from your neck, pressing your foreheads together. Breaths unsteady and fanning over each other. Disheveled platinum blonde hair falling all over his face, yet it only seemed to make him look more attractive.

“Zana…” God, you sounded so needy. But he was making you feel so good and your body had become so sensitive, you believed you would die without his touch.

You blushed, reveling in the close proximity of your bodies. Izana closed his eyes, giving you a clothed thrust, which earned him a whimper coming out of your plush lips. He seemed to like that, because he repeated the motion.

“Trust me, he’ll never love you the way I do,” he groaned, voice coming out more guttural. The sound caused something to flip inside your stomach as you whined. Silenced by his lips as they found yours once again. The kiss was messy, but much more tender and calm—like a silent confession.

But then his words finally registered within your mind and streams of tears began to fall like a flood. Feeling a sudden wetness trailing down your cheeks, Izana pulled away, his touch gentle and caring. But his gaze held a different emotion. Something bitter, filled with disappointment and anger.

He carried you to your bedroom before practically throwing you onto the bed. You laid there, completely at his mercy as he crawled on top of you. But all you could think about was Manjirō. All the sweet moments that you had spent together, and what it had led to.

Izana was hovering above you, eyes blank, no emotion seeping through. Ripping of the shirt that you had put on, each action demanding and uncompromising. Kisses hungry and frantic, not leaving a centimeter of your exposed body untended. Dozens of hickies littering your skin, leaving a burning sensation on all the marked parts of your body.

You stared at the ceiling, moaning like a wounded animal. Izana’s touches were like a spell, experienced and calculated. No wonder—the male knew your body like the back of his hand.

“Please…” you mumbled, eyes welling up with more tears. You just couldn’t help it, confusion enveloping your senses completely as the feeling of vulnerability only seemed to intensify. God, what an awful human being you were.

Izana stared up at you, continuing his torturous ministrations. Not stopping, but never giving you enough either. “Please what?” The male asked.

You bucked your hips, chasing the fleeting feeling of pleasure that only seemed to appear occasionally, never remaining truly permanent. Izana was smirking down at you, a dark kind of amusement dancing within his orchid-like irises. As if he were enjoying the sight of your emotional breakdown—and perhaps he did.

Perhaps he thought you deserved it. After all, you caused him a lot of pain by constantly running back to him, only to dispose of him like some old toy once things started to look good in your relationship. You didn’t blame him. You couldn’t blame him.

Somewhere deep in your mind, you knew that you didn’t love Manjirō anymore. That you loved Izana. But you refused to admit it, believing that once you did, Mikey would hate you.

A shuddering breath escaped your lips as his long, elegant fingers traced your sensitive bud. Private parts twitching with neediness, slick pouring on the bed sheets nonstop. Desperation filling your veins as the male barely gave you the friction that you needed so much.

“…Please, Izana, I need you,” you begged, the lack of attention becoming borderline painful. The male only gave you one of his eerie smiles, nuzzling his handsome face against your throat before peppering it with small kisses and bites. Right hand leaving your exposed genitals and finding your inner thigh, squeezing the tender flesh sensually as he nipped on your delicious skin.

“Only if you finally admit my ownership over you, [Name],” a whimper escaped your mouth at his words. Lips forming into a pout as you tugged at his shirt, eyes pleading, practically begging for him to get rid of the thin, yet ever so present, barrier separating the both of you. An aching need to feel his skin pressing against yours.

“I’m yours,” you mumbled, “head to toe, all yours.”

Your heart stuttered as he eyed you suspiciously, not quite trusting your words. “What about your soul?”

A whine flew past your lips, [e/c] looking up at him pathetically. Hands twitching and tugging at the articles hiding his muscles. Body squirming on the bed as if you were in agony. Yet the male kept his eyes stoic, no ounce of remorse present as he continued to neglect your needs.

“Come on, angel, just say the word and I’ll give you what you so desperately crave for,” he spoke softly, words sounding empathic. You sniffled, eyes red and puffy from all the continuous crying. Hands shaking as you scrunched the fabric that was covering his chest harshly.

“Body and soul, too, Izana,” you croaked, and the male’s eyes seemed to darken as you finished. A dangerous glint soon appeared within them.

Izana licked the expanse of your neck, his long, pink tongue tracing the hot, burning skin hungrily. “Spread your legs for me, angel,” he whispered into your too sensitive ear, a lick and then a playful bite following soon after.

You did as told, exposing yourself completely for his predatory gaze to take in. Gasping as the cold air hit you harshly when Izana had pushed himself off of you. Throwing away his shirt somewhere on the floor before palming himself lazily. Gaze sultry and seductive, and you swallowed thickly at the sight of the awfully prominent outlines of his bulge on his black boxers.

He spread your legs even further apart, causing a dull ache to appear. Left hand stretched out to get a condom. Although he wasn't a fan of using them, he would never force you to do something you weren't comfortable with.

The male began stroking his shaft leisurely, groaning as he did so while watching your helpless figure before squeezing the tip of the condom and rolling it over the length of his erect penis. This was how he should always see you, sprawled on the bed, right beneath him. His to take however he pleased.

He positioned his cock near your awaiting hole, the tip teasing your entrance as he took some of your natural lubricant and poured it over his throbbing dick. Your lips parted as he suddenly pushed in, body tensing despite the amount of times that you had already done this together.

Izana squeezed his eyes shut, eyebrows scrunching in concentration as he didn’t want to cause you any pain. Your wet and warm walls pressed against him harshly, making it harder for him to keep a steady pace. It felt as if they were begging for him to cum right on the spot.

“Fuck, angel,” he groaned, muscles tight and rigid as he pushed in further. “You’ve been waiting for this, huh? Been waiting for your boyfriend’s brother to come and have his way with you.”

You moaned at that, breath caught in your throat as Izana pulled out slightly, only to give you a harsh mind blowing thrust. The change was too sudden. Shifting from slow, deep and loving, to harsh, fast and rapid.

Face red like a cherry, you felt as if a volcano was about to explode from within. Eyes rolling and tongue lolling out at the brutality of his thrusts. Pace unforgiving, as his thick and long dick that had already reached any possible hidden corner of your insides, was now stretching you out so much, you were afraid they would tear.

Your mind felt dizzy, only sounds of gibberish being heard as you were unable to even moan with the force of his thrusts. Words coming incoherent and probably even illogical, he doubted that they were even meant to be proper sentences.

Skin burning, and breathing erratic as the tip of his large cock continuously hit that oh so sensitive spot inside you. Shivers of ecstasy running down your spine and you could feel your body begin to shake in sync with the impending orgasm. The look on your face, so delicious, Izana was starting to lose himself.

You were just so pretty like this. Brains completely fucked out, unable to produce any thoughts. He was using you like a fleshlight, drilling his big fat cock further inside with each hit, kissing your precious spot every single time. The repeated sounds of Zana, Zana, Zana, escaping your lips like a never ending mantra, only adding fuel to his endless hunger for more.

Then you screamed. Walls tightened around his length even more as you squirted all over him. The sound you made, so erotic to his ears, his body started convulsing intensely as he finally reached his own climax.

Breathing heavily, Izana gazed down at your unconscious form as you had probably fainted from the intensity of your activity, eyes filled with adoration and endless pinning for you. He shifted your naked bodies so that you would lay in a more comfortable position, his softening dick slipping out of you as he did so.

Throwing the spent condom into the trash can, he then proceeded with wrapping his arms around your sleeping form. Then he kissed the back of your head, a sense of victory filling his senses as you unconsciously made yourself more comfortable in the safety of his embrace. An eerie smile tugging at his lips as he watched you silently.

It wouldn't matter if you came to regret what happened this morning once you woke up. In the end, your regret would be insignificant because his hold on you would be absolute. Izana would ensure that you remained his regardless—he would make sure of it.

@maehemthemisfit

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thatone-brightstar · 1 year

Text

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 7: Into the Bear's den

Words: 6.3 k (cause apparently I don't know how to write short chapters)

Summary: You're offered a new job and Carmy opens up about his past.

a/n:So we're getting close to the final line and i've never finished anything ever (cause adhd) so i don't know what to do with myselffff.

You cracked your knuckles again and glanced down at your watch nervously, for what seems like the fifth time in ten minutes. The view from the window beside the table where you sat gave sight to rustling leaves and little butterflies floating in the midday wind. You looked back down at your phone and reread your friend’s text, ‘Be there in 15’.

It surprised you to see her name across your screen a few days back, asking if you could finally talk around lunch on Wednesday, and it was an even bigger one that you had agreed. You had practically cut off everyone after what happened at your old job, you didn’t want to tarnish her reputation too and drag her down with you. So you stopped answering calls and texts hoping she’d get tired of not hearing from you and just give up. Now as you sat in the small restaurant waiting for her, you knew how ineffective that plan had been.

You heard the small ding of the entrance bell and rose your head up to find her walking in your direction. 5 '9 and too strong for her own good, Joyce lifted you from your seat in a bone crushing hug. Your arms dangled at your side for a few seconds, but then moved them up her back as best you could.

“Joy, I can’t breathe.” You said, the sound muffled through the fabric of her dress.

She laughed softly and muttered a ‘Sorry, sorry’ before holding you at arm's length and staring down at you with a smile. Her face then fell slightly and she lifted her hand from your shoulder only to smack it back down on the exposed skin.

“Ah! What the hell!”

“Why didn’t you ever answer me?!” She questioned, a hint of hurt concealed in her ever present calmness.

You bit your lip in guilt and sat back down with her taking the place across from you. You both sat in silence while a nice waitress handed out the menu and offered drinks. Once she was gone with your orders, Joyce stared at you expectantly.

“So?”

Your view was trained on the slightly trembling fingers picking at your nails. The words were all an endless jumble inside your head, there was so much you wanted to say but they all pushed at the same time and nothing seemed to come out. She placed a well manicured hand above yours and softly called your name.

“I went to your house and everything. Your mom said you wouldn’t even leave your room. I think she was mad or something cause she didn’t even let me in.”

You let out a humorless laugh and finally look up to comforting green eyes. “Yeah, uhm… she thought you knew.. that he was.. y’know.”

“God no! Barely even knew the guy before that.” She squeezed your hands in hers. “Trust me, hun. If I would have known, I would have stopped it from the beginning.”

“Yeah-no, I know.” You gulped down and waited until the waitress was done serving your drinks before speaking.

“I really am sorry,” You whispered “I didn’t mean to scare you with the whole goodbye text and then just disappear like that.” You took a sip of your drink and Joyce gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I think I just needed time to… process it all.”

“And did you?” She asked, concern looming over her eyebrows.

“Yeah… I feel like I have. I was mad at myself at first, I felt like such an idiot for not seeing it before, y’know? There were so many signs that I refused to notice cause I was so entranced with the idea that someone like him could lo-like me…” You focused your eyes on the other occupied tables to avoid her gaze. “I don’t believe it now, of course, but… I truly thought he was good for me.”

You were both silent for a moment, the words floated around you like the butterflies you saw outside, finally free from the confinements of your chest. It felt nice, to be able to admit what you had kept down for so long, especially to someone who you knew wouldn’t hold it against you.

“Then I was angry at him.” You continued. “Because who does that shit, Joyce? I mean, you have to be really fucked in the head to make someone believe you’re wife’s been dead for two years, jesus.” She let out a small laugh along with you, the situation too crazy to seem remotely believable.

“It wasn’t your fault…”Joyce’s voice grew serious after a short silence. ”You left as soon as you found out, despite what you felt for him, you left. I need you to understand that’s the best you could do.”

“I know..” You reassured her.

The waitress arrived with great timing, placing a bread basket in the center then two bowls with tomato soup as your entreé. You stirred it slowly with your spoon, head concentrated with the recollection of emotions that used to burden you but now didn’t feel as heavy.

“So…How do you feel now?” She asked, letting go of your hand to grab her own drink.

You sat on the question for a moment. If she would have asked you that a couple months ago, your reaction would be completely different, pissed off. You would’ve yelled every profanity that existed under the sun, cursed him out until your throat ran dry and your eyes stained your flushed cheeks salty. He was the reason you were unable to find another job in the area. When all the snobby rich ladies around Lincoln found out you were a ‘Homewrecker’, the news spread like wildfire and doors closed solely at the sight of your face.

All the rejection had pushed you to your lowest point… though had it really?

You had found solace at The Beef. People you admired, who were hardworking and kind despite the blows of life. And you had also met Carmy. Sweet, adorably fucked up Carmy, the sultry ocean current guiding your adrift boat home.

A loving smile unrolled on your lips. “Happy.” You said, scrunching up your nose and a small relaxed laugh left your mouth.

Joyce’s expression mirrored your own, she reached again for both your hands and rubbed her thumb over the back of yours.

“I actually… met someone” You confessed, cheeks ablaze.

“Hun, that’s great!” She gushed, giving your hands another rub. “Show me, show me!”

You laughed at her excitement and pulled out your phone, swiping through your pictures. You found your favorite, one from last week at the end of your grandpa’s birthday. The photo was shaky but you could still make out Carmy's profile as he gave your temple a chaste kiss. You could also see your beaming smile, eyes scrunched up in happiness. You passed the phone to Joyce and dug into the lukewarm soup.

She stared at the screen with raised brows for a couple seconds, flicked her gaze to you then back to the screen.

“You’re dating him?” She asked in a mixture of surprise.

You swallowed slowly and nodded at her. “You know him?”

“Yeah.. I wrote a column about him sometime last year. Big deal in the culinary scene in NYC. Won a James Beard award, or something like that.” She handed your phone back and pulled out her own.

You were taken back by the sudden information. Sure, from your time working with him you had noticed he was good, great even, but a JB? That shone a new light to the already present question, what was he doing at The Beef?

“I knew it! See?” Your friend turned the screen to you.

It was an article from December last year. He was standing with his back straight and hands locked behind his pristine white coat, hair combed like you'd never seen, almost glistening from the amount of product. He’s thin, the bulky arms you'd grown to love hidden behind long sleeves, eyes decorated with heavy bags that made your stomach churn. It was him, Carmy. Your Carmy, but different. Like if the picture had only captured his vessel but not the soul, he stood separate from the nine cooks behind him with an air of arrogance clawing at his stand.

‘Carmen Berzatto: The Artist Behind the Best Restaurant in The World’ Read the article in bold menacing letters.

You handed Joyce her phone back, slightly puzzled but didn’t let it show on your face.

“We had dinner at the restaurant and everything. His shit’s like, stupid good. You really didn’t know?” She asked.

You shrugged while putting another spoonful in your mouth, reducing the importance of the situation, though the small ache bothering your chest might say otherwise. You decided to push it back until you're able to ask him subtly.

“He’s not the bragging type.” You answered nonchalantly.

“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy. How’d you meet him anyway?”

Over the course of lunch, you updated her on the past months, your time at The Beef, everything with Carmy and how you were now unemployed but had gotten something pretty good out of it.

“Honestly, I would’ve chosen dick over a job any day too.” She said and had you grinning from side to side.

“And it was in the middle of his kitchen too...” You mumbled before taking another drink and her eyes grew wide with excitement.

“Look at you, little freak!” Joyce joked and your chest bloomed with laughter.

It felt like a breath of fresh air to joke again with her, like nothing had changed in the last months and you were still as close as ever. Joyce was your oldest friend after all, and she proved to be the strongest when despite how the situation had unraveled she still stood by your side.

“So what have you been up to now that you're a burden to society?”

“Nothing really. I’ve been painting a lot to pass the time but my savings are almost running dry so I have to start looking soon.”

“Have you thought ‘bout getting something outside of cooking?” She asked curious.

You had. It was just an idea of course, but the more you thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. Sure you loved cooking and the everpresent bustle of working in a restaurant, there was something about the rush that kept you on your toes, but a part of you wanted to slow down. If only you didn’t need money to survive, then you could take the time to pursue something else.

“I mean I have, but I don’t know what it would be.” You juggled the idea in your head. “Besides, it's the only thing in my resumé and I don’t think anyone would hire me in another field with zero experience.”

Your gaze fell back down to the white tablecloth, it had been cleared and only your half empty glasses remained. Joyce had been quiet for a while and you looked up to find a smile inching up her cheeks.

“What?” You asked cautiously.

“I know someone.” She stated matter-of-factly.

��You know someone that what?”

“Hire you! Keep up!”

You looked at her with a blank expression. “Joy, I love you, but I would make a very shitty writer.”

“Not with me, I suck at being a boss.” You rolled your eyes, but agreed. “I meant with Jeremy’s aunt. She’s got a gallery in River North where she teaches painting classes to kids. She’s pretty old so she’s been looking for someone to help her out.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to call your future aunt-in-law old.” She waved her hand dismissively. “What if I’m not good enough or say something and fuck up the kids?”

You wanted to remind her about the last time she convinced you to take a job, but preferred to avoid the subject altogether. “I don’t want anyone to blame you for recommending me when I screw up.” You answered instead.

“Dude, please give yourself some credit. I’ve seen your work, it’s really good.” Your cheeks flared up at the compliment, “And I’m sure she’ll like you too, she’s a sweetheart. Plus, how hard could it be teaching kids how to paint?”

A velvety sensation stirred in your stomach as you contemplated the idea. There wasn’t really much to contemplate, it was a great opportunity and one that not many people get without experience. So you swallowed down the nerves that mixed with your self doubt and nodded happily towards her. She let out an excited squeal and reached out to hug as much of your shoulders as she could with the table in between you.

You left the restaurant with your arm locked around hers as she updated you on the past months of her life, your future job and all the planning she had been doing for the upcoming wedding. It was difficult for her enthusiasm not to rub off or even harder to ignore the glowing specks of light that appeared in her eyes when she spoke lovingly of her feancé. You wondered silently if your eyes glimmered with similar joy when you spoke of Carmy.

**********

Teaching children how to paint was, in fact, only slightly hard, but nothing you couldn’t manage after the first week. There were only six kids per class and only two one hour and a half classes from five to eight p.m. Most of the kids were older than nine so they were pretty calm, except for the day you decided to bake cookies for them and swore one had even burnt a hole through his sneakers from all the running he did.

Mrs Marjorie, Jeremy’s aunt and not as old as Joyce had made her out to be, just leaned laughing by the railing upstairs while she enjoyed the show the children were putting on. Taylor Swift playing on the speakers seemed to calm them for some reason, and after a small impromptu dance party, you reminded yourself to pass by the bodega on your way home and pick up sugar-free choco chips for the next batch.

The gallery itself was one of the oldest in the area. It rested in the corner of the street, with high glass walls that allowed the natural lighting to illuminate the two floors inside. Most of the exposed brick was covered with framed paintings, with the right and back walls harboring enough works to almost reach the tall ceiling. The bottom floor was separated into different areas, first the main lobby where the works were sold. Past that was the showroom, an ‘H’ shaped maze divided by white walls that displayed the series of paintings chosen for that month, and behind that was an open space for the painting classes, near the back window wall.

The second floor was half the size of the first, with a metal railing along the perimeter instead of walls, so you were able to keep an eye on the bottom half. It was the perfect mixture of a Victorian and maximalist library. Tall bookshelves stood against the walls, decorated by flourishing plants in unique pots. Old leather couches divided the library from a small employee kitchen, equipt with a microwave and fridge.

Your favorite part, however, was the back. Long shelves that seemed to go on forever amidst a stretching white corridor, sheltering all kinds of sculptures and paintings carefully wrapped to avoid damage. Beside the emergency exit rested a studio, complete with paints, easels, unfitted frames and an industrial roll of canvas fabric. Everyone was allowed to use it as long as it didn’t interfere with your activities. The whole place smelled of paint thinner, old books and wood. Add the endless supply of chamomile tea, and you couldn’t be happier.

You were busy stirring the honey into your tea while also keeping an eye on the floor below, since almost everyone had gone out for lunch. With the steaming cup in hand, you carefully walked back down and began preparing your station for the first class of the afternoon. You carried out the easels from the back and unfolded them in a semi circle facing against the lighting, then entertained yourself rearranging the paint cart that the kids loved to misplace. You also brought out their works in progress and as you placed each one on the wooden base, you admired the different creative takes each child took with the reference image.

Thirty minutes before the first class, you had everything set and the paint splattered apron already fastened at your waist, when you heard the light ‘ding’ of the bell over the entrance door. You stepped out from behind the exhibitions and in your line of vision, Carmy stood with his back to you, head slightly tilted while he analyzed one of the abstract paintings by the entrance. You smiled at the way his shoulders seemed to loose tension when he wasn’t at the restaurant, then with light footsteps moved to stand behind him, stood on your toes and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’m good at understanding art.” He said with eyes still trained on the frame. his head now rested softly on yours.

“It’s abstract, everyone sees something different in it.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you see?” He asked and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to stand in front of him with his chin now resting on your head.

You hummed gently as your eyes swiped over the canvas of swirling oranges and soft greens. “ A sunset, maybe a flower bed. You?”

He stood silent for a few moments. “A… giant lemon.” He answered more like a question and an involuntary snort shook your chest at his answer. “See, I told you I was shit!”

“No, no you’re right! Now that you say it, I kinda see it” You agreed, turning to snake your arms under his and hugging his waist. “That is definitely a lemon.” You whispered up to him.

He let out a breathy laugh at your answer, then leaned down slightly and pressed his warm lips to your forehead.

“Brought you lunch.” He said between kisses, pulling out a sandwich, from the pocket of his jacket, tightly wrapped in aluminum foil. “It’s sweet n’ spicy with extra pickles.”

“Ooh, my favorite, thank you!”

A shy but proud smile covered his lips, knowing he had your order completely memorized from the few times you’d take dinner home.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” You took his hand and took a single step further into the gallery.

“Wait, I can’t. I left Syd in charge and-uhm, I’ve got this.. this thing I have to get to… sorry.” He scratched at his nose by habit and rubbed his thumb along your soft skin as he felt your hand loosen its grip.

If you felt slightly disappointed, you’d rather not let it show. Instead covering it with a closed smile. It had been a while since you’d seen him. Between getting accustomed to a new routine and Carmy’s already hectic one, it was hard to find mutual free time that wasn’t just covered by a phone call after closing shop. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t at least a little crestfallen at not seeing him as much as you were used to, but you also understood that this was the way adult relationships worked, schedules didn’t always match.

You also still had your conversation with Joyce in the back of your head and no amount of begging Syd to tell you was enough to make her budge. The thought of having to ask him yourself made your stomach uneasy, but it was something you needed to do…

Just maybe not at that moment, though.

“Oh, yeah, no prob.” you answered instead. “I have to finish setting up for the kids anyway.” You pointed with the sandwich to the already set up station. ‘But he doesn’t need to know that’ you thought.

“Shit, right. My bad.” He scrunched his eyes closed and gave a single nod and you could tell his thoughts were getting to him.

You stepped into his space and placed a lingering kiss, long enough to pull him from his head, while rubbing soothing circles into his hand.

“Thank you for lunch.” You whispered, then pecked his nose.

He stared down at you for a few seconds, eyes the clearest blue you had ever seen.

“Are you hungry?” He asked out of nowhere.

You looked at him with furrowed brows but with a smile, head tilted in confusion as you raised the sandwich and slowly shook it.

He let out a soft breath that fanned your warm cheeks.

“No, I mean…Can I make you dinner? Tonight” He asked again, eyes glistening brightly under the filtering sunrays.

Your cheeks grew painful from the force of your smile and you nodded enthusiastically at him. His expression mirrored yours, hand holding tightly onto your own.

He kissed you one more time after promising to pick you up around nine, then left in a rush through the crystal doors in direction to wherever he was going. You stood there for a moment, a strange sense of worry bubbling up, but with a heavy breath you decided to credit it to the persistent questions in your mind. You walked back up to reheat your now cold cup of tea then left the sandwich in the fridge. It was almost time for the kids to arrive and since most liked to be there early, you would only be able to take a bite or two before having the little parrots telling you about their day.

Almost like clockwork, the bell dinged again the moment you placed the cup on the desk and little footsteps echoed their way to your direction.

“Ms. F, you will not believe what Sasha said to me today?!”

**********

There was something you liked about buying groceries with someone that made it feel familiar, almost home-y. The simple action of walking hand in hand through the tightly packed corridors while throwing around ideas on what to make for dinner brought a calmness to your soul that you had not known before. To any outsider you were simply a couple meeting up after work, stocking up on the produce that you would then take to your shared home. And maybe for the half hour that you were in the store, you’d let yourself believe that too. Let the domesticity of it all embrace you as Carmy dragged you through the isles, absentmindedly mumbling to himself on the ways he could use every product he picked up.

You wondered what you would see if you could look inside his head. It would probably look like the office back at The Beef but infinitely.

“So you’re not gonna tell me what you’re makin’?” You asked for the third time on the car ride to his apartment, the bag of groceries he refused to let you pay for resting on the floor between your feet.

He let a soft laugh blow through his nose, then with eyes still on the road, he reached his right hand out to you and threaded his finger between yours. It was a quiet ride, the soft music from the radio filling in the comfortable silence.

“D’you like chicken?” He asked after a while.

“As pets or food?” You asked, teasing him.

“Uh.. food… I hope.” He answered with a laugh.

“If I say pets, would that ruin your idea for dinner?”

“No” He answered simply, a soft smile covering his lips. “But I’ve been told foxes like chicken, so I think I’m in the clear.”

A chuckle escaped his mouth when he saw your eyes grow bigger on your face and the redness on your cheeks match the stoplight above. He pulled your hand to his lips when a groan left yours.

“Fuckin’ hell…was it Joshua or my grandpa?”

Carmy hummed ignoring your question and let go of your hand to finish parking the car.

“C’mon! I gotta know if I have to beat the little shit.”

“You know what they say, snitches get stitches.”

“Yeah and in this case, he’s the snitch” You grumbled.

He killed the engine then took your bag from the back seat, swung it over his shoulder and exited the car. In a few seconds he was by your side opening the door while you carried the bag of groceries.

“If it makes you feel any better,” He said, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and walking through the building doors. “ I got stuck with Bear.”

You liked Bear, to you it sounded quite appropriate. You had heard Fak and Richie call him that once or twice but never asked where it had come from.

“I like Bear, it suits you.” You looked up to see the pink hue creep up his neck, then looked forward again to finish climbing the stairs.

You reached a door at the end of the hallway and he searched for his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. “Sorry for the mess, by the way.” He said nervously, putting the key in the hole and turning it.

You reassured him with a ‘S’okay’ and a soft rub on the back. He extended his arm to let you walk in first then closed the door behind him and turned on the lights.

The room was illuminated by the soft white light of the hallway and as you walked further into his space you corrected yourself, this was definitely what the inside of his head looked like. With small mountains of cooking books occupying every flat surface, an ashtray filled to the brim on the coffee table and pictures of people you hadn't met yet hanging on his small living room walls.

“It’s not much but it’s… yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck in anticipation for your review.

You scanned the room once more, inhaling the scent of coffee and cigarettes that felt completely him, then turned with the bag in your arms and smiled. That seemed to be enough of an answer for him as his chest deflated from the pressure of his sigh and he walked to place a soft kiss over your hair.

“C’mon, or we’ll be havin’ dinner by midnight.” He joked, taking the paper bag from your arms and guiding you to the small space of his kitchen, turning the lights on in the process.

Almost mechanically, he began taking the products out and setting them in a bowl to wash by the sink, then pulled out the chicken and placed it on a cutting board. You moved behind him rolling up your sleeves and turning on the tab to wash the groceries, avoiding his stare.

“What? I wanna help.” You mumbled.

But he only let you help with that, insisting that he invited you over for dinner. From blatant observation, you had learnt that food was his love language, so you didn’t protest when after cleaning the lemons, he took you by the shoulders and planted you on one of the stools on the other side of the small counter.

“Here, you can help me with this” He said, placing a bottle of white wine and a barely used corkscrew in front of you.

“Yes, chef” You answered sarcastically, only to see his hands slightly falter and his darkened gaze sweep over to you, filled with the all too familiar memories.

You bit the inside of your lip and continued with your task, trying to ignore the spark that his eyes had ignited.

Between light conversation, the humming of his stereo and occasionally distracting yourself flipping through one of his cooking books, you watched him work. Skilled fingers danced with precision over the handle of his knife as he julienned the garlic and added it to the sizzling pan with butter and capers. The room was drowned with the aroma of freshly squeezed lemon juice and the hissing of frying chicken.

He moved around with perfected ease, no hunched up shoulders or erratic movements like you would sometimes find him doing, like if he were expecting for the restaurant to collapse into itself at any given moment. No, this Carmy was in control, precise, doubtless. This is the Carmy you could imagine working for the top restaurants in New York, the one with the slicked back hair and rigid posture on the article Joyce had shown you.

The haunting image of sleepless dull eyes flashed in your mind for a brief second, but it was enough to pull you from your thoughts. That and a short glass half filled with wine that Carmy slid to you. You lifted your head from your resting palm to thank him and took a sip from the glass as he poured himself one then added a splash of the liquid into the pan.

“So- uh,” You swallowed the tasteful liquid. “There’s something I wanna ask you.” You began.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He asked and turned your way with raised brows.

“So a friend of mine-”

“Wait, try this for me?” He interrupted, taking a spoonful of the sauce from the pan and carefully placing it in front of you, cupping the bottom to avoid spillage.

You leaned on the counter with your elbows and blew on the hot metal before placing it in your mouth. You swirled it around your tongue, the acidity of the capers exploding in your mouth and triggering a smile. He brought his hand up to your face, tilting your chin up to him and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip before leaning down and kissing it. It somehow made the sauce taste ten times better.

“That is delicious, chef..” You breathed, the compliment filling his chest.

He let go of your chin and turned back to the stove, to stir the pan.

“Sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’…?”

“Right- yeah…” you cleared your throat to get your thoughts back on track. “My friend Joyce, she’s a writer for Food & Wine, in New York…” His head shot in your direction and you could instantly see the shift in his features as the words left your mouth, but it was too late to stop them. “and when I saw her a couple weeks ago, she showed me an article from last year that she wrote about you- which is pretty cool n’ all- but it kinda made me wonder… H-how come you never talk about New York?”

Carmy cleared his throat and turned the stove off, the sizzling sound dying down slowly, then he rested both hands against the edge, muscles flexed and eyes darting around your face. You were thankful for the music filling in the otherwise insufferable silence.

“I-I dunno I jus’...guessed you didn’t wanna hear about it.”

“Why?” You asked confused.

He shrugged lightly, distracting himself by plating the chicken and adding the minced parsley and some Parmesan on top. He slid both plates over on the counter and you held his hand before he could turn around.

“You know I really care about you, right?” You searched for his gaze, but his eyes were focused on the dishes in front of him. “And if… whatever this is, is gonna work out, then maybe we can tell each other this kinda stuff… even the ugly, no?”

You reached your hand up slowly to his cheek, then when his eyes finally met yours, your stomach dropped to the floor. Sullen wide eyes bore into your own, a mournful expression that you had only seen flashes of before. He nodded in agreement, hand cupping the one on his cheek and turning to kiss the base of your palm.

“No-yeah, you’re right…You’re right.”

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb for a few more seconds before he turned to get two sets of silverware then rounded the counter and sat on the stool beside you. You ate in silence for a while, only letting him know how delicious the food had turned out; then halfway through your plates, he took a sip of his wine to clear his throat and rubbed his palms along his thighs anxiously.

“Just, bare with me cause I’m not good with words, okay?” He took a breath, then began. “I-uhm… I was CDC at this really badass place. The food there was, god, it was… art is the only way to describe it. And the staff was disciplined and always on point, but the exec was an absolute dickhead. He would degrade and belittle and humiliate anyone for the smallest of mistakes, I think he got off on that shit cause not a day would go by when he wasn’t shouting on about how he was surrounded by idiots.”

Carmy took another sip from his glass and you reached out to place your palm over his resting on his thigh.

“You’ve probably met an idiot or two like that..” You gave him a sympathetic smile because he was right, though not at the level he seemed to describe.

“Although, I think he took a liking to fuckin’ with me more than the others. I was used to it, y’know? Insecure fuckers who think you have it out for their job, it’s fine, you get used to it. Then the nominations for the JBF’s dropped and when he found out I got in and not him, it got much worse, like exponentially worse.”

His fingers jerked and wrapped a bit harder around yours, but despite the slight painful sting, you refused to let go.

“I would always be the first one there and last one to leave, I think I would get maybe… four hours of sleep, if I got lucky. Sometimes I would- um- I would throw up before work, probably some anxiety shit- I dunno- but it fucked with my stomach and made it hard to eat anything. I was miserable for those last few months there.”

He was silent for a moment, gaze fixed on the half eaten breast, but not entirely there.

“Why did you stay?” The question floated in the static air between you.

He took your hand in both of his, unsure fingers massaging the joints in yours to distract himself. You saw the remnants of little scars scattered around the hardened skin.

“The prestige, I guess. I liked… being good at something, the best actually.” He sneered in distaste. “I think I wanted my brother to know that I was good enough to work with ‘em.” He confessed.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes raked up from your joined hands to his mournful expression. A thin red tint outlined his droopy eyes.

“Y-you never mentione-”

“He shot himself in February.”

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing you could say that would make the situation even remotely less terrible. Instead, you pulled your hand from his and wrapped your arms as much as you could around his frame. The soft shuddering of his heavy breaths blowing puffs on the side of your neck, where his face had buried.

It all clicked suddenly. The constant obsession of wanting- no- needing The Beef to succeed. How you had always thought Carmy had so much potential to just wither there. But it wasn’t wasted because he knew the industry, better than most ever did. He knew it with each persistent scar and cut on his arms, with each jab to the soul as they beat and battered him into pulp, when his only crime was possessing the talent they so desperately craved. He personally knew the limelight that many spend a lifetime chasing, and even if all that abuse had made him an outstanding cook, what he had lost in the process could never be regained.

You finally understood the desire he had for the beef to thrive, not only because he felt like he owed it to his brother but also as a big ‘fuck you’ to those motherfuckers that ever made him doubt himself.

“I’m so sorry...” You whispered, because that’s all you could muster to say ‘Sorry for even asking’.

“S’okay..” He whispered back.

“No it’s not, I shouldn’t have asked- it’s not my place-”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, placing a soft kiss over your hair.

“Hey, no you’re right, this is good for… us.”

You pulled yourself from his embrace when the position had grown uncomfortable on your back, but still rested your head in the dip of his neck to stay close.

“Thank you for telling me.”

His hand rubbed along the length of your arm as you both sat silently staring at your forgotten dinner. The rhythmic movements of his hand paired with the calm beats from his chest had your eyelids dropping every few seconds and an involuntary yawn filling your chest.

“D’you think I can stay over? ‘M too tired to make it home.” You asked, rubbing a bit of the sleep off your eyes.

Knowing you wouldn’t be finishing dinner, you began collecting the food in a single plate, then stood from the stool to stretch out your cramped muscles.

“Yeah- yeah sure. C’mon leave that, I’ll wash it up in the mornin’.” He said following behind you and taking the dishes from your hands, turning off all the lights and pulling you into the direction of his room.

While you took your sneakers off, he searched his drawers for a shirt and some bottoms for you to sleep in, then directed you into the bathroom where you changed and hoped that splashing a bit of water on your face counted as skin care for the night. You found Carmy already laying by the edge, hands relaxing on is head with eyes closed and if you weren’t so fucking tired, you would probably try to end the night in a more vigorous way. But as you crawled into the warm space beside him and he automatically pulled you into the direction of hhis arms, the tingling sensation that spread through your body when he kissed your forehead was way better than anything else.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest reminded you of the calm back and forth of the waves and you could almost hear the soft ocean breeze in his steady breaths.

“Thanks for letting me stay.” You mumbled with the last grains of consciousness you had left.

And it could have been the dream bleeding in through the cracks that let you hear a ‘You can stay forever if you’d like’ before losing yourself completely to the dark.

Chapter 8.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear & the fox #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fx #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

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reverieblondie · 2 months

Text

Play Fighting

Pairing: Kaine Parker x gnSpider-person!Reader

Warnings: Reader gets nose broken but other than that its just some nice Kaine fluff!

Summary: Kaine is always starting fights with you...your about to figure out why...

A/N: So, waaay back in December I had someone ask if I would be writing more stuff for Kaine and the answer is yes. I love Kaine, and if you love Kaine or what to know more about him please check out the amazing artwork by @eughi They are seriously incredible and the soul reason of me finding my love for this man. They also drew my new profile picture and where so amazing to work with!

The pictures they made that inspired me~ Here and Here

Word count: 3,390

Okay…maybe Kaine is right…these meetings are pretty, well to put it in nicer words compared to his…boring.

Miguel is lecturing everyone while on one of his many platforms placed around HQ, must be a spider thing to want to be perched up so high all the time.

While Miguel talks, you notice how his words are starting to sound like a jumbled mess of mumbles. Trying your best to hang on to his words, but at the moment you don't even understand what he’s talking about anymore. Now your eyes grow heavy and your head bobs slowly; sleep is here to take its newest victim, you. And right now you think you might as well let it win, what's the worst that can happen? Just shut your eyes for a moment…a quick…small second…

Right as you're resting your eyes and feeling yourself drift, everything is calm, and your breathing becomes more relaxed. It's peaceful…

Until, a sudden push to your body almost makes you tumble over, forcing you to wake and catch yourself. Stumbling to the side your eyes are looking for where the nudge came from, then narrow at the source. Kaine Parker, of course, it was from Kaine your…friend? You guess that's what you should categorize him as considering nothing else seems to be fitting.

Though you have to use the friend term loosely considering you two are always at each other's throats but you will still hang out on occasion. He’s your permanent pain in the ass, and you think he prefers it that way.

Peter B had introduced the two of you when you were new to HQ, and the first impression he made was not exactly a pleasant one. When you had put your hand out to shake his hand, he huffed and pushed past you. After that, you thought you wouldn’t see him anymore but the two of you always seemed to keep running into each other, sometimes literally. For some reason you two just couldn’t seem to get away from each other, not that it made him any friendlier.

Then when you two had to work together on a mission, you thought he hated you considering how he acted. Pushing you out of the way so he could fight, yelling curse words at you, giving you an attitude, and then the cherry on top after the mission was over he would ignore you. Finally, you had enough after a couple of missions and run-ins and you let him have a piece of your mind.

You still remember how you laid into him, yelling at him about his foul disposition. Telling him how people should be nice when working on missions together, and finally saying you're not going to let him push you around, you can and will push right back. You're not scared of him like everyone else was.

Once done, you expected him to fly off the handle at you or curse you or something, however, this was not what you were met with. What you were met with was a scowling Kaine, deep brown eyes tracing over you, taking you in, then with a tilt to his head he gave you the thing that made your eyes widen and heart race. The intimidating harshness of his eyes softened to a lidded stare as his lips curled into a sideways smirk, a smug mhmpf seemed to leave his chest before he turned away from you without a word. Since that day, Kaine and you have had an odd friendship.

The two of you started going on more missions together, sparring together, and eating lunch together on occasion. Maybe he had taken your anger to heart and wanted to make up for it. Though, as the two of you slowly started to get to know each other better, there was something that you learned about Kaine, he loved to pick fights with you…

Kaine didn’t do it all the time but you did start to notice that he started to pick fights with you more and more. Pushing your buttons in only the way he could, then have you push his buttons right back. It drove you insane always having to endure these playfights, sometimes he would win sometimes you would win. In the end, you two always seemed to get back in good graces with each other. Though the play fights have been getting a bit more heated lately…and with this growing frustration in your chest when you're around him you're finding that your anger towards him is feeling different lately…

Like right now as you're finding your feet again you're feeling mad for being awoken so rudely but when you see his tall figure auburn hair cascading down loosely you feel something else and it's making your chest ache making you even more irritated, especially sense what happened last time.

Kaine keeps his eyes forward and his strong arms folded, acting like he didn’t just nudge you awake. You stare daggers into him before rolling your eyes and going back to his side, eyes narrowed in irritation as you occasionally glance up at him taking in his sharp jawline and flawless hair. Seriously, what is he using in it?

As your irritation builds so does your confusion, why the hell is he deciding to bother you now? Not able to come up with an answer to this question you decided to just get him back quickly, no way you're going to let him win this. When he pushes you back, he knows this so why test you? Folding your arms you stiffen your body and ram yourself discreetly into his side forcing him to step sideways. Kaine turns his head towards you furrowing his brow as you give him a look of ‘yeah, I did that, fight me.’ -You should have known he would take the invitation.

Kaine turns so he's now staring you down, you're trying to just ignore his imposing figure, but your concentration is broken when he punches your shoulder; albeit pretty gently compared to when you two spare. The action seems to start drawing attention to the people around you two, but you don’t notice…no…this means war..,.

Turning to face him you clench your fist and punch him back in the shoulder with a bit more force than he did you but not enough for him to go flying, just enough to make him step back. Kaine looks at you dumbfounded for a second before he approaches you at a brisk pace, narrowing your eyes, you lift your arms and brace yourself. Perhaps You should have just let it go? Retaliation of violence is not always the best answer but you're just not going to take his shit, he knows that, and that's why he starts it..just like a perfect pain in the ass.

A few moments later, cut to you and Kaine wrestling in the middle of the meeting hall with hundreds of eyes looking at you two in shock. The meeting has come to a halt. Some have tried to separate you two but when they tried they were met with threats from you and Kaine. You're both throwing punches, kicking, arguing, and pinning each other down in harsh grunts; till finally Peter B and Ben are pulling you two off each other before Miguel can make his way over.

As you're being pulled away in haste by Ben away from the scene of the crime you turn and your eyes lock with Kaines as he is being walked in the opposite direction by Peter. Kaine's eyes meet your fuming ones then he gives you that smirk that has your heartbeat racing and fist tightening once more.

“Uhg! Why does he always have to start stuff with me?”, you yell out to Ben as you deliver a barrage of punches to his forearms.

“Maybe he was just playing around with you? Better than him trying to fight to hurt you…trust me…”

You dodge the returning punches from Ben but are not quick enough to avoid the sudden leg sweep he delivers making you fall to the ground. Landing on your back with a slam, you just lay there limply for a minute still feeling sour. Sparring with Ben should be releasing some of your frustrations, but it seems to fail because your mind is still going back to you and Kaine's little stunt during the meeting that ended up with a grade-A ass chewing from Miguel. Now both of you are stuck on night duty for the next couple of weeks. Thanks a lot, Kaine…

Ben holds his hand out to you, “Night duty isn’t so bad, I use the time to think about my past and practice some new moves like that one.”

Grabbing his hand you stand back up and dust yourself off, “Well I am happy it works for you but I’m still irritated Kaine got me in trouble….and now I’m stuck with the worst duty…I had afternoons! I loved my afternoon shifts! Now I will have to deal with him tonight…one of us won’t make it out alive…”

Ben laughs before nudging his head towards you, “You sure you want to fight with him again?”

You look at him confused before turning around and seeing Kaine thrusting Peter B into the mat…from the noise Peter croaks out you bet it was painful, good thing man knows how to take a hit.

You and Kaine haven’t spoken, you were irritated and didn’t feel like trying to make niceties with Kaine again, you wanted him to get the message that his getting your shift changed wasn’t sitting right with you. though he would probably just tell you to get over it already.

You continue to watch the mountain of a man moving quickly to avoid punches and delivering relentless punches back. Watching him was making you miss sparring with him a bit, he would always change it up on you to keep you on your toes and he would never pull a punch, it made you tougher and you appreciated it about him. Plus, there is the fact that the man did look pretty great dripping with sweat…though those found images need to be pushed down for the moment.

Ben clears his throat, breaking you from your trance with an almost knowing grin, rolling your eyes, you get back into your stance. As you and Ben start up training again you find yourself getting distracted still. Your eyes keep wandering to the other matt a bit away where you watch Kaine fight. He’s tied his hair back at this point and is huffing as he continues to exert himself. Then for a moment you see him turn his head towards you, brown eyes locking onto yours, you feel your face heat up for a second before you move your attention back to your current opponent.

Dodging Ben’s attacks your try to will yourself into not getting flustered by Kaine, you are mad at him…yes, you strangely miss him but he’s pissed you off and you're not talking to him till he makes up for what he did…or until you rant at him again, it’s just a matter of seeing what comes first…though you had a feeling what it would be.

Continuing to half pay attention to your sparring partner you look back over at Kaine again, and that's when you feel your eyes widen and a bolt of electricity jolt through you. Kaines shirt was over his head, taking off his drenched shirt and throwing it down to the ground. His whole body was nothing but muscle and decorated with mouth-watering scars, he practically shined as the sweat rolled down his skin to his happy trail…your mouth went dry at the sight.

The thought of the last sparring match with Kaine pops into your head as you keep glancing at him. It was a week before the meeting. Kaine had swept your legs forcing you to the ground in a hard crash. As the air had been knocked out of you Kaine was quick to get on top of you and pin your arms above your head.

The feeling of his weight on you was…nice…then his intense brown eyes stared down at you as he huffed for air. Not many could tire him out during training but you had been working with him so long that you figured out how to challenge him in a fight. Judging from how the sweat glistened on his face and his brows furrowed down at you, you knew you had given him a workout. Then he did the thing you were not expecting, he started to lean down closer to your face.

His heavy breaths fanning over your face made a rush of excitement go through you, you still remember how it smelt like cinnamon and was hot on your skin like a summer's breeze, If only he went lower on your neck, it would have made your body shake. Kaine's eyes were soft and lidded, and his lips were just a hair away, for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, and you foolishly closed your eyes in anticipation.

Then his weight was off you and you saw him walking away…leaving you to feel like an idiot….

Back to the present, you feel your chest prang for a moment with the embarrassment you felt.

Then SMACK!

That pain in your chest was quickly changed to one on your face as Ben landed a hit right to your nose knocking you down. Dammit, even when he’s not here he's messing you with, causing you to get distracted now you're on the mat flat on your ass with a bloody nose. Thanks a lot, Kaine!

Groaning you sit up holding your bloody nose tilting your head up but Ben quickly tilts it back down.

“Just let it flow out. I am so sorry I hit you so hard, I didn’t expect to land the hit.”

“It’s fine, I was distracted and it was a good hit.”

You start to stand up but you feel yourself give out and you stumble back on your ass. Ben is quick to wrap his strong arms around your waist to help you up and walk to get ice for your nose and patch you up. As you two head towards the lounge your spidey senses go crazy then you suddenly feel two large hands on your shoulders turning you around.

Staring down at you, Kaine's deep brown eyes take in your messed-up face. Quickly Kaine's eyes flick to Ben and he looks like he could kill him. Without a word, Kaine grabs your hand and pushes past Ben with you in tow.

You turn your head around and see Peter B. go up to Ben with a smirk before he says something to make Ben burst out in laughter. You try to catch what he might have said but you can’t seem to hear anything past your heartbeat in your ears. Feeling his hand tightening on yours you bring your eyes to his broad back as he leads you to the nearest lounge room.

Reaching the room Kaine swiftly lifts you onto the counter, and you watch as he quickly finds a rag wets it, and comes back to you still in all his shirtless glory. Wincing in anticipation you think he’s going to wipe the blood up harshly, but to your surprise the feeling of the damp rag to your skin is gentle…

Kaine’s eyes are back to those soft ones you saw above you, you quickly move your eyes. Damn Kaine, why does he make you feel this way? One minute he's a rude jerk, the next he's soft and gentle. It's making you confused…just what is he thinking, how does he feel…why does he have to be so confusing all the time? He's been tying your stomach in knots since you first met him!

You feel like you have a fever as you try to keep your eyes off his exposed chest, but his proximity and his gentle touches are making it hard at the moment. Snapping you back to the present you feel fingers carefully cup your cheeks, causing you to bring your eyes back to his handsome face. The touch is so soft, he looks so soft…

“Deep breath…” he says in a whisper…

You can’t help how it almost sounds seductive causing you to lean in closer to him…

-Crack!-

“What the hell! That hurt!” you scream. Kaine just huffs as he removes his hands from where he just reset your nose.

“Serves you right, you let Ben land a punch on you. You're better than that.”

You open your mouth to say something back, but you just shut it again, you're still angry with him, and his shirtlessness. You know if you start arguing it’s only going to get a rouse out of him and you're not wanting to give him the satisfaction of pissing you off further. Raking your eyes over him one last time you move your head away folding your arms the universal sigh of ‘I’m still mad at you’

Kaine tries to meet your eyes but you are being amended not to look at him, despite deep down wanting to. Finally getting annoyed with you he grabs your chin to look at you dead on.

“Don’t tell me you're still mad.”

You stare daggers at him and he rolls his eyes, “What? It's not my fault you got your nose broken, you should have been paying attention. You should have asked me to spar with you, this wouldn't have happened.”

And with that, your blood starts to boil causing the final snap.

“My nose…my nose!” you swat his hand away from your chin but it only causes him to catch your wrist. You can’t care about that right now all you can think about is ranting.

“I’m not mad about my nose! Well I mean it hurts…but that's besides the point! Of course, I wouldn’t ask you to spar with me you ass! You're always starting things with me, making me crazy! What is with that? You start fights all the time, and don’t get me started on when we were sparring last time!

Kaine's eyes widen with the mention of it and you feel your chest pring with the realization that from the way he's looking at you…he's been thinking back on that as much as you have. You quickly try to stumble over it, continuing your rant.

“I-I uh…and you got me stuck on night duty now! Stuck with you! I mean when you're not driving me crazy you're fine! But lately, you just start fights over nothing! Who knows what you're going to start when we are-”

Then all your words are silenced, Kaine's lips, press to yours in a fierce hunger stealing all your words from you as he guides your lips against his. His large hands grab your hips and squeeze tightly making you groan into his mouth. Your hands instinctively go to his chest, his skin is hot and you swear you can feel his heart racing underneath your fingertips. You wonder if he can feel how your heart is racing at this moment…

Almost as quickly as it started, it ended with him breaking away from you to look down at your confused face. He’s got that smirk, the same one he always wears when you're mad at him. The one that makes your heart race and all your thoughts evaporate into a haze.

“Wha-why-huh?” You stammer out.

Kaine brings his hand to rub your cheek, “I couldn’t help it, you look good when you're all pissed off.”

Your eyes widen at the confession and everything starts to make sense, the fighting…the confusing gestures. Right as you're getting it he pinches your cheek and then starts to walk off leaving you stunned. Then your senses come back to you.

“Wait! You can’t just kiss me like that then leave!” You yell at him as you get off the counter fighting your now jelly-like legs to catch up to him.

Of course, he starts something again and doesn't finish it. You will see him tonight however…maybe you can give him another piece of your mind….and get some more kisses...

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