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whytheylosttheirminds · 2 days

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

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totaly-obsessed · 18 days

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A Lesson in Accepting

Barcelona Femení x reader

-> Despite reader's best efforts to hide her illness and join in training, a she learns the importance of listening to her body and her teammates

-> Wordcount: ≈ 1.770

-> The happiest birthday to @sleekswosobession - love you!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Oye! No chiqui - off!”

Hmmpf.

Out of all the older players, Lucy was usually the fun one. But today she didn’t want you climbing on her and she had gotten annoyed when you tried to steal her shoes. Maybe a new victim was needed for your shenanigans. But who?

Just as you started to look around for Vicky, the arm of Marta found its way onto your shoulder, Caroline now at the other side as they dragged you into the changing rooms. “Don’t even think about it.”

Music blasted through the room, with Salma by the speakers as her phone was connected to it, getting ready while swaying to her music. A quick look around made it obvious that your cubby for the day was between Frido and Ingrid.

Great.

You missed the days were you were at your rightful place between Patri and Cata, Claudia joining you after quickly changing into her kit. Those were the fun days when you had just joined the team. Fresh from Australia and full of energy and nerves Patri and Claudia had taken you under their wing.

Just two weeks later Alexia fell over her tied-together laces, just to see you laughing in a corner, hiding behind your new friends. The room had fallen quiet, everyone scared of what their captain would do.

Laugh.

Alexia Putellas, their strong and serious captain, started laughing at being tricked by a sixteen-year-old Australian rookie. Hesitantly the other players started to laugh, watching the blonde from the corner of their eyes, just to make sure that she wouldn’t get pissy at them laughing.

But now you were stuck between different adults every week, your number never hanging in the same spot, and for today's game, it was the space between two tall scandis. While they were incredibly nice, neither of them had a fable for letting you run wild - but they let you yap as much as you want. A win is a win. And at this point, you’d take anything.

Rainy games were your favorite games. You loved sliding around on the drenched pitch, tackling an opponent whenever you could, and getting your kit as dirty as possible. And that game was no different.

Sliding here - sliding there.

Mapi thought it was hilarious how you sprinted across the waterlogged pitch, stealing the ball of one opponent after the other.

“Chiqui come here and let me dry your hair, you’ll get sick.”

Irene was in mother mode, fussing over you and Vicky, who looked like the two happiest girls on the planet. Both of you had been in the starting eleven, something that didn’t happen as often. But with the weather conditions and the not-as-competitive opponent, Jona caved to your synchronized begging.

“I won’t. Promise!”

And with that, you were off again. Running outside, leaving the changing room early. Jona had been quick with his talk and the girls were just warming up and getting something to eat or massaged. But you run out to play on the field with the girls sitting on the bench.

Bruna and Jana made it a fun game, sending the ball just slightly wide every time, so that you had to be quick, falling over more than once during it.

Alexia just shook her head in amusement when she came back to the pitch, the other girls following in their captain's stride.

“Chiquitita wear a jacket for me please?” The Catalan’s English was great, even if she was too shy to speak it most of the time. Her hands held out a jacket to you, an eyebrow raised in question.

“I’ll be okay, thank you, Ale!”

And you would be okay, at least for the rest of the night - giving it your all on the pitch and giving it your all when you were the entertainment of the following movie night. Mapi had given you one of those cheap Karaoke microphones and with that, you kept narrating the movies much to everyone else's annoyance.

Mapi thought you were hilarious though. And with everyone smiling at you even if they acted annoyed, you kept going all the way until Lucy and Ona dropped you off at the apartment Barcelona gave you.

In the beginning, the Team members had been worried about you living there, all alone at only sixteen. But Vicky had been fine - she was an angel as opposed to the whirlwind of an Australian that had been added to the team with you. You would be at training most days anyway and doing stuff with the girls even on days off, so you’d be fine. Right?

Well usually you would be fine, but waking up with an itchy throat, annoying cough, and a runny nose topped by a fever, was not a funny thing.

Just like that, all your plans with Vicky for the day had been canceled. The two of you wanted to explore the city and then visit the library closest to the Sagrada Familia, but all of that went to waste now as you were trying to get rid of this cold as fast as possible.

But it turns out it wasn’t that easy. A day later you were still sick, your voice so hoarse that it was hard to understand. You had debated calling Jona and letting him know, but then Alexia and Irene would have been right when it came to you getting sick. You just needed to power through. Tomorrow you will be all good again.

After oversleeping you practically raced to the training center for gym day. Well raced as fast as you can with public transport - a mask secure on your face. You looked sick enough that strangers raised a brow at your sweaty forehead.

To your luck the changing rooms were empty, all of the girls were already in the gym, so you could change in peace, trying to take deep breaths as well as you could. Man, you hated having a stuffy nose.

The bright lights and the loud music made you wince when you entered the big space, with everyone on different equipment. You quickly explained to Jona that your bus had been late, and just by his facial expression you could see that he didn’t believe a word out of your mouth.

He knew. Fuck. But he didn’t do or say anything, just going over the plan for today with you.

The other girls tried to get a good look at you, whispering to themselves. This wasn’t the first time you had been late. Sometimes the bus really didn’t come, and sometimes you overslept. But the training staff was never too mad at you - you were a growing girl after all, and needed your sleep.

But usually, when you came in, you would go around greeting the girls one by one, telling them the crazy stories of your bus driver. Today, however, you picked out an empty corner, starting to stretch all by yourself.

When one of the trainers called for partner exercises you were quick to kidnap Vicky, who didn’t even react as she was used to your antics by now. But then she looked at you.

“You’re sick!”

“Shhh!”

With, what you thought, quick reflexes you pushed her head down so that she would lower her voice. “Don’t tell on me! Or I’ll tell Sandra.”

The young Spaniard was caught in an odd situation - realistically she knew she should tell Alexia, or at least someone - but she was terrified of the goalkeeper finding out. With a solemn nod, she gave in.

You didn’t believe her, holding onto her right hand as tightly as you could “No! "Promise me!”

“Fine. I promise. Now get your clammy hands off me please.”

Now it wasn’t just you who ran around like a headless chicken, stumbling over nothing and barely strong enough to lift any weight at all, but also Vicky, who desperately tried to avoid eye contact with someone else, whispering hushed annoyances in your ear.

“They’re weird, no?” Aitana had made her way to Alexia, who was watching the whole thing unfold in front of her. “Very weird..", she nodded.

When a break was called, you hurried off to the bathrooms, while Vicky tried to avoid anything and everyone.

But that didn’t hold on for too long, as she was cornered by Alexia, Irene, Aitana, and Ingrid. The other girls watched from a distance, knowing what was happening.

“I don’t know anything!”

“We didn’t say anything.” Irene was trying really hard not to let an amused smile crack through and instead keep up the intimidating frown.

One eyebrow went up. Then the other.

“Okay, fine!”

Alexia relaxed her face again, knowing that had been enough for Vicky to spill everything she knew.

“She’s sick.”

“Chiquitita!”

Ingrid didn’t get an answer and started looking around the facilities as quickly as she could while Aitana tried to console a guilt-ridden Vicky, telling her that she had done the right thing, emphasizing how dangerous it was that you were exercising.

They could hear you coughing before they even saw you, as Ingrid dragged you to the gym as gently as she could, nearly just carrying you.

“Ai Chiqui. What are you doing here, you’re sick amor, you need to rest.”

Alexia's soft mothering tone gave you the rest, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m sorry… Just didn’t want to miss out.” Sobs wrecked your tired body as some of your letters got swallowed.

“Shhh, let’s get you home.” Your captain dried tears after tears as she helped you out of the room and into the showers.

Jona looked happy with how everything turned out, he knew that Alexia would take care of it - her heart was soft for the youngsters on the team, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

On your way out your eyes met Vicky's. “You promised not to tell Vic!”.

“Oye, keep walking, or we’ll call Catley. I’m sure she would love to hear about your situation.” It was Mapi that nudged you, a teasing smile on her face.

Hmmpf.

"Sandra Vicky put shaving cream in your gloves!"

And with that you let your captain drag you out of the room, smiling at the chaos that exploded behind you.

After getting washed up and changed, Ale helped you to her car and started driving to her home, not listening to the whines that you wanted to go to your apartment.

“You can say it now, Ale.”

She could see you were close to falling asleep, head resting on your seatbelt.

“I told you so. Now let’s get you healthy again.”

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #barça femeni #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca women #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona women #alexias putellas #alexia putellas x reader #mapi león x reader #mapi leon x reader #irene paredes x reader

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dqrciedaily · 1 month

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baby arsenal, arsenal wfc x teen!reader

a/n: y/n is so younger me coded minus the fact that she is german

also promise more fics coming soon x

y/n y/l/n, the sixteen year old rising star of not only the german national team but also arsenal women's football club, had seamlessly transitioned from the bustling streets of cologne to the vibrant city of london. her two older brothers, max and louis, had started her passion for football from a young age, sculpting her into the strong defender she was today. they always had her in the garden with them having a kick about before urging their father to let her go for trials at the local club, which deemed to be extremely successful.

arsenal had scouted y/n whilst she was playing for fc köln. three weeks later her and her parents were signing papers and organising living arrangements as well as the school situation. they settled on her living with lia as well as her attending the local school in the area.

as the first initial weeks passed, her once shy demeanor melted away, replaced by a vibrant personality that charmed everyone around her. she had also very quickly picked up the name ‘baby arsenal’ from fans and soon her teammates had started calling her that too. kyra and y/n had almostly instantly became friends, pulling y/n out of her nonexistent shell within two weeks, along with victoria, teyah and laura, y/n settled in quickly.

one friday evening, y/n found herself invited to a party by her school friends. eager to fit in with the english teenage life she hastily accepted. embracing the opportunity to get to know her new friends in a different environment, as well as allowing herself to fully relax since moving to the foreign country.

ignoring the cold english weather, y/n slipped on one of her favourite backless black dresses and a pair of her friend’s high heels, that her long legs definitely weren’t accustomed to. many pre drinks later they arrived at the party at nine pm, the minute the group of girls arrived at the party they were straight into the open arms of their other friends. music was blaring as y/n slowly let herself relax, she couldn’t even remember how many new people she had met.

however, the temptation of the party proved too intoxicating, the drinks flowed freely, and before she knew it, the world was slowly tilting on its axis, spinning out of control as she succumbed to the intoxicating haze. the party deemed to be a bit boring now that it had reached past eleven pm, so on her unsteady feet y/n managed to walk out the party and onto the side walk. with her vision blurred and her balance faltering, she fumbled for her phone and dialed kyra’s number, interrupting what was supposed to be a cozy game night for the rest of the team.

"ky! oh my goodness i can’t believe you picked up, i have so much to tell you!” y/n giggled into the phone, "there were like so many pretty girls here tonight and i’m bloody freezing over here. i also had so many drinks! oh and I can't get home. oh and have i ever old you how much i love you! ich liebe dich ky ky…"

throughout the phone call kyra switched it onto speakerphone meaning that everyone could hear the state y/n was in. without hesitation, steph, one of y/n’s self-appointed team mums sprang into action. definitely breaking some speed limits as she rushed to y/n’s location, she found her disoriented but relieved to see she was still standing. quickly getting out the car she wrapped an arm around her guiding her to the

upon their arrival back to lia’s house, leah, kim, lia, beth and steph gathered around y/n, their concern evident in their expressions. "y/n," kim began, her voice gentle yet firm, "you can’t be going around getting drunk, especially at sixteen! what were you thinking?" but before kim’s rant could continue leah placed a hand on the skippers shoulder, “you're young, and we understand that, but you have to be responsible, especially considering the position you're in.” kim nodded her head in agreement before saying, “you're part of this team now, and that means holding yourself to a higher standard than this.”

with a deep breath, she nodded in acknowledgment, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "i'll do better, i promise."

with that kyra, stina and laura lead her upstairs. the high heels long forgotten in the hallway as steph urged her to take them off after watching her stumble around in them. laura mumbled soothing words in german as she slipped an oversized t-shirt over y/n’s head, letting the dress fabric pool at her ankles. stina handed laura shorts for her whilst kyra rummaged around in the bathroom for makeup remover.

with tender care, kyra removed the remnants of makeup on her face, before stina tucked her into bed with gentle hands. laura laid the dress over the back of her desk chair as y/n’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion, her body finally catching up with the events of the evening as she sank into the embrace of her plush duvet.

kyra brushed a stray lock of hair from y/n’s forehead, with a final exchange of reassuring smiles kyra, stina and laura bid her goodnight, their footsteps fading into the distance as they left her to sleep. alone in the quiet of her room, y/n closed her eyes, a sense of peace washing over her as sleep overcame her senses.

but just as she began to drift into slumber, a soft knock sounded at her door, and lia entered, her face lit up by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. In her hands she carried a glass of water and a small packet of tablets, her expression one of concern and care.

"here you go, y/n/n," lia said softly, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. "drink this, and take these tablets. they'll help with the headache in the morning." she sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on y/n’s leg, rubbing soothing circles on it. “they’re not mad at you i promise maus. let’s just keep the drinking on the cool for now, okay?”

y/n accepted the water and tablet with a grateful nod, as lia got up to leave the room she turned off the bedside table before whispering “schlaf gut maus.” the door closing behind her, the room going pitch dark allowing y/n to finally drift to sleep.

#darcie’s drabbles #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc

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muchosbesitos · 4 months

Note

I need a fic about Miguel lusting after nurse fem!reader! I imagine he got hurt around her apartment and being that he is Spider-Man and she is a nurse she decides to take him into her apartment and fix him up. She is so caring and kind to he and this starts to become a thing where spider-man gets her to heal him.

So Miguel never reveals his identity to her but he’s like falling hard for her. Like thinking about her all the time (especially when he is in the shower lol). Let’s say one day he’s feeling like a little under the weather so he decides to go to where she works to get a check up and medicine (and hopefully to see her outside of his costume for once) so when he finally sees her he’s trying to charm her flirt a bit like he does when he’s behind the mask, but she is not having it. She acts cold and disinterested because one, guys flirt with nurses all the time and two, she has feelings for spider-man. Then you can do what you want with the ending but I would like if they get together in the end maybe you can squeeze some NSFW in there. Honestly this might make a pretty cute series!

little nurse

pairing: miguel o’hara x nurse fem reader

contents: mentions of blood/injuries and masturbation (m)

author’s note: decided to split this up into two parts, i hope you don’t mind :) very limited medical knowledge btw (one szn of grey’s anatomy and dr mike accounting for that 😖)

word count: 4.1K

Miguel O'Hara appeared in your life out of thin air. Literally.

You were trudging home from work around eleven at night, your scrubs smelling like disinfectant and dark circles adorning your under eyes. You'd been looking forward to taking a shower and getting as much sleep as you could before your next shift, your plans completely shifting when someone dropped in front of you. A masked man landed in front of you, clad in a Spider-Man costume. The sleep that you were longing for quickly faded away, replaced by a feeling of concern as you kneeled over to see if he had fractured his spine or his head with the fall. "How many fingers am I holding up?" You asked, holding up three as you waited for some kind of assurance that he was awake.

After receiving no response from the man, you dragged him into your apartment to work on him inside. You were grateful to whatever entity there was above that you lived in a downstairs apartment, the task of taking the man inside proving more difficult than you'd originally thought. You let out a small huff as you dragged him onto the rug in the center of your living room, shutting the door afterwards. You looked down at the man, almost tempted to take off the mask and reveal who was underneath the Spider-Man mask. After more careful consideration, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea while he was in such a vulnerable position and grabbed your phone from your purse.

You'd gotten some old blouses that you were planning on throwing away, using them as a tourniquet around his stomach to stop the bleeding. You pressed two fingers to his neck to try to feel for a pulse, a bit slow but at a steady rhythm. After making sure his heartbeat was stable, you pressed your head down to your chest to listen for his breathing, the sound coming out ragged. "Stay with me, please," you silently whispered as your bloody fingers typed away at your phone screen, opening up the phone app. You'd finished up typing up the final one of the emergency number, a large gloved hand stopping you from answering the dispatcher on the other line.

"No, no. Please don't do that," the masked man underneath you pleaded as he slowly started to regain consciousness. You were made aware that not only would he run the risk of getting his identity exposed, but he'd also run the risk of having the nypd arrest him for the crimes he's committed as a vigilante. "Now do you understand why I can't go to the hospital?" He asked, almost like he wanted to make sure what stood at stake for him. "Okay, I'll trust you for now. But if you start bleeding out in my living room, then I'll take you to the hospital. Does that sound good?" You answered reluctantly, watching as he nodded.

You grabbed some gloves from one of your kitchen drawers, kneeling down next to him as you reached for the zipper on the back. "Do you mind if I take this off?" You asked, wanting to get his approval before you got started on anything. "Whatever you need to do to me, doc," he answered, sitting a bit up so you could reach the zipper better. You zipped down his suit, pulling it off his arms and sliding it down to his stomach. "How's your head? You hit it pretty hard when you fell," you asked him, wanting to get a better assessment of how his health was. You felt around his stomach, trying to find if there was any internal bleeding but you knew that the results would be more accurate with a CT scan.

"My head's fine, just a bit of blindness in my right eye," he deadpanned, your eyebrows practically shooting up to your hairline as you turned to look at him. "I'm joking, doc. I'm all good," he added, a small chuckle following after. "I'd smack you if your ribs weren't probably broken right now," you muttered, getting up from the floor to grab a suture kit from your bedroom. Only the sounds of his breathing could be heard as you worked on the large gashes covering most of his abdominal region, steady fingers working the needle through the thread to stop any further bleeding. You wiped away at some of the dried blood, cleaning him up to the best of your ability before pressing your hands down on his stomach to see if he had any further pain.

"I don't have any strong meds at my house, I only have Tylenol so I hope that works for you," you announced as you looked over at your medicine cabinet, surprisingly empty for the line of work that you'd chosen. "Give me the prognosis, doc. How long do I have to live?" he asked as you handed him the bottle of pills with a glass of a water. "I'm not a doctor, just a nurse. And I'd say a couple more minutes, if you're lucky. Might last longer if you don't annoy me as much," you teased him back, grabbing a couple bandages to finish up with the job. You wrapped them around the places where you placed the stitches, making him a little first aid kit just in case he'd need it. "If your stitches pop out or anything, just come back here. You know where I live."

He pulled the zipper back on, grabbing the first aid kit from you before he headed towards the door. "I'll see you next time I get hurt, little nurse," he told you, making it seem more like a promise than a goodbye. "Try not to make this a daily thing, please," you responded before he had the chance to leave, the eyes of his mask slightly raising. "I can't make any promises, lindura," he swung away after he finished speaking, sticking to the building in front of your apartment complex. You couldn't help but look out at him as he left, watching the way that he maneuvered the webs to the best of his ability despite the injuries that he'd sustained.

Miguel continued to seek you out as his nurse every time that he got hurt after that, enjoying the small banter and jokes between the two of you. Getting to be around you once more felt like the highlight of every fight that he got into, the assurance that you would be there to patch him up giving him the motivation that he needed to get up and fight crime. Despite the small jabs that you took at him, you proved to care about him time and time again with each wound that you treated. You never asked him any questions about his identity, never made him out to be anything bigger than what he had to be. Despite the fact that he wore the mask around you, he'd never felt more exposed around a human being in his life before.

Miguel found himself to be distracted by the thought of just seeing you again, constantly. He found himself wanting to get hurt just so he'd have an excuse to need your assistance, to have your soft hands running across his flesh as you stitched him up. His attention wasn't diverted only when he was dressed up as Spider-Man, the affection that he held towards you following him all the way to the lab he worked at. He'd mixed up two chemicals that he shouldn't have, causing a negative reaction in one of the rats that he was testing on and having to discard his experiment completely. "Focus, O'Hara. We're not here to pick up after your messes," his co-worker and superior, Aaron Delgato, told him during lunchtime with that same stupid smug expression he always carried on his face.

Normally, Miguel would've had something to respond back with but he couldn't find it in him to care that much at the moment. "Yeah, yeah," he ended up muttering back, pushing away his concerns as he sipped at the bitter coffee from the cafeteria. Normally the bitter taste of the coffee would've made him spit out the substance, the taste becoming slightly better when you were at the forefront of his mind. Instead of throwing it away after the first sip, he ended up taking a couple more sips before throwing it away in the sink. He spent the day at work focusing on his reports, having to stay a bit later to make up for the work that he'd messed up earlier just so he wouldn't have to deal with Aaron's condescending comments and stupid smirk as he questioned Miguel's ability to work the job he did.

He got home at around 6:30, two hours after his shift ended. The sound of door closing echoed throughout the empty halls of his home, the environment completely devoid of anything homely apart from a couple pictures and a bookshelf full of scientific journals that he'd enjoyed. He stripped away from his clothes once he got into his bedroom, wanting to remove himself from the lab as much as possible. He got into the shower before he had to head out for his vigilante duties, knowing that he knew would be too tired to do so when he got back home. The cold stream of water hit his muscles as he stood underneath, putting his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall. He felt depraved as he thought about you while he stood here, feeling himself grow more and more ashamed as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around his cock.

Eventually, he ended up giving into his desires and wrapped his fingers tightly around his cock. He closed his eyes to help him envision a scenario with you, his mind running through with images of you underneath him. His grip on his cock tightened, wanting to replicate the feeling of what your cunt would feel like. He smeared some of the precum leaking out of his tip all around his shaft with his thumb, letting out a small hiss as he felt himself growing more aroused with every second that passed. He started off slow, wanting to prolong this orgasm as much as possible.

He pictured you starting off by sticking your tongue out for him as you sat on your knees underneath him, doe eyes looking at him expectantly as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Your mouth would engulf around the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it to capture every drop of precum that leaked out. His thumb ran around his tip to simulate every aspect of his scenario, precum sticking to his fingers as he did. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you would look as you struggled to adjust to the feeling of his cock around your mouth, tears threatening to leak through as you fought off the urge to gag. "Oh shock, keep going," he moaned out, almost feeling like you were in the room with him.

His hand moved faster around his cock, fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he tried to get himself off. His eyes remained closed as the cold water ran through his body, his mind still continuing with the scenario from earlier. He felt his cock twitch in his hand, picturing how you would look with ropes of cum splattered onto your face. His release was more uneventful than he'd expected it to be, hit with the clarity of the situation immediately as the water washed the sticky substance from his hands. His forehead remained pressed against the shower wall, wanting to eliminate every negative thought that he'd been presented with. He felt perverted for taking advantage of you in this way, of taking advantage of the way that you were just so ready to help him out, but he couldn't help but feel his desire for you grow even more with every smile that you gave him.

He got out of the shower a couple minutes later, taking a few moments to reflect on what he'd done before finishing up with the rest of his shower routine. "Did you finish making the final adjustments to my suit?" He asked as his hologram assistant appeared next to him, a towel wrapped around his waist as he walked to the closet. "I did. You should find the material to be a bit more durable than the one that you previously used. Though the news reports show that it's going to be close to freezing so I would recommend for you to stay home," LYLA responded, before giving him the detailed report of what she'd done to his suit. "Crime doesn't stop just because it's a little cold. I'm sure I'll be fine," he muttered, grabbing the suit hanging up on the back of his closet.

Miguel shivered as he sat on top of a rooftop, overlooking the city as he waited for something to happen. He would have to make a mental note to add some insulation to the redesign of his suit, finding every minute outside to be excruciating. He removed the bottom part of his mask, blowing onto his bare hands as he rubbed them together. His feet swung on the edge of the building, ears perked up as he tried to listen in on conversations to discern whether anybody actually needed his help tonight. He was about to leave for the night around 30 minutes later, his plans getting stopped when he heard a lady scream across the street.

Miguel handed the purse back to the lady who was getting robbed, fighting the thugs that had tried to rob her proving to be the most exciting thing that happened all night. "Thank you Spider-Man!" The woman called out as he swung away, receiving a curt nod in response before he swung away. He ended up having to fight a couple low-grade robbers and car-jackers, nothing too big for the night. He got back home after finishing up the mundane tasks, feeling himself shivering even as he was welcomed by the warmth of the fireplace in his living room. LYLA had already started with her remarks about how he probably ended doing himself more harm than good, getting shut off two minutes into her monologue. He stripped off his clothing, sitting down on his couch with his legs spread out as he tried to warm up.

Miguel let out a groggy moan as he got up to the sound of his alarm, rubbing his hand across his temples as he laid on the couch. He could hardly get up to go to the bathroom, finding himself unable to head into work today. "I need to call in sick today," Miguel mumbled into the phone, knowing that Aaron was probably rejoicing at his weakened state. "You already messed up the experiment and now you want to take the day off? You're really slacking here, O’Hara," aaron remarked with a small 'tsk', speaking just loud enough for anyone to be able to overhear their conversation. "I don’t see why I have to explain myself to you but I'm sick. The experiment's gonna end even more messed up if I do end up showing up," Miguel answered, a small cough coming out of his end almost on cue.

After getting the reluctant approval of Aaron to stay home, miguel made his way to his bedroom and snuggled underneath his blanket. "LYLA, set up an appointment for me tomorrow at the medical center downtown please," he asked his ai assistant, his words coming out raspy and hoarse. "Why would you want me to do that? I can give you a full health assessment and recommend the right types of medicine that you need, Way better than a doctor ever could," she responded, appearing next to him with a face mask and little nurse hat on. "If I wanted you to do that, I would've asked. Just set me the appointment please," he mumbled, reaching over on his bed stand to get a tissue. LYLA was about to protest once more, but decided to go ahead and do the task when she heard Miguel coughing once more.

Miguel spent most of the day in bed, sweating underneath his tiger blanket despite the fact that he felt himself shivering. He found out the hard way that Vaporub did not in fact cure every one of his aches, though his nose wasn't too stuffed up after using it. He got up around 6 pm when he felt his stomach grumble, walking over to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He turned on the afternoon news, wanting to make sure there wasn't anything too bad threatening the city. He saw that there had been a couple reports of robberies around the city, leaving it up to the police since he wasn't sure how useful he would be with his nose running every minute. He turned off the tv and poured the chicken soup that had been brewing on the oven into plate, sitting down at the dinner table to have something to eat. All he could do for now was simply wait for what the doctor would prescribe him, a part of him hoping that he would be able to see you.

"Miguel O'Hara?" You called out, looking around the sickly people in the waiting room before a tall man stood up. "That's me," he responded, his sinuses clearly stuffed up as he spoke. You led him back into the rooms, walking to the treatment rooms as you looked through the clipboard. "It's been a while since you've been here so i'm gonna go ahead and update your medical file," you informed him, looking back at him as he nodded. You led him to a wall with a measure taped on it, grabbing a pen from one of the pockets of your scrubs. You were about to take his height, noticing that his figure loomed over the measure. Your eyes widened slightly, your mind rubbing through what you could possibly do.

You grabbed an extra measure from a drawer, grabbing a chair nearby before getting up on it to tape it up on the wall. "You could've asked me to do that, y'know? I wouldn't have minded doing a favor for such a pretty nurse," he mused as he looked up at you, his lips immediately pursing together at the dirty look that you shot him. You got off from the chair, looking up at the two measures taped together before counting the extra inches. "Alright, 6'9," you muttered to yourself, writing it down on the clipboard before motioning for him to step on the electronic scale next to the side. You took his weight after the machine stopped counting, writing down the results before leading him to his assigned treatment room.

You washed your hands at the sink, putting on a bit of hand sanitizer before putting on a pair of gloves. "What seems to be the problem?" You asked, wanting to get a synopsis of what he thought was wrong before you made any guesses. "The problem is that you haven't accepted a dinner invitation with me. I'm sure my cold would heal a lot faster if you did, just saying. Trust me, I'm also a doctor," he mused, relishing as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. While you'd had your fair share of patients flirt with you, having to deal with their advances tested your patience bit by bit. The man in front of you wasn't exactly unattractive, but he didn't make you feel the same excitement that you felt every time that you saw Spider-Man. You folded your arms and looked at him, staying silent until he decided to divulge what had been bothering him.

"My nose's stuffed up, my chest feels like it's full of phloem, and I can't stop coughing up a lung," he responded, allowing you to get a glimpse of what was really bothering him. "It sounds like you just have a cold but I'll get your blood work done just to make sure that I get an accurate result," you told him, grabbing a small needle to prick him. Before he got the chance to tell you that the blood work wouldn't reveal much, you'd already collected the blood in a small tube. "The doctor will be right with you, Mr. O’Hara," he'd heard you say before the door closed, leaving him alone with the knowledge that you didn't feel the same way about him while he was unmasked.

The doctor came in and did what they were supposed to, taking his heartbeat and his temperature. "It seems like you just have a cold, Mr. O’Hara. Take some time to rest at home and don't overexert your body," the doctor had warned him, handing him a small paper with a prescription for what seemed to be cough syrup on it. He took the paper from the doctor, looking over at you with a small smile as you stepped into the room. The doctor handed the chart over to you, giving you a shortened explanation of what the diagnosis had been. You read over his chart, reaffirming what the doctor had already said before you dismissed him.

"I forgot to mention, your blood test came back inconclusive. I'm sure it was just the machine since it said it couldn't really identify you as fully human," you told him before he had the chance to leave, his figure looming over yours as he waited for you to finish speaking. "I hope you get your machine fixed soon. I'm sorry if i did something to damage it. By the way, are you certain that you don't want to say yes to that dinner I mentioned earlier?" He insisted with his previous offer, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he waited for your response. "I'm sure, thank you for the very kind offer," you reaffirmed, stepping out of the room once he'd walked out.

You headed to the back to talk with your friends, seeing Miguel at the hospital's pharmacy to get the cough syrup prescription filled. "I heard you rejected your patient's advances when he asked you out to dinner. This one's pretty cute and rich, so what happened?" Nurse Maya asked you, pretending to sift through some files just in case a doctor passed by. "Girl, you know she's obsessed over that Spider-Man guy. How's it been going treating him for free, anyways?" Your other friend, Nurse Valeria asked, looking up from her computer just to take note of your expression. You hated how easy the news travelled in the hospital, avoiding Miguel’s gaze as you turned to look at your two friends.

"It's been going decent, thank you. And there's nothing new to tell, Spider-Man hasn't been showing up to my house lately. I kinda have missing being his little nurse," you responded, watching as they both rolled your eyes. "Of course you had to go and fall in love with the masked psycho," Maya muttered before the three of you talked about something else. You couldn't help but laugh as Maya went through her recent dating dilemma, blissfully unaware to the fact that someone had been listening to your conversation while they were waiting for their prescription to be filled.

Miguel couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips as he heard you speak about Spider-Man in the way that you did, speaking about his alter ego like a high school girl with a crush. "Mr. O'Hara?" The pharmacist behind the counter called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, finally diverging his attention long enough from you to be able to do their job properly. "Thank you," Miguel mumbled awkwardly, the smile on his face quickly fading away as he paid for the cough syrup. He took a small spoonful of it in his car while he waited for the blue light to turn off, silently hoping that it would work and he could get back to fighting crime once more.

Though he felt a little discouraged at the way you'd shut him off with every flirting attempt that he made, he knew that at some level you had to feel some kind of attraction for him. His mind began coursing with different ideas of how to approach this situation, almost jealous of the way that you viewed his alternate ego. He started to wonder what it would be like if he was able to flirt with you the same way that he was able to as Spider-Man, what it would be like to have that confidence without the use of the mask. The way you spoke about him was almost endearing, the way that you described what it felt like to have Spider-Man come for your services and the way that you felt while you stitched him up. All that he knew is that he needed to come up with a solution about how to approach this crush for you and fast.

1K notes · View notes

h4m1lt0ns · 3 months

Text

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode eleven :: “REDBULL FANS”

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔musical releases resume and so does the drama.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, none.

ylnestate

♡ liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 18,450,948 more.

ylnestate U&U no. 44 will be released tonight at midnight. ‘Grandstand Girl’ is the 44th mini album by ﹫y/n and features artists like ﹫theweeknd, ﹫justinbieber, and ﹫champagnepapi. All songs (apart from Trust Issues) were produced and written by Y/n in the past couple months as she’s currently working on her biggest record yet, so stay tuned for that 😉⭐️!

tagged: theweeknd, champagnepapi, justinbieber.

1,492,592 comments.

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→ username u&u stands for undecided and unreleased, y/n usually drops u&u eps right before an album when she has songs that don’t fit the genre/make sense with the rest of the album. they usually consist of 2-6 songs and this one is ep number 44! hope this helped 💗

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y/n

♡ liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 11,393,159 more.

y/n SEBASTIAN VETTEL PLEASE COME BACK 💔 adopted another papaya fucker and a williams kid ft. fernando rizzlonso and sir lew 🩷

993,593 comments.

y/l/nestate more kids?

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username WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETRE 🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

landonorris new brothers unlocked

→ logansargeant hello brother

→ landonorris hello, i hope you know you’re my step brother bc i don’t share y/n 🙏🏼

→ oscarpiastri what about me?

→ landonorris read the terms and conditions, same rules apply to every adopted kid AFTER lando norris 🫶🏻

→ logansargeant ok

→ username PLS

→ username TERMS AND CONDITIONS 😭😭😭

yukitsunoda0511 why does lewis get the good photos

→ y/n he was literally just standing there and he looked good

→ georgerussell63 not fair u always catch the rest of us off guard

→ y/n i caught him off guard too, maybe he’s not the problem 🤭

→ charles_leclerc I’m-

→ lewishamilton ﹫y/n thank you love 🖤🥰

→ username pls don’t flirt with my gf

→ username she will leave us for u in a heartbeat sir PLS stop 🙏🏽

username casually posts after ep announcement, no one like you, y/n y/l/n.

mercedesamgf1 pls bring lewis and george back, we need you three in the office rn 🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀

→ y/n on our way rn 🏃‍♀️

carlossainz55 you adopted oscar???

→ y/n yeah.

→ carlossainz55 oh.

→ y/n if u have a problem with my son u talk to me 🤨

→ oscarpiastri thanks mum

→ username … is the beef squashed now??

→ username i mean.. i hope

#☆ — ¡h4m1lt0ns!˚⁎⁺˳ .#f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #pierre gasly x trader #george russell x reader #fernando alonso x reader #mark webber x reader #oscar piastre x reader

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formosusiniquis · 1 year

Text

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be.

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though."

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic.

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #and in 1996 when steve and eddie are expecting their first kid - a daughter #erica gifts them the barbie camper so steve has something while he waits for the real thing #listen you know that oh like barbie post with the steve speaking image below it #i saw that and this happened #i just wanted to try out a little steve and erica bonding #and it turned into steve being a bitchy big brother #steve and eddies love language is being dicks #but their secondary love language is not letting the bit die and i do believe that #so eddie had to take it up when steve set it down

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satelitis · 3 months

Text

꒰ SIT NEXT TO ME ꒱. . . p jackson !

pairing(s) : percy jackson x cabin 11! reader

in which percy jackson experiences love at first sight.

requested : yes or no.

!! content warnings : fluff, love at first sight, simp! percy, reader calls percy ‘shirley temple’ , reader is a child of hermes, totally isn’t based on me…. anywho!! 😇

robin chirps : i looooveeee percy!! and i’m cabin 11 what a coinkydink.

“woah.” percy stopped dead in his tracks as him, grover and annabeth walked back by the ring of cabins.

“what?” annabeth chimed looking in the direction percy was.

“who’s that?” he asked the two, his finger pointing at you. as you laughed with one of your friends at a stupid joke you had made seconds prior. annabeth replied,

“oh! that’s y/n. cabin eleven, and you can definitely tell.” she added. percy stood there in awe. his heart was accelerated and his breath hitched, his eyes were drawn to you and you only, nothing could draw him away. well, except for annabeth smacking percy on the head and making a sarcastic comment.

“careful seaweed brain, might wanna shut your mouth before you start catching flies.” grover let out a small laugh. percy rolled his eyes, as he continued walking,

“i’m gonna go talk to her.” he told them, walking away from the two. annabeth muttered something under her breath as percy came up to you.

you turned your head to see a head of curls walking up to you, you watched as he stopped in front of you. he stood there for a second not saying anything but just looking at you.

“uh hey shirley temple do you need something or at i free to go?” you joked.

“hi.” he managed to get out after a small silence

“hi.” you copied. percy smiled awkwardly.

“i’m percy, percy jackson.” he said.

“i know who you are shirley.” you smiled, as you tied your beat up brown converse.

“you do?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“uh yeah, everyone here knows you, you’re famous. almost as famous as your dear old daddy it seems like.” percy laughed awkwardly.

“and you are?” he asked.

“y/n l/n.” you stuck out your hand which had a good number of rings on it. percy was hesitant. “cmon shirley i don’t bite.” you joked, percy shook your hand.

you and percy locked eyes as your hands refused to leave one anothers. the moment was broken when you broke eye contact.

“well shirley i’m gonna go get water before i die of thirst so i’ll see you later?”

“yeah see ya.” percy smiled, you smiled softly as you walked away, your hand leaving his. percy was in awe as you walked away. he felt something in his palm. a small slip of paper with writing on it.

“meet me at the lake 8 ‘o’clock. see ya shirley. - y/n ”

percy couldn’t help but smile as he watched you enter the mess hall. this was going to be an intresting summer.

#──★ ˙robin writes !!#ahhhh this is so cute #i love percy #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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thefunkfactory · 1 month

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Machismo Musk

Finishing up his skincare routine Valentino smeared his face mask over his already supple skin. Waiting to be able to wipe it off he pulled out his phone and began planning the next time him and his best friend can go hangout again! Opening his texts he sees that he has left his best friend on delivered, looking at the text from Edgar it read, “Yo Val! We gotta hang again bro! I met this guy at the gym today and I think he can really help you get out there again!”. It was odd to Valentino that Edgar was calling him Val and bro, but Edgar was right, ever since Valentino and his boyfriend split three months ago he hasn’t put himself back out there at all. “Okieeee” Valentino texted back, “just tell me when he is free and I'll be there”. Within seconds Edgar responded with “Dudeeee he is free tmrr! Shld I give him your addy”, being more weirded out by his language but thinking it's just a bit, Valentino tells Edgar to give the guy his address and tell him to come over at one tomorrow afternoon.

Hearing the knock at his door Valentino lifted himself out of his bed and looked at the clock. “Weird” he thought to himself “it's barely even 11:00 A.M. I wonder who that could be”. Rubbing his eyes he got up and went to the door not bothering to brush his teeth or really do anything to get ready, expecting it to be a package or just some kid being a punk. Opening the door he was met face to face, or really face to pecs, with a hunk of a man standing on his welcome mat.

A little shocked Valentino asked hastily “Who are you!?”, “Wow don’t sound too excited to see me brochacho” the hunky man said, “Im Angel! Your friend…uhhh Edgar told me to come here!” Angel said with enthusiasm in his voice. “Uhhhhh Angel is it…yea it’s nice to meet you but you are two hours earlier…”, “Oh am I?”Angel responded earnestly, “I thought you wanted me to come over at eleven.”, “No no no, I told Edgar to send you at one o’clock”. Valentino corrected. “Oh my god Im so sorry” Angel apologized “I’m horrible with numbers and you know Edgar huhuhuh, he is utterly simple-minded…more so than me huhuh!” Angel chuckled out. “What are you talking about? Edgar is one of the smartest guys I know” Valentino questioned, assuming that Angel had mixed two guys up in his own head. “Well are you gonna make me wait here for two hours?,” Angel asked rhetorically, completely ignoring your question. Not want to seem rude on the first meeting

Valentino invited him in, bringing him inside and shutting the front door. Valentino asked as they still stood next to the front door, “Oh do you mind taking your shoes off here?”, “Oh you don’t want me to do that little broooo!” Angel responded.

Slowly Valentino could, as if on cue, smell a masculine funk began to fill the room, contaminating the air with a stale, musty smell.. Valentino, trying not to cover his nose or bring out the Febreze, told the potential partner “You came so early haha I didn’t have time to get ready! I will be back. Do you mind waiting here?”, “What didn’t you do? You look ready to me?” Angel said with a hint of a flirty tone. “Oh ya know I ummm…didn’t get to brush my teeth or wash my face or even put on any deodorant…hahaha” Valentino let out a laugh trying to hide his embarrassment “I promise i'm normally more put together”. Angel responded with all seriousness and said “I don’t mind huhuhuh. If it makes you feel better I never wear deodorant” Lifting up his arm and exposing his hairy and damp cavern of musk. Not being able to contain his gagging, the miasma of B.O. began pumping into the room and into his nose. Between an orchestra of gags, Valentino tried to excuse himself once more, “I want to get uhhhh nice and get ready for you…”. Seeing through this white lie grabbed the back of Valentino’s head and muttered, “It’s rude to react like that. It’s time to help you realize the beauty of tapping into your inner machismo”. Valentino tried to pull away, confused by what this stinking hunk was saying, “What the fuc-?” Valentino’s profane response to Angel’s comment was interrupted by a face full of sweaty, pungent, armpit hair. Being pulled into the source of Angel’s “machismo musk” as he would call it, Valentino’s brain immediately fogged up making him weak and incapable of thinking rationally or with any semblance of his normal intellect.

As Valentino pummeled Angel's torso with blinded, wild blows, his already weak punches grew weaker and weaker with every second in the pit. At the same time Angel could hear Valentino’s confused, angry, mumbling slowly fade at the same time. By the time 30 seconds had passed, all that Valentino could say in protest was a light moan that was still an arduous task for his musk filled mind, and all he could do was gently raise his hand and push back with so little force that he couldn’t even be able to push around a piece of paper if he tried. Feeling what felt like growing pains in his feet Valentino let out a loud groan which swiftly dulled into a soft, constant, moan. Valentino felt his feet begin to crack as if the bones were breaking and shifting, he felt as his toes were being forced outwards and the soles of his feet began to grow larger both in width and length. Valentino incapable of picking up on any scent other than Angel’s B.O. could only feel the changes not smell them, but Angel could smell a cloud of buttery funk mixed with the smell of fermented cheese rise and help fill the room. Valentino began to feel his legs inflate, leaving him with nice, tight calves and two massive thunder thighs. Like any good himbo Valentino felt his perky little twink ass inflate into two pillows which jiggle and bounce with every step. Angel had to lift his arm a little higher and take a step back for the newly acquired height of the 6’1 Latino. Valentino felt the readjustment and unconsciously made sure his own nose never left or got too far from the source of the funky scent. Feeling a rumbling in his gut Valentino felt his tiny little gut and naturally cinched looking waist expand and turn into a stomach with the making of a 6 pack but with a nice, soft, layer of fat keeping the chiseled statue still encased in a little bit of marble. His pecs began, much like his ass, to inflate without his permission or full knowledge as they became a gorgeous rack of pure man mass.

The next transformation happened to his arms, becoming nice, soft, tendrils of unthreatening muscles but as soon as he flexes the soft edges harden into sharp, cutting muscles. Above the transformation in his arm, his armpits became much like Angel’s, filled with a foul-smelling, putrid, jungle of long dark hair, absolutely contaminating what little fresh air was left in the apartment. The final changes came in the form of his face growing a bit more masculine and alluring, stubble growing in and his hair shortening a little.

Being pulled out of the malodorous prison that just turned the neat and clean twink into an unhygienic and dirty himbo, Valentino caught his breath. Looking at the work of art in front of him Angel asked “How are you feeling bro?” and in a much deeper voice that shocked Valentino he replied with “W…what did you…do to me?”. Angel, needing to finish the newly minted himbo’s transformation, brought Valentino over to the couch and sat him down and then saddled on top of Valentino’s hips, trapping him in place. “Shhhhh you will be finished soon, pretty boy,” Angel said. Hearing the words “pretty boy” dance out of his mouth, felt like a static shock swept through Valentinos brain, assisting the dissipating B.O. that was keeping Valentino dazed during the transformation. As the static shock shot from ear to ear he felt his own head fall back against the couch and his mouth become unbarred of his lips and be left agape, losing the power to keep his lips fully shut. Angel, knowing that it is time to complete the sweaty hunk he is mounting, removes his sneaker, brings it up to his own nose and takes a whiff.

Shuttering out of pure pleasure and excitement Angel moans out “I stink so goddamn good! You’re gonna love this part dude!”. Lowering the shoe over Valentino’s face, covering his mouth and nose with the outpouring of foot funk rapidly escaping from the heavily used shoe, Angel watches as Valentino’s eyes roll into the back of his skull as if he is trying to watch his own brain transform. The stench, bolting out, trying to escape the shoe that kept it trapped like a genie in a lamp, forced its way out of the shoe to find a new home. Being met with an open mouth and two nostrils the rank air shot into Valentino’s lungs and brain. In his brain Valentin felt as his thinking got, somehow, even slower, he could feel his thoughts, starting from his most recent, begin to evaporate into the stench. As the wave of foot funk continued to alter Valenti’s mind he could feel his years of going to bookstores and quaint little cafés with Edgar turn into years constantly hitting the gym and playing soccer with Edgar. Valent felt the memories of learning how to take care of himself and keep a neat ship from his loving sisters turn into him and his brothers leaving dirty laundry everywhere, ripping ass constantly in each other's faces, overflowing their kitchen sink with dishes and passively hotboxing their rooms with their own foul funk. Helping tutor kids after school while Valen was in High School turned into needing to get a tutor for every subject, no one would take him because they couldn’t bear the stench. All of these memories of being a responsible, smart, and clean functioning member of society turned into memories of an irresponsible, total airhead of a jock who only filled his head with the scent of him dutch ovening himself for fun and the funk of his never washed armpits or feet. Vale struggled as he tried desperately to hold onto his memories but for whatever reason these new stink filled memories seemed just so much better in every way, life was easier, simpler, he loved hanging with his best bro Edgar even more, and he never needed to clean up after himself. I mean if he or his friends didn’t mind the stink constantly hanging in his apartment, and knowing that his friends amplify the stink whenever they come over he knew they didn’t mind one bit, then why would he need to get rid of his own hard work? And Val never got rid of his “hard work”, all over his apartment layed piles of damp piles of clothes that stink to high heaven, and the stupefying scent of the shoe rack at the front door will make sure that any non-jock coming in, or even any jock coming in, will leave a little bit stupider. Whenever Val has a guy over he always gets a little annoyed when the twink he takes home won't stop complaining about the lingering smell but he doesn’t mind it anymore because he knows that just one whiff of his bedroom will render their minds incapable of thinking of words for at least an hour.

Angel feeling a wet spot spread out across Val’s crotch knew that Valentino was never coming back, Val was here to stay. Removing his other shoe and throwing them both on the ground at the foot of the couch, Angel got off of Val and sat next to him with his arm around Val’s shoulder. “You and your friend Edgar transformed nicely into your true, machismo forms.” Angel mumbled to himself. Angel then asked you “Hey bro after we fuck do you have any twinks that I can uhhhh…help realize their true potential.” “Uhhhhhhhhh” Val thought for a long time trying to get a thought to bubble through, “Oh! My friend Bruno is single right now!”, “Perfect. Text him and say that I will take him out tomorrow at 1:00” Angel requested of his new macho gym bro.

#musk #dumber #stink #jock tf #latino #armpits

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carmenberzattosgf · 2 months

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the long awaited spanking blurb

Content warnings: dom/sub dynamics, heavy spanking

I cannot get the brain rot for this out of my head. I was going to write a full fic for it first that includeded subspace but imma just do a spanking blurb for now to free myself from the thoughts… so basically stay tuned for this to be expanded

You did the thing that pisses off Carmy the most. You talked back to him during service in front of everyone. It was over something stupid, really, but your stubbornness got the best of you. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. The look on Carmen’s face was enough to shut you up for the rest of the night.

The car ride home is silent, dead silent. Carmy hasn’t said a word to you at all, and you don’t dare try and talk to him. You’re well aware you screwed up. You just aren’t sure what he’s going to do with you.

Carmy remains wordless as he parks the car in front of his apartment and heads to his door. You follow quickly behind him, watching as he digs in his pocket for his keys. Once he gets the door open, he walks straight to the couch to sit down, expecting you to close the door and lock up for him.

As soon as Carmy hears the lock click, he speaks in a firm, unwavering tone from where he sits on the couch. “Take off your clothes.”

His tone sends chills down your spine. He’s really fucking pissed. You walk towards him, standing right in front of the couch. “Carm, I’m—“ you begin to apologize, but Carmen doesn’t let you finish talking.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. Take them off. Now.”

“Y-yes, sir.” You remove your clothes as fast as you possibly can, not wanting to make him wait. You watch as Carmy sits up straight on the couch, slightly parting his knees.

“Bend over my lap,” he commands. Your legs move quickly as you bend over on his lap with your eyes facing the ground. His left hand hooks around your waist to steady you. His right hand rests right above your ass, lightly soothing the skin. “You were bad today. Talked back to me in front of everyone.”

“I’m sorry, Carmy. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fucking obvious you weren’t thinking. How can I expect those people to listen to me when my own girlfriend won’t do what I ask of her? You know better than that. I’ve taught you better.”

“It’ll never happen again. I promise.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that. You’re going to learn your lesson. I’m giving you fifteen spanks.”

“Fifteen?” you audibly gasp at the number. He has never punished you with so many spanks. The max before had always been less than ten.

“And you’re going to count every single one of them. If you mess up, I’ll add another one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Not even wasting a second, Carmy’s hand strikes your ass. He’s not starting off easy. “Shit! O-one.” The next two spanks come one after another, hitting at different spots. Your body jolts in his grasp from the impact of each hit. “Two. Three.”

Carmy doesn’t give you time to think in between the strikes of his hand. Each one comes down harder than the one before it. The only sounds in the room are your strangled whines and the sound of his hand against your ass. You manage to count pretty well at first, but it gets harder as the heat between your legs increases.

“Are you getting wet right now?” He says before spanking you once more.

“t-ten.” It’s all you can say. Stringing together a sentence seems impossible.

“Are you already so stupid you can’t count and answer my question?” Carmy’s hand grips your raw skin as he spreads your legs to see for himself. He scoffs when he sees the wetness pooling between your legs, starting to make a wet spot on his pants. “You’re fucking dripping. You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Even my hands spanking you turns you on.”

He hits your ass twice in quick succession in the exact same spot. You cry out from the impact. Your skin is throbbing. “Eleven— Carm, please.” You beg, not quite sure what you’re asking.

“That was twelve. I guess you can’t even count right anymore. Now, I’m going up to sixteen.”

You tremble in his lap, holding onto his legs with a death grip. At this point, he’s lightened up on the force behind his hand. Carmy also directs some of the strikes on your upper thigh to give your ass a break. It’s completely raw from the spankings, red and pulsing with heat. You’re barely holding on when he delivers the last strike.

“S-s-sixteen—“ you gasp. Tears run down your cheeks as Carmy rubs the skin of your upper back.

“You did good, baby. You took that so well. Such a good girl. You just needed a little punishment to remind you who you listen to, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m so s-sorry Carm. I didn’t mean to make you so mad,” you speak through sobs. “I-I shouldn’t have done that I’m so sorry—“

“Shhh—baby. Calm down. I’m not mad at you anymore. You made a mistake and got punished for it. It’s all okay now. You don’t have to apologize again. I know you didn’t mean to upset me. Let me help you sit up, yeah? Need to see your face.”

With Carmy’s help, you sit up in his lap to face him. His hands cup your face, wiping the tears away with this thumbs. You get emotional in times like this, especially when Carmy looks at you with such adoration like he is right now. “I love you, Carm.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Can I take care of you now? I wanna make it all feel better.”

“Please. P-please. Need it,” you beg, feeling the his hard cock underneath you.

“I’ve gotcha. I’ll take care of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yeah im sorry for leaving this here but i gotta have room to expand on this idea later. Hehehe so expect a more full length one shot with all of this once again and more soon!!

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear smut

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starrshaddow · 4 months

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part 2 of that university mizu i wrote

So you have her hoodie right?

Its so big on you btw (reaches your thighs) but it's also very comfy.

You're on your way home, on the bus. She waved at you goodbye from outside the window. Of course you waved back. Without her hoodie, she's just wearing a plain tee shirt.

It's not even cold in the bus.

Hell, its not even that cold outside too.

So u cant help but smile at her caring gesture.

Your hand goes up to your lips to suppress the big smile on your face.

then you realize her hoodie smells like her too.

Now her perfume is stuck on you too.

You could still smell her perfume even after you've taken off her hoodie

___

You texted her that you'll return it tomorrow. You both have your respective classes. she has morning class while you have afternoon classes.

Lmk if your class is done, im waiting outside ur building :))

That was your mesage an hour ago. She didnt respond.

You constantly looked at the time and checked her schedule, double thinking whether or not this is her actual building.

Ding!

I'm omw

it wasnt too long until she walked out of the building with her bag slung over her shoulder. You smile.

Then you notice there was someone else with her.

Whoever he was, he was creating years amount of stress on mizu's face

"Why'd you keep telling me to go away? Not like i'm going to scare her off! Or maybe you're scared. You scared she'd ditch you for me once she sees me? What? You scared?"

"shut up." mizu said through gritted teeth

Then her serious and annoyed expression quickly shifted to a more softer and gentler when she sees you.

Her brow relaxes and she stops walking fast, trying to escape her chatterbox of a 'friend'.

You smile at her and you wave.

You look at the man beside her a polite smile and an acknowledging nod.

You walk to Mizu to give her a paperbag

"thanks"

She looked confused as she peaked inside the paperbag

"its- uh, your hoodie," you point yourself, "the one you let me borrow? Remember? Yesterday?"

She huffed a laugh at your stammering

"i was hoping you're not going to return it."

Huh?

She gave you back the paperbag

"keep it."

You look at it in uncertainty, you glance at the man beside her who also seems kinda surprised, then to mizu who looks at you encouragingly.

Take it.

Is what she seems to say.

So you did, but unable to look her for long in the eye from being flustered.

"Thanks?" you laughed. "Do you want to have breakfast?"

"It's eleven."

You rolled your eyes

"then brunch."

Then you remembered her friend,

"oh,- uh, he can come with if he wants to! What's your name, by the way?"

"Taigen!-" "Absolutely not."

Taigen looked at Mizu like she just told him to go to hell. (she kind of did, in her mizu way)

even you were taken back by her cold COLD COLD voice.

"he's busy." mizu said with finality.

Taigen frowned

"What's with you? Can't i atleast meet your new friend? Its not everyday you get a new friend! Dude, come on!"

Mizu turns to him with a sharp glare behind her glasses.

Taigen huffs and walks away.

"Whatever. Fucking rude." then he smiles at you, a very good smile that probably has the intent in looking handsome. "My names Taigen by the way, if you ever get done with Mizu's bitchiness my number is-"

Mizu just pushed him away by his face and went to you, grabbed you by the hand and speed walked out of there (it was hard to keep up, she walks fast).

"he's something."

"something to get rid of, more of." she responded quickly, it made you laugh.

That was when you started asking her if she have other people in the uni she's close with. She said yes and told you about akemi and ringo.... and taigen.

"out of all of them, i like being with you the most."

GIRL COME ON

SHE'S SUPER INTO YOU BUT YOU DONT WANT TO JUMP INTO CONCLUSIONS

THIS UNI READER AND MIZU IS MAKING ME PULL OUT MY HAIR

Mizu: i am literally in love with you

Reader: oh haha i love my friends too

___

Mizu started introducing you to her friends one by one after that. She wasnt surprised to see you and ringo get along since you both share a very calm and kind vibe.

Akemi, you were a bit hesitant at first. I think you felt somewhat insecure? She just looks so pretty, and...

"Oh, this is (Y/n)? It's nice to finally meet you!"

But when she spoke to you and you start talking to her, she's a very interesting person. She's kind, have that fierceness in her, but honest and polite. She's cool, and you got along well with her.

Then there's taigen.

You didnt hate him, but he does get overwhelming at times. He does say funny comments.

You thought him and mizu's interaction was the best it can be but man, is seeing him, mizu, and akemi banter is the best.

It's like a sitcom. Insults thrown here and there which usually ends with taigen with his ego or face bruised.

___

the most memorable thing you two had was during a party

Its so full of people, like touching shoulders at how many there were and you were both just there to pop in and say hi to akemi, wish her a happy birthday. Stay a few hours and leave to hang out somewhere.

You two love doing that. going in a very extroverted place just to say you went only to leave early to do whatever introverted stuff you two want to do (like stop by the grocery because you needed to restock, or stop by the park on mizu's way home because there are cats there)

anyways, so there were so many people right?? And they were havng fun, its loud, they're dancing. and you're starting to feel bothered by them. You and mizu are holding hands to get through the people. You both want to go home but you still have to find akemi.

She stops to make sure you're close behind her, and just as you were about to catch up to her, the crows moves like a tidal wave you end up being caught in it like a fish caught in the currents.

You get shoved so hard that you let go of mizu's hand and end up stumbling forward.

Youre pressed up to someone

and youre too embarassed and too scared to look.

Then you smell their perfume

Mizu.

Your heart thumps.

And you stopped breathing when she shifts, so your head is tucked under her jaw. Her hand finding its way around your waist

it was like she was shielding you away from the people, a crowd that you hate so much.

She's warm. super warm

Or maybe its just you and your lesbian disaster tendencies?

The fact that your height difference was even made more obvious in this situation wasnt helping

Then the crowd shifts and finally there's space again.

And even when there was space, she didnt pull away.

So you did.

You pulled away because you didnt want to make her uncomfortable, not knowing she cherished every single second of it.

That was the first time you two even made physical contact. Like straight up somewhat intimate physical contact that goes more than hand holding and arm touches.

None of you mentioned it on the way home.

But you were both thinking about it.

(i bet mizu felt giddy over it but her face remained stoic lmao)

___

i think mizu thinks you dont like her back the same way she likes you. (come on, she might as well marry you at this point)

So i think what she did was she wanted to enjoy your presence and convesations and decided she'll tell you when she can see that you feel the same way. if you still dont reciprocate her feelings then she'll definitely court you (in a non obvious way) until you do

___

when she came over to your apartment it was when you definitely trust her lotsa to be there.

You guys watched movies in a projector. Overtime it made mizu sleepy and she drifted off.

You were so invested in the movie you just noticed it when you heard her low soft breathing. (she's quiet during the movie, she made little comments and remarks like "why would she go there? Is she stupid?")

SHES SO CUTE WHEN SHES ASLEEP OKAY

She looks so unguarded.

So you took your phone and snapped a pic. You even replaced her contacts picture to it.

Her hair was down today (rare times). You think it looks great on her too.

when she woke up, she was super embarassed and apologetic

"no, its fine! Dont worry about it." then you showed her her picture. "you look really cute by the way."

Mizu didnt know how to react??? But she did march towards you to grab your phone but you easily held it away and dodged her.

She gave up

so she stood there and looked you directly in the eyes. Face half amused and adoring

"you're such a fucking brat."

Then she left and went back to your couch. Her long hair swaying behind her.

i'd be lying if i said that statement lived rent free in your mind

That was the first time you heard her curse

___

if she went in your home, you did too in her dorm. it was during a school break. Her roommate was away visiting her family.

Turns out she lived closer to the uni than you. It's just a few minutes walk away.

it made you feel warm knowing she had to walk maybe ten minutes? just to wait for the bus with you, and walk another ten to go back here again.

She never mentioned it too

Mizu's a real clean freak kind of person, she wants everything to be organized. But you also learned she cant cook. She even burned a pasta, how do you burn a pasta?!

"i didnt know i had to boil water first."

"well what did you do first?"

She was silent then she turned away from you

"...i placed the pasta in a pan with oil."

You dont know what to say anymore

I think youre the one to teach her (other than ringo) how to cook.

Also when you both were cutting vegetables, mizu held her knife wrong so you'll correct her and teach her how.

"here, let me show you."

You held her and positioned the knife properly on her hand. While you explained and taught her how to easily slice a cabbage, you missed how she cheekily smiled.

We all know how great mizu is with a knife.

She just wanted a reason to hold your hand.

"ringo, i dont think i'll be going to your cooking lessons next week."

"what? why? Is my teaching skills not good?" ringo asked worriedly

"no, you're great, ringo. I just..." she smiled, "want to learn from someone else."

___

I think the gang had enough of you two pining each other like a bunch of idiots, so they all had the plan of getting you both drunk after exams under the excuse of 'celebrating'.

But it didnt work

Because you were incredibly responsible and drink slowly (two hours have passed and you're still drinking from the same glass)

While mizu didnt drink at all (she knows what they're doing and she doesnt like it because she wants you or her to confess during the right time and place while being sober. hell no is she going to drunkleny confess to you at the sidewalk).

The gang (mostly taigen) tried to force either of you to drink but it didnt work.

Akemi nudged taigen from under the table. And that was their cue to go to Plan B.

Plan B? Taigen starts hitting on you (was supposed to be inconspicuously but he's bad at being inconspicuous)

compliments you, jokes that made you laugh, and jabs of insults to mizu.

anyways, i think mizu got annoyed and went up to go to the bathroom.

You notice and excuse yourself from the group. You go after her.

She was cleaning her glasses with the end of her shirt when you got there.

You see the slight furrow in her brow and the tightness on her jaw.

You smile comfortingly at her.

"Wanna ditch this place with me?"

"You can stay. You look like you're enjoying yourself, anyways."

She doesn't return your smile like she usually do. She wasn't joking.

your smile falters and you slowly approach her.

"What do you mean? Of course i am, they're our friends."

I think mizu's upset because she's starting to think you really dont like her at all. Or maybe you just don't like a 'her' in general. You don't giggle the same way as you did to taigen, nor do your eyes shine when he compliments you.

She wants to leave and think.

Mizu sighs and turns to you

"i'm going. Tell them that for me."

"what?" you grab her hand when she walks past you. "Mizu, what- where are you doing? What's wrong?"

Should she say it?

Say how much she likes you that it's absolutely breaking seeing you not realize it?

She wanted to scoff.

Hell no. She's not going to admit just because fucking Taigen started hitting on you.

Then she looks at you, and just like that all her frustrations and annoyance washes away.

You looked genuinely upset and worried for her.

Your eyes are sad, and you're looking up to her like she just told you she's leaving forever.

She sees it now.

That all this time you have been looking at her differently, but she wasn't able to see it because she sees you all the time.

You look at her with so much longing and care that it made her feel weak.

So she holds your hand that's gripping her wrist and offers you a gentle smile.

"I'm going to tell them we're going. How's that?"

There it is.

Your heartfelt smile.

"Okay."

#mizu x reader #modern mizu

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starry-hughes · 4 months

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holiday disaster (luke hughes)

day 22 of star’s ficmas

luke hughes x reader

Jack walked onto the plane first, getting his ticket scanned and walking through. Before Luke could even have his ticket scanned he was stopped. The two brothers had arrived late to the airport and were last to board the flight. “I’m so sorry sir but this flight was overbooked and there are no more seats.”

“Jacky?” Luke called. The two were supposed to be traveling home for Christmas. “Is there another flight he can take? We are going home for Christmas.”

The attendant searched for a second and Luke was panicking. “There’s a midnight flight, last flight out.” It was noon. “Lukey, you can take my seat and I can wait.”

“No it’s okay, I’ll call mom and tell her.”

Luke made himself comfortable in a corner of the airport as Jack left on the flight. He had to break the news to his mom and call her. “I won’t be making dinner mom, I’m sorry, I’ll be home for Christmas Eve morning.”

You had been staring at the screen when the flight came up as canceled. You almost burst into tears when the flight attendant told you the only flight out was a midnight flight. You were convinced you might miss Christmas. All you wanted was to go spend the holiday with your family and now you were being delayed. Neither Luke and you wanted to leave the airport, the long security lines made you just want to stay, and Luke thought the same.

“Are you using the outlet?” you asked him. Luke looked up. “No, you can use it.” Luke watched as you hurriedly took out your phone charger. “Hi mom,” you called, “I’m sorry I’ll be late, yeah… eleven pm. I hope that flight isn’t canceled.”

Luke’s ears perked up as you said that. He listened to you end the phone call. The two of you sat in silence, doing your own things before Luke cleared his throat. “Can you watch my bag? I don’t really want to take it in the bathroom with me.”

You nodded and smiled as he got up. No one bothered you while he was gone. There were so many people in the airport but it was like the two of you had your own corner of life. When Luke returned, he had two bags of food in his hands. “Thought you deserved some food.”

Luke handed you a bag from one of the fast food places along with a water bottle. “I heard your flight was canceled,” Luke said. “Yeah, flying out to my parents and the one time I want to visit, it’s canceled,” you sighed, “thank you for the food by the way. Let me pay you back.”

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. My flight got overbooked. And my brother is currently on the way to our parents without me.” You frowned, “I’m sorry.”

The two of you ate quietly, hoping the hours would go by faster. “I have a laptop, do you want to watch a movie?” you questioned Luke. Shoulder to shoulder, the two of you watched a movie. Luke dozed off on your shoulder. As the day went on, there were less and less people in the airport. As the afternoon passed, both of you would get calls from family members asking how it was going. Luke told you about hockey and his job and his brothers. You told him about your own work and family.

“Hey,” you shook him gently awake, it was six pm. “There’s a restaurant down the terminal, do you want to go get dinner?”

In the airport restaurant, the least likely place to fall in love, you started enjoying time with Luke. You both tried random foods and shared plates. Laughing over dumb stories and joking about being stuck together. At the end of the night, Luke paid the bill and you tipped the waiter well.

You two still had time before your flights. Spending time sitting together and watching another movie or snacking on chips Luke bought. You checked your phone and realized you had to start getting to your gate. “I should get to my gate,” you frowned. “Oh,” Luke said, “I’ll walk you down.”

Luke dragged his suitcase behind him as he followed you. “You should get to your gate too Luke.”

He sighed and nodded. “Can I get your phone number?” You nodded and took his phone which he unlocked for you. You added yourself as a contact and took a picture of yourself for his contact phone. “Have a safe flight (Y/N), Merry Christmas.��

“Merry Christmas Luke.” He turned and walked back to the opposite end of the terminal to his own gate smiling.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imgaine #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #hockey imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #star’s ficmas

470 notes · View notes

seuonji · 6 months

Text

彡 in your favour, i’m in your arms. — choi seungcheol

notes ๑ gn!reader, college setting. guest appearance, jeon wonwoo & kim mingyu. yn’s circle: soonyoung and seungkwan / seungcheol’s circle: jeonghan and joshua!! unrequited love occurs.

genre ๑ fwb/situationship to lovers, angst, fluff.

warnings ๑ physical affection (kissing (part eleven), sleeping in each other’s bed), characters getting drunk, mentions of eating. possessive characters. (lmk if i missed any!!<3)

word count ๑ 12k

from aya: reblog if you enjoyed! i’ve been working on this for 3 months. i hope you enjoy :(；ﾞﾟ'ωﾟ'):.

one, current location — cheol’s apartment.

your phone buzzed and your phone screen lit signing you got a notification. you knew who it was from cause everyone else was muted. “mm— cheol—“ you struggled in between kisses wanting to part so you could read the message. he sighed and only parted his lips yet his face was still close and his hands were on your hips, “yea?” his eyes were on you, and yours was on the text message you just received.

”give me a second, let me reply to this guy,” you moved away from him and unlocked your phone. seungcheol stood at the side and rested his arm on the counter behind you.

you read the text and smiled softly. the text was from a guy you’ve been talking to in class, jeon wonwoo. his text read, “hey, i’m free tomorrow after the class we have together, we can meet up then?”

he was responding to something you said earlier where you asked if he was interested in getting coffee or lunch with you. he said yes but he needed to check his schedule first. he then asked for your phone number so he could message you and let you know.

as you read his response you instantly felt the need to talk about it to your friends. “i gotta go,” you hopped off the stool you were sitting on and gathered your things in a rush, “can you unlock the door please?”

“huh? where are you going?” cheol furrowed his eyebrows and reached out for you arm but you moved too quick, placing your shoes on already. you always stayed until dinner but you had to cut your time with him short. “i’m gonna meet kwan and kwon!” you smiled brightly. your smile brought a warmth to him that no one else could. usually he’d convince you to stay but it seemed like it was an emergency?

“alright take care of yourself okay? tell me when you get back home,” seungcheol opened the door of his apartment and stood against the frame with his arms crossed. “always will! sorry you have to eat dinner alone,” you finished getting your shoes on and stood up.

he tilted his head in confusion and adoration for how you felt bad over something like that. giving you a kiss on the forehead he affirmed, “i think han and shua should be coming home soon but even if they weren’t, it’s okay.” you exchanged your goodbyes and you walked to the elevator simultaneously texting your friends you’d be on your way to their place.

「kwan: 👍」

two, current location — kwan and kwon’s.

you ringed the doorbell and didn’t get a response for a few seconds. you turned the doorknob just to try and it turned all the way meaning it was unlocked. you sighed, “soonyoung!” the two were on their couch totally immersed in the k-drama they were watching so they barely noticed you.

seungkwan turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you. “oh my god-“ he smacked soonyoung’s head. “what!” soonyoung rubbed his head. “you forgot to lock the door? again?” you stomped in frustrated.

“we are actually going to have a burglary and murder case one day,” seungkwan points out as he’s still hitting soonyoung. recently soonyoung has been forgetting to lock the doors of their apartment and it’s becoming a problem.

after the two settled they welcomed you in and poured you a glass of your favourite drink. they bought a carton specially for you. “so what’s up, what story do you have for us today?” seungkwan sat down beside you on the couch.

“you will not guess who i got a date with!” you shifted your position to face the two.

soonyoung looked at you puzzled but based on your excitement, it had to be someone weird, “yoon jeonghan?”

you denied quickly, “no? jeonghan and i would never work out.”

“damn, so you’ve thought about it,” seungkwan rested his chin on his hand in disbelief. “i had to! we played truth or dare and jeonghan asked me if i’d date him! that apartment is like a frat house.”

they snickered at the story, “is it xu minghao?” seungkwan continued.

“oh my god do you think i can get with the xu minghao?”

“no not really.”

you ignored him and showed the text from wonwoo.

“jeon wonwoo!?” soonyoung shouted, “pro gamer jeon wonwoo!?” “the nerdy guy that sits behind you in that one class!?” seungkwan jumped in his seat.

“nerd? i'm pretty sure he benches more than you!?” you argued.

“he does?” soonyoung covered his mouth from shock. “nerdy has nothing to do with the gym,” seungkwan rolled his eyes.

“why is it such a shock? isn’t he hot?”

“hot? i guess but your type? i didn’t think so,” soonyoung squinted his eyes as if he was trying to picture you two together.

seungkwan stood up, hands on his head as if it’s a crisis situation, “how did this even happen?”

you just giggled and shrugged your shoulders, “i don’t know, i’ve talked to him a couple times and i made him laugh one time, next thing i knew, i was asking him out and he said yes.”

seungkwan snorted and teased, “you made him laugh one time? were you pointing a gun at his head that one time?” you hit him with a pillow multiple times.

“so are you letting go of seungcheol?” seungkwan looked at you intently, “wonwoo does not seem like the type who would be okay with your…habits? current routine?” referring to the way you were practically sleeping in seungcheol’s bed every night.

your eyes bounced around the house. if you were being honest, you liked seungcheol and seungcheol was undeniably smitten with you.

but that’s as far as you two go.

it became clear you guys weren’t exclusive when he had no reaction to you going out with someone else that wasn’t him. the zero signs of care in his eyes when you walked by him with the new guy made you understand that he only needed you there for the convenience and to fill the void of affection.

and so you silently told everyone that’s what you wanted as well. at the very least, it wasn’t as heartless as other friends with benefits existing out there, he cared about you and that’s what made it so hard to leave. but eventually, you grew out of it. you wanted to put a label on something.

bottom line, you wanted more.

perhaps that’s why wonwoo was so exciting to you. it’s something new. he’s someone that potentially wants what you want.

soonyoung nodded in agreement, “right? like he seems like he’s into long term, that kind of stuff.”

“guys i haven’t even went out with him yet!” you wailed. “give it awhile then maybe we can start looking further than just friends, you know?”

“of course, of course,” seungkwan raised his eyebrows quietly processing everything.

soonyoung who was sitting on the floor shifted closer to you and rested his cheek on your knee, “what’re you wearing tomorrow?” “omg i don’t know! let’s go plan,” you grabbed him and seungkwan and ran to the guest room where you left some of your clothes in case you stay the night.

three, current location — seungcheol, jeonghan & joshua’s apartment.

the sound of the door unlocking echoed into the apartment. “we’re home!” jeonghan and joshua lugged into the space. they were seungcheol’s roommates or more like parasites—

“welcome home, what do you guys wanna eat?” seungcheol got up from the couch. “we can just order today,” jeonghan said before walking into his room to freshen up.

“no yn?” joshua looked around. “no they had to leave to meet up with soonyoung and seungkwan, seemed urgent.”

“urgent?” joshua tilted his head. “yea why?” “the last time yn left for an ‘urgent’ reason, it was cause they started going out with that kim mingyu guy?”

seungcheol scrolled on his phone looking for food to order completely uninterested in the conversation “and?”

“and then you told mingyu to fuck off so mingyu cut ties with yn?” joshua passive-aggressively recalled.

“yeaa, that was funny he didn’t stand a chance with yn, he didn’t even try,” seungcheol scoffed.

joshua looked at seungcheol with a touch of flame in his eyes, “don’t you think you’re being unfair to yn?”

“what do you mean?”

“just asking, have you ever genuinely asked them what they wanted? if they ever wanted to have something more than a friends with benefits?”

“why do you think yn wants that?”

“oh i don’t know, maybe with the fact that despite being with you they’re still trying to see other people? yn and mingyu were a great couple until you crashed it.”

“the fact they came back to me after that, kinda makes it clear they didn’t like him all that much.”

“what are you gonna do when one day they don’t come back?” joshua crossed his arms.

seungcheol looked up from his phone, “why do you care?”

joshua rolled his eyes and started walking to the fridge, “i get it, you two aren’t in a relationship but you and i know you care about yn. i don’t want you to regret something you do or didn’t do in the future.”

seungcheol just exhaled and raised his brows, “alright.”

“so what have you ordered!” jeonghan walked out of his room excitedly. as he noticed the tension in the air he instantly knew, they were talking about you.

jeonghan sighed and went by seungcheol who was aimlessly still looking for food. then, he looked at joshua who seemed to be in heavy spirits.

things that jeonghan knew: jeonghan knew or atleast suspected that seungcheol has feelings for you. jeonghan also knew that joshua was struggling to keep something from seungcheol, something you told him.

—

one night where you stayed over and you all drank, you got drunk but so did seungcheol. you ended up sleeping in joshua’s bed so that he could monitor you. joshua was looking for a trash bag in case you had to throw up while jeonghan was preparing you for sleep. as jeonghan wiped your body with a damp cloth, you happened to utter,

“i really love cheol. i can’t believe we’re just watered down to friends with benefits.”

they both heard it. joshua just stroked your hair with his hands until you were fully asleep.

he couldn’t lie, since then he’s been frustrated cause he knew how good your heart is. as close as he is with cheol, he can’t help but think, isn’t your relationship with cheol was holding you back?

but honestly he felt that you two would end up together one way or another, any interference might mess things up. in the end, the sober two came to the mental agreement it was your situation to deal with.

—

“you are taking too long! order fried chicken and let’s do karaoke today!” jeonghan tried to lighten up the mood. “sorry, grandpa’s struggling to see his screen with his poor eyesight,” joshua targeted to seungcheol. “you didn’t even try to help!” the eldest retorted. joshua laughed at his reaction and got up to set up the living room so that they could watch shows and eat.

at the end of the day they were each other’s rock. joshua was just scared for your feelings with seungcheol’s unpredictable actions.

four, current location — college.

you could barely pay attention in class knowing that you were going to go out with wonwoo in a few minutes. you have gone on a ton of dates before but for some reason this one was exciting. it was going to be different from the rest.

the class soon ended and wonwoo stood by your table, “hey.”

“hi!” you greeted him back. “so i was thinking we can go to this restaurant but it’s kinda far.” “it’s okay i have a car,” he smiled wiggling his keys in his hand.

not like it was rare for college students to have a car but you just thought he was extremely cool that your jaw almost dropped from his actions. wonwoo tilted his head to the door, “come, let’s go, send me the location by the way.” you nodded and skipped to his side.

you both got to the parking lot and he opened the door of the passenger seat for you. “thanks,” you said before he closed the door. he was sweet. you didn’t even talk about this being a date but he was certainly treating it like one.

wonwoo got into the car and you went on your phone to send the location of the restaurant. wonwoo was looking to his left where you were sitting and you thought maybe he was staring at you. you did spend around two hours matching clothes you left in seungkwan and soonyoung’s place. you were so close to just going home to look at other clothes but they didn’t let you since it was late at night—

“yn?” “yea?” “do you know them?” he pointed to the window at your side.

low and behold, the devil and the angel, jeonghan and joshua in the car beside you who were practically staring you down out of shock.

you got shocked yourself but thought nothing of it as you lowered your window, “hey!” you casually greeted. “yn! where’re you going?” joshua returned to you.

“gonna go to my favourite restaurant, oh by the way this is wonwoo,” you introduced.

“ah yea, i think i have… one class with you?” jeonghan squinted to the guy behind you. “i think so?” wonwoo pursed his lips.

“well you two have fun, yn are you gonna have dinner at ours later?” joshua asked.

“uhm,” you gave a glance to wonwoo who just gave a soft smile while raising his eyebrows. “i don’t think i will, maybe next time tho!” you rejected.

“ahh gotcha,” jeonghan replied while resting his body on the wheel.

you waved at them saying your goodbyes and closed your window. soon enough wonwoo drove out of the parking.

“you often have dinners at their place?” wonwoo asked curious. “yea, sometimes.” more like you practically live there.

“sounds fun.”

“it is! it’s a really nice way to let off some steam from all of the college stress,” you laughed

what would wonwoo think if he knew what you were actually there for. would wonwoo still go out with you?

“did you get a photo of them?” jeonghan peeked at joshua’s phone.

“yup, goodluck to seungcheol,” joshua lightly giggled while looking his screen.

five, current location — kwan and kwon’s.

you crashed into the apartment, you don't even know if soonyoung locked the door, “guys i just had the best date ever!”

there was one guy sitting at the center table they had for meals who looked quite reckless and overwhelmed with all of the papers around him, “yn….it is almost midnight,” seungkwan glared.

“bad time?” you asked, backing up.

“nope, i was actually waiting for you so that i had an excuse when i don’t pass up my work tomorrow,” he said getting up and dragging his blanket to the couch.

“what are you gonna say when your teacher asks why you didn't do it?”

“soonyoung ate it.”

you just pursed your lips and nodded simultaneously and suddenly soonyoung’s door swung opened, “is that yn i hear?”

you peaked your head to the hall showing you were present and in an instant, soonyoung ran to the couch, “spill.”

“oh my gosh he's so cool like he owns a car and he drives it!” “wow,” seungkwan says unimpressed.

you looked at him up and down before continuing, “we ate at my favorite restaurant and he said he'd order whatever i recommended and he liked my recommendation!” “i thought this was the best date ever but it's really just starting off like any other date.”

"go back and do your work if you're gonna be such a hater!" you stood up. "continue!! just ignore him!" soonyoung demanded, pulling you down.

"after that, we just walked around a park nearby and we just talked and got to know each other. we're not alike but we can agree on so much!" "oh that's actually very sweet." seungkwan commented.

it was sweet.

you got out of your head and finished explaining your day, "eventually he got tired and so we went back to his car and we talked more but it was getting late so i asked him to send me here but on our way here he kept taking the wrong turn, on purpose!" you recalled. it made you laugh just thinking about it.

"where do you find these guys," soonyoung squinted his eyes. it genuinely felt like a romance from a movie no matter how you see it. "manifesting?" you joked.

"well i'm happy you're happy," seungkwan patted your head. you laid your head on his shoulder, "i am."

it was just the first hangout yet you've never felt happier.

or is that just what you wanted to believe and feel?

the next day you woke up in their guest room and used your phone. there you found a notification.

「12:09am wonwoo: do you wanna go out tmr?

7:29am yn: hey! sorry just woke up! but yes, let’s go!

wonwoo: it's kinda late?? are you ready for class?

yn: oops

yn: it's okay they won't miss me.

wonwoo: are you in the same building i dropped you off at yesterday?

yn: yea, why?

wonwoo: i'm picking you up. go get ready.」

six, current location — seungcheol, jeonghan & joshua’s apartment.

"seungcheol. hey!" the pillow made a comically 'puff!' sound effect as jeonghan hit his oversleeping roommate up. "you're gonna be late, again, get going," his roommate sighed. for the past two days seungcheol had been waking up without you in his bed. that meant, no human alarm clock. he was like a child who needed his mother to wake him up...as weird as that analogy might sound but it was true. seungcheol sat up, eyes still closed.

"by the way, joshua and i are planning to have bbq tonight, is yn coming? i wanna know how much i have to buy."

"i'll send them a text."

"alsoo, why didn't yn come over yesterday?" jeonghan leaned on the doorframe and asked before leaving. "yesterday? they messaged me saying they had a project."

if seungcheol's eyes were open, he'd be able to see jeonghan's bewildered reaction. you lied about your whereabouts, but for what? jeonghan silently kept his composure and reminded, "alright, well let me know about yn at least before 4pm," before running to joshua's room to report the news.

seungcheol lazily grabbed his phone from his bedside table and searched for your contact to message. it was a foreign feeling, he almost never texted you. ever since you two started wherever you had, you were always with him, except for when you were with mingyu of course, not like that lasted long.

「cheol: you coming over today?

cheol: were having bbq.」

six.5, current location — wonwoo’s car.

“i think you should invest in those fancy biometric door locks, at least those lock automatically,” wonwoo suggested after you explained all of the times soonyoung forgot to lock his apartment door out of pure stress. he was amazingly entertained by your stories.

you wheezed, “oh my gosh- that’s so smart actually, i’m gonna tell that to them!” you got your phone out to text your group chat with soonyoung and seungkwan, until you saw notifications from him.

「cheol: you coming over today?

cheol: were having bbq.

cheol: think the guys miss you, they keep asking where you are.

cheol: think i miss you too, it's been hard waking up alone.

cheol: hope you finish your project soon.」

you clicked on your chatroom with seungkwan and soonyoung. afterwards, you cleared your notifications.

"so where are we going later?" you turned to wonwoo.

"i don't know actually i didn't know i was going to pick you up in the morning, i was going to brainstorm where i should take you when i got to class."

you blurted a laugh, "brainstorming a date when you should be paying attention in class"

"oh it's a date?" he glanced at you then back to the road. you covered your mouth, you kept calling your outings with wonwoo a date when you were with seungkwan and soonyoung, it just slipped out. "i’m just playing with you," he stated.

you scoffed and leaned into your seat, "so what are your ideas for later?" "i don't know, i haven't gotten to class yet," he shrugged his shoulders. you playfully rolled your eyes, "don't think about it too much, listen to your lecturer. i don't want to be the cause of you failing your classes."

"little late for that, i literally skipped my study group to hang out with you yesterday," he admitted.

you shot back up, "wonwoo!" you said in a whiney tone. he held back a smile as you scolded him for his lack of seriousness towards his school life. it lasted the whole ride until you reached campus.

little did you know, wonwoo had been eyeing you for a while. of course, he'd skip a class or two just to hangout with you. luckily, he found being with you worth the skip.

seven , current location — yn’s favourite cafe.

few days had passed and you still haven’t replied to cheol's messages. maybe you can live a life without him.

"order for yn!" joshua called out brightly, he got excited when he got a glimpse of your name on the cup that held the contents of your signature drink. he didn't think he'd see you today at his part-time job, you usually only came on weekends or in the late hours of the weekdays. he hadn't seen your face in a while and he honestly missed your presence in the apartment.

until he realised it was in fact not you ordering.

his expression changed in a flicker of a switch, "what the hell are you doing cheol?"

seungcheol raised a brow, "i'm ordering?"

"ordering yn's usual drink under their name? do you miss them that much that you have turned to impersonating them?" joshua pushed the cup towards his friend.

"i'm not weird like that, i’m gonna give it to them if i can find them today."

the barista created an 'o' with his mouth, he was proud of the effort. he carefully packed your drink into a bag and stuffed in the straw and some tissues. he even snuck in a free lollipop of your favourite flavour before lightly pushing the bag to cheol, "yn's class is a completely opposite to your building, sure you can make it?"

seungcheol scoffed, "of course."

joshua had his elbows on the counter, face resting on his hand. "have fun then, say hi to yn for me," he said in a teasing manner.

seungcheol nodded lazily and got on his phone after waving goodbye to his roommate.

seven.5 , current location — outside your class.

tapping away at your phone, you leaned on the wall outside the class you just finished. it was your last class so you were free for the day but wonwoo’s class was running longer than yours so you had to wait.

he had messaged you saying that he would be the one to go to you and you had no objections since you didn’t even know where his class was anyways. soon as you replied to wonwoo, you heard a familiar voice, a voice you recognised all too well.

“yn,” cheol quietly called out to get your attention.

you instantly stood up straight and placed your phone into your pocket, “cheol? what’s up!…what are you doing here?” your tone sounded mildly excited but astonished at the same time. you furrowed your eyebrows knowing his next class was located on the opposite side of the campus, yet he was here, you couldn't help but question it. “just dropping this off,” he subdued a smile while extending his arm to give you the drink. “hope it gives you energy during your project, how’s that going by the way?”

you held the drink in one hand and the other held tissues cheol provided. your heart sunk as he mentioned the project but you still continued the lie. “wow thanks, this is so sweet cheol! and the projects going well but we’re kinda slow,” you let out a breathy laugh.

“well don’t burn yourself out. if ever you need a break, my door is always open,” he gently reminded. “anyways, i gotta get to class. tell me if you need anything alright, we may not be under the same major but i could probably assist.”

“psh, of course, i have your number.”

he patted your head before leaving. as he walked past you, you got a whiff of his scent. it was a prominent smell, it was easy on your nose and you hate to admit but it was comforting. you felt your chest burn as he disappears from your sight. your heartbeat was rising and you knew it was because of him. time how does he manage to make you feel like this all the time.

you brought the drink closer to your chest and let out a sigh. you read the label which had the contents of your drink printed on. it was completely accurate to what you always order. only cheol could ever remember it. as you took a sip from the drink you started to wonder why you were avoiding him. should you come over tonight? you thought about it until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you swiftly turned around and you were dragged down back to earth. wonwoo stood behind you with his head tilted with concern on his face, “penny for a thought?”

“wonwoo!” you greeted, “what do you mean?” you questioned after processing what he had said. “you seemed like you were in deep thought. you feeling okay?” he asked as he leaned on the wall beside you.

“never been better," you expressed with a sweet smile.

he nodded and sighed his worry away. his eyes trailed downwards and yours followed. you raised a brow confused but then he pointed downwards with a playful frown, “you got a drink without me?” you giggled and placed your arm around his shoulders, “i’ll go buy you one stop sulking.”

eight , current location — wonwoo's apartment.

wonwoo stepped into his apartment, his footsteps for some reason, felt lighter than the day before. he'd just came back from his outing with you and he couldn’t lie, those hangouts really made his days brighter. he’s smiling just thinking about it.

"you came home late today," his roommate, kim mingyu pointed out as if he were a mother waiting at home, worried sick about his son who goes out too much. in reality, wonwoo and mingyu weren't even close, they just happened to live together cause rent was expensive. but mingyu had always hoped to get closer with wonwoo and he took every chance he could to start a conversation with him.

"yea, was out with someone," wonwoo replied as he hung his bag on one of the dining table chairs.

mingyu got up from the couch and walked to the fridge fiddling with the things inside it, he was actually just closing the distance between him and wonwoo as much as he could. it seemed like today was a good day since usually, wonwoo would just head straight into his room but today he sat at the dining table. he never does that!

mingyu glanced at wonwoo and prolonged the conversation, “like a date?“

“i wouldn’t call it that, more like whatever you do after a talking stage i guess.”

mingyu shot a proud smile and crossed his arms, “no wonder you’ve been so smiley, what’s their name?”

“would you know them?” wonwoo asked but his eyes were on his phone since he was helping you find electronic door locks for your friends door.

“most probably, campus may be big but i know most people.”

“true,” wonwoo looked at mingyu as he nodded in agreement knowing how extroverted his roommate can be, “their names yn,” he answered before returning his eyes to his phone.

a sudden deafening silence washed over the room. mingyu took too long to respond.

wonwoo looked up, “what’s wrong?” he became concerned, wondering what caught the curious cat’s tongue.

there was a clear look of dislike on mingyu’s face as his smile disappeared and the look in his eyes changed.

“yn ln?” the roommate confirmed. wonwoo pursed his lips and looked up to recall, “yeah, i think that’s their last name.”

mingyu shortly laughed but wonwoo could tell it was a type of laugh not for something funny, but for something that was unbelievable, “no fucking way,” mingyu spat.

wonwoo furrowed his eyebrows, he assumed mingyu was just making fun of him, like mingyu thought he wasn’t good enough for you, “is there a problem?” he asked defensively.

“not at all, just, look for someone else, yn’s not worth your time.”

wonwoo’s heart dropped and suddenly his feet felt heavy again.

then again he knew his roommate was a semi brat. in the sense that he’s nice and all but he might hold a grudge if something doesn’t go his way. wonwoo sighed slightly uninterested in the topic, what could he possibly have to say about you?

wonwoo thought, at the very least you must’ve just rejected mingyu and it fucked with his ego big time. in any case wonwoo was always willing to listen but that doesn’t mean he’ll pick sides. “what makes you say that?”

“i get the attraction to yn, i knew them from last semester. i’m sure you’ve heard, they’re a great friend and that may be true i don’t know about that but from what i know, yn isn’t all that great in terms of romance, trust me.”

“what do you know?” wonwoo faced mingyu.

“long story short i’ve went out with yn last sem and they were fun but, yn has some ties i’m pretty sure they haven’t let go off even until today. my relationship with yn didn't last long because of said ties,”

“can you stop beating around the bush? just tell me exactly what happened between you and yn,” wonwoo firmly spoke.

mingyu gave a glare to wonwoo as he rested his jaw on his hand, recalling the story, “there’s this guy yn's super close with, you should know him, his names choi seungcheol, he's from a different department but he's popular. he and yn has been in a whole will they won’t they period, you sure you wanna go out with someone like that?"

"that was last sem, a lot could change in a few months.”

mingyu scorned, bobbing his head forward, "i literally saw yn walk to his class a few days ago, i don’t think anything has changed, regardless, why would you go out with someone with a past like that?"

"because people can change. plus, i’m not a child, what happens between yn and i is for me to deal with,” wonwoo spoke without even batting an eye to the taller man.

“suit yourself,” mingyu shook his head and walked away. he thought today was the day he could finally get closer with his roommate and ease the awkwardness but today, the distance has never been bigger.

wonwoo picked up some food and a bottle of water before descending into his room hoping that would be enough so that he wouldn't have to cross paths with mingyu for awhile. he felt a bit frustrated. he knew in his heart that you were good but then again, why would mingyu lie to him?

nine , current location — wonwoo’s car.

it was the next day, wonwoo had offered to pick you up again.

wonwoo tapped to the beat of the song on the radio onto the wheel of his car while waiting for you. until, from the corner of his eye, he saw you ecstatically running down the steps of your building.

he launched forward slightly to reach your car door, opening it from he inside, "hi yn."

"wonwoo!" you greeted energetically. he enjoyed hearing it but, at the same time, there was a tinge of bitterness as it rolled into his ears when he heard your voice today.

you sat down with a grin and you went on talking about your morning, the usual.

you usually did the talking as wonwoo listened.

and wonwoo was known for being quiet, but this level of quietness was unusual, even for him.

"wonwoo?" you called out. it was as if he was mentally elsewhere.

he was. he was stuck with his thoughts since last night. in his head, there were lingering questions about your past relationships. do you know a seungcheol? did you even know who mingyu was?

"sorry, didn't get enough sleep last night," he laughed it off.

shit, whatever mingyu told him that night stuck to him.

ten , current location — college cafeteria.

“gosh- yn i’ll change the date for you!” chan, your peer or more like your little brother held onto your forearms. he was sitting across you and he was practically off his seat convincing you to do something for him.

“you’ll what?” you snickered at his words.

“when are you free? i’ll move the party to that date.”

your hand that held your food fell to the table out of disbelief, “now why would you stoop that low chan?”

“i wanna meet new people and you have the best connections out of everyone in campus.”

“so you're using me?”

“you're fun as well," he innocently fluttered his eyes.

"then you'll have no problems with only me attending then?" you smiled like the joker.

he scoffed and rolled his eyes, "at least bring seungcheol and his friends while you're at it, if they go then surely, tons of people will come."

your eyes widened at his words but you could only bare to sigh, "you've become greedy chan."

"does that mean you'll bring him?"

you laughed, sighing softly until you remembered a tiny problem.

you had 5 unread messages from cheol.

but perhaps, someone other than cheol could come.

ten.5 , current location — college.

you and wonwoo sat on the grass. it had became a staple spot you both met at since it was conveniently close to your classes. you were sitting across each other sharing some convenience store food. you decided to bring the question up.

“hey do you know lee chan?”

“yea, why?” wonwoo was still picking on the grass but he made eye contact with you. “he has this party on friday night, are you interested in going?”

wonwoo stayed silent so the fear of rejection creeped up on you.

“you don’t have to go, i’m just offering an invite.”

“think im busy that day, sorry,” he said as he pursed his lips in guilt.

you gave a reassuring smile and brushed his hair with your fingers, “it’s alright.”

“im really sorry yn.”

you let a mischievous grin slip and played with him a bit. you placed your face into your hands, covering it hinting that you were upset.

“ahh yn don’t be like that.”

you spoke in a whiny tone to add to the act, “but this should’ve been our first party together—“

but suddenly his arms wrapped around your waist and he placed his head on yours.

he didn’t know what else to do but this.

“we’ll get to the next one, okay?” he does want to go it just happened that he can’t this time.

honestly you did want to feel disappointed that wonwoo couldn’t come. but you didn’t.

even with his words and actions that were meant to tell you ‘you have my full interest’. you didn’t feel anything from it.

you didn’t feel shit for him.

you’ve wounded up here again because there was no way you were going to attend a party alone.

cause how could you say no to chan.

this was for chan.

you’re only messaging him for chan.

「yn: do you want to go to a party?

cheol: depends, who’s is it?

yn: my little brother

cheol: …? did your parents conceive another child

yn: he’s not my biological brother

cheol: adopted?

yn: it’s lee chan

cheol: 💀

cheol: when is it?」

eleven , current location — lee chan’s party.

cheol’s arm snaked around your waist, “ready to go in?” he asked. “yea,” you confidently answered. this was like the thousandth party you’ve attended, why did he have to ask.

he opened the door and the once muffled cheers were heard perfectly. you flinched slightly at the noise to which he chuckled at.

you playfully rolled your eyes at him and walked in.

it reeked of alcohol already. it wasn’t as crowded as other parties you’ve attended but it was certainly something that could be considered a party.

cheol kept you close, having your back sandwiched to his chest as he held you by your shoulders. slowly, you passed through all the people and found your way to the drinks.

cheol instantly poured you your favourite drink and placed it in your hands as he swiftly poured himself one as well. you tapped your cup against his and downed it all in one go. no matter if you could actually handle it or if it was just for show, it still entertained seungcheol every time.

“yn! you’re here!” chan ran to you excitedly. “of course, why wouldn’t i?” you giggled.

“thank you for coming seungcheol!” he suddenly bowed to which seungcheol quickly pushed up the younger boy to stand up straight. “you’re nice, good thing you didn’t take after this mean senior,” cheol teased as he patted your head.

“hey you have never bowed to me ever, what’s so special about cheol?” you brought up to chan.

“he’s him, you’re you,” he coldly said. you turned to cheol who was covering his cheeky grin with his cup.

from afar it looked like you were scolding your husband and son.

“well enjoy the party, let me know if you guys want other drinks i’ll get it for you!” chan said as he skipped away with a smile.

“well obviously you’re not biologically related to someone like him,” cheol leaned on the kitchen counter as he turned to you with a smug look on his face.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned as you took a sip from your cup.

“he’s sweet.”

“what does that make me?”

“mm..” he hummed.

slowly, he leaned in towards you, closing he distance between you two as he casually placed his hand on your hip. pulling you closer, he held your chin and tilted your head upwards.

there on your neck, he placed a soft kiss.

“ahh, you’re sweeter than him.”

you felt a burn in your heart.

you squeezed the drink in your hand, thinking of how to respond. but you couldn’t even think.

next thing you knew, your body reacted in its own.

you grabbed his hand that held your face and leaned in, kissing him on the lips.

it must’ve been weeks since you’ve done this.

he parted away from you, furrowing his brows. as far as he remembered, he was always the one who initiated kisses.

not like it was a rule but this was new. perhaps you missed him?

you couldn’t lie, you did.

he held you by your chin, taking a good look at your helpless expression but as he saw a pout form on your lips, how could he not give you what you wanted?

he pulled you closer, continuing the kiss.

gosh, he still had you wrapped around your finger.

it was sensual and passionate. you placed your arms around his neck pulling him closer as if he was going away but his hands softly caressed and slid against your back reassuring you he was here to stay.

you parted away, letting out a breathe. “i’ve missed you,” you blurted as you rested your head into the crook of his neck.

he smirked at your words as he patted your head, “you did?”

you couldn’t face him with how desperate you were being but nodded to answer his question.

“can’t be helped, you had that project right,” he took another sip from his cup.

you clenched your jaw and scrunched cheol’s jacket in your fist. that lie was lingered with guilt in your heart.

“yn? you barely finished your cup, don’t tell me you’re already tipsy,” he giggled as he glided his fingertips on your back.

suddenly, you stood up straight, placing your cup in his hands and walked off, “i’m going to the washroom.”

seungcheol didn’t think much of it, he just nodded and bopped his head to the music and waited for your return.

like any other party, there was a line but luckily, it wasn’t long. you decided to go on your phone to pass time while waiting but it wasn’t necessary since someone tapped on your shoulder.

you swung your head to look at who it was, it was someone you weren’t expecting.

it was a girl named mira, behind mira was a few other girls, probably her clique. you knew her due to being in the same class but you didn’t know much about her or the group in general, but it was evident they wanted something.

you leaned back into the wall confused on why she didn’t start talking despite you giving her attention. “can i help you?” you tilted your head.

she seemed hesitant as she fiddled with the ends of her clothes but eventually, she spoke when her friend nudged her, “uhm, you’re close with choi seungcheol right?”

‘duh, did you not see us earlier?’ is what you would’ve said but you had some decency.

“i am, why?” you crossed your arms.

“you two aren’t dating or anything, right,” a friend behind her smirked as she walked forward, asserting some dominance.

“what’s it to you?” you looked back at your phone after realising what they were here for. this was actually the first time people were running to you asking for favours for seungcheol. you’ve always experienced people asking for help with jeonghan, joshua and others but never seungcheol.

and you had underlying feelings for cheol. not like anyone knew about it but that wasn’t he point. it’s the fact that these girls clearly knew there must’ve been something between you and cheol, yet they’re still ambushing you hoping for a tip. that shit irked you.

“mira here wants his number. since you two aren’t dating, it’s okay to give it right?” the friend answered.

you looked at her up and down before going back on your phone. cheol would hate a girl that was too shy to ask personally.

you were thinking of just ignoring them but by then, the washroom was finally free so just before you walked in you replied with a firm, “no.”

you could hear them clicking their tongue as they walked away and heard the rage and it made you giggle a bit.

but god, your possessiveness over cheol only made it ever so clear that you weren’t over him.

when you walked out the toilet they were already gone and you made your way back to seungcheol.

“you ‘kay?” cheol brushed your hair as you fit yourself between his legs and rested your head on his chest. “yeah.”

he gave back your cup and used her free hand to hold yours. you looked down at your interwined hands and couldn’t hold back a smile.

then you wondered, if cheol was asked for his phone number directly, would he have given it?

you and cheol were pretty open to each other so you had no trouble bringing it up.

“cheol, this girl wants your number, should i give it?” you titled your head upwards to look at him.

he squinted his eyes at your words but he slowly responded, “i mean you can?”

ah. he’d accept it.

or so you thought.

just as your heart sunk, he continued, “i’m probably not going to reply to them but you can,” he chuckled.

you quickly turned and faced him, “huh? why not?”

“cause, i have you?” he raised a brow.

suddenly it’s as if the music had stopped.

did cheol actually think of you two as exclusive for once?

you couldn’t take your eyes off him but he didn’t think much of the way you were blatantly staring at him cause you did it often.

“wanna go dance?” he twirled your hair with his finger.

you snapped out of your daze, “uh- ha? since when do we dance at parties?” you laughed. you both usually only went to parties for the drinks, the vibes and nothing more but cheol felt like partying tonight.

“don’t know, just feel like it,” he gave a gummy smile.

“let’s go then,” you pulled him with a grin as he followed behind you.

you actually got it wrong earlier when you thought that he would hate a girl that was too shy because the correct version of that statement was that cheol would hate it if anyone but you tries to get with him.

you two got to the dance floor, residing somewhere at the side and instantly got into it but you fell into embarrassment as you moved to the beat of the music. cheol on the other hand seemed to have a plethora of dance skills up his sleeve. in this moment, his cold aura was gone. as he saw you covering your face, he pulled you out of your shell and held your hands. he guided you and placed your arms around his shoulders and you two swayed to the trap music as if it were classical jazz. the situation was slightly comedic, you both got a good laugh out of it.

it was these moments you shared with cheol that made you fall in love with him. and cheol would share this side of him with you and you only. if it were anyone else he probably wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to do so.

you both were practically gasping for air after laughing. you looked at him in awe as he did too. naturally, he leaned in for a kiss.

and his kisses felt like home. this was where you were meant to be.

the moment was perfect.

click, the sound of a camera shutter echoed but it was faint. it was way too faint for you to notice.

「mingyu: look at who i saw today at a party.

wonwoo: ?

mingyu: sent an image attachment」

twelve , current location — who’s apartment???

you went home with cheol that night. not like you had a choice since you were out of it.

“oh we’re here! kwaan, soonyoungie?” you slurred as the front door opened.

like meerkats, their heads turned simultaneously to the source of the sound.

“yn?” jeonghan jumped off the couch and ran to the front door excitedly. he prominently blurted out an ugly laugh that echoed through the buildings hallway as he got a good look at your face, “shit, they’re so fucking shit faced, what happened?”

“happened to get a reality check mid dancing. after that they proceeded to drink every cup they saw,” seungcheol laughed.

“are they good?” joshua slowly walked towards the three of you as he helped seungcheol bring you in. you were hanging on seungcheol by a thread. seungcheol had to continuously fling your arm around his shoulders so that he could somewhat carry you. even in the car he had to monitor and hold you up by placing his arms across your chest as an extra seatbelt to hold you upright cause if you were to hit your head on the dashboard, you’d be gone.

“i’m gonna freshen them up, can you guys get me a damp towel?” seungcheol looked to his roommates and surely, they followed the request as it was for you.

seungcheol rested you on his bed and wiped your face wth the damp towel jeonghan prepared. he even changed your shirt cause it reeked of alcohol.

soon enough he was laying beside you, joshua and jeonghan spectated at the side of the bed.

“so, yn’s back huh?” joshua crossed his arms.

“yeah,” seungcheol bluntly said as he ran his finger through your hair.

jeonghan had a smirk on his face, “you seem touchier with yn, what happened?”

he eyed the two of them, slightly annoyed but he knew they’d never shut up about it unless he gave a proper answer. “i guess you could say i don’t want to take them for granted anymore.”

“shit, really?“ joshua smiled widely.

“what’s when the reaction?” cheol stopped stroking your hair as he saw the roommates devilish expression.

“nothing it’s just, isn’t this you basically saying you admit you like yn?”

seungcheol’s eyes drifted back to you and he looked at you sincerely.

“yea, i like yn.”

joshua took a breathe and nodded. “glad you could admit it,” he clapped his hands quietly.

“well i’ll leave you two to it,” he said as he patted his friends back and exited the room with jeonghan following him.

there it was.

choi seungcheol likes you.

actually if he was a bit more honest, he would’ve admitted he loves okay but perhaps it was a bit too early for that.

but he was sure of it. after all, those few weeks you were gone must’ve been the most tough to get through without you there to brighten his day.

after that day you didn’t stay for dinner, seungcheol couldn’t lie or hide the fact he was upset by it but hey, what’s it to him? you’re not his, and why should his mood matter if you were there or not.

the second day you were gone, you didn’t even pass by his class like you usually would. he couldn’t help but wonder where were you the whole day. he’d been spending the day refreshing his feed like a fool waiting for an update of you on social media but he was mildly proud that you must’ve been so focused on your project that you didn’t go online. he loved an academically focused person.

but maybe it was for the better. seungcheol never wanted to fall for you. and seungcheol always thought that with the distance between you and him, these meek feelings would fade. but he couldn’t be more wrong.

because few days had passed and he literally found himself at your favourite cafe. was he finding excuses to see you? no, he was there cause he thought you needed a treat especially since you were working so hard on this project. but by this point he couldn’t deny his feelings. choi seungcheol liked you. seeing your face again after not-so-many-days. he felt like he was at home. the way his heart fluttered at the way you cutely turned your head when you heard his voice. your smile that shined. he wanted to call you his.

and ultimately, seungcheol could not deny his feelings any longer. especially not when he jumped out of his bed after receiving a text from you. he was so incredibly lucky that day. he was so lucky you texted him and he was so lucky jeonghan and joshua wasn’t home to hear his cheer of joy.

he was even luckier today since the person he loved most was finally back in his bed.

“kwannie, i need water,” you rolled over, facing seungcheol. he held back his laugh, you really thought you were at seungkwan’s place?

“here,” he placed the cup to your lips as you drank momentarily.

you stopped drinking and seungcheol placed the cup at the bedside table. his hands traced the outline of your body.

all that filled in his head was that if he was to make things official with you, there was no way he was going to fuck it up. he believed that you belong with him.

you woke up, head pounding. you swear you might die from the pain.

you mustered up the strength to sit up straight. you took a breathe in and that’s what woke you up. the scent of your surroundings that was one of a kind, you instantly became aware of the situation.

gosh you ended up sleeping in his bed again?

but you weren’t too bothered. there was a slight feeling of comfort that this is where you woke up.

you freshened yourself up in the washroom then walked outside the room.

you stood close to the door and you could hear someone in the kitchen but other than that there was no person in sight.

“looking for seungcheol?” joshua’s head peeped out from the kitchen giving you a startle.

“shit joshua— uhm yea, where is he?”

“not sure, he left a bit in a hurry but i’m sure he’ll be back.”

you hummed and lightly smiled, walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water. you leaned by the stove joshua was cooking at and he glanced at you. “want me to cook you something?”

“i think i’ll just have a bowl of cereal.”

he was amused, you always had cereal at their place for some reason even if it was night time. “go for it,” joshua grabbed the box of your favourite cereal from the cupboard above him. they always made a mental note to buy it when doing groceries despite you being the only one who ate it.

as you poured yourself a bowl, joshua started a conversation.

“so, not like i don’t like that you’re here, i'm actually glad but, i thought you were getting closer with wonwoo?”

shit.

you forgot all about him.

“oh well i was more or less hanging out with him in the friendly sense yknow.”

joshua tilted his head, listening intently, “i see.”

you also completely forgot joshua and jeonghan had full knowledge about you going out with someone that wasn’t cheol yet they’re treating you as if nothing happened. you couldn’t help but wonder why.

“hey, did you think it was weird i went out with wonwoo?” you couldn’t hold back your curiosity.

joshua’s eyes were focused on the dish he was preparing but he still answered wholeheartedly, “not at all, i mean you said it yourself you went out with wonwoo in the friendly sense, right?”

you went silent and joshua didn’t miss a beat to tease you, “or is that not the case?” he asked with wide eyes.

you were appalled and could only let out a nervous laugh. eventually joshua felt bad and told you his honest opinion.

“regardless if you were or not, you and seungcheol were never exclusive, so why would it be weird?” he asked as he faced you. you sullenly nodded your head as you followed him to the dining table with your meals so that you could sit.

“shua?”

“yea?”

“does cheol know i went out with wonwoo?”

he was just about to take a bite of his meal but he couldn’t help but laugh at your question. “are you afraid he does?”

you nodded a yes as you took a bite of your cereal.

“yn, do you like seungcheol?”

you were once again taken aback. no one has ever asked you if you liked cheol. it was always are you dating him or something of the sort but never an explicit, do you like him.

well it’s not like you were fighting wars to hide it but you just never wanted to answer it. but what was the point of lying now.

“yea.”

joshua let out a breath and smiled. “glad you could admit it.”

“you could tell?”

“i mean. i understand the concept of friends with benefits but you and seungcheol seem beyond it.”

you tapped your spoon on the milk, taking in joshua’s words.

“so you’re afraid seungcheol’s knows you went out with wonwoo because you think seungcheol would drop you afterwards?” he tried to puzzle the pieces together.

you expressed a yes and he sighed. “well i can’t blame you, you must’ve been tired of waiting for seungcheol, right?”

you finally raised your head up. that’s exactly how you felt.

he giggled at your expression, he could tell you’ve been bottling this in.

“well yn, what’s your plan for now?”

“i don’t know. but i think firstly, i need to talk to wonwoo.”

joshua rested his chin in between his fingers, he wasn’t expecting that but he could see where you were going with it.

“well i support you, if you need help i’m here.”

you acknowledged his words with a smile and coincidentally, the front door opened.

you heard a plastic bag rustling and sounds of shoes tapping on the floor, there cheol stood, surprised to see you awake.

“hey, eating breakfast without me?” he pouted.

“where were you?” you crossed your arms.

he scowled and swung the plastic bag in front of your face before taking a seat beside you, “i was buying you some stuff that might help with your hangover.”

ah, that’s right, he always bought you stuff like this.

your eyes lingered in his in awe. he was too busy reading the contents of the things he bought to notice.

“your head alright?”

“a bit.”

“okay well you can take this after you’ve eaten then,” he pointed towards one of the pills as he patted your head.

you and seungcheol were never exclusive. but you wished you were.

and maybe you could.

cause his touch felt like home. being here by his side felt like home.

suddenly the regret of your decisions seeped in. what the fuck have you done.

thirteen , current location — wonwoo’s room.

wonwoo was just having a peaceful friday night. he always spent his friday nights like these, it was a way to recharge before another week of school falls upon him.

but for some reason, he couldn’t help but wonder should he be at the party with you. wonwoo was no stranger to your general character.

he knew you were pretty popular, he never knew for what reasons but you were still always humble about it. he knew that many people found you good looking cause he was one of those people. he couldn’t tell what type of person you’d be but as he hung out with you, he realised there was so much more to you than looks.

cause you had humour, you had drive and you had passion. sure it’s not rare to find people like that but to wonwoo, someone who likes to keep to himself, found himself wanting to be with you. that meant something to him.

cause wonwoo has tried to date but no one has appealed to him as much as you have.

and so wonwoo also knew that you liked partying hence why, if he was to prolong his relationship with you, shouldn’t he be making efforts to be with you?

until that text popped up.

「mingyu: sent an attachment」

a clearly zoomed in photo of you in seungcheol’s arms, kissing.

parts of him was disgusted at his roommate for taking photos of you without permission.

plus, the reasoning of why mingyu sent it was annoying. it was like a big slap of ‘i told you’ onto wonwoo.

but honestly there wasn’t any pain felt as the image projected into his brain.

because wonwoo wasn’t that dumb.

he may have been in denial about that seungcheol guy existing but he was not dumb.

wonwoo has noticed the way you stare at your phone as if you’re waiting for someone to text you. he’s noticed the way you get so frazzled when you’re at campus hanging out with wonwoo, it was like you were expecting someone to show up.

he’s also noticed the widgets of you and another guy on your phone that you never got rid of. he just assumed it must’ve been a guy best friend but as it turns out, those photo widgets were selfies of you and seungcheol.

wonwoo knew you would never be his. he knew it since the day you asked to get coffee or lunch with him because though you were with him, through the lack of eye contact, lack of reciprocation of advances, wonwoo didn't need a hint to know your heart was or must've been with someone else. it only solidified when mingyu brought up your past. after that, there was no denying, he had no chance with you.

but even with how things ended up, he’s embarrassed to say that he would say yes if you asked to get coffee or lunch again.

because you were a good first date.

but the thing about dates is that they always come to an end, right.

he realised that as he woke up the next morning and all that filled his mind was that he needed to talk about it with you.

because if he didn't end things now, he might just continue being with you despite knowing there was someone else in the picture.

but he was better than that, so he texted you.

「wonwoo: hey, i need to talk to you, in person.

yn: oh, is everything alright?

wonwoo: yea

yn: okay, where are we meeting?」

well. he enjoyed it while it lasted.

fourteen , current location — some cafe.

you both agreed on meeting at a cafe nearby campus so that it wouldn’t be too confusing.

you got there first, sitting comfortably while texting wonwoo where you were for some direction.

though you sat comfortably, there was an unsettling feeling lingering. cause you couldn’t guess what wonwoo possibly wanted to talk about.

but he showed up and in your eyes, he seemed normal.

he ordered a drink and soon sat in front of you.

“hi wonwoo," you plastered on a smile.

"hi yn," he returned the smile.

"so what did you want to talk about?"

he swirled his drink with a spoon, he seemed hesitant to start but he just wanted to get it over with, any longer and he might just chicken out and act like nothing happened.

"well i’ll be straightforward with you so be honest with me, are you seeing someone right now?" he asked not threateningly but more in a, 'let me understand you' way.

you were taken aback. out of all of the things wonwoo could've spoken about, wonwoo questioning your relationship status was something you didn't expect.

what possibly made him ask this.

"why are you asking?"

“well i have this roommate, he seems to know a bit too much about you. when he found out you and i were hanging out, he didn’t really like it. he wounded up sending me a photo of you and another guy at the party last night.”

fuck, the situation was really bad. it was out of your control.

especially with the way yesterday’s events rolled into your head, you and seungcheol were so close. you could only imagine what the photo portrayed.

your head instantly shot down and you could only apologise.

you did notice the ways wonwoo hinted he liked you. you couldn't imagine how wonwoo was feeling in this moment.

“i’m sorry wonwoo.”

“i don’t really know why you’re saying sorry,” he softly chuckled as he leaned back into his chair. “it’s not like you and i are dating.”

he was right, yet, you felt so much guilt.

“i’m only asking because i didn’t know you were seeing someone,” he continued.

“well i’m not actually exclusive with him,” you muttered.

his eyes showed his shock, that kinda sucked to hear, “so are you like this with everyone?”

“no! no, it’s just, i wasn’t seeing him during the time you and i were hanging out, i promise—“

wonwoo cut you off, he didn’t want you to be stressed over this, especially not when you and him weren’t exclusive either, “yn, it’s okay, whether you were seeing him or not, i don’t have a say in that. besides, your outings with me were only platonic right?”

as much as neither of you found the outings platonic, it was technically the bitter truth.

“i know but, i liked hanging out with you,” you said with some sort of desperation in your voice.

“me too.”

“i liked you wonwoo.”

“but you love him, right?”

your eyes were glued to the table, you swear you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“it’s okay, we tried,” wonwoo patted your head.

you were always the one who took the lead in conversations so he’s never seen you so silent. and your silence was worrying to him.

with sincere eyes, wonwoo got to your eye level and smiled, “i don’t resent you yn.”

he was so gentle with you, he made you believe you did nothing wrong.

“really?” you lifted up your head.

he had a smile plastered on the whole time which was comforting at the very least but at the same time, it stung you, cause how could he be so calm about this indirect rejection. on top of it all, you acted without thinking about how this affects wonwoo.

but he answered with such kindness, it killed you.

“yea? i still think you’re really cool, sure it’s a shame we didn’t work out but i can’t be mad at you for finding someone else. well if anything, i’m happy for you, i think you’re lucky.”

“lucky?”

“like, to find someone is lucky, not everyone gets to experience love like that at this age. i mean, i don’t know if your relationship with him is like that. but i just hope that when you find someone that gives you their all in the future, you don’t take it for granted because you deserve the best.”

"i hear you wonwoo, thank you."

wonwoo always knew what to say. it’s truly unfortunate you weren’t in love with him but, the least you could do right now was oblige to his hopes.

fifteen , current location — on the sidewalk.

‘you’re lucky.’

if anything you were lucky to have met wonwoo because without him, you wouldn’t have realised that all that you were looking for was right in front of you.

you’ve been holding back for so long and you’ve lost and hurt people because of it, you were done with that.

most of all, you were tired of acting like you weren’t in love with cheol.

the sun was disappearing and the streetlights were starting to light up but you couldn’t go to sleep until you saw him. your favourite cafe was somewhere cheol could reach quickly. you hurriedly walked on the sidewalk as you made you way to the cafe while simultaneously finding cheol’s contact to call him. as it was you calling, he picked up within one beep.

“yes yn? whats up—“ “meet me at my favourite cafe right now,” you cut him off.

you’d probably never find out but his heart dropped at an alarming speed as he heard you words. nevertheless, he responded in a heartbeat, “i’m coming.”

surely, he arrived in just a few minutes.

he easily spotted you awkwardly standing outside the cafe. he jogged towards you, hands in his pockets. his dimples deepened as he greeted you with a smile, “were you bored of something?” he laughed. it was common for you to drag seungcheol out at night so it wasn’t like he was weirded out by this spontaneous call.

“i just dumped a guy,” you blurted. i mean, more like he dumped you but that wasn’t important.

seungcheol’s eyes widened and instantly his smile faded, “what?“

“i dumped a guy because i don’t think i could be with someone that wasn’t you,” your head was tilted down as you dug cresents into your arm. you don’t think you could continue to see cheol without telling him this.

he took a step towards you as he took your hands into his, "what?"

"why have you never asked me out?" you looked at him woefully as you squeezed his hands.

seungcheol didn't know how to react. it was as if his dreams were coming true with your indirect confession but you were clearly hurt and he hated that he made you feel this way.

he knew he strayed from his feelings from you but that was only because he always thought that you were made for someone else.

but perhaps that someone was him.

"i kept going out with people but every fucking time, i only end up thinking about you," you spoke as if you were frustrated, and you were.

it was almost as if the way you felt was irreparable. but he caressed your face with his hand and he looked into your eyes sincerely.

“i’m sorry if i ever made you feel like you were unwanted, that was truly never my intentions yn, believe me,” his face was full of visible concern, fear even. but he continued, filling the silence of the tranquil night, “yn, i’m sorry for making you wait. if it’s not too late i’m willing to make something out of us as long you are aswell.

you blinked your eyes unsure if this was reality but the grip his hand hand on yours was like a pinch telling you this was all real.

“you’re willing to try?”

“always, you’re all i’ve never wanted.”

“like, exclusively?”

“as we always should’ve been,” he breathed out a smile.

there was a sting in your eyes, it felt like tears were forming in your eyes but it wasn’t enough to form a tear drop. but that’s how happy you were.

it’s what you’ve wanted to hear this whole time.

“so yn, will you be my significant other?”

your face that was so close to his was still in his hand, his other hand held your hand. there was no space between you yet you were comfortable. how could this not be the person you’re meant to be with.

you finally let out a smile and answered, “yes cheol, i’m yours.”

naturally with your face so close to his, he pulled you in for a kiss. but unlike the other kisses, this one was soft and sweet. it was new and it felt like a new beginning.

‘fuck, it was that easy,’ is what you both thought as you two parted.

you two pursed your lips as you looked at the ground, embarrassed at the situation as if you were in elementary school doing something scandalous but cheol knew how to move on. “let’s go in and get a drink?” he tilted his head towards the cafe.

“at this time? what are you gonna get from a cafe?” you furrowed your brows.

“i don’t know? a victory doughnut?” he sarcastically spat.

you could only let out a laugh. he stuck his hand out for you to hold and you held it with no hesitance as he guided you two into the cafe.

“ok now tell me more about that guy you dumped.”

“is that really something you want to talk about right now? also he dumped me.”

“really? i should thank him or something, what’s his name?”

you won the guy wanted most at the cost of wonwoo, you’re the one who should thank him.

“jeon wonwoo,” you answered.

“pro gamer jeon wonwoo?! how did you not leave me for him?” cheol’s eyes widened.

“hey, what the fuck?”

by his side, talking about how to move forward, it may have been complicated but it was worth going through as long as it meant you two would be together.

in your favour, that night, you went back to his place and into his bed.

and in cheol’s favour, you’re in his arms.

653 notes · View notes

dilfl0v3rss · 1 year

Text

basketball player!ony who takes his career very seriously. he was the star in high school when you met him and he is the star now at his big name d1 college.

basketball player!ony who’s been scouted by many nba teams, but refuses to go into the draft until he gets his degree. you and him have been together since freshman year of high school and he doesn’t plan on changing that no matter how much recognition he gets.

basketball player!ony who is about 6’5, playing as his schools starting point guard. he averages about twenty-six points a game and wears the number 3. sometimes basketball player!ony can get very hard on himself when he doesn’t perform the way he wants to and he always needs you there to help. whether it be getting his rebounds or watching his previous film, basketball player!ony always looked to you first.

basketball player!ony who begged you to go to the same college as him, not thinking he would survive being away from you and you didn’t mind because you felt the exact same way.

basketball player!ony who has to shoot down different girls everyday. constantly throwing away love letters and gifts from the many girls on campus. sometimes splitting the candy he’d get with you.

basketball player!ony who is rarely seen without you unless he is at practice or a game and during those games he always made sure you are seated in the nearest seat to the bench. throwing you a quick wink with a smirk when he’d make a tough shot.

basketball player!ony who’d always bring you up in his interviews after games.

“onyankopon what a great game tonight. you did spectacular ending with thirty-seven points, twelve assists and eleven rebounds. how does it feel to be such a big asset to the team at such a young age?”

“uhhm i just come out here and perform like i normally do. i love this game and it’d be disrespectful of me to not play at my full potential as often as i can. i also wanna give a shout-out to my beautiful girlfriend y/n. there have been nights where it’s just me and her watching film, breaking each game down to make me better. i wouldn’t have made it this far without you mama. i love you”

he’d say, looking straight into the camera as if you were watching him through it. (the interview went viral btw)

basketball player!ony who has you wear his chains for each game since he can’t wear jewelry while playing, not letting you take them off until the two of you got to his dorm room.

“fuck keep ridin’ it just like that baby.” he groaned as you bounced up and down on your boyfriends dick, pretty gold chains dangling from your neck as you slowed your pace. he had just finished a game and needed to get you home immediately after seeing a random from the crowd try to flirt with you, snatching your attention away from him while he was killing his opponents. one of his favorite things about you was that you loved basketball just as much as he did, watching every game without batting an eye.

you gave your boyfriend your full attention and even gave him criticism to show for how much you were paying attention. the fact that some random nigga can snatch that attention from him boiled his blood. his legs were tired and already getting sore from the game as he lay comfortably under you. “daddy m’tireddd” you have been going at it for almost an hour, but basketball player!ony knew you were a good girl and wouldn’t stop until he said to. “ion care. keep that same pace until i nut in you”

basketball player!ony who also let you pick his jersey number.

it was the night after graduation when he had your legs pressed up to your chest on the bed. basketball player!ony fed you deep strokes as he talked to you about your future with him. “how many babies you want daddy t’give you?” he groaned in your ear while pushing himself deeper. you moaned out loud as you felt him kiss your cervix, eyes rolling back as you were slowly going in and out of awareness. “c’mon mama i need an answer it’s important”

you had no idea why he was so eager for an answer but you knew he wasn’t going to let you cum until you told him. he let go of your legs and held both of your hands in his. staring you in the eyes as he slowed his speed and deepened his strokes. you were falling more in love with this man everyday. “i know you like that, but i need you to give me an answer or daddy gon have to stop.” your back arched off the bed as your boyfriend hit a particularly sensitive spot in you. he knew you were close, but he really needed you to answer his question. he stopped completely, staying inside of you as he waited for a reply. you mewled, upset at the lack of friction. “i know mama i know. just tell me how many and i’ll fuck you ‘til you wet this bed up.”

“t-three.” you whispered. it was barely audible, but he heard you, asking again for clarification. “speak up baby” “t-threeee ohh myyy goddd daddy waitttt” you freed one of your hands before pawing at his stomach. he pounded into you at a quick pace, drawing your orgasm out quickly as you spasmed around his dick. “and ima take care of you and them when i go pro i swear. they not gon have to worry about a damn thing and ima wear that number on my back to remind the both of us who we doin this shit for” the two of you came together, holding each other as fatigue got the best of you and ushered the both of you to sleep. your boyfriend never forgot what he swore to do and kept up with it through college.

basketball player!ony never started a game without first kissing his three fingers and pressing them on his jersey. letting you know he always remembered his promise to you.

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot #aot smut #black reader #aot x black reader #x black reader #onyankopon #onyankopon x black!reader

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macfrog · 6 months

Text

you'll hurt me if you don't trust me sex on fire chapter eight

super special sparkly shoutout to @chloeangelic ✨💛✨ whose influence inspired a whole load of intimacy in this. it is, unashamedly, eleven thousand words of sheer self-indulgence. so. love u guys. see u soon

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you’re unwell. joel makes you feel better. until he doesn’t.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, cursing, sugardaddy!joel, softsoftsoft!joel, they eat chinese food together, reader has her period + mention/description of used tampon, discussion of abandonment/absent parents & parental death, discussion of cheating, lying, thigh riding, unprotected piv period shower sex (that is a mouthful thatswhatshesaid), VERY needy reader, SLIGHT dacryphilia (kinda not really?), creampie, aftercare joel, praise kink, daddy kink, angst & fluff & angst all over again

word count: 11k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

Martha had been pretty good about it. She’d watched you near-doubled in pain most of yesterday, hobbling to the kitchen every four hours to top up on pain meds. She knew you weren’t making it up. She made a conservative two jokes about you calling in this morning, and then told you to rest up. She’d let Joel know you’d be back tomorrow.

“You owe me, though. Joel’s got that shareholders meeting today. If I’m forced to sit in with him ‘n his cronies talkin’ numbers and takin’ notes, sweetheart, all so you can catch up on The Bachelorette…”

Alright. Three jokes.

You hang up and slide the phone back across your nightstand; roll over and stuff a pillow between your thighs as if that’ll do anything against the dull throb gnawing at your belly. Your shades are tilted upward, shrinking your bedroom into a foggy gray save for the shards of light which split across the ceiling.

There’s a heavy ache tugging behind your eyes, an irritating weight which shoves you into the arms of sleep and then pulls you back by the hair before you’re taken off by it. You’re dozing, fingertips massaging your eyelids and stretching the skin back and forth when the doorbell slices the stillness of your apartment in two, shrill in your sleep-deprived ears.

You ignore it at first. Fuck that. Fuck whoever that is. You’re not planning on leaving your cocoon today unless it’s to go pee, grab a snack, or maybe if you lose the remote in your sheets.

But it rings out again. Twice, this time. And in a blur of hormonal rage, you whip the sheets back, throw yourself out of bed and stagger down the hallway. You straighten up only enough to peer through the peephole, your palms pressed to the back of the door, and that’s when you see him.

He’s cradling a brown bag in his left arm, a second dangling from his wrist. His head is huge in comparison to his body, owing to the distorted fisheye glass. He shifts from foot to foot impatiently, awkwardly glancing down the hall. You’d recognize that jawline fucking anywhere.

Your breath pushes nervously against the door. You click the lock and curl around the heavy wood, your fingers clamping on the edge.

The two of you eye one another up and down before Joel speaks.

“Hi, darlin’.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Martha said you were sick?”

You pause. Look down to the bunch of wild flowers sat in the crook of his elbow, and then back up to his face, painted with – what is it – concern? There are lines you rarely see when he’s looking at you, carved deep between his brows.

A fire strikes in your belly.

“…I’m fine. I’m – I’m all good. Just – feeling a little…”

“What is it? Is it the flu? I brought flu stuff.” He nods into the bag, and reaches inside for a box of cold tablets and a pack of tissues. He tosses them across the threshold and you catch them, holding them close against your shoulder.

You smile, trying to hold back on a laugh, but also because what the fuck? He’s so sweet. The flames lick at the bottom of your lungs.

“It’s not…it’s not the flu, no.”

Joel nods, looking back into the bag. “Good thing I also brought these, then.”

He tilts it forward and you unhook from the door, leaning over to peer in. A box of Tampax, two bottles of painkillers, green packets of face masks and floral sachets of herbal teas. You fish one out.

“Chamomile,” you muse, pouting.

He shrugs. “Lady at the store said it’s a good muscle relaxant, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a meeting today?”

“Cancelled it. You freaked me out.”

Your heart knocks on your chest wall. Did you fucking hear that? You freaked him out. You gulp in response. Swallow hard to shut it the hell up.

“So, Martha’s in the office by herself?”

“She’s a big girl. Told her she could leave early if she got my to-do list done. I give it until one,” he mutters, glancing down at his watch. “Oh,” he says then, spotting the brush of green and burst of purple in his arm, “got you these. I don’t know what you like yet, but…”

Yet. Yet yet yet.

You take the posy delicately between your fingers, as if it might fall apart at the mere touch of your hand. The brown paper crinkles as it lifts from Joel’s arm, and you tilt them in the hallway’s milky light.

The sprigs shoot in wild directions, tangling and twisting around one another. Daisies, lazy in their climb, swirling around the gentle brush of lavender, wrapped tightly to some other flower you don’t recognize. They’re tied together in a neat, white lace bow.

You imagine Joel stood in the middle of some fragrant florist, rotating on the spot. Dumbfounded before some assistant in a flowing skirt and tinkling bracelets sweeps over to him. I don’t know what she likes – yet, he tells them. And your heart screams into the pillow of muscle surrounding it.

“Thank you.” The smile on your lips threatens to break into a grin. At the same time, a shot of pain rips across your belly. “Come in,” you groan through a wince, taking his shirt in your fist and pulling him inside.

Your apartment is probably a couple years too small for you. You’ve accumulated so much in the time you’ve lived here that you could do with finding a bigger place – but you’re comfortable. It feels like home, when nowhere did for so long. It’s snug, and humble, and as you lead him down your hallway, you imagine you’re feeling how Joel probably did when he showed you around his childhood home.

Your cheeks flush with something a little blunter than embarrassment, but prickled with nerves. Your living room rolls its eyes inward, every object looking over in suspicion and wonder. Who the hell is this man, in your space, armed with toiletries and a ten-grand watch on his wrist?

You pause by the sink, filling a glass with water for the flowers. Your teeth bite down on your lip. There are dishes on the counter, there’s laundry piled on stools, blankets and cushions strewn messily across your couch. Joel shakes his head when you apologize, holds a palm up when you try to explain how you’d gotten home from work last night and gone straight to bed. I haven’t had the energy to clean.

He won’t hear it. Says he’s not here to see your clean apartment. Here to see you.

He sets the bags on the worktop and looks around the room. Blinks from the sheer curtains guarding the balcony doors, to the pastel candles on your coffee table. Smiles when he notices the Pretty Woman poster framed above the couch.

“What?” you ask, when his eyes finally land back on you. You tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it further down your bare thighs.

“Nothin’. Just – knew there was somethin’ more to you.”

You fold your arms and rock forward gently on the balls of your feet. Your head tilts. Your brows knit.

Joel clarifies, “I knew you weren’t as put together as you pretend to be at work. This – looks like your place. That’s all.”

“Oh, yeah? ‘n what does my place look like?

His cheeks lift. “Little all over the place. Little surprising. But bright. Cozy. You.”

“Bright ‘n cozy,” you echo.

He nods. Purses his lips, then adds, “And great in bed.”

You cough a laugh, reach out to shove his arm, and he catches your hand. He reels you in against his body and cups your head, fixing some flyaway strands of hair. You stare up at him, eyelashes slowly blinking him in and out of focus. His mottled beard and hazel eyes. The flecks of honeydew and amber swimming around his pupil. His shirt wrinkles beneath your chin.

“You hungry?” he asks, voice rumbling through his chest. You seem to understand the vibrations sooner than the words, these days. He reaches for the handles of the white bag, sliding it over towards you. “I brought lunch.”

“You brought lunch.” You scoff, grinning to yourself. It quickly fades, though, when your hand lowers into the bag and meets a warm, flat surface – two halves of a folded lid. Your brows pull. “You brought…”

Joel smiles as you lift the box, popping it open. Hot steam escapes the minute the lid folds back.

“Chinese okay? I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise by callin’ to ask what you wanted. I can run out and grab somethin’ else if you’re not –”

“How did you know to get…?” Your voice whittles to nothing as you stare down at the fresh-cooked meal, the bed of greasy noodles mixed with fried vegetables. Your tongue swipes at the corners of your mouth.

“’cause I know you,” Joel says, digging for a second box from the bag. “Anytime you’re stressed with work, anytime I give you a hard day, that’s what you order in for lunch, right?” He nods to the container as he tosses an egg roll into his mouth.

You giggle, lifting the box to hide your swollen cheeks. Your heartbeat hammers below your jaw.

“Right?” Joel laughs. “Chow mein? I’m right, ain’t I? You know I’m right.”

He nudges against you, taking his own lunch from the bag, and casts a familiar glance – the same one you saw a few days ago in Lavender Oaks. Like the decades-old mask slips just for a second and suddenly, a younger, shyer Joel shines through. He’s almost imperceptible, almost concealed by the cocky smirk and witty remarks of his older self, but you’ve seen him once, and now – he’s impossible to lose sight of.

“You’re weird,” you note, spinning off towards your bedroom.

Joel’s hot at your heels. “I’m weird?”

“Uhuh. For noticing that.”

He snorts, and then you feel a slap to your ass cheek. “Nice underwear, by the way. Who’d you steal them from?” he murmurs close to your ear, averting your gaze when you turn back, beaming.

You pad across the soft rug to your bed, dropping down and pulling the sheets back to make room for Joel. He’s setting his food down. You think to offer him a change of clothes – something more comfortable than a dress shirt and suit trousers – but the best you’d have is an oversized tee, and not much else.

The thought almost dizzies you. Joel, in his boxers and a t-shirt from your wardrobe. A shirt that smells like you, feels like you, belongs to you. A piece of you, hung from his shoulders like it was always meant to be shared between you. The way it’d still smell of him even after the sun had set and he’d peeled it from his body, folded it into a pile at the end of your bed and left in his button up.

He sits on the edge of your mattress to kick his shoes off, and marvels some more at the room just like he did in the kitchen. The fire in your chest is slowly turning your lungs to ash, stealing breath each time his dimples appear – squinting at the framed photographs on your dresser, tilting his head to read the titles of the books on your shelves.

When he catches sight of the paint-splattered easel in the corner, he turns back. Your eyes are already locked back on your chow mein, refusing to meet his. He doesn’t say anything. Just shuffles up against the headboard, nudges your knee with his own.

“You get that at the concert?” he asks, eyes a little south of yours.

You glance down. You’re wearing an old Queen tour tee, graphic print accompanied by 1986 in multicolored lettering. A little before your grand entrance on the planet. A little after Joel’s.

“Rod’s Retro, eastside,” you reply. “You find some cool stuff in there, Mr. CEO.”

Joel’s chin lifts, considering. “Hm,” he says, “you gonna take me someday?”

You nod. Maybe a little too eagerly. It doesn’t feel like you ought to care. “Um, yes. You would fucking love it. Half my wardrobe is thrifted.”

He nods once – banking the information. “Every day, I learn somethin’ new.”

“Shut up,” you quip, kicking him gently. “How come I never get to learn anything new about you?”

He shrugs, chewing. “Self-absorbed.”

You kick him for real this time. He laughs into his takeout box.

“I’m messing with you. You know plenty about me. You met my mom the other day, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Not enough. Don’t know where you get all your clothes from, or what your comfort food is.”

He replies through a mouthful of chop suey. “Then, ask.”

Your voice is high, defensive. “No. That’s too easy.”

Joel snorts.

You reach for the remote and click the screen opposite to life. Joel lifts his arm to let you sink against his body, and you flick through the channels. Shark Tank, Grey’s Anatomy, Wendy fucking Williams, and then –

You gasp. Joel looks up from his food. His brows arch, eyes flitting from you to the screen. You swear a groan escapes from his lips. You feel the thunder against your ear.

“You ever seen it?”

“Dirty Dancing? Yeah, I’ve seen Dirty Dancing, pretty girl.”

“You probably saw it at the movies, right? When it came out? In the eighties?”

“Careful.”

You smile. “What did you think of it?”

Joel’s shoulders lift. His eyes are back on the screen. Be My Baby is crooning from the TV. “I liked Patrick Swayze,” he says.

You watch him, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, you lean closer. “You…you liked Patrick Swayze?”

“Yeah,” Joel says, like it’s obvious. He turns back to you, one eyebrow raised. “He was cool. You don’t like ‘im in it?”

“No, I like Patrick Swayze,” you tell him. “Just…if that’s all you like about it, then…we might have a problem.”

He scoffs. “I don’t remember much of it, to tell you the truth.”

“Good. We’re watching it.”

Your head moves with his chest as he sucks in a deep, defeated breath. “Baby, I –”

“Ah,” you tap the remote on his knuckles, “you remember the Baby part.”

With a laugh which sounds an awful lot like approval and a grunt which sounds an awful lot like Alright, Joel sinks lower into the mattress. You drape your legs across his, and when he finishes eating, his fingers draw round shapes on your hot skin, daring past the hem of his own boxers on your thighs.

Somewhere around the lake scene, you notice your hand intertwined with his. Locked together, surfing over one another, squeezing and then loosening. Tracing the curve of each other’s palms and learning the lines scored into the skin. Fingertips becoming fluent in the landscape of one another’s bodies. Mapping them, like you’re afraid to forget.

Your eyes glass over, whether from fatigue, or from the now smoldering fire inside you, or from something harder to pinpoint. Your head feels heavy, leaning on Joel’s chest, listening to the drum of his heart against your ear. It sounds familiar, like you’ve known it forever. Like you can almost hear the whisperings between the soft thudding.

You start when you feel him moving beneath you. He groans, stretches his arms, and then snakes them around your body. The end credits are rolling. The movie’s over. You weren’t asleep, but you missed half of it. Your mind elsewhere – though you have no idea where.

Maybe you do. Maybe that’s not something you can bear – yet. Yet yet yet.

You crane your neck and look up to your boss. He’s already staring right back at you. His eyes widen.

“What did you think?” you ask sleepily.

He sniffs. “It’s good. Very politically charged. Lotsa Swayze.”

Your lips curve, cheek nuzzles into his shirt. “Very us, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Especially that part in the water. When he –” his arms lift, holding an invisible Baby up – “y’know? You ‘n me, we do that all the time.”

“I hate you.”

He tightens his grip around your shoulders and lifts you closer, smiling. You think, when his eyes dart for half a second to your lips, that he might kiss you. You think you want him to. But he simply asks, “You want some tea?” and reaches over to swipe the empty containers from your nightstand.

You nod. “I’ll come help.”

“I got it,” he assures in that Southern gentleman tone, steady hand on your thigh as he slips out of bed.

“You don’t even know where the mugs are.”

Joel considers this for all of five seconds. Shrugs. Tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” and disappears through to the kitchen.

You lay back and close your eyes, counting each cupboard door opening and then immediately falling shut as he makes his way around the place, seeking out your collection of mugs. When he eventually opens what must be the right one, you hear him exclaim.

“Ha! First try.”

You snort, bleary eyes opening again to focus on the TV. They’re discussing the Kardashians on The View. Your eyebrows lift in agreement as if you’re sat in the studio with them. They move on to some segment on the president.

Joel returns a few minutes later, two mugs in hand, and passes you the one shaped like a ghost.

“Cute,” you whisper, taking it in both hands.

He flashes you a proud grin as he lays back down, sipping on a black coffee in a faded mug your mom gave you years ago.

You tap your nail against the ceramic in his hands. “World’s Best Daughter.”

“That’s me,” he replies, propping himself up on an elbow. “Your mom get you it?”

Your head drops, eyes staring at him from under low brows. “No. My fucking neighbor did.”

He stares back as he lifts the mug to his lips. They melt in a kiss against the ceramic. When he pulls it away again, he swallows, and says, “You’re close to her.”

“My neighbor? Yeah, she lives right next door.”

“Easy, smartass.”

You flash him a smug grin, which dissolves as quickly as you notice his eyes lingering on the half-heart charm around your neck. By instinct, your fingers clutch the smooth gold, as if protecting the smallest part of yourself from him. The only part you’ve never let him in on.

But there’s something in his eye – something that feels less like a spotlight and more like a warm fire. Sharing secrets muted by the sputtering of wood, held safely by the round rusty glow of the flames. Something kinder. Something protective.

“Yeah,” you say, voice crackling, “we’re closer ‘n anyone. Been through a lot together.”

Joel nods. He knew that already. “I’ll bet, pretty girl.”

And in typical Joel fashion, he doesn’t press for any more than you willingly offer. A part of you kind of wants him to ask more, wants him to push you. A weight jumps at the bottom of your chest, like the words fail to launch. And before you can retry, before you can confess more of yourself into his hands, he says –

“Ask me som’.”

You stall, and look at him intently. “What?”

“Anything you want. Free pass.”

Your cheeks swell. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re sharin’ things, ‘s only fair we both do.”

“I don’t – We don’t have to –”

“Ask me,” he says slowly, eyebrows twitching.

“O-kay…”

You push a deep breath from your lips, cheeks globing as you scan around the room for inspiration. Something casual enough that you can ask it with ease, but deep enough that he’ll give you an answer worth sinking your teeth into. Something you don’t know about him; light enough to roll off your tongue, and then heavy when it lands in your palms.

Your gaze orbits back to his patient form and you ask, “How did you get the money to start your company?”

Joel seems to feel the weight of it when he catches it. Heavy, rather than light. Deep, rather than casual. He opens his mouth, runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek before he answers. “My, uh…my dad. He had a little bit of money.”

“He invest in it?”

“No, no. He, uh…he left it when he died.”

Your lips pull in a wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, and Joel looks up.

“’s okay, baby,” he replies, with a soft chuckle that makes the loose collar of his shirt quiver. He pushes some hair out of your face, settles his hand on your knee.

You hook two fingers around his thumb. He squeezes lightly.

“He musta loved you a lot. Leavin’ you so much.”

Another deep breath. His body stiffens. You think to unlock your fingers and take his hand properly, comfort him, maybe – but he’s already lifting it, scratching his beard with his thumb. He watches a bubble swirl around in his mug until it disappears with a pop into the dark coffee, and he finally looks up.

“It’s kinda…complicated. He and my mom – they were married for years, ‘n he ended up…” Joel swallows. His jaw clenches. “He cheated on her. Had this mistress for months. Mom found out through a friend of hers. She kicked him out of the house, but they never divorced. Just stayed separated until he died, ‘n then he left all his money to her.”

“To your mom?”

Joel nods. “She didn’t want a penny of it. Hated the man ‘til the day he died ‘n beyond.”

And you believe it. Ruth Miller was kind, warm and charming to you. She laughed with you, she smiled like she’d known you her whole life, she held your hands and she whispered secrets about Joel in your ear – purposefully to embarrass him, to make that bashful side turn its head again.

But she was sharp. She was quick, and you knew within the first five minutes of meeting her exactly where Joel got his wit and his mind. You can see her, clear as day, guarding the front porch of that little white house – one hand on her hip and the other pointing in the direction her cheating husband was to head.

Just as clear, you can see her stood over that same husband’s grave, waving her fist and tearing his will into confetti. It brings something of a smile to your face. Sad, sympathetic, but…impressed.

“Wow…So she – she gave it to you? And you – put it into the company?”

He shrugs, grip tightening around the mug. “When I started makin’ money, I paid off the mortgage on her house, managed to convince her to retire early. Got her into a good retirement home, once she was ready for it.”

Smart guy.

A calm quiet falls between you. Joel turns to watch the commercials on TV. Your chest fills with a need to ask him something – a feeling all too familiar whenever you’re around him. Only him. A weight on your mind, a bubbling which starts in your stomach and rises up until it’s practically pushing the words out over your tongue.

“Your dad – how do you not hate him?”

He turns back. Your eyes are stinging. He notices. Holds his palm out, and your fingers instantly lace through his. Your nails find those same valleys, the grooves you’d traced while Swayze and Grey mamboed.

Joel stares up at you, face suddenly tight with worry. He knows there’s something loaded behind your question. Knows you’re asking for something more than another jigsaw piece of him. You’re doing it again. You’re freakin’ him out.

“I…” He falls quiet, looks between your eyes at the pearly tears which form in the corners, the way your face sets to stone. He glances down at your necklace again, and shakes his head softly. “I spent a long time hatin’ him, baby. Changed nothin’. He did what he did. He was a scumbag.”

The answer melts your angry frame, body folding and sinking further into your pillows. You tug the bedsheet a little closer to your chin, press your lips into the top of the ceramic ghost’s head.

Your voice sounds small, sounds like it doesn’t even come from your chest, when you say, “I think I hate my dad. For what he did.”

Joel finally relaxes. Like he’s finally seen the tiny creature casting the huge, stretched shadow on the wall. “You…Yeah?”

You nod. Stare at the cotton mountain of your legs entangled in his. “Yeah. He just up ‘n left, when things got boring. When I grew up, and my mom got older. Just packed his car, and…I always wonder –” a breath lurches from your chest, “– I always wonder why I wasn’t worth stickin’ around for. Why he just – decided one day to…”

Your voice fails to carry. Joel knows the end of the sentence, anyway.

You’ve never told anybody any of this. Not Blake, not your mom, not any of your friends; you barely even know in yourself how you feel about it – even twelve years later. But the air in the room feels different – feels thicker, like you’re tucked away from the world. The conversation won’t leave your apartment, you know that much. Know that Joel wouldn’t speak of it again, wouldn’t so much as let it cross his own mind, if you asked him not to. And so you let the words tumble from your tongue, let them sit heavy in the space between you.

The space between you, which is now silent, like you’re both preoccupied. Joel, taking in the weight of what you’ve said into strong, safe hands; and you, feeling that same weight lift off of your chest. Until the silence itself feels clunky, and awkward, and you scram to find something to break it up.

“Anyway. Sorry to be a bummer.”

“You ain’t a bummer. Are you kidding?” Joel sighs. “I’m sorry, babygirl. Sorry that happened to you.”

“’s okay. He was just a scumbag, right?”

“Sure sounds it.”

You take a small sip, the tea sugarcoating your lips and flooding over your tongue – the sweet taste ridding them of the bitter memory of your dad. “Your turn,” you hum.

Joel’s head jerks. “No, darlin’, you already told me somethin’. You go again.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’m changin’ the rules.”

You try to protest, manage the sound Jo– before his hand lifts and he shushes you.

“That’s what I was gonna ask, anyways. Was gonna ask about you ‘n your dad. Now, go.”

He’s lying. You know it, and you suspect he knows you know it, too. It’s a terrible attempt at a lie, no matter how kind it is. But you’re too tired, a little too in pain to argue back over it. And he’s looking at you again, with that honeycomb twinkle in his eye, that Joel look which stirs something in you every time he shows you it.

You sigh, accepting defeat, and rack your brain for something else you want him to talk about.

“Alright, uh…What about your brother? He didn’t want any of your dad’s money?”

Joel’s face twists into something of a grimace. You instantly regret bringing it up.

“Touchy subject?” you ask, already coming up with five new, two-dimensional questions to ask in place of that one. Who was your first kiss and what was your first car and when did you find your first gray hair and what’s your mom’s maiden name and –

But you don’t need them.

Joel says, “Not with you,” and tilts his head, like measuring up his answer. He takes his time letting it filter down to his lips, and you reckon you’ve a good idea of why.

He was closed-off about it in Paris. About his brother. Didn’t say more than three sentences about him. And that was only where a sheep farm was considered. What you’re asking about right now is a hell of a lot deeper and a hell of a lot more difficult than a ranch in the Texan countryside.

“He was always closer to Dad. They used to go out huntin’ every Sunday. Liked the same music, watched the same TV. They were buddies, more ‘n anything. When it turned out my dad had this whole other life behind our backs – behind Tommy’s back – he flipped. Couldn’t take it. He disappeared, never looked back. Just packed his car, moved across the country.”

He’s staring at the TV now, barely blinking. Barely breathing, until you speak and it’s like he remembers he’s in your apartment, on your bed, with you. Not back in time twenty years, watching the dust kick up from under his little brother’s tires.

“He must’ve been pretty mad.”

“Yeah. Tommy’s like that, he’s got a hot head on his shoulders. But it meant leavin’ Mom, y’know? She went through all of that without him. I had to pick up all these broken pieces, juggle all this stuff, ‘n he just got to walk away from it all. And then, when Dad died, he refused to come back still. Left me to organize everything – the money, the funeral. The whole damn thing.”

He flicks his head, resentfully, like trying to dislodge the memory from his mind. Trying to shake it free. When you speak, it seems to soften him. Seems to thaw whatever angry image was frozen behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “that part sucks. I bet it was hard goin’ through all that without him.”

Joel’s head angles towards you. “Not any harder ‘n it was on you, goin’ through what you did.”

“Well…I know I would’ve found it easier if I had a brother or sister. Someone like me, someone who gets it, y’know?”

“Hm. We weren’t all that close to begin with, I guess.”

“You were close enough to want to buy a ranch together.”

He shakes his head again, this time refusing to let the idea in. Turning it away at the door.

“You miss him?”

“It my turn to ask somethin’ yet?” he asks, smiling.

But you’re feeling braver now. He’s answered everything up until now; it feels less like a game and more like…more like he wants to talk about it. Like it’s been pent up all this time and this is the first anyone’s brought it up. A relief to get it off his chest, if nothing else.

You ignore him. Press him. “Do you?”

Joel sighs deep enough that his coffee ripples a little in his mug, and then nods. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if we were on speaking terms, yeah.”

“So, call him. You have his number?”

“I ain’t gonna call him, baby.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Last I heard, ‘n it was a long time ago now – he was in Wyoming. Married, kid on the way.”

“Call him. You really gonna let that kid grow up without Uncle Joel around?”

“Uncle Joel,” he repeats, laughing now. “He does not want to hear from me, angel. Let it go.”

Joel turns the volume up and settles back into bed, pillows propped behind him. You pass him your empty mug and he slots it alongside his own. As the commercials end and Whoopi Goldberg flashes a grin into the camera, you give it one final shot.

“I’d give anything to have someone who knew and understood me as well as a brother might.”

His hand falls limp against your bedsheets, remote loose in his fingers. You lift his arm, nuzzling underneath it to lean your head by his heart, and he sighs.

Argument won.

“Too many big questions,” you mutter after a while, eyes clinging to the screen. “Ask me somethin’ stupid.”

“Somethin’ stupid,” Joel repeats, and you nod. “Alright. Who’d you lose your virginity to?”

You slap his chest. “Dirtbag!”

He chuckles. “Who was it? Blake?”

“No,” you reply.

“Damn. Who?”

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see you.

But suddenly you feel the loose spaghetti straps of a slip dress over your shoulders, see the off-white glow of three-year-old sneakers crossed at your ankles, chipped pink fingernails tracing the blurry pastel shapes on floral bedsheets. A dry throat, the sanitized backwash of vodka and coke splashing across your tongue. A smash from downstairs – someone’s broken the host’s mom’s best vase.

“Was just this guy I slept with at a house party,” you tell Joel, clearing your throat. “Lisa Tait’s sweet sixteenth. We were in her bedroom, all of us, ‘n everyone started heading downstairs, ‘til it was just me ‘n this dude Jack laying on her bed.”

“You had sex on some other girl’s bed?”

You nod, cringing a little. “I wasn’t even friends with her. Wasn’t even friends with him. Just thought, fuck it. I didn’t wanna go into senior year a virgin ‘n neither did he, I guess.”

“How’d it go?”

The messy, uncomfortable thrusts between your legs. The hand shooting down to guide himself back in. The wet lips running along the shell of your ear, the acidic breath on your cheek. Is that good for you? Yeah, it’s good for me. You sure? I’m sure. Just hurry up.

“Lasted, like, four minutes, thirty seconds.”

Joel’s body jerks. You know he’s staring at the crown of your head. “You timed him?”

“No. He lasted as long as Paradise by Coldplay. It was playin’ downstairs in the living room.”

He tips his head back and laughs to the ceiling. You giggle into his shirt.

“Poor guy,” Joel says, rubbing your shoulder.

“Poor me, more like.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and pats your head. “Least you’re doin’ alright now.”

You push yourself up from his chest and glare at his satisfied smirk, dodging his thumb when it lifts to clip your chin. “Oh, you’re so smug about it.”

“Are you kidding? For lastin’ longer than five minutes? ‘course I am. Can make you come twice in that time.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. Runs the tip of his tongue along his top lip, corners of his mouth twitching. Something sparks to life inside you.

Your knee lifts, reaching over his waist and planting into the mattress on the opposite side. Joel’s hands come to rest on your thighs, fingers slipping up beneath the black cotton and edging against your hipbones. You bend over him, lips running a wet trail from the base of his neck to his earlobe. His breath falters.

“Prove it, daddy,” you whisper, and his grip tightens.

“Baby,” he warns, voice suddenly sharper. “We don’t have to –”

You ignore him, holding him down by the shoulders. “I want to.”

“I’m just sayin’,” his fingers wrap around your wrists, “’s not why I came here. We can just hang out.”

“We are hanging out,” you tell him. “This is what we do.”

And he seems to agree. Or, at least, accepts defeat, in the form of rolling his hips upwards. His fingers slip through yours, locking at your knuckles, anchoring you to him. You grind against his belt buckle, the hard metal flat against your clit. Joel clocks you instantly.

He sits up. Holds you by the ass on his body until your center is flush with his. You feel him stir beneath your open legs.

He shifts to the edge of the bed, keeping you chest to chest in his lap. Your teeth grit against one another. His lips are warm, they still taste like coffee. You lick at the corners.

“Wanna make yourself feel good on me?” he asks.

A smile as sweet as sugar and laced with something darker spreads across your lips. “You’re best at it, right?”

Joel hums. “Alright,” he says, impressed. His chin lifts; he breathes a laugh as you pepper his jaw with kisses. “Take what you need, angel. ‘s all yours.”

Your knees spread wider. You push down on his swollen crotch, voice catching as he meets you halfway, bucking up into you again. Your clit throbs at the contact, forcing you back up off him.

“D-addy,” you choke, hands suddenly gripping his shoulders.

Joel’s stronger. He takes your waist and replaces you on his lap. “Shh,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “’s okay, baby. I got you. We’re gonna make you feel good together, alright? Here.”

He slides you over until your legs are either side of one of his, his thick thigh flat against your most sensitive spot. You dig your nails into his forearms, squeezing hard, but he doesn’t budge. Just looks up at you, holding you steady, and says –

“Go on. Ride it, babygirl.”

You move an inch. The rough fabric catches on the soft of Joel’s underwear. You gasp, relief mixing with arousal and spilling warm and soothing between your legs.

Joel squeezes your hips. “Do it, darlin’. Make yourself feel good. ‘m here, I’ll watch.”

The fabric beneath your pussy is soaked, probably dampening a mark into his pants – and you don’t fucking care. It feels good – the steady weight of him, lifting his thigh as you drag yourself along it, beginning to rock back and forth.

Your eyes are closed, head to the ceiling, grinding your core against his. You can feel him staring. Watching you, his gaze red hot on your already fevered skin. You collapse into him over and over, his body solid as a rock, letting yours fold against him. Liquid in pleasure and feeling.

Your eyes open a sliver and you smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Joel smirks. “You know how fucking perfect you look right now?”

You nod, forehead coming to lean heavily on his.

He bucks his leg, jaw tight. “How – fucking – beautiful you are? Making yourself come on daddy’s thigh?”

You inhale the words as he speaks them, swallowing them in gasps and parting your lips complacently for more. Keep going. Keep telling me –

“–you my good girl?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, legs starting to give.

“Gonna get me covered in you? Gonna come all fuckin’ over me, babygirl?”

“Daddy, I want –”

“Tell me,” he demands, “tell me what you want.”

His hands are clamped on your waist, guiding you – driving you, more than your weak hips are able to – holding you to him almost painfully. Your body circles messily, becoming sloppier the closer your orgasm draws, quivering when the feeling runs a delicate hand through your hair and plants wet kisses along your neck.

“Want you to fuck me, daddy,” you whine, body rocking again. Your hand lowers to cup the outline of him, rock-hard and restrained beneath linen. He shudders when you squeeze him – looks down to your small hand on the huge bulge in his trousers. “Need to feel you inside me.”

Your own eyes are stuck on the place where your bodies connect, writhing against one another – the wet seam of Joel’s underwear, the folds of his pant leg as you rut against him. Your empty cunt tightens, aching for more against his firm thigh.

“’m gonna, pretty girl,” he says, groaning as you palm him. “‘m gonna fuck you so good. Just give me one first, alright? Let me see you come for me.”

Your body jolts as you come. Hips lose their rhythm; arms lock tight around Joel’s shoulders. And all the while, his lips stay pressed against your ear.

“Look so good, baby,” he coos. “That feel good, angel? Yeah?”

As quickly as your orgasm sent you under, you’re pulling back. You haven’t even regained feeling between your legs, but you’re pushing yourself from his lap, separating your bodies.

Joel sits back, body lightweight when you tug on his wrists and drag him up to height in front of you. You’re backing up across the plush rug, his chest bumping against yours, your fingers fumbling for the buttons of his shirt. Your back hits the bathroom door. Joel twists the handle.

You spill onto the cold tile, attached at the mouth, frantically tearing clothes from each other’s bodies. It’s desperate. It’s burning. It’s almost fucking painful, how bad you need him.

His hands run from your cheeks to the hem of your shirt, hauling it over your torso and tossing it to the counter. You peel the shirt from his shoulders and your bare chest meets his, his hands finding your hips again when he whips them from his sleeves. The white shirt drops to your damp floor, dark, wet marks spreading across the dress fabric.

“Shoot,” you mumble against his lips. “My – bad. Sorry.”

“Don’t – care,” Joel breathes, and his thumbs push beneath his waistband.

You spin on your heel, backing towards the shower and taking him by the jaw with you. He shoves the clothing down his legs, stepping out of them and catching you again in time to drag the underwear from your thighs.

You shift into the shower, both fully naked. Joel spins the nozzle and the warm water rains down between you. His chest quickly soaks, dark hair thicker and blacker, flat against his glistening skin. He tilts his head under the spray and soaks his hair – gives one heavy flick of the head like a wet dog, and you laugh as he pulls you in again.

His hands cup your face as he connects your lips, and then his right drifts down your neck and pushes your tit up, squeezing the sensitive skin in his palm and rolling your firm nipple between two fingers. He lets it drop, runs his hand delicately down your frame, following the curve of your waist to your hips. He cups between your legs.

You come up for air, a sudden realization over your head as though the water runs freezing cold. “Wait,” you start, “I gotta –”

But he’s rubbing gentle circles against your clit, slow, pacing you as the tide of your first orgasm disappears to sea. He doesn’t seem to know, yet – or if he does, he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Joel –”

“I know,” he says, voice low and busy, but still – assuring. Unbothered. He moves his hand lower, surfing along your slit, until his fingers brush the wet string.

Your breathing jumps. He taps the seam of your thigh twice, and your leg tilts aside. Your eyes flit back up, crossing over his chest to fix on his jaw. You feel a flushing heat cross your cheeks, a moment’s hesitation before your fingers clamp around his wrist.

“Hey,” he whispers, and you almost don’t hear him over the running of the shower. He keeps his left hand on your jaw, his right between your legs. He shakes his head once, and takes the string in two fingers, and –

Gently pulls. Only a fraction, and then he pauses. Looks back up at you, a question in his stare.

You nod, exhaling heavily. He pulls again, and he doesn’t stop.

The tampon falls wet and heavy into his palm. His hand leaves your cheek and settles around your waist, leaning both of you out of the shower while he reaches for some toilet paper. Once it’s wrapped in a roll of white tissue and sat on your sink, he moves back into the cubicle.

He runs his palm under the flow; splashes of red swept up, watered down, and carried to the drain along with every last whispering of worry on your lips. Your elbows bend around his neck and he dips his head to kiss you, pushing you carefully into the corner.

“You tell me –” he kisses you, “– if it hurts or it gets too much, you tell me.” His body stands huge, blocking yours from the stream of water. Your back bumps against the shower wall; the shock of the cold tile pushes you closer to Joel.

“Just – fuck me.”

But he’s adamant. “You tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. You’ll know.”

“This is about you feelin’ good.”

“I’ll tell you,” you whine.

“We’re gonna have a word,” Joel instructs, lining up between your legs. He lifts your thigh to sit on his hip. “’n if you say it, I stop. Alright?”

You nod, fervently. “Please –”

His fingers separate your lips; his tip nudges your entrance. “Maple, alright? It gets too much, you say maple. You do that?”

“Joel, if you don’t –”

“Baby.”

“Maple,” you agree, “I’ll say it. Just –”

He pushes in without another word.

How many times has it been, by now? Ten? More than that? Enough for you to know in your mind, if not from trying to learn then simply from muscle memory, exactly how he feels. The curve of his cock, the width of the tip, the length of him as he slots deep inside you.

And yet – every fucking time – you feel so full. Full of him in every sense – your cunt, swollen around him, your lungs, breathing his scent, your every thought and feeling and sense replaced by Joel. Joel Joel Joel Joel –

He’s suffocating. And if you died right now – if you were smothered by him, swaddled until you couldn’t feel anything anymore – you’re not sure you’d be able to tell. Not sure you’d care enough to notice.

He pushes in slow, but deep. So fucking deep. Lets your walls expand around him the first few thrusts, lets your body welcome him back in. His lips press against your temple, his arms cradle your lower back. Your weight bears down on his shoulders and he lifts you, your other leg sitting on his waist. He holds your ass in both hands, begins to bounce you steadily.

“So good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me. You’re daddy’s girl, ain’t you?”

Your answer leaves your lips in the form of a moan. Something shaped like his name, or maybe some attempt at a response to his question, or maybe something more dangerous.

“My girl,” he repeats, whatever it was you said. “Daddy’s girl.”

Your head rolls back, cushioned by Joel’s hand between you and the tile wall. He knots his fingers in your hair, snaps his hips quick and hard, panting into your shoulder. And there’s a feeling – a stinging, a burning, sweeping across your eyes, and for a second you think it feels like shampoo, like the sharp scratch of soap between your lashes, until you realize it’s –

Tears. The heavy cut of tears, brimming your eyes. Blurring your vision. And with every thrust, every blissful meeting of Joel’s cock and your cervix, every inch he spreads you open wide – they form quicker, and quicker, and quicker. Until they spill down onto your cheeks, and you can’t tell the difference between them and the spray of the shower.

But Joel can. His head lifts from the crook of your neck, his teeth dragging from your skin. He spots your eyelashes, silky and wet, and in one motion, wraps his arm around your head, holds you with the inside of his elbow.

He dips his jaw, presses his lips featherlight to your cheeks, kisses the tears away as quickly as they roll down.

“I –” gasp, “– don’t know –” gasp, “– why I’m –”

Joel’s head shakes as he pulls away. Shuts you up. His answer is simple. You believe it instantly.

“’s okay. You’re okay.”

And right then – you think you understand.

Because you can see him – plain as day. You can see the amounts he cares for you, the limitless needs he can meet for you. There’s a warmth within you, spread throughout your body for him, and you have no fucking idea how to let him feel it. How to have it seep through your skin – so that every time his fingers ghost over your body, he’s met with a blaze strong enough to burn. A fire, big enough and bright enough that it shows him exactly how you feel.

Only him. No one else. A flame only he can see, dancing across your eyes when you look at him. A heat only he can feel. How do you make him feel it? How do you tell him? What combination of words might translate it?

It’s like slamming your fists against a glass barrier. A transparent wall, that allows you only to see him and draw near to him – never to feel him. Not really.

And so, you cry. You cry for him, for yourself. And Joel lets you.

For a little while.

His lips are back on your neck, biting marks into the soaking skin. “’attagirl,” he hums. It rattles your pulse, disturbs the rhythm and sends his own beating through your veins. “So good, baby.”

They soothe you – his lips, and the words which come from them. Soothe the sweet pain between your legs, the swollen ache every time Joel pushes into you. The stretch, the bruising tinge when his tip finds home in the deepest part of your body. Somewhere no one has ever reached, no one has ever found. No one, you feel, has ever been worthy enough to know.

Until him. Until Joel.

That same rhythm – your pulse on his wavelength – begins to flee south. Loops and swirls and dives to where his body connects with yours. Tightens rapidly around your cunt. Your hips grind against his, your thighs clamp on his waist. He starts to falter, hips slipping whether from blood or come or water. And then he’s growling, face burying into your chest as he steadies the two of you with an abrupt palm on the wall, and he stills.

The feeling of his release tips you over. The warmth spreading inside, so far you feel him in your stomach. Your walls contract around him, squeezing until every last drop of him is buried somewhere in you, and you lower one foot to the shower floor.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants, pulling his lips from your collarbone. “You okay?”

You nod, head rolling against the wall behind. You’re not crying anymore. The shower whirrs somewhere over Joel’s shoulder. Your chest feels tight. And you feel fucking euphoric.

He gives three more lazy, broken thrusts, pushing his come deeper inside. You both still, mouths curved open, exchanging breath and letting your tongues flick idly against one another.

You hold onto him long after your orgasm is shallow ripples between your legs. Long after the feeling has washed back into the ocean, your high a glimmer of sunlight bursting over the distant horizon, the aftereffects painting your world golden.

You hold onto him, and you let him run his hands slowly up and down your spine, and you sift your weak fingers through his dark hair, and you let him kiss your neck and your shoulders and your collarbones. He leans back; the flow of water cascades between you, carrying away any mess left on your bodies.

And then you let him carry you out of the shower, his tip still inside you, slowly softening. He settles you carefully against your counter, and reaches over for two white towels, caping one around your shoulders and using it to draw your body against his own.

You take the corners from his fingers and he lifts your chin, pushing your lips apart with his tongue. Then he pulls away, allows you to wrap the terry around yourself.

Joel wraps his own towel around his waist, slung loose enough that you can trace the dark hair peppered from his belly button down between his hips.

“You know how inappropriate it is to look at your boss like that?” he tuts.

You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back in. “Then stop lookin’ at me the way you do,” you tease, and he kisses your cheek.

He disappears through to your kitchen, reappears moments later with the box of Tampax, and you don’t even think to laugh or tell him you’ve an open box sat in the cupboard you’re leaning against. You just smile, and accept the clean tampon he holds out in his fingers. He leaves you to get dressed with the door closed over.

He’s sat on your bed when you emerge from the bathroom, holding his soaking shirt between two fingers. “Sorry about, uh…”

“’s alright,” he shrugs, standing up, “I’ll take it from your paycheck.”

His knuckles pinch your nose. You free yourself to place a chaste kiss on his fingers, and pass him the crinkled mess.

“I have something that’ll fit you somewhere,” you mutter, slipping past him as he hangs the shirt by the collar over your door.

“Do me a favor,” Joel’s voice follows, and he takes your wrist. You turn back to face him. “Catch your breath.”

“Huh?” you ask, and his hand comes up to mold around your cheek, the way it always fucking does. As if your bodies were made to be held by one another.

“Just – take a breath. You’re doin’ it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Movin’ at a hundred miles an hour. Breathe for me.”

You scoff, loosening yourself from his grasp to go sift through your wardrobe for something big enough for him. You settle for a Jurassic Park tee – logo faded and cracked, hem a little ragged.

“Rod’s?” he asks, holding the shirt up.

You’re already collapsing onto the mattress. “You bet.”

Joel smirks and tugs it over his head, throwing himself down against the headboard. Your hand wraps around his thigh, lips press soft kisses on the skin. He runs his hand over your hair.

“Are you gonna take a sick day off me for this?” you ask.

He shakes his head simply. “Doctor’s orders. Can’t say nothin’ to that.”

“I didn’t go to the doc–”

His thumb presses against your lips. “You don’t know when to fuckin’ lie, do you?” he whispers. “’s alright, we’ll getcha trained up.”

You snort, shaking yourself free of his hand. Your head settles by his hip, nails draw aimless patterns along the curve of his stomach.

“Need you better by Sunday, anyway,” Joel sighs, “Martha’s son’s birthday party.”

You grunt in response. You forgot about that.

Joel tuts. “Still gotta find him a present. How in the hell do I know what to buy a twelve-year-old?”

Your hand pauses. Neck cranes up to look at him. He’s staring down at you, his trademark glower still recognizable even upside down. Somehow, not sat upright in front of him, the thought seems less scary. Less of a commitment, more a casual suggestion.

“Why don’t we just get ‘im a joint one?”

The hard expression immediately wipes from his face. Replaced by something rounder. He blinks at you. “Really? From – you ‘n me?”

You shrug against his waist. It’s not answer enough for him.

“As in, you n’ me?” he asks.

“Why not?”

Joel’s head shakes. His mouth curves as he considers the thought. But he can’t mask the pang it sends through his body; can’t pretend he’s not covering the way his veins light and his nerves stand to attention by taking your hand in his and squeezing it briskly.

It doesn’t have to mean something. You, Joel, and Deb are the only people from work that Martha invited, and Deb’s bringing her two sons, which means her gift will be from them, too. All it has to mean is that you’re Martha’s co-workers, and figured it’d be cheaper and easier to get one gift over two.

Except – one of you is a millionaire.

It means something. The fact you asked. You’re not asking to save a buck, to make it simpler. You’re asking because you want to wrap some video game in paper Joel picked out; you want him to hold the folds down with one finger while you tear tape with your teeth. You want to sign the card with both of your names, in your handwriting. See how they look paired up.

You ask him because you want to feel the way you think you ought to have felt this entire time. Your body is ablaze. You’re ready to let him feel it. And you ‘n me seems like a pretty good combination of words to start with.

You’re ready. And that’s why you ask him.

Joel’s quiet for as long as you are. You both go to talk at the same time, both noticing how silent the room has fallen while you realize all of those things in real time.

“Sorry, baby, you go,” Joel says, sniffing.

“No, I was just – no, you go. What were you gonna say?”

He smiles. “Was just – wonderin’ what you wanted to get Alan.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and then you pause. “Al–? What?”

“What you wanted to get ‘im,” Joel repeats.

You push yourself up, lean on one hip in front of him. “Yeah, I heard that part. What did you call him?”

“Alan?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Joel stares right back. “Martha’s son.”

“Martha’s son’s name is Henry.”

“No, it fuckin’ ain’t.”

You’re biting back a laugh. “Yes, it fuckin’ is.”

“She calls him Little Al. All the damn time, baby, he’s –”

“That’s because he acts like Alan. Her husband. His father. All the damn time. You gotta be messing with me. Have you been calling him Alan the entire time he’s been alive?”

“No.”

His expression tells you yes.

You’re laughing now. Really laughing. It breaks your words in two, your head tilting back to the ceiling. “You…idiot.”

Joel’s struggling to compose himself, sliding off the bed. “The email she sent out says Alan’s Twelfth Birthday. The hell’s my phone?”

“You think she had a kid in two thousand eleven, and named it Alan? You don’t think they’d call Child Protection on her for that?”

He points a finger, tossing pillows to the bottom of your bed. “That’s disrespectful to the Alans of the world. Where the fuck is my –?”

Your chest swells in a giggle, eyes start to sting with tears. “What do you write in her Christmas cards? To Martha, Alan, and Alan?”

You slap the bed, leaning forward with a deep gasp, trying to catch your fucking breath. Joel’s still stripping the bed, still keeping his own laughter deep in his chest, but it’s quickly crumbling.

“Her email –” he chuckles, “– says Alan’s Twel–”

“She’s fucking with you!” you holler, catching the pillows he throws to you. “She’s fucking with – I’m gonna piss my pants. Martha, Alan, and Alan, oh my fucking –”

“Here,” he finally throws you the phone, “go find it. Find the email. Search the damn word Alan; she uses it every time she talks about him. Jesus Christ, I need a coffee. You want another chamomile tea, Little Miss Smartass?”

He lifts your mug and tilts it in your direction. You nod as you reach for the phone, wiping tears from your cheeks. Joel disappears through to the kitchen.

He clued you in on his passcode a few months after you started. You were still in the office past five o’clock, looking out files he needed for some client visit the following morning. His phone had buzzed, you were nearest it. He lifted his head and nodded to the lit screen.

1-6-9-1, he told you.

It finally made sense only a few days ago, after three years of wondering. Three years of knowing and never asking; a mystery solved. 1691 Maple.

His background was always one of the standard ones. The boring ones. A soft, blue gradient. Usually, his lock screen was too populated by notifications for you to even notice.

But now – it’s changed.

Now, it’s a photo of the view from the terrace in Paris. The pale sunset, faded blue into sweet yellow. The Eiffel Tower carved out in the center. You suck in a deep breath as you swipe texts and emails away to properly study it, figure out exactly where he was standing to take it, and exactly where you might’ve been when he did.

You tap in the four digits and his home screen lays out before you. Only, the background is different – again.

It’s Paris, still, but indoors. Dark wall, an ornate frame pinned to it, housing an amused smirk and soft hands. She’s looking off into the distance, past the photographer. Or maybe – she’s looking at you.

You, stood leaning on the barrier in front of her. The Mona Lisa. Your head tilted towards her, beaming like it’s a photo with your favorite celebrity.

It’s not a big deal. That’s what you tell yourself. It’s his home screen. Only visible if you know his password – and you’re fairly sure that you’re the only one who does. Not even Martha would know that this photo exists, never mind the fact that it’s his wallpaper. It’s not a big fucking deal.

No matter how much you think you want it to be.

You swiftly tap on the email app icon, trying to rid your mind of your own cheesing image. He has thirteen unread emails, all from the last hour. Some you know he’ll forward straight to you and Martha; others look a little more serious. As you’re scrolling down them, you notice a familiar face.

Denis Pelletier. His square-jawed grin flashes back at you from the tiny circle icon beside his name. You tap on the email, and your cheeks lift higher the further down it you read.

I hope your flight home was pleasant, and It was wonderful to take you both around Paris, and Your assistant was very sweet. You breathe a laugh, scrolling down the three-paragraph message urging Joel that if he’s ever back in Paris – if you’re ever back in Paris, both of you – to make sure you let the chauffeur know.

But there’s no email from Martha. At least, none in Joel’s inbox. You return out of the folder and wheel down to his Deleted folder, scrolling past password reset emails, panicked cries for help from Mackley and Tom, past order confirmations for brands you’ve never heard of, when –

A head of hair, more salt than pepper. A bright, unnerving smile, too many dazzling teeth in a mouth too small to house them. A pink sky behind him; candy floss clouds and townhouses glowing orange in the sunset – the building blocks of the Paris skyline.

Jean-Marc. An email – a deleted email – from Jean-Marc.

Dear Joel, It was such a pl… is all you can read from the preview. Your eyes flit up to your door. Joel’s still in the kitchen, humming. You glance back down to his phone.

Would it be invading his privacy? It’s only an email from Jean-Marc. It’s not like you don’t know who he is. What if your thumb slipped? Accidentally opened it? What if your eyes scanned over the text before you quickly swiped back out of the email?

There’s the sound of a drawer rolling closed. A spoon rattling against ceramic. He’s stirring your tea.

You click on the email.

It was such a pleasure to see you again.

You scan over the first paragraph. It’s just Jean-Marc cozying up to Joel. Your nose wrinkles and your lips turn.

I loved meeting your assistant, the next paragraph begins. And your focus is pulled.

I wonder if you had given our conversation any more thought? Whether she might be looking for a new challenge? Something this side of the Atlantic, perhaps?

Your heart skips a beat. A new challenge.

“You want the last egg roll?” Joel calls from the kitchen.

You jolt back to life. “N-no, you have it,” you reply. You hear the rustle of the bag.

I wonder if you might relay the message onto her, Jean-Marc continues. Please give her my email address and phone number.

You quickly pull the screen up, noting the date the message was sent. Three days after you got home from Paris. More than a week ago. You tap on Joel’s response as his footsteps creak back towards your bedroom.

His reply is as short and sweet as the few words he spoke to the Frenchman that Sunday morning.

I’ll pass on your details, he’s written, but unfortunately, my assistant is currently unavailable. Maybe sometime in the future.

Your jaw jerks. Eyes trace the words, over and over. Thumb scrolls up and down the email, making sure you’re reading it right. Joel, making promises he never followed through. Joel – your Joel, the one you pestered for fucking days after Paris over what he’d talked with Jean-Marc about – one hand laced through yours, the other with a vice grip around a secret he never intended to clue you in on.

You. He’d talked about you. They’d probably talked about you the entire fucking meeting, as soon as Joel mentioned you. You can see Jean-Marc’s ears twig; his eyebrows lift with interest. The way he sets his wine glass down, offers Joel another whiskey and invites him to say more.

Joel. Lying. And covering up. And keeping you close by his hip, walking in stride with him out of that fucking penthouse – like you’re on some kind of leash, or something.

The fabric of his underwear on your hips feels claustrophobic; a second layer of skin that rubs against yours like sandpaper. You want to rip them off off off – want to separate yourself from him, peel him from your body and forget the feeling of him as quickly as you seemed to absorb it. Instinct tells you to detach yourself – to remove any trace of him ever having laid eyes on you, never mind touched you.

What a fucking idiot, you think. He doesn’t fucking care about you after all.

You don’t even notice when his form saunters back into the room, when he shoves the door closed with his elbow. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue, sour with disappointment. Acrid with anger. Sick with fear.

Unavail–?

“You find it?” he asks, and you subconsciously clutch the phone to your chest.

“Not yet,” you murmur, watching as he sets the mug back on your nightstand.

His fingers slip through the handle, knuckle nudges the temple of the ghost a little further along the surface, and he straightens, lifting his own mug to his lips.

“’s in there,” he says against the ceramic. He holds a hand out, curls his fingers. “Let’s see.”

“Never mind,” you say, tapping out of the email, out of the folder, out of the app. “I believe you.”

And then –

“…You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

He licks his lips. Holds the mug by his side, fingers gripping the lip. He gives a non-committal shrug of the shoulders.

“No, darlin’. Why would I lie to you?”

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