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norrizzandpia · 22 days

Note

this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!

Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)

Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.

Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol

Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx

If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.

“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.

Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”

Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”

When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.

Unknown Number

Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…

Y/n

Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.

The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.

Unknown Number

WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?

Unknown Number

YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN

Unknown Number

If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit

Unknown Number

LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE

Unknown Number

Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder

Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.

Y/n

You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!

His response was immediate.

Unknown Number

Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?

Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.

Y/n

*Image Attached*

Y/n

I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.

The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.

Unknown Number

Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.

Unknown Number

You are very pretty tho

Y/n giggled,

Y/n

Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.

Unknown Number

Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.

Y/n

How do I know this for sure?

Unknown Number

Trust me?

Y/n

Okay, ig. What’s your name?

The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.

“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.

However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.

Unknown Number

Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?

Y/n

I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)

Y/n

Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny

🏎️

The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.

Bob!

Good morning :)

Bob!

Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?

Y/n

Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.

Bob!

GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n

Y/n

Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol

Y/n

I live in London! What about you?

Bob!

Monaco

Y/n

Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?

Bob!

NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho

Y/n

Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.

Bob!

😭

Y/n

No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces

Bob!

Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.

Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.

She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.

Y/n

Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.

Bob!

Ok! text me when you’re free?

Y/n

yesss

—

There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.

Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.

Bob!

Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!

Y/n

sry, i just got home.

Bob!

Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??

Y/n

yeah

Bob!

Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you

Y/n

that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?

Bob!

you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times

Y/n

thats love fr

Y/n

but yeah its been a long day

Bob!

oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?

Y/n

Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.

Bob!

Talk to me about it then <3

Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.

Y/n

it’s ok. Thank you tho bob

Bob!

Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?

Y/n

no one?

Bob!

you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.

Y/n

We barely know each other.

Bob!

Do i look like i care?

She laughs and types,

Y/n

Bob, I don’t even know what you look like

Bob!

We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything

Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.

Y/n

People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?

There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.

Bob!

I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.

There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.

Y/n

Thank you. That means a lot.

Bob!

Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.

Y/n

When were you experiencing it?

Bob!

A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.

Y/n

You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.

Bob!

There’s not much to tell, Y/n.

Y/n

You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?

Bob!

I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.

Y/n

VAGUE

Bob!

Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs

Her eyes twinkle,

Y/n

Haha yeah right brotha

Y/n

That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.

Bob!

Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.

Y/n

You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?

Bob!

If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha

She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.

“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.

She breathes, “Bob?”

There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.

“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”

He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”

The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”

“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”

Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.

Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.

“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.

Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”

She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”

The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.

Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.

🏎️

“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.

“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.

Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”

Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”

Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”

“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.

Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”

Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.

“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.

Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”

“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.

Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”

Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”

Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.

“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.

“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.

Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”

He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”

She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.

Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”

Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”

“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.

Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”

Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”

Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”

As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”

Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.

—

Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.

“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.

Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”

Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”

Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”

Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”

“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.

Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.

🏎️

There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.

Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.

“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?

But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.

Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.

A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.

Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.

This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.

Robert Dancing does not exist.

🏎️

Unknown

Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?

Y/n

Everything is fine.

Unknown

Can I call you now?

Y/n

I’m busy.

Unknown

It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?

Unknown

Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?

Y/n

Stop messaging me.

Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.

Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”

She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”

Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.

“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.

Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”

A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”

A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.

“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.

He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”

She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, I-”

She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”

A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”

Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.

He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.

What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”

With that, she hangs up the phone.

—

Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.

No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.

“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.

A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”

Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.

“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?�� She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.

Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”

Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.

Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.

—

It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.

The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.

From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.

Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.

She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.

Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”

The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”

Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”

He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.

Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.

Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.

With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.

🏎️

The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.

She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.

He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”

It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.

When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.

“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”

The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.

The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.

The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.

He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”

Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”

He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.

Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He lifts his head slowly, “What?”

At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”

A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.

He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.

“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.

She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”

Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”

“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.

Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”

She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”

He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”

Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.

At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”

He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”

Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”

He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.

Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”

Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”

🏎️

The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.

Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.

So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.

“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.

A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”

Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.

When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.

Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.

He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.

He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”

He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.

The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.

Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.

She doesn’t know who he is.

He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.

“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.

Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.

“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.

“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.

“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.

Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”

What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.

“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.

She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.

“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.

“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”

Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”

He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”

Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”

Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”

Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.

“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.

He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”

Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”

His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”

She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”

Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.

🏎️

Y/n

Can you stop blowing up my phone

Bob <3

Why????? I’m bored baby

Y/n

im at work girly

Bob <3

girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me

Y/n

I think you might be obsessed with me

Bob <3

i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?

Y/n

girl

She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.

“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.

She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”

“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.

Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”

Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”

Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”

Lando hums, “An hour?”

“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”

Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”

She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”

He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”

“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.

He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”

She’d never get tired of saying it.

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bouncybongfairy · 2 months

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Stress Relief

Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Aizawa offers you extra credit to tutor Bakugou for an upcoming test. Need I say more?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Oral Female & Male Receiving, Facial.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Sitting in your room and dissociating never felt so good. It was finally the end of the week and you felt properly chewed up and spit out. Muscles were sore and brain was fried, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. Emptying out your backpack and organizing everything on to your desk. The stress you were under was slowly chipping away at you. Hearing a knock at the door made your eyes roll, the last thing you wanted was to interact with anyone. Wiping the scowl off your face, you go to greet the unwanted guest. The feelings of annoyance quickly turned into insecurity once you saw it was Aizawa and Bakugou. Trying to casually fix your appearance as he began speaking in his monotone voice.

“Hello, sorry I didn’t mean to come to your dorm directly but this is a time sensitive matter. Bakugou needs a passing grade on this next test, I’m willing to bump your grade up 5% if you agree to help,” he explains, making Bakugou’s frown deepen.

“Oh of course, we can start right now,” you said, practically beaming. Having your grade pushed up five percent was a God sent gift at this point in the semester.

“Wonderful, Bakugou, please try to be open to the tutoring,” Aizawa said before walking away.

You gestured for him to come in, made you feel nervous watching him take in the room. All your posters and collectables are now starting to feel a little dorky. Not really sure what to say, you just sat in silence as he took in your room. You were pretty soft spoken and he was anything but that. It often worried you seeing how dark he was. It was so apparent that his anger issues were coming from a deep wound from the past. When all your friends would gossip, they talked about him with such vascularity and objectification was quite sad. As much as you tried to discourage this, there were times you agreed. The intimidating look he always had written across his face. The way his pent up rage came out during combat training.

It frustrated you knowing that he could overpower you. Any time you were paired to spar, he always managed to out maneuver you. Pinning you to the ground or wall. As much as it affected the confidence you had in your combat abilities, it made you feel warm and fuzzy. The last time the two of you were sparing, he grabbed your forearm so hard it left a bruise in the shape of his hand. You stared at it in the mirror for a while, confused why you liked it so much. Running your fingertips over the purple and brown blotches. Thinking about the way he looked into your eyes when throwing you to the ground. Walking away with no care or regard for you physically or mentally. It made you melt even though you’d never admit it. The two of you were sitting at your desk, helping him with his English assignment; he was getting frustrated and you were enjoying it a little too much.

“That just doesn’t make any fucking sense. The assignment was to summarize the fucking article. I don’t have to talk about my feelings about it, it’s not even specified!” he said, raising his voice.

“I could understand you don’t want to give your opinion on it but the teacher isn’t going to accept it until you do. You’re being ridiculous,” you huffed the last part under your breath.

“Excuse me?” he asked, folding his arms.

“Nothing, i’m just saying the assignment-” you started but became interrupted.

“No, go on. Explain why I’m ridiculous, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows and grinding his teeth.

“You are ridiculous. Are you so ignorant that you don’t understand how lazy you are? You act like academics is optional and that you can rely solely on your combat. Nobody else will, so I'll be the first to tell you: Thinking physical prowess will get you where you wanna be is stupid and delusional,” you say, starting to pack his papers up.

“If anyone is stupid and delusional it’s you, we both know the real reason you accepted this little study session,” he scoffs standing up.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was implying.

“Do you think I don’t notice you staring at me? Finding any opportunity to throw yourself at me. I can only imagine what runs through your head while you watch me. I have an idea by the way your cheeks flush and your pupils get wide. The way your body shakes when we spar. It’s stupid and delusional for you to think I'd ever want anything more than your body,” he said, now backing you against the wall.

You weren’t sure what to think, part of you felt like this was him showing his interest in you. Another part of you was worried he was just being cruel. Like he was stringing you along, trying to make you look desperate just to pull away.

“Interesting way to say you want my body, if you wanted me that bad you could just ask,” you patronize.

“I wouldn’t have too,” he said, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you against the desk.

You were now halfway sitting on the edge of the desk. Legs dangling off, separated by him grinding against you. Letting go of your hair, holding your face in his hands. The kiss was sloppy and wet, not being able to get enough of each other’s touch. You reached down and ran your hands up his back towards his shoulder. Lightly scratching down as he started kissing your neck. Nipping and sucking hickies on you, his heavy breathing giving your body goosebumps. Your hands begin to wander, fingers dipping into the back of his pants. Tracing all the way around, stopping when you felt his happy trail. He sits back on the office chair and stares you down. This makes you blush, sliding off and onto your knees. Your body was slightly under the desk, he took your glasses off and set them down..

Genuinely being gentle, which made you feel more safe to be vulnerable and vulgar. Taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. He moaned softly as he collected your hair in his hand. Using the other to stroke your cheek and face. Eventually you start bobbing your head up and down. Looking up and watching his reaction, he huffs and grunts that pour out of his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed together and sweat started to bead on his forehead. Feeling him get harder and harder as things started getting more sloppy. His hands were getting rougher, both of them now laced in your hair. Helping fuck your head down on his shaft faster. Cursing and moaning, starting to buck his hips. Making you gag around and spit around his cock. He pulls you by the hair off him with a loud pop sound. Grabbing himself to smack and rub his tip against your lips as he tips over the edge. Covering your mouth and chin with his cum.

Expecting him to be done but being taken off guard when he grabs your jaw. Bringing you to his level and smashes his lips against yours. Moaning into the kiss, being taken completely by surprise from how brazen he was being. He pulls away, a mix of saliva and his cum dripping down both your mouths. Standing up, he grabs your waist and lifts you on the desk. Sitting back down and spreading your legs, using his fingers to massage your clit. Moving down and eventually pushing a finger inside you. Bringing his lips down and starting to eat you out. Flicking his tongue, moaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers. Increasing the speed of both his hands and mouth. Stroking himself off, seeing you in so much pleasure was making his cock feel touch starved. Reaching your hands down and pulling and yanking. His hair was sweaty and you could feel him breathing hard against your core.

You tried holding back your orgasm as long as possible, wanting to enjoy the pleasure before becoming overly sensitive. He pushes a third finger which makes you fall over the edge. Feeling the walls of your cunt spasm and tighten makes him cum for a second time. Standing from his chair, rubbing his tip against your clit while continuing to finger you. Making eye contact as his warm cum covers your lower stomach. Resting your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath. He almost dozed off but eventually realized it was getting late. You were passed out, not wanting to wake you up, he carries you to the bed. Grabbing a towel and wiping you down. He didn’t want to go through your clothes, so he slipped his tee-shirt over you. Walking out in his tanktop, Kirishima gave him a side eye as he left your room.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou smut #mha bakugou #bakugou x fem!reader #smut bakugou #bakugou katsuki

419 notes · View notes

starlightkun · 7 months

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➠ word count: 22.0k ➠ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (there’s a frat party), everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried ➠ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association ➠ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican take on a college au btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines and thoughts/experiences as a chronically ill person are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds ➠ author’s note: hi so this has been a wip for like a year lol. this one long predates sungchan’s deneofication (and subsequent re-debut in riize), hockey player sungchan just lives in my brain rent free ok. anyway, i hope you like ➠ series masterlist

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24

“Now shoo!” Dr. Son waved the small group of you out of his dimly lit office.

It was Phantasmagorical Phriday, a time-honored tradition going back to your freshman year of university. Dr. Son had been intrigued by the four freshmen who were somehow in his third-year class on Gothic Fiction and actually seemed to “get it.” His “Phantasma Phour” as you dubbed yourselves (a nickname that got quickly worn out, persisting only as the title of your groupchat):

Wong Hendery, who ended up in the class accidentally due to an error on his academic advisor’s part (she had gotten him mixed up with a Wong Henry, a junior Literature major who actually needed to take Dr. Son’s class) and he subsequently changed majors at least three times to your knowledge, so you were genuinely surprised he was graduating on time—he finally settled on Communications;

Jung Sungchan, at the time a promising young rookie hockey player who had now blossomed into your school’s reliable team captain—Biology major, being an athlete meant he could pre-register for classes and he picked Dr. Son’s at random to fulfill a gen ed Literature credit;

Zhong Chenle, an honorary member of both Nu Chi Tau, one of the biggest frats on campus, and the hockey team, as somehow 95% of his social circle were Nu Chi brothers and/or hockey players despite Chenle being neither himself, your best friend and also sometimes you swear a demon sent straight from hell to kill you—Literature major, who bullied you into taking the class; and

You, Chenle’s best friend who used to hate anything and everything Gothic fiction that got bullied into taking it anyway and now adored the genre more than any other—Literature major, who took the last spot in the class on registration day.

Dr. Son would invite you all to monthly extracurricular workshops in his office that built up to this: Phantasmagorical Phriday, a writing competition to see which of the four of you could write the best gothic short story. The stories were actually submitted the prior week, but it was the Friday before Halloween that was dubbed the Phriday in question. The four of you were invited to his office that night after classes (and Sungchan’s hockey practice) to review your pieces: how he thought everyone had improved from last year, discuss the writing process, and to finish off the night, Dr. Son would announce his top two stories. Those in the top two had the chance to send him a persuasive letter about why they should win. They had to be sent to him that night because the next morning, your professor would email the top two individually with the results.

Since this was your last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Dr. Son pretended not to see when Hendery brought out four celebratory White Claws for you all. You still had your warm, unopened, orange-flavored seltzer in your hand as the small group of you left the Literature, Writing, and Foreign Languages building together.

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t find anything classier for our last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Hendery.” You shook your head. “Ever heard of champagne? Literally any wine?”

“So you’re not gonna shotgun that, Y/N, is what I’m hearing?” Hendery teased as you all stopped under the light post right outside the building.

“Is that a challenge or what, Wong?” You scoffed, handing it back to him. “But no, I’m good.”

Sungchan thankfully cut in and changed the topic of conversation, “So are you going to start writing your letter of reconsideration, Y/N?”

This year’s top two were you and Sungchan, the member of the Phantasma Phour you spoke to the least. Outside of the monthly “workshops” (which at this point with your differing majors were just get-togethers of questionable academic value), you never saw him. You obviously saw Chenle all the time, and despite the fact that you considered him a bit obnoxious, you were sort of friends with Hendery, joining him for lunch if you happened to see him at the student union or at the coffee shop on campus. Sungchan was perfectly nice and all, you just found that you never really talked to him like the other two.

You looked down at your watch, taking a quick inhale when you saw the time. You’d stayed in Dr. Son’s office a lot later than you’d realized.

“Oh, no,” you casually waved off Sungchan’s question, readjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I’ve got something more pressing right now. Anyway, see you guys. It was a good four years, I’m glad we got to do this.”

Lifting your hand in a wave of finality to the three men, you departed.

“She’s really not going to submit a letter?” Sungchan asked, still watching after you as your figure faded away in the distance.

“Nope,” Chenle shook his head, reaching for the spare White Claw in Hendery’s hand. “Y/N never does.”

“You didn’t know that?” Hendery questioned the hockey player, holding the drink away from Chenle.

“Why not?”

“She’s not in it to win really.” Chenle lunged for the can as Hendery jerked it away at the last second. “Just wants to make stuff.”

“So she was lying about doing something?”

Hendery and Chenle were now running circles around Sungchan in their game of keep-away with the seltzer.

“No.”

“What do you—” Sungchan sighed, yanking the drink from Hendery’s grasp and holding it high above his own head, well out of either of their reaches. “Hey!”

Now with their attention, the hockey captain kept his arm straight up as he returned to his question, “What are you talking about, Chenle?”

“Y/N does have something pressing right now. If I tell you where she’s probably going will you give me the White Claw?” Chenle bargained.

“You’d exchange your best friend’s location for an orange White Claw? Not even watermelon?” Hendery asked incredulously.

“It’s Sungchan, someone we’ve known for like four years, not some creep off the street who’s going to wear her skin.”

“No, Chenle, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sungchan shook his head, offering the can out for either one to take.

The Literature major was able to snatch it first, jumping up in celebration, “Suck an egg, Hendery!”

“I wouldn’t—” Sungchan’s words were too late though, as Chenle had already popped the tab, and the overly-shaken seltzer exploded all over all three of them.

“Zhong Chenle, I’m going to strangle you, you little weasel!”

“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”

“I would, except you got fucking orange White Claw in my eyes and I’m fucking blind now! Goddamn!”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25

Rolling over in bed the next morning, you let out a big sigh and buried your face in your pillow, fully intent on going back to sleep. Saturday morning. No school, no work. Just you, your bed, and some much-needed sleep.

Then, the obnoxious blaring of your phone came from your nightstand. You groaned, reaching blindly for the object, and barely opening one eye just enough to snooze it. Damn, you really had slept in, to be woken up by your first medication alarm. Well, you weren’t going to die if you took your morning doses fifteen minutes later than normal. You were about to stuff your phone under your pillow when you briefly caught sight of your lockscreen after the alarm disappeared.

Text notification from Jung Sungchan?

Flopping onto your back and bringing your phone with you, you squinted against the harsh light of your screen to make sure you were reading that right. Yep, Sungchan had definitely texted you a few hours ago, separate from the Phantasma Phour chat. At almost 7:00 a.m., too. What the hell?

Curiosity won out over a need to sleep for fourteen more minutes, and you opened the notification.

[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]

You stared blankly at the text, your groggy mind desperately grasping around for any sort of context as to why Jung Sungchan would be texting you that at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Then it struck you like lightning, and you let out an audible “Oh, duh!” as you remembered where you both were last night. Phantasmagorical Phriday. The writing contest. You and Sungchan were the top two. Dr. Son must have sent the email out already, and apparently you had won.

Normally, you wouldn’t check your school email on the weekend until Sunday night, unless you were waiting to hear back from a specific professor—and the Sunday night check was just to see if any of your Monday classes were cancelled. Lord knows you definitely wouldn’t have checked it at seven in the morning on a Saturday. You let out a snort of disbelief as you reread the timestamp on the text. But still, it was nice of him. A good show of sportsmanship, as one would expect from the hockey captain.

You quickly checked your own student email, and did in fact see an email from Dr. Son at the very top with the subject ‘PHINAL PHANTASMAGORICAL PHRIDAY RESULTS.’

‘Y/N and Sungchan:

Thank you again for your submissions. I enjoyed working with everyone these four years.

The winner this year is Y/N. Good job.

Dr. Son.’

An amused smile crept across your face at your professor’s usual blunt email style. But this was also some of the nicest feedback he’d given your writing, even when you had won Phantasmagorical Phriday in the past, or in classes that you’d taken from him over the years. Something about it truly did feel... final.

And so with an odd bittersweetness, you drafted an equally short and blunt email back to your professor.

‘Dr. Son:

Thank you for taking us on these past four years. I will never forget the experience.

Y/L/N Y/N.’

Then finally, you went back to the original reason that you were even doing this.

[you: thanks, sungchan!]

Then, your alarm went off again, making you jump out of your skin. Well, time for your morning meds.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 27

A tall figure was nearing the corner table you had claimed in one of the campus coffee shops the following Monday afternoon, and you looked up from your laptop screen, a little surprised at who it was. Jung Sungchan was standing at the end of your table, black flannel over a graphic t-shirt and dark wash jeans, one backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He had an iced coffee in one hand.

You paused the movie playing on your laptop, taking out both your headphones as you looked up at him inquisitively, “Uh hi, Sungchan.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Are you here to study or something?”

“Mm.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Not really. Just grabbing a coffee and saw you. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

“Oh, sure. I’m waiting out the storm to leave,” you gestured to the near-constant downpour that had started right after you’d arrived over two hours ago. Noticing that some of Sungchan’s hair and shoulders were damp, you added, “The storm you apparently got caught in without an umbrella.”

“Oh, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair to push some of it away from where it had been falling into his eyes.

“I don’t mind having some company while I wait.”

To your surprise, instead of sitting across from you, Sungchan plopped himself onto the same bench that you were on, one leg slung over either side so he could face you directly.

You picked up the mug in front of you, your second cup of your drink of choice. You’d gotten a refill after it became clear that the rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Sungchan was already a third of the way done with his iced coffee as you blew over your hot drink before taking a small sip. He glanced up at you, and you felt like you were going to choke on the uncomfortable silence. So you took a gamble. Turning in your seat to face him as well, you hiked a knee up onto the bench, bringing your mug with you.

“Do you want to ask me something, Sungchan?”

The hockey player startled, having to catch himself from nearly choking on his coffee. Seems like you were right. Sungchan finally stopped sucking down his drink, setting it down on the table and wiping his palms on the knees of his jeans. “I heard that you never sent in a letter to Dr. Son. Any year you were a top two.”

“Oh, yeah, nah.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.

“What?”

“Every year I participated I wanted my work to stand on its own two legs. After the death of the author, that’s all that’s left, right? The work. It has to speak for itself.”

“Oh,” Sungchan nodded, then squinted his eyes, confusion entirely overtaking his features. “Wait, what?”

“Sorry, I don’t know how much Lit Theory you’ve done. Probably not a lot as a Bio major, huh? Death of the author is both literal and metaphorical. Removing what the author meant to do or say with a text from how you actually interpret the text as the reader. It’s a lot easier when they’re actually dead, but the abstract concept is practiced when they’re alive too. It’s… seeing the text as separate from authorial intent. Mind you, it’s only one tool in a literary critic’s arsenal, but I liked it for our Gothic fiction class. All the authors we read in that class, they’d been gone for a while, we had no way to know what they really meant when they wrote all that stuff. And it didn’t really matter for our purposes. All we did have was what they wrote, and that was enough for me. So the same should be enough for whoever reads the stuff I write. Even if it’s just Dr. Son.”

“Huh.”

“Though I guess I just explained myself a little, oops,” you laughed at yourself, taking another sip from your steaming mug. “I’m getting less and less mysterious by the second, aren't I?”

“Chenle made it sound like you didn’t care about winning,” Sungchan asked, cheek in hand.

You arched an eyebrow at this. “You asked Chenle about me?”

“W-Well you left so fast after we saw Dr. Son, and you two are you know...”

“Oh he’s my best friend,” you clarified for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in your life. “And while others may use any litany of swears for him and Hendery calls him a little weasel, I prefer ‘actual demon sent from Hell to kill me.’”

“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.

“He pushes me out of my comfort zone. In a good way, most of the time.”

“Got it. Then what do you do for him? If he’s your yang…”

“I’m entertainment?” You snorted, taking another sip of your drink. After setting it back down, you answered more sincerely, “I’m kidding. Sometimes it feels like that but I did ask him one time a couple years ago, when he was tipsy enough that I believed the words coming out of his mouth but not so drunk that it was unintelligible. ‘A safe place.’ And since then… I can see it in us. That’s my yin to him.”

He smiled softly at you. “That’s... really nice.”

“Sorry, what were you asking me before that?”

“Oh, uh— Chenle said you really didn’t care about winning Dr. Son’s contest, you just wanted to make stuff? That’s why you didn’t submit a letter.”

“Generally, sure. Winning would’ve been great, but I didn’t write what I thought Dr. Son wanted. I took all of his feedback with a grain of salt. Took stuff that I liked from him, took stuff I liked from other profs I had. Mixed and matched to make something that was mine.” You pressed your lips together, then leaned forward like you were about to tell him a secret, “I didn’t live for Phantasmagorical Phriday, Sungchan. You do know that, right?”

“Wow,” he blinked, seeming a bit disoriented. “I’ve never really thought about… you like that.”

“Well to be fair to you, you only ever knew me there and in Dr. Son’s class. Makes it hard not to think of me only through that lens. All you know about me is that I presumably like Gothic fiction and I’m a Lit major, right?”

“Right.”

“So what do you think I was doing here before you showed up?”

“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, turning your laptop screen to show the paused movie to him, “I was watching Pacific Rim.”

His jaw literally dropped, and you felt the need to save him at least a little. Grabbing a book from your bag, you held it up, “I did come here initially to finish reading this new mystery novel I just got, but then the storm came and I had nothing else to do after I was done with the book.”

“But still… you’re so…”

“I have interests outside the one class we took together?”

“Smart,” he finished, an absolutely adorable expression of wonder across his face.

You weren’t expecting that, surprised giggles bubbling up out of you as you felt yourself growing warm under his awestruck gaze.

“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.

“For what?”

“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”

“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”

“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”

“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”

“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”

“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.

“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”

You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”

“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”

He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”

“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”

Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”

You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”

“Thursday?”

“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”

“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.

Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”

“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.

“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”

You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.

Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”

“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”

“Oh, well—”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”

Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.

He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.

[you: hey what are you doing thursday at 7:00?]

[chenle: depends on what weird poetry reading you’re trying to drag me to]

[you: not this time. Sungchan’s hockey game?]

[chenle: you want to go to a sporting event?? why????]

[you: i told him i’d go please don’t make me go by myself]

[chenle: did you offer to go or did he ask you to come?]

[you: he asked me to? i guess?]

[chenle: haha yeah fuck no i’m not going with you]

[you: why not????????]

[chenle: a guy invited you to one of his games? yeah no way am i coming with you]

[you: what difference does that make? you’re seriously going to make me go to a hockey game by myself?]

[chenle: i don’t know how to tell you this gently so: he wants to fuck you]

[you: bro???]

[chenle: especially hockey? caveman brain is activated, he wants to show off how big and strong he is for you over the other males]

[you: damn can’t believe i just blinked and woke up in 200 BC]

[chenle: i’m warning you, only go if you’re ready for the consequences. i.e., that]

[you: so you’re not coming with me]

[chenle: no <3]

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30

Your chronically early self had gotten there as soon as the doors opened to spectators in order to scope out the perfect spot for yourself. Somewhere not too close to any speakers, where you could still see what was going on, hopefully somewhere Sungchan could maybe see you, but you could make a quick escape if need be. A lot of parameters, hence the need to be early. That meant that you got to watch the visiting team warm up first, and now your school’s team was warming up before the game. Finally the stands started filling up, and you had to do a double-take at the newest figure entering.

“Zhong Chenle, you lying little bitch!” You cursed out your best friend who was approaching you.

He immediately went to defend himself as he plopped down beside you, “Look, I told you I wasn’t going with you, not that I wasn’t going at all. Come on, Lit major.”

He finished off with a solid knock on your head, which didn’t hurt all that much through the beanie you were wearing, but you still slapped his arm away with a glare.

“Are you sure you want to live until graduation day? I can’t tell sometimes.”

“Half the team are Nu Chi guys,” Chenle explained his being there, then waved at one of the players skating by, 23, who gave a salute back. “Jeno.”

“Oh.” You belatedly waved too, but your friend had already turned back to warming up.

Chenle then gave you the run-down on all your friends and acquaintances’ numbers as he spotted them.

“Goalie. Sicheng, 7.” He just blocked a shot from a familiar number, 23. “Already told you, 23 is Jeno. Right wing.”

“Does he always suck?”

“Here’s Ten, number 10. Right defense. He’s never told me which came first, his nickname or his jersey number.”

Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.

“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.

“66, Donghyuck, center alternate.” His also went in.

“24, that’s Yangyang, left wing—and a miss!”

“This doesn’t bode well that so many of our players apparently kind of suck.” You muttered to yourself, well aware that Chenle was no longer listening to you.

Finally, the tallest of the team was skating up to take a shot. “And there’s your guy, Y/N. Number 27, Jung Sungchan, left defense, captain, your dreamboat—”

“If you don’t shut up—”

“Oh! All net!”

“Isn’t that a basketball—”

“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”

“Yep, same ones for concerts,” you confirmed, reaching into your purse for them. You hadn’t been able to take your full tote bag into the school sporting event, so you had to condense the essentials into your smaller purse.

“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah, remember how half the team are Nu Chi guys?”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”

“Here they come!”

Whipping around to face the same direction he was looking, you saw a horde of about ten to fifteen guys storming the rink, practically shaking the audience section. They were all donned in blue and orange, your university’s colors, various hockey or Nu Chi merch and paraphernalia, and you would’ve absolutely bet money that at least three of them had Nu, Chi, and Tau symbols painted across each of their chests under their shirts. Chenle leapt up to greet them all, the volume of the area immediately rising tenfold at least.

You recognized most of the Nu Chi frat brothers, they were mutual friends or acquaintances of yours through Chenle over the years, and there were even some familiar graduated faces. Lee Taeyong was the first to pick up on your presence, squeezing past Jisung—a new pledge that had glommed onto Chenle in particular—to plop down behind your seat.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Taeyong asked you with a tilted head. “Not exactly a good place for you, is it?”

Taeyong was frat president for your first two years of college and his last two. You had an absolute disaster at a Nu Chi party in your freshman year that he was witness to. Ever since then, when you would see him in passing at other lowkey (or as lowkey as frat functions could get) Nu Chi events that Chenle took you to during those two years, you always got the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on you during them.

“Could be asking you the same thing, Taeyong,” you countered, fully turning around in your seat to chat with the man. “Didn’t you graduate two years ago? You don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night? Like your taxes or something?”

“Us old-timers who peaked in college like to come back and re-live our glory days vicariously for the first home game,” he entertained your jibe, making you giggle. “And somebody’s got to be these kids’ DD. They always go at it too hard after the first game. Win or lose.”

Johnny, another graduated Nu Chi brother, spoke up then, eyes laser-focused on you, “So Chenle’s finally dragged you out to a game, Y/N?”

You immediately looked at your friend with wide eyes, knowing what the answer was, and exactly what reaction said answer would garner. Chenle, on the other hand, seemed all too thrilled to join in, turning to face you with his hands on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Oh no, I didn’t bring Y/N. She actually didn’t know I was coming at all. I found her here all on her own,” he announced to all the guys, who were hanging on to every word he said. If literally anything else were happening, you might’ve laughed at how they were all wrapped around his finger.

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like you’re interested in hockey,” Jungwoo, a junior who you’d shared a couple literature classes with, said curiously.

You sighed, giving Chenle a frank look before admitting, “Jung Sungchan invited me.”

They exploded with various hoots, hollers, whoops, and whistles.

With a shake of your head, you turned back around to look back at the players on the ice, knowing full well that there was nothing you could do alleviate—or even really participate in—the absolute chaos that was happening behind you.

Eventually, the game started. Taeyong, who had moved to sit on your other side from Chenle, quietly explained the basics of what was going on to you: positions, plays, scoring, why the referee made certain calls. Chenle was caught between cheering along with the other Nu Chi guys and rattling off hyper-specific stats on individual players to you, so you were truly grateful to have Taeyong giving you your “hockey for dummies” tips and tidbits throughout.

You kept your eyes on number 27, as Chenle had pointed him out to you earlier. The gear made it somewhat difficult for you to really recognize any distinguishing features about Sungchan himself except maybe his height, made even greater by the skates he was wearing. But as much as the intellectual side of you might’ve hated to admit it, there was definitely some part of you that very much enjoyed watching him play; that got some kind of thrill every time somebody tried to check him and he didn’t budge—or when he checked somebody and they most definitely did budge.

Before you knew it, all three periods were over, and you were jumping to your feet along with the others, cheering wildly. Your school won by a landslide.

“Oh, they’re going to get plastered,” Taeyong murmured from beside you fondly.

All of you had been in the cheering section milled around in the ice rink lobby waiting for the team to get out of the locker room.

“That was fun,” you declared to Chenle as the two of you stood off to the side from the larger group of loud Nu Chi brothers.

“Yeah, you didn’t seem like you were listening to a word I said.”

“Because you were telling me sports stats, Chenle, I’m surprised my brain didn’t start bleeding out of my ears.”

“Well I’m surprised your nose wasn’t bleeding watching your dreamboat Jung Sungchan beat up all those other guys,” Chenle teased. “200 BC called, they want their cavewoman back—”

You lunged at him, managing to get an arm around his throat in the beginnings of a questionably friendly chokehold, “I’m going to kill you, you little—”

“No murder in the rink!” Came the chastising voice of Johnny Suh from afar, and you reluctantly let him go.

The players started streaming out of the locker room soon after, and you nervously scanned the crowd for Sungchan. Chenle was easily dragged into the chaos of everyone celebrating, leaving you standing off to the side waiting.

Finally, you spotted him. Sungchan was wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and black hoodie with your school’s name embroidered across the front, his hair a bit mussed up. He was deep in conversation with Sicheng, brow furrowed. The goalie’s features were similarly serious as they gestured to each other. You stayed put, not wanting to interrupt. Taeyong had mentioned that Sicheng was sort of like a co-captain, you guessed they might be doing something important.

Then you’d suddenly made eye contact with Sicheng, who was facing you. He gave you a casual head nod, and said something to Sungchan you couldn’t quite make out. The captain whipped around, a bright smile coming to his face as soon as his eyes landed on you. You lifted your hand to give him a small wave and smile back.

Sungchan quickly ended his conversation with Sicheng, making his way over to where you were standing by a wall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he was still smiling down at you, his eyes practically glittering even in the harsh fluorescents of the lobby. “So you really made it out.”

“I said I would.” You fidgeted with the straps of your bag.

“And…?”

You tilted your head, “And?”

“What did you think? You know, are your horizons super broad now or something?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. His phrasing was funny, but also remembering how he played and was now giving you his undivided attention admittedly made your chest flutter.

“It was good, yeah. I had fun,” you confirmed. “You uhm, you played really good. I think.”

“Thanks,” Sungchan scratched at the back of his neck, and you swore the tips of his ears were pink, but that could’ve just been the cold. “Did you drive yourself?”

“Walked, my apartment is close.”

“Uh, so, we all go out to a bar after games usually. It’s kind of a sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday, but I’d really like for you to come. I’ll buy you a dr—”

“I’m really sorry, Sungchan, but I can’t. I’d love to, but…” You trailed off, wracking your brain for some concise way to explain why he couldn’t buy you a drink.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sungchan assured you, and you winced at the way the hopeful smile fell from his face.

An awkward silence descended over the two of you. You were chewing on your bottom lip, desperately trying to think of something to say to gloss over your rejecting his offer. You didn’t want to end the conversation on such a sour note, nor did you want to leave him just yet either. Stealing a glance at the clock above you on the wall, however, you knew that you’d need to be going soon anyway.

The hockey player was the one who ended up breaking the silence, “Can I walk you home? It’s late for you to be out by yourself.”

A relieved smile overtook your features, and you hoped he could see the sincerity in it, “Sure, thank you. Let me let Chenle know he’s relieved of his man-shaped friend duties for the night, and we can go.”

You got on your tiptoes to look around for your friend, finally spotting him in a headlock by Jeno, with Yangyang giving him a noogie. They all seemed to be laughing, so it didn’t look too much like bullying that you felt the need to intervene.

“You know, I’ll just text him, actually,” you chuckled, bringing out your phone to do just that.

“Man-shaped friend duties?” Sungchan questioned as the automatic doors parted for the two of you.

“His words, not mine,” you snorted. “But you know, making sure a woman doesn’t walk places by herself at night, that kind of stuff. Having a man just with her makes her safer, as fucked up as that is. Chenle corrected it to be man-shaped since he’s not the manly protective type.”

“I see.”

“But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties for tonight, Sungchan.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to stuff them back in. Friend. God, that was absolutely not what was happening here and you knew it. Chenle’s previous texts flashed across your mind. You obviously knew why Sungchan would’ve wanted to invite you to his game, and you said yes purposefully. Friend. Foot, meet mouth.

Sungchan blinked down at you, but seemed to take it in stride, “Of course, Y/N. Anytime you need a man-shaped person at your side, just call me up. I’ll bring my hockey stick.”

He patted his gear bag that was slung over his shoulder, making you giggle.

“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”

It was a short walk to your apartment, and you and Sungchan mostly talked about the game. You asked him a couple questions that Taeyong hadn’t covered during it— which Chenle might’ve, except you had tuned him out. And as you came to a stop at your front door, you didn’t yet fish your keys from your bag.

“How often do you have away games?” You asked.

“They’re usually about half,” Sungchan shrugged. “It’s a bit annoying missing classes, and the bus is kind of rank on the trip back.”

“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.

“But they’re always a lot of fun.”

“So, uhm, when’s your next home game?”

His face brightened as he seemed to realize what exactly you were asking, “Next week. Same time.”

“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.

“Cool,” he echoed.

You looked up at Sungchan, catching his eyes for a heart stopping moment. Both of you were standing on your welcome mat, he was close enough that you could catch a faint whiff of the detergent from his clothes—a college athlete with freshly washed clothes? You might already be in love—and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. You had the urge to grab him by the front of his hoodie and yank him—

A garish, blaring ringing going off interrupted your split-second pros and cons weighing that had been going on. Sungchan startled at the noise, reminding you very much of a baby moose in the moment. You groaned as you reached into your bag for your phone.

“Oh my god, stop it,” you hissed under your breath as you snoozed the alarm that was going off on there. Once it was quiet, you looked back up at the man with you sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

He joked, “Curfew?”

You laughed lightly, “No, just a reminder for something I have to do after I get home. It’s fine.”

“Well, before you go do that, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Nu Chi and the team are hosting a joint Halloween party this year, and I’d really like it if I could see you there.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, people will probably start showing up after like ten, eleven. It’s at the Nu Chi house, theirs is bigger than ours.”

“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.

“I know this is last minute, so I get if you have other plans or something.”

“I… can probably swing by for a bit, yeah,” you nodded.

“Great!” Sungchan beamed. “Oh, it is a costume party, by the way.”

“Costume?” You arched a brow. “What’ll you being going as? And please don’t say hockey player.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Definitely not… that would be lame…”

“You were planning on going as a hockey player, weren’t you?”

“Me and Mark have been putting all our spare time into planning this thing, I haven’t had any time to think about a costume.”

“Well you’ve given me 24-hour notice for a costume, so this is your 24-hour notice for one too. When I find you at the Nu Chi house tomorrow, I do not want to see a hockey jersey, Jung Sungchan. Any sports player is off-limits, understand?” You poked his chest with finality.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.

Just then, your alarm went off again, and this time you jumped out of your skin. Apparently, another 5 minutes had elapsed. With a sigh, you reached into your bag for your keys.

“I should let you go do that thing,” Sungchan chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sungchan,” you unlocked your front door. “See you tomorrow.”

Sitting at your kitchen table a couple minutes later, you were looking down at the vitals displayed on the screen of your blood pressure cuff.

“Jung Sungchan…” you muttered to yourself as you added the reading to your digital record, noting how the line graph jumped up with the new data.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. You two were grabbing a quick lunch between classes, and doing an obligatory catch-up on how your short but sweet walk with Sungchan went last night. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

You threw a fry from his plate at him, “It wasn’t like that!”

He ducked, letting it sail by his head and hit the wall behind him.

“Then what was it like?”

“It was more like a big puppy that I couldn’t say no to and—”

You were cut off by loud gagging noises from your friend, and went to kick him under the table, but missed and hit his chair leg instead. He still got the message, quieting down to let you continue.

“I told him I’d be able to just pop in for a bit. I’ll be in and out before it’ll get too bad.”

“Famous last words...”

“Hold on, LeLe,” you grabbed your friend’s arm to stop him on the sidewalk in front of the Nu Chi Tau frat house.

Taking another look into your tote bag, you made sure once again that you had everything you could possibly need tonight. Medications, snacks, water bottle, ear plugs, the usual. After closing the snaps on the bag, you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your costume. Generic witch, it was the last thing the costume store had in your size that wasn’t garishly scary. You understood well and good how college Halloween parties worked: you had to look hot, not terrifying. Not to mention that those horror show costumes were also much pricier than your “Sexy Witch” one.

“You look cute, Y/N,” Chenle reassured you, readjusting your witch hat for you. “Jung Sungchan won’t know what hit him.”

Chenle, on the other hand, was an almost scarily realistic zombie. If you hadn’t spent an ungodly amount of time hanging out on his bathroom counter this afternoon watching him apply the SFX makeup himself, you would’ve thought he had hired a professional makeup artist to do it. He’d always gone ham on Halloween since you two were kids, ever since he figured out how to make a Transformers costume out of cardboard boxes in primary school. You usually participated in partner costumes with him, but you really didn’t want him to make you a gross-looking zombie tonight.

“Thanks.” You gave him as confident a smile as you could muster.

Resecuring your grip on your go bag, you started up the walkway to the house with your friend.

You had been able to faintly hear the thumping bass of the music from outside, but once inside, you were almost immediately hit by a wall of music. Just inside the front door you were faced with a mass of people in bright costumes, flashing lights, corny Halloween decorations of cobwebs, spiders, ghosts, and pumpkins all over the walls.

Chenle looked over at you expectantly, “Y/N?”

“I couldn’t find my concert earplugs, only my noise canceling. I won’t be able to hear anybody unless they’re shouting at me if I put those in,” you replied, having to raise your voice to make sure he heard you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” He sighed and grabbed your elbow. “Come on, let’s find a quieter spot in the house then.”

You gave him a thumbs up and bright grin, already feeling your ears acclimate to the loudness. You could totally do this. It was one night, and you were just going to see Sungchan for a bit then go. Pop in then back out, just like you said.

You didn’t have to wait long to spot Sungchan. Chenle had barely tugged you into the next room over from the small foyer when a familiar head was visible over the crowd, his bright smile focused on you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sungchan grinned down at you. He was dressed in a suit and tie, what you were guessing was probably his only set, and his hair was parted to one side, styled off of his face. The tie had already been loosened, and the tuck of his dress shirt wasn’t so crisp.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him, amazed that you could hear anything over both the music and now your heart beating so loudly in your ears.

“So you did find a costume.”

“Oh, yeah,” you messed with the hem of your skirt. “Last one at the shop.”

“You look great.” He was still beaming down at you, and you could feel your skin growing warmer. “I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Thanks. Uhm, so what are you? Funeral director?”

“What? No, I’m—” His sentence stopped in its tracks as he looked down at the front of his suit jacket. He started patting his empty breast pocket, then other jacket pockets, then pants pockets, then looked around on the floor. “Fuck.”

“What?” You looked around under your feet, but weren’t able to see anything other than the usual party debris. “Did you lose something?”

Sungchan looked back up at you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say that I’m Mulder from the X-Files. But I’ve apparently lost my fake FBI badge. So it looks like I’m a funeral director now.”

You giggled. “Maybe you can be Mulder when he retires and buys a funeral home.”

“Yeah, the perfect costume. Won’t take too long to explain to anybody, they’ll get it immediately,” he laughed.

“Hey, I’m just glad you didn’t wear a jersey.”

“I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Oh, have you seen Chenle’s makeup by the—” But when you turned around to gesture to your friend, you found that he had disappeared, leaving you and the hockey captain all alone.

“Chenle?” Sungchan asked with a tilted head. “I didn’t even realize he was here yet.”

You shook your head fondly at your friend’s antics. Well, you’d have to thank him later.

“He must have gone to get a drink or something. Either way, it seems I’ve been abandoned.”

“Well, you can come hang out with me and some of the guys, if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you nodded, readjusting your bag to make sure it was pulled in tight to your body.

Sungchan led you through the frat house with a hand on the small of your back, and you snuck a glance up at him when he went to greet someone who had called his name as you passed by. He kept you tucked into his side as he slowed to give the guy a friendly slap on the shoulder. As soon as Sungchan had stopped to say hello, two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere, eagerly greeting him as well. You faintly recognized one, Jisung, a new Nu Chi pledge. He’d been at the hockey game you went to, and always found Chenle at Nu Chi events that you tagged along to. You looked up at Sungchan’s animated, handsome face again as he continued talking.

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan’s voice suddenly pulled you into the conversation. You snapped your focus down from his face to the other three that were in front of you, and realized that they all definitely knew that you’d been staring.

“Oh, hi.” You gave the three boys a nervous smile.

“Y/N, this is Jisung, Shotaro, and Renjun. Jisung and Shotaro are Nu Chi pledges, Renjun’s a sophomore brother, and he’s—you’re a Literature major, right, Renjun?”

“Yes.” One of them nodded.

“Renjun’s a Literature major too, Y/N,” Sungchan finished the introduction.

“Cool, cool,” you nodded. It had been Shotaro that called Sungchan over in the first place, you were pretty sure.

“Anyway, thanks for the offer, guys, but I already promised Hyuck I would, so we’ve got to go.”

Sungchan ushered you away to the tune of a chorus of disappointed groans from the three boys, and you wracked your brain to see if you could recall hearing any sort of proposition from them. But nope, between the loud music and your prior lack of attention to the conversation, you had nothing.

“What did they want?” You gave up and finally asked Sungchan.

“Beer pong. Hope you don’t mind that I declined. I’ve already had a couple and am not looking to get wasted quite yet.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” you shook your head. Thank god you didn’t have to deal with that yet. “Not really my thing anyway. Terrible hand-eye coordination.”

Sungchan seemed about to say something when someone walked by you with an exceptionally pungent cologne. The whiff shot directly to your head like a bullet, the sharp pain making you wince and hiss. It took everything in you not to cover your nose like Edward Cullen and instead shift to breathing through your mouth for a few moments.

“Y/N? You okay?” Sungchan’s voice was clearly concerned.

The sharp pain was gone just a couple moments after it had registered, and you opened your eyes up again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, don’t know what that was.”

“Okay, good.” He squeezed your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to your back and continuing your trek through the Nu Chi house.

You and Sungchan finally made it to a room adjacent to the main living room, where there were a couple of beat-up old couches and lots of Nu Chi Tau paraphernalia. The bass of the music playing in the next room over would occasionally make the picture frames and plaques on the walls rattle, and you could hear every word of the songs crystal clear, even though the room that you were in was packed to the brim with partygoers as well. Sungchan stopped you at a group of people gathered around one of the couches, tapping the shoulders of two of them who had their backs to you. Donghyuck and Hendery turned around, immediately parting to make room for the both of you in the group upon seeing you.

Almost everyone in the group was familiar to you either as friends or acquaintances. Your social circle was big thanks to Chenle, who was friends with practically the entire hockey team and Nu Chi house, despite being a member of neither. But now you didn’t have your best friend at your side, just Sungchan and your tote bag, both of which you were keeping close to you.

“Oh shit, Y/N!” Hendery grinned, pulling you into a one-armed hug of greeting. “Damn, it really is you!”

“Yeah, I’m a witch, not a ghost, Hendery,” you retorted jokingly. He was dressed as Prince Eric, if you weren’t mistaken.

“Well, when Sungchan said you were coming, some of us were a bit... skeptical.”

Someone dressed as Venom cut in from Hendery’s other side sharply, “No, I believe you said ‘never in a million fucking years, loverboy.’”

The rest of the group erupted in tipsy snickers and ‘ooh’s, and you felt Sungchan jostle a little as someone had presumably given him a teasing shove.

“Alright, guys. You can cut it out now,” Sungchan spoke over them authoritatively. He then looked down to you, features softening. “Sorry. Anyway, this is Donghyuck, he’s on the team and in Nu Chi—”

He pointed to the boy right next to him, wearing a very classic vampire costume splattered with a little bit of fake blood or fruit punch (you couldn’t tell in the poor lighting), and you wondered if he had also gone to a Halloween store last-minute like you. You knew him both from the game, and from a couple times you’d seen him with Chenle outside of frat or hockey events.

“Mark, frat president and he’s on the hockey team—” He was next to Donghyuck, dressed as Spiderman. You were already familiar with Mark, both from the game, and a group project in a class last year. You wondered if Mark remembered that.

“Ten, hockey and Nu Chi—” Ten was reclined on the couch, a top hat that had presumably been on his head earlier now resting on his propped up knee. Between that and his eyepatch, he clearly was dressed as some character that you couldn’t identify in the moment. You knew Ten outside of hockey, the frat, or even Chenle. He was a Lit major, so you had shared classes and study groups over the years. He raised a friendly hand in greeting.

“Sicheng, my co-captain and he’s in Nu Chi, too—” He was on the couch with Ten, sequestered to one corner as his teammate was taking up most of the space with his legs. Sicheng was dressed up as an angel, fake wings, little halo, and all. And you knew Sicheng through Ten, they’d been roommates since freshman year and could often be found together around campus. He gave you a nod of familiarity.

“Dejun, Nu Chi—” Sungchan had finally reached the man who was dressed as Venom.

“And you of course, unfortunately, know Hendery, Nu Chi.”

“Oh, boo, Sungchan,” Hendery stuck his tongue out at the captain.

You smiled and nodded a little bit at everyone else, but you were finding it hard to concentrate with the music in the background. Did it really need to be that loud?

“Y/N?” The sound of your name snapped your focus up, and you looked around for the source.

A few of the guys had gone back to their own conversations. Sungchan was looking down at you, head tilted inquisitively. Presumably he had been to the one to say your name.

“Oh, sorry,” you tried to give a nonchalant chuckle, but it was getting harder and harder to even articulate yourself with all the stimulation. “The music...”

“Oh!” Sungchan perked up at this. “Do you want to go dance?”

He was offering a hand out to you, and you stared down at it, mouth opening and closing as your brain felt like it was moving through sludge. You quite literally could not process what that string of words actually meant for a good second, and then it took even longer for you to even tie together the right way for you to respond. Cognitive fatigue. Oh this was not good. You squeezed your eyes shut, then open.

You again gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m kind of light-headed right now. Could you get me something to drink?”

His features immediately turned concerned. “Of course. Do you need to sit down or a ride h—”

“Can you just get me a drink?” Your brain was stuck in a perpetual loop now that it had locked onto one task. It took all of your energy just to regulate your tone enough to keep your voice (hopefully) as sweet as possible, despite the fact that you had cut him off.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your upper arm reassuringly before taking off.

Your eyes were fixated on the spot where he had just been, your vision seeming to continuously zoom in and past your head. Squeezing your eyes shut once more, you took a deep breath through your mouth to try to recenter yourself. But it didn’t help any. Your head felt like a balloon that someone was overinflating, and you knew exactly what was coming next. You swallowed thickly, taking a second to look through the crowd. Nope, you couldn’t wait for Sungchan. Not like you could even verbalize much of anything right now. You had to go take your medication.

So you hurried into the crowd, clutching your tote bag to your chest like your life depended on it—which it really did. Mumbling ‘excuse me’s to everyone you shouldered, bumped into, or stepped on the toes of, you finally made it to a door that you were pretty sure was a bathroom. You tried the handle first, and when it gave in, you still knocked as you opened it, just in case. It was miraculously empty. Maybe there really was a God. Then, the balloon started to deflate, the pressure in your head inverted, becoming a harsh, squeezing pain instead. Nope, nope, definitely not a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.

You locked the door behind you with clumsy fingers and shuffled over to the sink. The countertop was in good enough condition for you to toss your bag up there and start rooting around through it. Bottle after bottle after bottle, then you finally secured the right two. You shook out a pill from one, then a pill from the other. The lights above the mirror were becoming more insufferable by the second. You cracked open the fresh bottle of water you had stored in your bag too, and knocked both pills back in one big gulp.

Tossing the water back into your bag, you could fucking finally flip the switch and turn the lights in the bathroom off. After feeling your way along the wall, you eventually found the bathtub, and sat yourself down. The music was somewhat muffled in here, and you figured this was going to be the darkest room in the whole Nu Chi house. Right now, your plan was to wait in here for your medication to kick in and hopefully stop this migraine before it really got going. Then you could make your great escape, and send Sungchan some bullshit apology text later. After tossing your witch hat to the ground vaguely beside your bag, you gently rested your head against the cool tile of the shower with a sigh. Chenle was right, you shouldn’t have come. Cynically, you thought that you should have timed it. See how long you lasted before you got a migraine. You’d be surprised if that was even 15 minutes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sungchan returned to the group with your requested drink in hand and another for himself, frowning when he immediately noticed your absence. “Hey, where’d Y/N go?”

“Oh, shit, uh…” Mark looked around with a baffled look on his face. “No clue dude, she was just here a second ago.”

“I’m going to go find her. Here.” He shoved both drinks into Hendery’s hands.

“Sungchan, come on, take a hint, man,” Donghyuck sighed, patting the taller boy’s shoulder sympathetically.

“What?”

“She asked you to get her something to drink and then slipped away when nobody was looking.”

“Y/N’s not like that.”

“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well all night. I think. I’m going to go look for her.”

“So you’re admitting that you make her physically ill.”

“Dude, you’re just asking to get your shit rocked, you know that, right?” Ten warned him.

“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”

Mark cut him off, “Hyuck, you’re on your own if Sungchan decides to fuck your shit up. I don’t care if you’re my little, I’m not—”

“Oh, wahhh, my big strong big won’t protect me.”

“Christ, I swear he’s only had like four shots and a couple…”

His friends’ voices quickly faded into the din of the party as Sungchan pushed through the crowd. He couldn’t spot you, but found maybe the next best thing.

“Hey, Chenle.” He grabbed him by the elbow, turning him away from the arm wrestling competition between Jeno and Yangyang that he was spectating. Or, he at least hoped this was Chenle, it was a bit hard to tell with the zombie makeup.

“Hey, Romeo!” Chenle greeted him jovially, punching him in the shoulder over-zealously. Okay, definitely him.

“Have you seen Y/N? In the past like, five minutes or so?”

“You lost her?” The zombie asked angrily, cheerful mood immediately soured.

“Uh, yes? Sorry?”

“No, I’m not pissed at you,” he shook his head at Sungchan’s apology. “You go check the bathrooms, I’ll look outside. Don’t bother calling her, she’s not going to pick up.”

“What’s—”

But Chenle was already gone.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting in there for, but you could feel some of the overstimulation from the party beginning to slide off of you. Which could be either a good or bad thing. Cognitive fatigue was usually a prodrome and postdrome for you. Regaining some clarity could either mean that your medication was working and the migraine was going away, or you were about to enter the proper migraine phase. The fact that the pain hadn’t gone away was worrying. But at least it was dark, and relatively quiet. Oh, quiet... you could put in your earplugs now too.

Just as you had gone to grab for your bag, there was a knock at the bathroom door. You froze. Shit.

“Occupied!” You yelled out hesitantly to them, wincing at the loudness of your own voice. Okay, ow.

The person knocked again, harder.

“Seriously! Busy in here! Puking my brains out!” You yelled even louder, hoping they got the fucking idea this time. There was no way you wanted to have to actually get up and deal with a drunk partygoer that needed to piss and/or puke.

“Y/N? That you?” A familiar voice came through the door. “It’s Sungchan, can I come in?”

“Oh, sure, hold on.” You clambered out of the tub as carefully as you could in the dim lighting coming from under the door.

Against your better judgment, you turned one set of lights on in the bathroom, then cracked the bathroom door open. Sungchan was in fact on the other side, and you stepped back to let him in. He looked around the bathroom, worry on his face.

You shut the door behind him, saying sheepishly, “So, I was lying about the puking my brains out.”

“But you don’t look okay.” He peered down at your face as you were still wincing against the bright lights. “You didn’t drink anything tonight, what’s wrong?”

You went to sit on the side of the tub, feeling a pain in your eyes now. You gestured to the light switch. “Can you turn that light off?”

“Uh, okay…” He obliged, and the room was dim once again.

Your eyes adjusted quickly, and you could still see the general outline of everything in the room. Sitting back in the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest. Well, no chance for your great escape now. Sungchan climbed into the dry tub with you, facing you. He didn’t fit great in the small space, all gangly limbs, and your knees bumped into each other. But he sat there with you quietly.

“I’ve got a migraine coming on, I had to get somewhere quiet and dark and take my meds.” You told him bluntly, opting to just take the plunge. Not like you could even attempt flowery language at the moment anyway. Sure, some of your speech capabilities were coming back now that there was less sensory input, but you weren’t going to be doing any soliloquies tonight.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sungchan said quietly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no. I actually- I actually don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s okay?” You surprised yourself with your answer.

“Yeah, of course.” He said reassuringly. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I might not have drank but you did. I’ll be okay here, for the most part. I’m the one who came knowing that I get sound-induced migraines.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mm, yeah,” you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the tension there for a moment. “Remember when I said Chenle pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way most of the time?”

“Right.”

“One of the times it wasn’t... good was when he got an invite to Nu Chi’s Halloween party our freshman year, dragged me with him. And he always means the best when he does stuff like that. I hadn’t made any new friends at college, meanwhile he had a bunch, including some of the pledges at Nu Chi.”

“How he got the invite.”

“Exactly.” You needed to take a pause, resting your head against the cool tile again. After a few deep breaths, you pushed on in the story. “Anyway, we’d been there for a couple hours when the loudness and the music and everything finally got to me and I got a migraine. I had my go bag on me, and went to what I thought was an empty corner of the house to take my meds. But a couple other people saw me knocking back pills and wanted some. My head was hurting like a bitch, and they were trying to grab them from me and anyway, I spilled a bunch of them all over the floor, drenched myself with my water and their beer, and elbowed a dude and gave him a bloody nose.”

“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.

You opened and closed your jaw a couple times to try to relax the muscles and joints there. “I couldn’t even open my eyes because my head hurt so bad. Chenle told me later I was screaming and Taeyong wanted to call an ambulance until Chenle ran up and explained what was happening. They put me, Chenle, and Jeno—turns out that’s whose nose I broke—in Taeyong’s room in the house for the rest of the night. Neither Chenle nor I were in any shape to drive ourselves home.”

“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”

“Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t one of the ones trying to take my pills, he was trying to break up me and the people who were. Collateral damage.” You recounted it regrettably.

“When Jeno found out I’d invited you, he told me he’d keep his room clear in case we needed it. I thought he was just being a dick.” Sungchan sounded like he was having an epiphany. “Y/N, do you think you’ll be okay to move up a floor?”

The bass was thudding through the door, and you knew that if you stayed here when you transitioned into the throes of however bad this migraine fully got, you’d regret it. Grabbing your earplugs from your bag and putting them in, you gave him a thumbs-up and attempted a smile, but you knew it came out like more of a wince.

Sungchan kept you between him and the wall as you moved through the Nu Chi house, casting as much of a shadow against the garishly flashing lights as possible. Even through your earplugs, the music was raucous, people were practically screaming at each other, and you gripped one hand around his arm and the other onto his suit jacket to keep yourself balanced and to not lose him. When you got to the stairs, he fully wrapped an arm around your shoulders to jerk you out of the way of a drunk Nu Chi member stumbling his way down, and kept it there the rest of the way up. The noise was squeezing around your head like a vice, and you shut your eyes tight at the top of the stairs for a moment in an attempt to clear your head.

Sungchan’s voice was right beside your ear, muffled through the earplugs, “We’re almost there, Y/N, I’m sorry, come on.”

You were vaguely aware of the man with you feeling around on the top of a doorway before jiggling a doorhandle, and finally you were in a blissfully dark and quiet-ish room. Your head definitely hurt more than before, and you practically collapsed onto the bed.

“He was kind enough to stuff all his dirty clothes in the closet,” Sungchan muttered.

You managed a strangled chuckle at that, dropping your go bag onto the floor beside the bed. A moment of silence passed, and you could hear Sungchan awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet at the doorway.

“Sungchan,” you said his name, then patted the empty half of the bed beside you. “You can sit. I know Jeno doesn’t have any other furniture in here besides the bed and his PlayStation.”

“He probably only has a bedframe because it came with the room.”

You snickered, but were cut off by the squeezing pain turning to a sharp, stabbing pain behind your left eye, “Oh fuck!”

“Y/N?!” Sungchan was right beside you, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you.

“Sorry, sorry, it feels like I’m getting an icepick lobotomy! Jesus!” You hissed, cupping a hand over your left eye as if that were actually going to do anything. “It’s normal, I’m fine. Relatively.”

“Okay…”

Still clutching your eye, you rolled onto your side and brought your knees up towards your chest. You blindly fumbled towards the head of the bed, and felt a pillow being pressed into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, tucking it under your head.

“Do you want to lay under the covers?” Sungchan whispered.

“Do they smell like Jeno’s washed them in the past week?”

He laughed breathily at that, “Miraculously they do. I think he was planning on getting laid.”

“He gave up getting his dick wet for me. Jeno’s a real one,” you mumbled, feeling the covers that you were laying on top of being pulled out from under you.

Sungchan gently brought the sheet up to your shoulder, then a blanket too. The stabbing pain behind your eye was still there, and your stomach filled with dread as you acknowledged that your acute medication wasn’t going to be working this time. This was going to be a full-blown migraine, and who knew how many hours it would last.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need? Water?”

“No. Just uh, let me know when two hours have passed, I can take another dose of my meds that aren’t fucking working then.”

“Oh. Will do.”

You opened and closed your jaw, letting out a distinct groan. Another few minutes passed. Or, you think it was a few minutes, you couldn’t really check your phone for the time.

“Sungchan.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure the party is a lot more fun.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“…No.”

“I want to stay. I’m not going to have any fun out there knowing that you’re in all in this pain all alone in here.”

You squinted your right eye open, and had to crane your neck to look up at where Sungchan was sitting against the headboard. He had taken his suit jacket and shoes off at some point, now just in a rumpled dress shirt, loosened tie, slacks, and socks. He held your eye contact steadily, head tilted slightly and a frown across his handsome features.

Reaching your unoccupied hand up towards him, he watched it with confusion.

“What do you need? Your bag?”

“No.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Oh.” An adorably radiant grin was on his face now instead.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1

Sungchan knew you’d finally fallen asleep when you stopped muttering swears and curses under your breath, the pained expression fell from your face, and your hand that was holding his went limp. He could still hear the party going strong outside of Jeno’s bedroom, and a glance at his phone told him it was just after one in the morning. He had no want to rejoin his friends, to leave you.

He took his tie all the way off, thinking to himself that if you were feeling better, you might have joked that he looked like Mulder the off-duty funeral director. And he would’ve laughed and watched the cute way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you said something that you thought was funny. He set the tie down with his shoes on the floor beside the bed.

Careful to stay on top of the covers that you were sleeping under, Sungchan shifted until he was laying down too, pillow tucked under his head, facing you on his side, hand still holding yours.

Like usual, you didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember shutting your eyes tight and wishing really hard for your head to stop hurting so bad. Or to die. Whichever the Universe felt like granting. And judging by the fact that you were now waking up without a migraine, it seemed like the former.

The first thing you were aware of before you even opened your eyes was that you felt like shit. Sure, your head didn’t hurt anymore, but jeez the morning after wasn’t much better. Tired, achy, and your brain felt like TV static.

The second thing that you were aware of, after opening your eyes, was Jung Sungchan just a few inches from your face. He was still asleep, soft bursts of air passing from his lips and mussing up strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. You didn’t quite have enough in you to coo over his bedhead, but you could give half of a fond smile as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, running a sleepy hand over one side of your face.

Only one of your earplugs was still in your ears, and you looked around the bedsheets for the other one. After securing it, you scooted over to the edge of the bed to put the plugs back into your carrying case before rolling back over and pulling the blankets over you again. You deserved this, honestly. Sleeping in late, a comfy bed, warm blankets, a cute boy next to you, nothing to—

Your happy thoughts were ripped away by the sound of a loud alarm. You shot up, scrambling towards your tote bag to grab your phone from the depths of it and turn your goddamn alarm off before it woke Sungchan up.

“Mm?”

Too late.

Sheepishly, you looked over at him, “Sorry…”

“‘S okay,” he mumbled, flopping onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “How’s your head?”

“Better. A lot better, thanks.”

“Good, good.” He yawned, “Morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

His eyes were closed as he laid there, a hand resting on his chest, and you weren’t sure if he had fallen back asleep.

“…Sungchan?”

“Hm?”

Taking his inquisitive tone as a sign that you could keep talking, you said, “Uhm, that was the first time I’ve had anybody around for one my migraines in a while. I’m sorry if it was… well, I don’t know. What was it like for you?”

He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face you and tucking a hand under his cheek, “Oh, uh, I mean, I wasn’t quite worried, since you seemed like you knew exactly what was happening, you know? But still, I… I was wishing there was more I could do. It was weird knowing that you were in pain but not being able to see where it hurt.”

“I should’ve figured that might be upsetting. Sorry about all that.”

“No, Y/N, it's okay. I get it, you just wanted someone with you when you were hurting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” you nodded, curling one of your hands into a fist in your lap, digging your nails into your palm in an attempt to not cry at how easily he saw right into you.

“I was more than happy to sit with you.”

“I’ve had these stupid migraines for years now. Tried every treatment in the book, been on every regiment. And my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m made of glass or anything, which I’m grateful for. Everyone in my life knows I’m a pro at it all: I’ve got my go bag, all my meds, my alarms, I’ve been going to doctors’ appointments, testing, everything for years. But like... they still hurt. The migraines still fucking hurt.” Your voice cracked over the word, and your nails dug in deeper. “And I just… think they forget that part sometimes? I don’t know, I guess they hear the word ‘migraine’ thousands of times over the years it sort of loses its meaning. They kind of forget what one actually is. But it hurts Sungchan, my head just hurts for hours or even days, sometimes so bad I throw up from the pain. I can’t do anything but lay in bed in the dark and cry. Last night’s wasn’t that bad but still… thank you. I needed for it to all be real to somebody.”

Sungchan pushed up into a sitting position, and through your watery vision you could see that his brows were furrowed. You followed where his gaze was locked, and watched as he gently unfurled your fingers. You used the thumb of your other hand to rub at the divots that your nails had left in your skin.

“The migraines are why I’ve been all weird, by the way.” You added, trying to ignore the strain in your voice.

“What?”

“When you wanted to buy me a drink after the game. One of my migraine medications that I take, I can’t drink alcohol on it. It just felt like a weird and long explanation to have to give in the moment. And when you asked if I wanted to dance with you last night, the music would’ve made the migraine come on quicker than it did, but explaining it to you then, again it felt like it would’ve ruined the moment even more.”

“Oh… don’t worry about it.”

There was still one big thing you hadn’t smoothed over. But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties tonight, Sungchan. Stupid, stupid.

Pushing through the discomfort prickling at your skin, you asked, “Sungchan, do you want to go on a date?”

“A…” He looked you dead in the eyes for a moment, mouth parted, and blinked once, twice before he was absolutely beaming at you. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but giggle, nerves buzzing through you as your chest was airy and you were lightheaded for two reasons now, “Okay, good.”

“Is it bad for me to say that I’m relieved? That you have migraines? Well, not that you have them, because obviously they hurt, but like, that this is what it was? I seriously thought I was being stupid, like mixed signals or something. Like, you came to my game but then you didn’t want to go to the bar.” He ticked the instances off on the fingers of one hand.

“Medication,” you nodded.

“Right. Then you let me walk you home after, but you called me your friend.”

“That was just plain stupidity,” you admitted with a groan at having to relive that moment again.

“And you said yes to coming to the party, but then you didn’t want to dance with me,” Sungchan had now run out of fingers and dropped his hand back down to the bed.

“The music...”

“And when you disappeared, I thought you left because you didn’t like me. I just… felt like I was going crazy.”

“It’s not awful of you to be relieved about this. I’m sorry, Sungchan. Migraines aren’t conducive to romance, apparently.”

“Oh, bullshit.” He pushed back immediately. “They’re just not conducive to drinking and loud parties. That’s not romance.”

“Alright, fair. I’m wont to agree with you.”

“And you need to stop apologizing for your migraines. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Well, I did come to a loud ass party knowing I’d probably get a sound-induced migraine.”

“Okay, aside from that— which, I’m very flattered by and will never ever ask you to do anything like this ever again.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly the door handle rattled, then there was a banging on the door. “Hey! Are you two done in there?” Jeno yelled through the wood. “You better not be having post-headache sex on my bed!”

“Seems like he didn’t get laid last night,” Sungchan muttered.

“If he keeps up that pounding I’m going to get a rebound headache and he’s going to wake the entire house, please let him in,” you groaned.

The boy with you quickly moved to do so, unlocking the door and throwing it open to whisper aggressively, “Jeno! Shut the fuck up! People are still sleeping!”

“Oh. You’re dressed.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, “I don’t know what you think a migraine is like, but getting my back blown out is pretty far down on my to-do list for immediately after.”

“How are you feeling?” Jeno was nice enough to ask as he rooted through his closet.

“Like shit. While you guys nurse actual hangovers today, I get to nurse a migraine hangover. Same awful morning after without the fun night before.”

“That sucks.” He secured a rumpled shirt and inside out pair of sweatpants. “I told Chenle you were crashing here last night, by the way. He didn’t just abandon you for shits and giggles.”

“Oh, thanks. He was sober enough to drive?”

“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”

“Wow…”

“Now I recommend you two get the fuck out before everyone else wakes up and sees you sneaking out together.”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed and pulling his shoes on.

You quickly gathered your shoes, phone, witch hat, and go bag before giving Jeno a short goodbye and following Sungchan out. The Nu Chi house was thankfully quiet as everyone was still asleep in their own rooms, save for the partygoers and brothers who had passed out on the couches in the living rooms. Once you were on the front porch, the two of you dared to speak again.

“I’ll drive you home, Y/N,” Sungchan offered.

“Mhm, thanks,” you squinted against the bright sunlight, reaching into your bag for the spare pair of sunglasses you kept in there.

He gestured to your bag. “So what all do you have in there?”

“Everything but the kitchen sink.” You sighed, finally securing your sunglasses and putting them on. They did help, but you knew there was no way you were going to avoid a rebound headache today. Realizing that Sungchan might actually have been genuinely asking and wasn’t just trying to be polite, you decided to give him a sincere answer as well. “Uh, my meds, my blood pressure cuff, earplugs, sunglasses, some snacks, other miscellaneous non-migraine related stuff like an umbrella.”

“Blood pressure cuff?” He stopped in front of a sedan parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for you.

Even through your unpleasant migraine hangover, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips at the gesture.

Once the both of you were in the car, you explained, “One of my medications affects my blood pressure. I have to check it every few hours, or whenever I feel kind of funny. That’s partially what the snacks are for too.”

“Really?” He started the car and pulled out into the street.

“Most of my meds I need to take with food, so keeping snacks on me makes it easy. The sweet ones are in case my blood sugar drops though.”

“Blood sugar too?”

“A different medication affects my appetite, secondary effect is on my blood sugar. Fun fact, it’s the same one that keeps me from drinking alcohol. Anyway, if you’re ever craving something sweet, I keep gummies and stuff on me usually.”

Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”

“Oh and water.” You perked up as you realized you’d forgotten something, and reached in for said item. “I've got my water bottle. I need water to take my meds, obviously, but I also need to drink water to make sure I don’t get kidney stones from my medication.”

The car had stopped at a stoplight, and he looked over at you in disbelief. “What the fuck.”

“Hey, it’s this or be entirely unable to participate in society.” You explained. “I used to get five or six migraines a week, with really bad or mild headaches constantly in between. I couldn’t do anything, they were disabling. Clearly, they still are now when I do get them, but I only get one or two a month.”

“I can’t imagine— I… yeah…” He trailed off as the light turned green, a deep frown etching itself on his features as he clearly was trying to imagine what a huge shift in his life that would be. And was having a hard time doing so.

“People without chronic illnesses usually can’t, until they get one,” you shrugged. “I know I couldn’t imagine it either. Then I got my first migraine. Then my second, and my third. I think the ‘chronic illness’ part really hit for me when I had to order my first sharps disposal bin for the monthly injections I take.”

“You’re…”

“Do not say that I’m so strong or any live laugh love type shit right now.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no, not what I was going to say. I was just thinking… you’re really cool.”

“I just info-dumped about my migraines, medication, medication side effects, and treatment to you for ten minutes straight and that’s the conclusion you came to?” You asked in disbelief as he pulled into your apartment complex, and it dawned on you just how long you had been talking about yourself for. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been that detailed with someone other than your neurologist or your mom about your condition and treatment.

Sungchan put his car in park to turn and look you in the eye. “I’m looking at the bigger picture here: You’re a Lit major, you like Gothic fiction, you’re good at writing, you’re smart and know things like death of the author and stuff, you like Pacific Rim, you’ve come to one of my games, you’re funny, and you just info-dumped to me about something personal for ten minutes. So yes, I think you’re cool. Actually, cool might be an understatement.”

“Jung Sungchan, you…” Your cheeks were hurting with how wide you were grinning. Whether it was the migraine hangover or truly from how warm and happy his words made you, you couldn’t formulate a proper response, “Congrats, I’m speechless.”

“I think that's good?” He laughed again. “Anyway, you told Jeno earlier that you felt like shit, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Rest well today, Y/N.”

“Thanks. You too, Sungchan.” You wrapped your hand around the door handle but stopped just short of actually opening it. “Oh, and uhm, I don’t know if this too eager or whatever, but I’m free tomorrow.”

His face lit up with recognition at what you were implying. “Me too. But are you going to be okay? Like, recovered?”

“Yeah, I’ve got all day today to sleep it off.”

“Okay.” He grinned.

“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”

“Yes, yes. I will.”

“Bye.”

And with that, you got out of his car, making sure to take your go bag that had been on your lap for the whole drive.

Halfway to your front door, you turned around to give Sungchan a final wave goodbye, and he waved back through the windshield. Once you’d finally disappeared into your apartment, he looked over at his now empty passenger seat. Well, not completely empty, he realized. Your witch hat was on the floor of the passenger side, you’d forgotten to grab it on your way out. He picked it up, gently setting it on the seat beside him. He’d just give it back to you when he saw you again for your date tomorrow.

“A date,” Sungchan sighed happily, feeling his chest swell and nearly burst with joy. “A date, a date, a date.”

Putting his car in reverse, he looked through the rear window as he muttered, “Suck an egg, Donghyuck. Man-shaped friend, my ass.”

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

Sungchan picked you up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot for your first date. You made sure to take your nighttime meds early and silence your alarms so there was nothing to bother you that night. Migraines notwithstanding, of course. You still had to bring your go bag just in case you needed anything acute, but you didn’t think twice about leaving the majority of it in the car, tucking just a couple individually packaged tablets into your pocket before accepting Sungchan’s hand that he offered to you after opening your car door for you.

Walking into the movie theater with him after he bought your tickets, you were about to start off in the direction that the usher had pointed you when your date stopped you.

“You want anything from concessions?” He nodded towards the long line of other couples, families, and groups of friends.

“I’m not big on overpriced popcorn,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks though, Sungchan.”

“You sure you don’t want a soda or candy? How’s your, you know, blood sugar?”

It was then that your polite smile morphed into a genuine, touched one, and you squeezed his hand that you were holding. “I’m doing good, promise. I made sure I ate before. But thank you, seriously. You’re really sweet.”

“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Sungchan, can I tell you something?” You ducked your head in towards him conspiratorially.

“Yeah, of course.”

You gently shook one side of your jacket, and a muffled rattling sound came from within it. “I snuck a bag of Skittles in,” you whispered to him.

He chuckled as you dropped your jacket back down and smoothed over the inside pocket inconspicuously. “Two steps ahead of me.”

“I just didn’t want to ruin our date if I got low.”

“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”

“So are you!” You tried to reassure him.

The two of you entered where your movie would be showing, and picked your seats. The previews had already started, so you had to drop your voices to whispers.

“But you’re going to be good with the bright light, and the sounds?” Sungchan double-checked with you.

You nodded insistently. “You’re the one who made me compile a list of stuff that I could do, remember?”

“I know, but you also came to that party knowing that it was like 100% guaranteed to give you a migraine. So I think I’ve earned some skepticism.”

“Okay, fine. You got me there,” you sighed. “But I get nothing out of suggesting things that will give me migraines other than cutting our time together short. Which I don’t want to do.”

Sungchan shifted in his seat, and when you looked over at him, you could see a small, bashful smile on his face. “Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”

The previews finally ended, and the entire theater quieted down, including you two. You settled in to watch the movie, scooting closer to your date, looping your arm under his, and resting your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly leaned his head against the top of yours.

As you left the theater hand-in-hand with Sungchan, you two were deep in discussion about the movie, and in the back of your mind, you realized with a panic that you had far too much that you wanted to say that wouldn’t fit into the short ride back to your apartment. Not to mention that you didn’t want your night with him to be over yet.

“Hey.” You called for his attention as he opened up the passenger door for you, stopping before you got in the car.

“Hey.” He offered you a lopsided grin, still holding the door open with one hand and now caging you between him and the open car door.

If the parking lot wasn’t literally swarming with other movie theater patrons, you swore you would’ve grabbed him and kissed him stupid right there and then. But a family of five walked by at that moment, so you swallowed down the itch.

“We should go somewhere,” you suggested, trying to sound equal parts nonchalant and hopeful. Which was a weird combination, you knew, but you didn’t want to come across as too desperate. Again, a ridiculous sentiment, but it was engrained in you with social conditioning or whatever.

“We just went somewhere,” he pointed out knowingly, and you swore that was a smirk that you spotted on his face in the shadowy lighting afforded by the parking lot streetlamps.

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, despite how desperate you felt on the inside to just be around him right now. “Somewhere. Are you hungry?”

“Are you?”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. “Well—”

Finally, he smiled, nodded towards the car, and said, “I know somewhere. Get in.”

Sungchan closed the car door after you before walking around to get into the driver’s side. He didn’t offer you any information or clues as to your new destination as he left the movie theater parking lot. The hockey captain drove with one hand casually holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the other tapping out the rhythm of whatever song was playing over his speakers onto his thigh. You dragged your eyes from his fingers to the passing scenery.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a good date. Even the last date you’d been on was a distant memory. Lunch with some CompSci major your freshman year, a blind date set up by a mutual acquaintance. He just talked over you the whole time. You didn’t deign to go on a second date with him. It wasn’t that your migraines made it impossible to date—they hadn’t even come up at the date with the CompSci major (mostly because he didn’t give you the opportunity to say much of anything)—but you knew that it was always going to be something to get out of way. Either up front or at some point down the line. And it was exhausting enough for you to have to completely restructure your life around them, how could you really ask some stranger who barely knew you—or didn’t at all—to consider doing the same? It felt like it just made your dating pool even narrower, an added standard that you didn’t even get to pick.

But with Sungchan, it had happened in the worst way possible, you disappeared on him because you were having a migraine, without even having told him anything about them. And not only was he more than chill about it, he stayed with you through your entire full-blown migraine. Listened to you explain every ailment, medication, and medication complication that you have, and just tucked all that information away to keep track of your wellbeing. Taken it all in stride and made it look easy. And that was before your first date. It almost made you angry. Not at Sungchan, but at the fact that other people had ever made you feel like an inconvenience.

The car slowing to a stop knocked you from your thoughts, and you didn’t even realize that you had been silent for the entire trip. Sungchan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. He put the car in park as you looked around, trying to gauge where exactly you were.

“Are we… on campus?” You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

He was already out of the car, though, jogging around to get your door. As he opened it for you, he tilted his head innocently, “What was that?”

You stepped out, taking in your surroundings. “Are we at a campus parking garage?”

“Specifically, the top floor of Evergreen Parking Garage,” Sungchan clarified, rolling the passenger window down.

Evergreen Parking Garage was a commuter-only parking facility, meaning that this level was empty this late at night. It was also located at the furthest reaches of the north block of campus, which bordered a nature preserve, meaning that while on one side was your university campus, the other side was entirely evergreen trees. Hence the name.

Sungchan had parked on the side that faced the nature preserve, and as you turned to question your date as to why exactly he’d taken you to campus, you were instead greeted by the sight of him hunched over to lean into the open passenger window, seemingly messing around with the audio controls of the still-running car.

You tilted your head to one side, then the other as you just watched him struggle for a moment before finally speaking up. “What uh… What are you doing, Sungchan?”

He banged his head on the frame of the window as he went to stand back up. “Fuck! Ow…”

Covering your hand to muffle your giggles, you waited patiently for him to turn around and answer you.

Still clutching his head, he said with a sheepish smile, “Just give me a sec, sorry. Technical difficulties.”

And with that, he opened the door to properly sit in the passenger seat, futzing with his phone and the car radio. Finally, there was music playing from the speakers as opposed to the radio station ads, and he turned the volume up before getting back out of the car and shutting the door. With both the driver and passenger windows rolled down, you could hear the song clearly.

“I was originally going to try to take you to this lookout, but there were other cars there, so I had to keep driving by it and oh my god why did I tell you that—” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, since we didn’t get to dance at the party…”

Sungchan offered his hand out to you, and you set yours atop it. The upbeat song that had been playing finished just then, switching to a much slower, softer one. You stepped in closer, smiling up at him as you looped your free arm around his neck. His other hand settled on your hip, and he slowly started leading you in an uncertain sway of sorts.

You let out an airy chuckle, “Was this really the kind of dancing you had in mind for a frat party?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He questioned.

“Would you believe me if I said that I believed you?”

“No.”

You snickered. “Smart man.”

“But this is good, too. Better, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s not a bunch of other drunk, sweaty, loud people everywhere knocking into us. I don’t have to worry about somebody spilling beer on me, or other guys looking at you, or the DJ picking something bad. Or you getting a migraine.” Sungchan slotted his fingers with yours. “I just get to think about you.”

You rested your head on his chest, eyes zoning out on your linked hands. It was his right hand, so his pinky finger couldn’t quite fold down along with the others. “Yeah. I like this, too,” you agreed softly.

A cool breeze gently blew across your cheek that wasn’t resting on Sungchan’s chest, and you were glad for the warmth of him pressed against your front. Your feet awkwardly bumped into each other, making you chuckle, and he apologized with a nervous laugh.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I haven’t exactly taken any ballroom dancing classes. Have you?”

“Well...”

You jerked your head back to look him in the face. “You have?”

“You know how Greek life has those formals every year?”

“You’re not in a frat...”

“No, I’m not. But freshman year, Nu Chi had pitched in for this dance teacher and— God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sungchan said regretfully, tilting his head back to look up in embarrassment.

“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.

“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”

“Well now you have to tell me!”

“Hendery’s date couldn’t make it to one of the lessons, so he asked me to fill in for her...”

Your jaw dropped with delight, “Was his date an Amazon? How did that work? He couldn’t have possibly dipped you! Or twirled you!”

“She was taller than him, to be fair,” he admitted. “Nothing that couldn’t be adjusted for with some thick soles, but, you know...”

“You’re such a good friend, Sungchan,” you said through a couple of giggles, imagining the two of them attempting the aforementioned twirls and dips.

He dropped his head, shaking it. “Right, thanks.”

“So I guess I should be leading then, hm?” You teased, your feet bumping his again in that moment.

“I feel like you’d lead us over the edge of this parking deck, Y/N,” he joked.

Before you could make a retort, he stepped back from you to gently twirl you around by the hand, and a cross between a surprised yelp and a laugh tumbled from your mouth. As he brought you back into his chest, you could barely think over the joyful buzzing in your head that resonated out to every square inch of your body.

“Okay, okay, I guess you can lead,” you surrendered, looping your arm back around his neck again.

After some time, the songs had picked up tempo again, but you and Sungchan were long past actually dancing to them. You were more so just holding each other, leisurely swaying, and from here you got to listen to the sounds of his breathing. He’d taken to rubbing absentminded circles into your hip with his thumb, and the fingers of your arm that was around his neck had dipped below the material of his collar, resting on his bare skin.

“Sungchan?” You murmured.

“Yes?” He responded, his voice rumbling right under your ear.

“Thank you for not making me do this in front of a bunch of other cars at the other lookout.”

He let out a couple quiet laughs, his chest shaking with each. “You’re welcome. I figured all of the teens making out in their cars also didn’t want to watch us do this either.”

You mock gasped, pretending to sound scandalized, “You were going to take me to a lover’s lookout? On the first date? Jung Sungchan…”

“Who are you, my grandma? Nobody calls it that anymore.” He pinched your side. “And only because it’s actually got a great view over the city and—”

“I’m kidding, Sungchan.” You pinched him back, lightly, on the nape of the neck. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been opposed to a trip to a lover’s lookout with you anyway…”

You heard the breath hitch in his throat, then Sungchan swallowed and inhaled through his nose, before he finally spoke, “Really?”

His grip on your hip tightened, sending a bolt of electricity along your skin out from the contact point. You brought your head out of his chest and used your arm around his neck to draw him in even closer.

“Really,” you echoed, blatantly staring at his lips now that they were centimeters away from yours. “And it looks like we’ve got our own right here.”

Then Sungchan was using his hold on your hip to push you back step by step until your back was against the side of his car. Your own arm around his neck kept him anchored to you as he stood hovering over you, blotting out any light that would’ve come from the light post above you. Your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling in the negligible space between your mouths. You were looking at Sungchan’s eyes now, usually a warm, deep brown, now all inky blackness in the dark of night, and staring down at your own mouth. Your tongue instinctually darted out to wet your lips, and that seemed to be the final straw.

His mouth on yours was desperate, but not desperate to get laid, like your previous lover’s lookout banter might imply. Like he was just desperate for you. He stole kiss after kiss from your lips, but never forced his tongue into your mouth, nor moved his hands anywhere else. Despite leaning more and more of his weight forward onto you, utterly pinning you to the car, he kept his bruising grip on your hip and never let go of your hand.

You parted your mouth with a bedraggled gasp of his name, and he finally took this as an invite to slip his tongue into the mix. You shifted to rest the hand that was laced with his above your head, on the roof of the sedan, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed your hand back.

Turning your head and breaking the kiss, you hoped he’d get the idea as you continued laying there half-spread out under him. He did, thankfully, kissing from the corner of your mouth across your cheek and down your jaw and neck.

“Sung…chan…” You breathed out his name, stroking the back of his head with your free hand as his lips latched onto a spot at the base of your neck.

Trailing your hand down further, you snuck it up under the hem of his shirt, feeling over the expanse of his chest and stomach. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You pulled the article of clothing up towards his head insistently, and he detached from your neck for the two of you to jointly strip him of it. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You truly didn’t know if he looked or felt better, but you couldn’t ogle him for long, because he was back on top of you as soon as he’d thrown the shirt into the front seat via the open passenger window beside you. His lips were so warm on yours, his skin even hotter under your touch now as you unabashedly felt up every inch of it and the muscles underneath.

But soon that wasn’t enough either, and you were fumbling at his pants button. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating down into your own chest, as his hand snapped around your wrist.

“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.

“What?” You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t get my dick out in public.”

You glanced at the car behind you, with its tinted windows, then back at Sungchan. He met your eyes, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”

It was a mad scramble to get the door to the backseat open, so much so that you accidentally smacked Sungchan in the leg with said door. After lots of apologies through giggles, both of you were in the backseat with the doors closed and locked. Sungchan had the task of awkwardly reaching forward over the console to roll the windows back up first, during which you made a couple observations about his backseat, which you hadn’t seen much of before. His practice bag for hockey was back here—which was different than his gear bag, as you’d already been told. The gear bag actually had his equipment that he needed to play with like mouth guards, sticks, and all of that, while his practice bag had more personal stuff like changes of clothes or hygiene products. You figured his gear bag was either in the trunk or at the rink, as he didn’t always need to carry it back and forth with him. But other than the practice bag and a couple of reusable grocery bags on the floor, the backseat was pretty clean. You were genuinely impressed, especially because he made it sound like he tended to chauffeur a lot of his teammates/roommates around frequently.

Sungchan eventually reentered the backseat fully, focusing a content, closed-lip smile on you. You’d taken it upon yourself to lay down on the seat, your knees propped up by your feet. He settled in to kneel on the same cushion as your feet, but just rested an arm on your knees and his chin atop that forearm to gaze down at you, still smiling.

“What? What’s that smile for?” You asked, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.

“Nothing, I just—” He reached both his hands out towards you, fingers spread, and you got the idea, linking yours with them. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I want this to be a real thing, Y/N. Like, I don’t just want to sleep with you. I don’t even do this kind of stuff—car sex on the first date in a campus parking garage?—literally ever. I’m just kinda crazy about you. I know for most people usually it’s the opposite; you know, they save it for later for really important people. They try to make it special, but I know it’ll be special just because it’s you.”

“Sungchan... I’ve never done something like this either,” you admitted, squeezing both of his hands tight. “I think I’m just kinda crazy about you too.”

“Okay. Cool.” He beamed at you, and you felt your insides turn to mush in that moment. You didn’t think they’d ever un-mush again.

“Now can you please take my clothes off before I spontaneously combust?”

“Fuck. Yeah.” He nodded, immediately turning serious as his brow furrowed and he leaned forward to lock his lips with yours again, propping himself up with one hand to hover above you.

You let your knees fall apart to give him room to settle in between your legs. He pulled at your jacket first, and you sat up to help yank it off, dropping it to the floor with his practice bag. With you no longer laying down, he could use two hands to get the next part, your top. His fingertips skimmed along your skin as he grabbed the hem. You broke the kiss so he could start pulling the clothing up your body—

A loud knock against the driver’s side window quite literally made you scream, and Sungchan jerked up and hit his head once again, this time on the roof of the car. You tugged your shirt back down to cover you, ducking to lay flat on the seat as Sungchan looked at you with panic in his eyes.

Another knock came at the window, this time accompanied by a man’s voice, “Campus security! Roll the window down or I’m going to ask you to turn the car off and step out!”

“Just a second!” Sungchan yelled back, a noticeable crack in his voice. He had a difficult time maneuvering his lanky body over the console fully into the driver’s seat again.

“Now!” The man called out again. “Three! Two!”

Sungchan didn’t have time to put on his shirt before ‘one,’ and he rushed to roll the window down. A flashlight was immediately shone into the car, and you didn’t doubt your own visibility to the security officer. You were remaining laying down for your own mental wellbeing at this point. You didn’t think that you could deal with looking this man in the eye right now.

You didn’t know if it was wisdom or embarrassment that kept your date from saying anything, but he thankfully didn’t speak until spoken to, not offering up any incriminating information. After five entire seconds of silence, the officer let out an audible sigh.

“No overnight parking in this garage,” he said, his tone making it very clear that he knew that was not what was going on. “I’ll be back in five minutes and if you’re still here, you’re getting a ticket.”

“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.

“I’m sure that the captain of our hockey team wouldn’t want to get put on probation at the beginning of the season.”

“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.

The security officer grunted, but said nothing more. You heard Sungchan roll the window back up, then the sound of another car driving away. Slowly, Sungchan turned around to look at you over the console with wide, horrified eyes.

“He knew who I was…” He whispered. “That was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life.”

“You’re famous, Sungchan,” you teased, sitting up in the backseat now that the coast was clear.

“Yeah, and fame has got so many perks so far.”

“Almost got into your first scandal already.” You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Caught with a girl in your backseat. What will the fans say?”

“Considering my fans are all frat bros, probably something along the lines of wolf whistles and incoherent, congratulatory lewd jeering.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, able to picture that perfectly considering you’d already gotten a taste at the first home game you’d gone to. “Sounds about right.”

“Anyway, I should take you home before that guy comes back.”

“Good idea.” You slipped your jacket back on.

“Are you going to come up here or am I your chauffeur?”

“I suppose I’ll sit up there with you,” you sighed, opening the backseat to get out and into the front normally since there was no security man around.

Back in the passenger seat, you handed Sungchan’s shirt back to him, “Here, have some decency. You’re the captain of the hockey team, you know.”

“I’m sorry, who was going to spontaneously combust if we didn’t get naked in the next 0.2 seconds?” He scoffed, pulling his top back on.

“I don’t recall.”

“Sure.”

“And who’s still hard in their jeans right now?”

“Don’t remind me, I have to drive like this,” he groaned, taking the car out of park with a shake of his head.

As Sungchan drove with one hand, the other reached over to take yours, lacing his fingers together with yours.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6

Just a few days later, and you were at the rink again, eagerly watching the hockey game in front of you. Chenle was beside you, continuing his constant sports commentary on every play that happened. You still mostly tuned it out, but you were pretty sure you at least understood most of the basic rules that Taeyong had explained to you before. You kept your eyes on Sungchan, cheering him on along with the other various Nu Chi brothers around you and other fans in the stands. It wasn’t as full of a house as it had been for the first home game, but you were perfectly content to have a slightly quieter environment.

Sungchan happened to skate by your section as everyone was resetting their positions, giving you a wave through the clear barrier. You gave him a slightly bashful but nevertheless bright grin as you waved back.

“So are you two like... dating now?” Hendery asked from your other side, leaned forward with both of his elbows on his knees as he watched the game. He looked back at you over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, though, one that made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know. We’ve been on a date. I mean, there was the Halloween party, but I got a migraine so I don’t think that really counts, so— I don’t have to explain myself to you!” You scowled at him, shoving him away by his shoulder.

He laughed as he let himself get jostled around in his seat from the push, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just curious. Unlike your bestie over there, I think you two are adorable.”

“What?” You looked over at Chenle, who Hendery had pointed at.

Chenle had apparently been listening enough to be able to jump in to defend himself. “It’s not what it sounds like. I think you two are great, promise.”

You turned back to your other friend. “Then what the hell are you talking about, Hendery?”

“He just doesn’t want to lose,” the Nu Chi member explained. “I pegged Sungchan’s huge crush on you on day 1 of Dr. Son’s class. Once the Phanta Phour stuff started, I knew that boy had no chance. Chenle just didn’t think you’d ever... hold on, how’d he put it... be into uh, ‘Neanderthal frat-bro-in-law types.’”

“I was maybe a bit tipsy...” Chenle added in.

“So you made a bet on if Sungchan and I would get together? In four whole years?” You looked from left to right between them.

“Loser has to buy winner a 12-pack,” Hendery confirmed with that same grin. “When Phantasmagorical Phriday ended this year, I really thought I’d lost. But then you turned up at the game last week and I figured Sungchan just might score himself a buzzer beater.”

“You two need to get better hobbies,” you declared with a snort.

“This so counts as sudden-death OT, but whatever,” Chenle scoffed under his breath.

You smacked him across the chest. “And don’t call my dating life ‘sudden death’ either.”

“Hey.” He said softly, grabbing your arm, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I really was worried about you going to the Halloween party with your head. I swear.”

“I know, LeLe,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “You did some great wingmanning once we got there.”

The brief flash of sincerity you got from your best friend was over as quick as it had come, as you heard the crash of helmets on the ice, and both your focuses were drawn back to the game. Two players had collided into each other and the clear barrier right in front of your faces. You grimaced sympathetically as you tried to identify the player from your team. 23— Jeno, ah, he’d be alright. And you were right, he took off almost immediately as the other guy was left behind still dazed.

At the end of the game, with the buzz of another win in your veins and the anticipation of seeing Sungchan thrumming along your skin, you bounced on your heels as you waited in the lobby. You weren't paying attention to the ecstatic, dramatic recollections that Chenle and the Nu Chi brothers were giving of specific plays around you, your gaze entirely focused on the locker room exit.

The very first player to leave was Sungchan, his eyes already scanning the crowd. Without a second thought, you darted over to him, ignoring the couple of whoops and whistles you two got from your friends.

Sungchan beamed down at you as he went to pull you into a hug, and you were immediately enveloped in the smell of the freshly washed clothes that you’d caught last time. This time, though, there was the distinct, crisp smell of ice rink ice under it as well, reminding you of when you’d go ice skating with friends.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him as he let you go, but didn’t step back very far. “You played really good again. I’m pretty sure. A bit more sure than I was last time.”

He was still grinning, looking down at the floor then back up at you before he responded, “Thank you. And I don’t really expect you to become a hockey pro or anything if all that doesn’t interest you. As long as you don’t expect me to remember what death of the author is.”

“This was only my second game, have some faith in me!” You cried out indignantly. “And no, I don’t expect you to become a full-blown literary critic either.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized through a couple of poorly suppressed giggles. “I do believe in you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to learn boring sports stuff for me.”

“I do want to be able to follow the basics of a game without Chenle or Taeyong annotating it for me, at least.”

“Oh, yeah, you can definitely do that. Might need to come to a few more games, though...”

You nodded giddily. “Just let me know when the home games are and I’m there.”

“Yo!” A voice had called from the gaggle of guys heading towards the exit. You didn’t even realize that the rest of the team had left the locker room in the time that you’d been talking to Sungchan.

While you couldn’t tell who had gotten your attention, it was Donghyuck that asked, “Are you two coming or are you just going to keep making moony eyes at each other all night?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, you’re our ride!” Yangyang yelled out from somewhere.

“DD!” Jeno cheered.

“I’ll drive you two,” Mark offered with a shake of his head.

“Shotgun!” The two of them immediately dibs-ed in unison.

“Sorry, bitches, I’m his little,” Donghyuck declared. “That means eternal dibs on shotgun in Mark’s car.”

The frat president scoffed, “You only give a shit about that when it directly benefits you.”

“You guys go ahead,” Sungchan cut into their bickering. “We’re right behind you.”

After they had all filed out, he looked back down at you, a nervous smile worming across his face. “Sorry about that...”

“It’s okay,” you said. “So... you ready to go?”

The two of you had already discussed going to the after-game celebrations with the team before this. Sungchan texted you last night to check in and make sure you’d be okay with going from the loud game to a noisy bar/pool hall with a bunch of frat guys after. You’d assured him that you’d be okay as long as you sat away from any music speakers at the bar, and he’d in turn made you promise to tell him if you needed to leave early.

However, he now halted you as you were slowly turning towards the exit. “Wait, I want to try this again.”

With a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to do, you assured him, “Sungchan, you don’t have to—”

“Let me do this. Please.” He gave you those same eyes that had convinced you to go to a frat party in the first place, and you were squaring your shoulders back to face him, giving him a firm nod.

“Okay. Go for it.”

He asked casually, “So, did you drive yourself?”

You had to hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to straighten your face before replying coyly, “Oh, me? I walked. My apartment is close.”

“So, the team all goes out to this bar after home games. It’s a pretty sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday night, but I’d really like for you to come with me. I’ll buy you a... soda.”

“I would love to come, Sungchan,” you giggled, adjusting your purse strap.

“Awesome,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked up to the passenger side of his car with him, you suddenly realized something. “Wait, did you have your car last time, too?”

“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, reaching for the door handle to open it for you.

“Then why did you walk me home?”

“To spend more time with you?”

You stole a quick kiss before ducking into the passenger seat.

Squished into one side of a booth with Sungchan’s arm around you, you chatted happily with Chenle, Ten, and Sicheng, who were sitting opposite from you. The team and cheer section were spread out between a couple booths and tables near each other, a few of them up playing pool too. You sipped on your soda between discussions about tonight’s game, upcoming games, classes, or whatever else struck you all. Currently, you were locked in a conversation with Ten about the most recent assigned reading in a class that you two shared together this semester.

“I thought that scene had a lot of great allusions back to the earlier one with her mother and the pie baking,” you gushed.

“Really?” Ten tilted his head curiously. “I was seeing it more as a continuation of the cannibalism-sex-love metaphor, since they were eating figs, you know.”

You nodded knowingly. “That’s true. Everything’s about sex—”

“Except sex.” You two finished quoting your professor in unison.

“And then with figs, there’s the Bible interpretation, of course,” you continued.

“Always the Bible.”

“We can never escape what John Milton did for Christian fanfiction, truly.”

“But I do like the pie scene connection the more that I think about it, actually.” Ten knocked back the rest of his cocktail. “And, tying her mother into the cannibalism metaphor could be a fascinating angle, too.”

Your eyes widened as you were practically vibrating your seat with excitement now. “Yeah, her earliest memory being of food, parental love, and harm...”

“Anyway, I need a refill.” Your friend shook his glass of ice with a smile. “Be back. Good chat as always, Y/N.”

Chenle and Sicheng scooted out of the booth to let Ten out, the former heading off towards the restrooms while the co-captain followed his roommate to the bar, leaving just you and Sungchan. You continued musing over the new connections you’d just made in the text as you turned your gaze back over to Sungchan beside you. He was already looking at you, a fond half-smile on his face.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.

Sungchan took a swig of his drink, then eyed yours. “You haven’t drunk any water since we get here.”

He’d been sure to not only order your promised soda of choice, but also water, and as you now looked over at your two cups, you could tell that the water had not been touched at all while the soda was practically empty.

“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”

“Drink some.” He pushed it towards you insistently. “Can’t have you getting kidney stones on my watch.”

“Okay, okay.” You acquiesced easily, switching your straw over to that glass and chugging a quarter of it in one go. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded in satisfaction. “So what were you and Ten saying about pies and sex or whatever? Sex isn’t about sex?”

“Oh, it’s just something one of our professors says a lot. ‘Everything is about sex except sex.’ For lit analysis. In literature, pretty much everything is about sex. Or can be. You can turn like, anything in a piece of text into an innuendo or euphemism if you wanted to. Except for sex. Like, if a sex scene is included in a piece of literature, it’s not actually about the sex that’s being depicted. The sex is meant to represent something else. Like politics, or social structures, or whatever other themes are present in the work. Unless you’re just reading porn. But even then, there’s artistic merit to erotica, and plenty to be learned about the social structures at the time it was written, too.”

Sungchan hadn’t blinked the entire time you’d been rambling on, and upon you finally stopping, blinked in rapid succession as he seemed to come to from a daze. “Wow. Uh, interesting. Filing that away with death of the author.”

“Sungchan...” You leaned in to whisper, placing a hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. His leg jumped, knocking his knee into the tabletop. Your hand had narrowly avoided being smashed too, saved only by its position curled around his leg instead of directly on top. You didn’t move it up or down now though, simply tapping your index finger against the loose material of his sweatpants as you giggled. “What are you thinking about?”

He cleared his throat a couple of times. “How you still have three-quarters of that glass of water left to drink.”

You laughed, slumping to relax into his side and pulling your hand back up to a more casual position on top of his leg. With your other hand, you grabbed your water. “Alright, fine.”

Not too long after your water had been drained, Sungchan was driving you home. Some of your other friends had taken off as well, and you didn't put up too much of a protest when he offered. As your familiar building came into view, you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, visitor’s parking is over there. Sorry, forgot to mention before.” You pointed to a few parking spots painted with yellow lines instead of white, further away from the apartment entrances than the resident parking. “They’re a bit picky. Chenle got towed after like, five minutes one time.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Sungchan smoothly turned the wheel to pull into one of the open visitor’s spots.

Your reason for showing it to him was two-fold. One, to let him know you hoped he’d be coming over more often, so he’d need that information for future reference. And two, for perhaps less innocent ulterior motives tonight. Truly, your apartment complex only towed people after dark. Overnight visitors. Chenle’s five-minute tow had been a fluke.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said with no prompting, and you had to hold in a sigh of relief.

Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Sungchan.”

“I don’t think I thanked you for coming tonight. To the game.” He slowly meandered up the sidewalk with you, hand holding yours.

“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.” You squeezed his hand.

Your front door loomed in the not-so-distant distance.

“Uh, are you busy this weekend?” He rushed to ask. “I have Saturday morning practice, at 7:30, but it’s over at 9:00, and after that I’m free.”

So that’s why he had texted you at seven in the morning to congratulate you on winning Phantasmagorical Phriday.

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to do something, just pick from the list I sent you. Surprise me, hm?”

“Will do.”

You were finally on your front welcome mat, and watched his face fall as he seemed to be drawing a blank about how else to prolong your night. But you had an idea.

You didn’t let an alarm or anything else possibly have the chance to interrupt you, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours. He stumbled forward at you suddenly yanking him off-balance, catching himself with one hand on your front door and the other on your doorframe. Then, he dropped a hand to the small of your back, drawing you in even closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Disconnected just enough to murmur against his lips, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

“Please?” He replied with a nearly sheepish chuckle.

“So polite,” you quipped.

You gave him one more peck before turning around to unlock your door and drag him in by the arm.

➠ sequel | series masterlist | blog masterlist

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lightsoutletsgo · 1 month

Text

gotta go my own way — ln.4

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst to absolute crack and stupidity that makes no sense

request: Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

I fully thank @norrizzandpia for the hot mess that is the end of this fic. we couldn't stop cry laughing once we pictured the rest of the grid watching them sing the song and thus the end of the fic was born. (also credits to them bc I stole some of the dialogue lines they sent to my dm's!) happy reading! mimi 🤍 (I'm so so sorry if this isn't the request fill you were hoping for 😭)

taglist (all works): @arieslost - babe I'm so sorry I'm tagging you in this mess

“Y/N wait!!” You heard Lando call your name from the opposite side of the hotel courtyard and you turned to see him sprinting after you. You stopped and rested your suitcase next to you as he reached you, “Where are you going? Baby we can talk about this!” His hand reached for your arm and you stepped back with a sigh, “Lando… Listen…” He looked at you, pleading as he searched your face, “I guess I just need to say it straight right?” Your heart clenched, god knows this wasn’t easy, “Something about us just… doesn’t seem right these days…” You tried to speak as gently as possible, wanting Lando to understand you weren’t mad at him. “Neither one of us can help it, I know that, but it feels like whatever we try and do somehow the plan is always rearranged…” You trailed off, stepping back towards him and taking his hand gently. You didn’t look up at him, instead choosing to look at where his hand was now gently squeezing yours, his thumb rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion. Whether it was to soothe you or himself you weren’t sure but you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

He didn’t say a thing, just gave you the space to continue talking, “I knew what I signed up for when I started dating you and if I went back and did it all over again I wouldn’t change my mind. I guess I just didn’t expect that it would affect my life so much? My job, my friends, my family?” Your eyes flitted up to his and you noticed how there were tears now pricking the corner of his eyes. “So what are you saying?” Your bottom lip trembled as you shrugged apologetically, “I’ve got to move on and be who I am…” It was so silent that you hardly dared to breathe. “Lando I’ve tried, I really really have but… Losing my privacy? Losing my time with the other people I love? Sacrificing my job? I just-” Lando scoffed and took his hand away from you “But what about us? What about everything we’ve been through?” “Well what about trust and everything that I’ve given up for you?!” You couldn’t help the way you raised your voice, Lando flinched at your words, seeming to realise how blind he’d been about your struggles,

“You know I never wanted to hurt you…” You nodded and almost shrunk in on yourself, “I know…” Lando approached you slowly, not wanting to make you feel pressured or smothered, “I just need to know… Do you not love me anymore?” You let out a forced laugh as your eyes welled up with tears, “Do I not love you anymore? Lando I still love you so much that it’s killing me to do this but I know I have to-” “Why? If you still love me then why?!” “Because if I don’t leave you now then I’ll continue to give up everything else for you because I love you that damn much but maybe for a while I need to love myself!” You ranted, panting when you finished.

He inhaled sharply and you couldn’t help but let the tears fall as you spoke quietly, “I’m sorry- “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was firm, “I have to go, my flight is in a couple of hours.” “I’ll miss you.” His voice was even softer, barely audible even though you were so close to him. “Who knows… maybe we’ll find our place in the world someday?” Lando gave a weak smile, “Yeah, maybe we will… Can I hug you? Just once more and then I swear, I’ll let you leave.” You nodded, unable to speak as you started crying harder.

Lando pulled you into his arms, as he too felt the tears start to fall, “I know you need to do this but it still really fucking hurts…” “I know Lando,” You pulled back to gently cup his face, “I gotta go my own way…” You smiled with a shrug. He pulled you closer to him and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, your eyes closing as you inhaled deeply. “I’ll see you round?” “Yeah,” You grabbed the handle of your suitcase and started to walk towards the door, “I’ll see you around.” ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Alex sat on the balcony of his hotel room that overlooked the courtyard, enjoying the cool night air. The door opened and out stumbled Oscar and Logan, their eyes glassy from the alcohol they’d been drinking at the afterparty. Alex chuckled, “Steady on guys.” Logan gave him a hazy half-lidded smile, “I’m okay!” Alex snorted, “Sure you are.” He turned his attention back to his laptop where his movie was paused. “Oh look! There’s Lando and Y/N!” Alex followed where Oscar was pointing to see you dragging your suitcase and Lando running after you. “Oooo I missed them! Should I call them over? HEY LA- MMPH!” Logan’s shout was muffled by Alex darting to cover his mouth, “I think they’re fighting?” Oscar looked sad as Logan tapped Alex’s arm to release him, “Surely not? They’re the perfect couple?” Alex leaned over the balcony, thankful that it was quiet enough that they could hear some of the conversation.

“What’s up guys?” The door on the balcony of the room next door slid open and out stepped George and Charles, “Lando and Y/N are fighting?” “Lando and Y/N? There’s no way! They’ll work it out.” Charles said confidently shrugging. Oscar’s brows furrowed suddenly, “Are you guys hearing that music too?” George frowned and craned his ears, “Why does that sound like High School Musical?” “Alex, is your film playing?” Logan asked innocently, “You were watching High School Musical?” Oscar snickered, “NO!” “I don’t know if I should be more concerned that we’re hearing music coming from nowhere or that George knew what it was straight away…” George scoffed at Charles, “Excuse me but the second movie has the best songs.”

“Is no one else concerned that it’s coming from where Lando and Y/N are?” Oscar pointed out. “Oh God they’re singing.” Alex’s jaw dropped open, “Shut up they’re not?” “I promise you they are.” George and Charles paused for a moment to look at each other before scrambling out of George’s room and down the hallway to Alex’s. They burst into the room and pushed their way onto the balcony, squishing in between Oscar and Alex to lean over the railing. Charles slapped a hand over his mouth as he heard Lando sing the next line very loudly and out of tune, “Are they high?” George pondered out loud, “What exactly is going on?” “Well it can’t be a fight, there’s no way that’s a fight.” Logan spoke matter of factly, “Do you think they’re aware of what they’re doing?” Their expressions varied as you warbled out a somewhat high note,

“More than that, do you think they know we can hear them?” Logan’s hand came up to cover his ear, “Should we stop them?” Charles asked, “Nope!” “Absolutely not.” George and Alex spoke across each other as Oscar’s phone appeared out of nowhere in his hand and he held it up to start filming. “Are they okay?” Nobody answered Logan, instead just watching you and Lando, until they heard a cough from above them. Leaning back against the balcony and tipping their heads to look up they saw Carlos looking down at them, “That, my friends, is debatable. But it is entertaining, no?” Everyone’s attention turned back to the two of you as the song came to an end and you walked away from Lando, “Oh my god guys, I think that was actually them breaking up.” Logan stated as everyone stood there in shock. Nobody spoke for a moment until Carlos’ voice filtered down from the balcony above, “Also I’ve been out here the entire time and would like to let you know that Alex was actually watching Camp Rock.”

#mimi.writes #mimi.requests #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 angst #f1 crack #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris angst #f1 oneshot

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beskarandblasters · 8 months

Text

A Good Friend to Have

Sub!Din Djarin x Dom/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author's note: So this fic was actually written by my boyfriend! (& edited by me) This is the first fic he's ever written and it's honestly so fucking good. @wannab-urs and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin can attest to that! He came up with the plot all by himself!! I'm so proud of him!! He let me post his for y'all during my little break🖤

Summary: You and your friend work at a brothel on Coruscant, while work is slow she reveals that she owes a debt to a loan shark who is willing to pay out a bounty to anyone who brings her in. When a Mandalorian shows up at the brothel you do everything you can think of to distract the bounty hunter and buy her time to escape.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, sex work, edging, orgasm denial, dom/sub dynamic, masturbation, vaginal sex, helmet stays on, helmet riding, disrespect of the creed, no use of y/n

It’s a cold, rainy night on Coruscant and you've been working with your friend, a twi'lek named Sorrana, at the brothel since sundown. Work has been slow tonight, you don’t think much of it, chalking it up to customers warming themselves with drinks at the local cantinas. To kill some time you exit your chambers and check in with Sorrana, who you find in her chamber acting nervous. You catch her holding the tips of her cones resting on her shoulders while she paces the room.

“Hey I just wanted to stop by and maybe see if you wanted to make plans for after work… Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Uhhh…not really, I don’t think I can go out tonight, sorry.” she replies.

“I understand, is there something wrong?” you ask, concern laced in your voice.

“Yeah I'm pretty stressed out, but you don’t need to worry.” she says, still racked with a nervousness that’s impossible to miss.

“We’re friends! You can tell me anything.”

After a short pause for consideration she utters, “I needed credits a couple weeks ago and I got a loan, but with how slow work has been I haven't been able to pay it back.”

“Oh no,” you interrupt, “If you needed credits you could’ve asked me. I understand how stressful debt can be.” you tell her.

“I wouldn’t want to be a burden on you, but between us, that’s not all… I borrowed the credits from a shark on one of the lower levels because nobody else would consider lending them to me,” she chokes out.

Tears well up in her eyes and her voice cracks. You’re heartbroken for her but you choose to stay silent to let her continue.

“Earlier today some of the shark's thugs told me that I better have the credits together by the end of the night or they’d be sending someone after me” she cries, no longer able to hold back her tears.

“Oh no, Sorrana! I’m so sorry. You must be terrified... Is there some way I can help? How many credits do you owe this guy anyway?” you ask, searching for a way to console her.

“It started at five thousand but each week he’s been raising the balance higher and higher. I hoped to pay it back that first week… but with the interest he’s charging it’s impossible. I only came in to work tonight because I have no way to get off the planet and his thugs know where I live… I was going to sleep here.” she sobs, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly you hear a knock, the two of you shift your eyes to the source of the noise and hear your boss speaking through the door.

“Sorrana? Are you in there? I’ve got a customer that requested to see you. It’s someone new, a Mandalorian, shall I send him in?” she calls.

You and Sorrana exchange glances with the understanding that this Mandalorian was probably hired by the shark, who must have sent for him to take her in for a bounty. You make a split-second decision.

You make a motion for her to come closer and in a rushed whisper you say, “Take my keys and some credits. Get a taxi back to my place, okay? I’ll handle this. Hide in the closet and when we leave, go out the back.”

She opens her mouth to protest but you hold your hand up and motion for her to go. She nods and whispers, “Thank you so much” while hugging you tightly before another knock at the door echoes in the room.

“Be safe,” you urge her before she hides.

“She's not here right now,” you tell your boss as the door opens.

“Then what are you doing in Sorrana’s chamber?” she pries.

“Nothing, I just ran out of perfume and I know Sorana doesn’t mind sharing so I just came here to freshen up… You said there’s a customer here?” you say quickly.

“Oh, yes. A Mandalorian is here asking for Sorrana but I suppose I’ll have to tell him to return another time since she’s gone for the night,” she says, still slightly suspicious of you.

“Let me talk to him. Maybe I can be of service to him tonight, since he’s already made the trip here,” you suggest.

Your boss shrugs her shoulders and waves for you to follow her back into the main lobby of the brothel. You see the Mandalorian clad in shining armor under an earthen toned cape, hands placed on his hips as he waits for your boss to return with Sorrana.

“I'm sorry sir, I've been mistaken, Sorrana isn’t here tonight. However, this lovely lady has assured me that she can take care of whatever you may need,” she explains, gesturing to you.

He turns to you as he examines you through the black visor of his helmet.

“Do you know where I can find Sorrana?” he asks.

“We can discuss that and anything else you want back in my private chambers,” you reply, dancing a fine line between appearing like the flirt your boss expects you to be while still tempting the Mandalorian with the promise of information.

He pauses for a minute before following you to the back of the brothel to your room. You spend the short stroll to the back of the building with your mind racing, trying to think of ways to lead him on and buy as much time for Sorrana as you can. This man is on a mission, and just from his demeanor in the lobby you can tell he’s only here for that purpose– so simply trying to have sex with him probably won’t be enough to distract him. He'd just lose interest the moment he believes that there’s no information to be gained from talking with you and write you off as a sex worker angling for a payday.

The two of you enter your room and you instruct him to take a seat in the bed while you press the button and close the door. When you turn around he’s still standing in the center of the room.

“Where's Sorrana?” he asks, getting straight to the point just as you predicted.

“Take your cock out” trying to throw him off by getting straight to your point.

“Excuse me? No, I won't be doing that. I’m here because you told me we could speak in private,” he replies before adding, “If you have nothing to help me find her, I’ll be on my way.”

“I can give you the information you need, but first I want you to take your cock out. I’ve never seen a Mandalorian’s cock. Satisfy my curiosity and I’ll satisfy yours,” you tease.

There's a long silence before he utters, “It’s easier than a shootout I suppose,” before unzipping the fly of his flight suit, revealing his cock. You spend the next few moments taking in the sight, you didn’t expect him to actually do it; let alone so quickly.

“Satisfied?” he asks as he begins to put it away.

“Not yet. I want to see it hard,” you snap back.

He stops reaching for his fly and gazes up at you before replying with, “I want information”.

“Sorrana was here earlier but she left. There’s some information for you. If you want more, get it hard.” you say, trying to string him further along.

You can’t help but notice how broad he is, and truthfully, you had never seen a mandalorian’s cock before. It’s a sight to behold but you remind yourself of your goal to prevent yourself from getting distracted.

“Fine, but I'll want something more specific than that in exchange” he sighs, before reaching down to slowly stroke himself hard for you.

A silence fills the room for a few moments before you hear him let out a low, muffled, groan and see his cock begin to rise. You notice his dark visor fixated on you, taking in your form to help himself get hard quicker.

“Does staring at me like that help you out?” you tease.

“Yes… It does,” he says, almost moaning the words out.

“How adorable,” you play, before instructing him further, “Hands off.”

“I'm only half hard though?” he replies, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I thought you wanted to see it hard?” he says, seeming almost frustrated with the missing sensation.

“I do, but I want to watch it get hard and with your hand on it I won't get the whole view,” you explain to him.

“Humor me, I want to watch your cock rise and you said that looking at me is getting you there,” you continue.

“So? …You want me to get hard just looking at you?” he asks

“Exactly, hands behind your back now. I don’t want anything in the way, let me see that cock get hard with a clear view,” you say, taking a more dominant tone.

This will buy Sorrana more time as well, you assure yourself.

He follows your instructions and takes the stance you described, “Like this?” he asks, with his cock hanging in the air. You can sense a slight feeling of nervousness or maybe even embarrassment coming from the Mandalorian in his exposed state.

“Exactly, stay just like that for me,” you say as you stroll to the other side of the room before taking a seat on the edge of the bed and crossing your legs.

He stands there, in the center of the room with his cock out, and hands behind his hips with his erection growing as his visor scans you from top to bottom, and back up again. You lean back, placing your hands on the bed and notice the visor is fixated on your cleavage. You stand up in front of him, and slip off the rest of your clothes before sitting back on the edge of the bed, this time you spread your legs and expose your cunt to him. His cock twitches more with the new visual stimulation. As you begin gently touching your clit with one hand, and lightly tug your nipple with the other, his cock grows even harder in front of you. When he achieves a full erection a few drops of precum leak from the tip.

“There, are you satisfied yet? Where is Sorrana?” he groans.

“Alright, don't get so… worked up,” you reply in a sultry tone.

As you finish your sentence you notice the head of his cock is wet with precum, the dim light of the room reflects off of his glistening tip, as well as his metallic chestplate and helmet, illuminating his thick shaft.

“She was nervous when I saw her, that was maybe an hour ago?” you add, attempting to mislead his investigation by giving him a false timeline.

“Did she say where she was going?” he asks.

“Stroke it,” you tell him. “Stroke it for me and I’ll tell you more.”

“This is ridiculous,” he begins, reaching down for his fly once more before adding, “I’ll find her myself.”

As he bends to cover himself, you extend your bare leg forward, tapping the tip of his member with your foot, causing him to freeze.

“Just stroke it for me. Trust me, it’ll be so much easier than starting your search from scratch… And I’ve kept my word so far, haven't I? Besides, wouldn’t it feel nice to stroke yourself to my naked body?” you say with a smirk.

He silently grasps his cock once again, and begins stroking the length of it while holding back quiet moans beneath his helmet.

After a few minutes of obeying your latest set of commands, he asks “How long do you want me to continue this for?”

“Until I tell you to stop of course… Now stroke it a little slower for me. I don't want to miss anything,” you tell him.

At this point you begin to pick up that he’s building up toward climax, which is perfect for you because you need his focus on that instead of continuing his line of questioning. You can’t deny that this situation has you turned on, too. You admit to yourself that you’d like to feel him inside of you, but you shouldn’t. You have to stay focused on buying time, by keeping him horny and distracted.

He slows his pace just as you told him to, his cock now dripping precum onto his pants. This pace must be so frustrating for him, his hips begin pushing forward into his stroke as his hand meets his base.

You cut the silence, “Did I say you could fuck your fist?”

He stammers for a few seconds, realizing what he had been doing in his aroused state.

“I-I… No, you didn’t.”

“That’s right, I didn’t. So why did you start? Getting a little carried away? Follow my instructions to the word, or I won’t be sharing any other details with you. Understood?“ you snap at him.

“Yes, I understand,” he replies in a soft tone.

“What do you understand?” you ask him.

“I will follow your instructions to the word, and you’ll give me the details I need to find Sorrana,” he says with shaky breaths.

“Good, I’m so glad we’re finally on the same page, now stroke it faster for me,” you demand.

“Yes, of course,” he submits.

He begins pumping his fist up and down his hardened cock, his visor shifting from your eyes to your chest, and down to your legs, but never averting from you. You stand up from the bed and tell him to drop to his knees. He hesitates for a second, as if processing everything that’s happened so far and how he got in this situation, but drops down in compliance.

“I hear that you’re not allowed to remove that helmet, is that true?” you ask.

“It is. It’s part of my creed,” he answers, looking up at you still stroking himself at a quickened pace.

“That's a shame,” you tease, stepping toward him. You lean forward and press your chest against the mandalorian’s dark visor, wrapping a hand around the back of his head to press him further into you.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve taken a liking to my chest. Too bad this is the best you can hope for with your creed holding you back.”

You hear him almost growling from within his helmet.

“So close, yet so far away,” you continue teasing.

His growls turn to moans and his pace increases even faster, he’s desperate. You can only imagine the frustration he must be feeling at this moment. You pull away from him and turn around, pausing with your ass in front of him.

“Well we know how you feel about the view of my chest, what do you think of this?” you playfully ask.

“I…enjoy this, too.” he admits.

“Oh you can do better than that, what do you enjoy so much about it?” you tease.

“I…think you have a nice… backside,” he says, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Oh yeah?” you chuckle, “Come on, what do you like about my backside?” trying to hold back your laughter at the formal term he used for your ass.

“You have a nice waist, and I like the curve of your hips,” he pants, stroking quicker than before.

“Is that all?” you reply.

“No… You have nice legs too. I think the shape of them is… attractive,” he answers.

His praises make you tingle with excitement. And the unique sense of power you wield over him in this moment is almost intoxicating. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each command he obeys. You’ve had submissive clients in the past from time to time who’d pay for a kinky night out with you, but this is something different. Not only because you promised information he urgently needs, but because he needs this; he’s starving for it.

“Hands off. Now,” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder. He’s panting, his chest rapidly rising and falling as his cock twitches for you.

“Such a good listener, I want you to get on the bed. Lay on your back with your arms above your head.”

He obeys your instructions once again. As he situates himself you tiptoe over to him and take his cock in your hand.

“Fuck it,” you order.

He pauses for a moment, as if trying to think of a snappy way to respond to you but his mind is blank. Then, he begins thrusting in the palm of your hand, moaning as you tease him by changing between a more firm, satisfying grip and a much lighter, looser, almost feather-light touch. His orgasm is building up as you relentlessly tease him and his mind becomes lost in a fog.

“How does that feel?” you ask, already sure of his answer.

“It’s frustrating, but at the same time…the building tension is unbelievable,” he admits.

“I could tell. Be a good boy and keep fucking my hand. Show me how much you enjoy it,” you say, becoming more amused as you pull out this Mandalorian’s submissive side.

He follows your orders and continues sliding his cock against your palm. It’s thick, and long, too. He’s so turned on by you, thrusting into your hand and panting beneath you.

“I’m going to cum,” he tells you.

“No, you’re not,” you say, letting go of his cock completely, “Not yet, at least,” you add.

“Why?” he almost cries out, “Why did you stop?” he asks, gripping the sheets in with fingers as his cock pulses on the brink of orgasm.

“Hold it. Control yourself if you want to hear any more information,” you hiss.

He calms himself, regaining control of his breathing and transitioning from desperate panting to drawing slow shaky breaths. You see his hands relax as he releases his grip on the sheets.

“Very good. Now, let’s see how you handle this.”

You then crawl over him, positioning yourself above his cock. You touch your cunt gathering some of your own wetness and spreading it over his length before touching the tip to your entrance.

“Please,” begs.

“Please, what?” you tease, rubbing his tip back and forth against your wet cunt.

“Please, sit on it,” he whimpers.

You lower yourself onto him, sensation is intense as you stretch to fit him inside. He moans in frustration as you sit still on his eager cock. He begins making short thrusts up into your cunt before remembering he must only do as you say and forcing himself to stop.

“Good boy,” you giggle, “I bet you want to cum so bad,” you whisper to him.

“Yes…I do,” he moans, no longer able to feign any sort of self-control.

“Then wait for instructions, if you feel yourself getting close to the edge you need to tell me. Understood?” you say, as you place your hands on his cool metallic chestplate and begin rocking back and forth.

“Understood... and then you’ll tell me what I need to know?... Right?” he pleads.

You give him silence, leaving his mind racing in as you look down at him and continue rocking your hips. You feel your orgasm building up as you’re hit with wave after wave of pleasure, each one more intense than the last. You lean forward on your hands, giving him a clear view of your chest as you pick up your pace. The feeling of being full is beyond belief. Your cunt feels like it’s melting around his cock and you come undone. You ride the high out until you sit still on him, catching your breath as he twitches inside you.

“I’m on the edge… Can I cum now?” he asks with anticipation in his voice.

“Not so fast... I’m not finished with you yet. Beg me for it.” you reply, with a devilish grin on your face.

“Seems a little… unfair,” he points out, still throbbing inside you, fighting to hold himself back as your release runs down his shaft onto his balls.

“Do you want my pity?” you ask, as you reach back and take his balls in your hand, gently fondling them to keep him right on the edge.

“So big and full, been a while, hasn’t it?” you say, adding. “Beg me to let you cum,” with a serious tone underlining your command.

“Is it that obvious?…I travel a lot for work. It’s not often I get the chance to be physical with someone,” he says between breaths, struggling to hold himself back as you play and tease his balls

“Sounds lonely,” you say, almost feeling bad for him at the moment.

“It can be,” he says, letting out a sigh.

“What can I call you? I know we’re well past introductions, but you must have a name,” you ask.

“Mando is fine,” he replies in a monotone voice, as you roll his balls in your fingers.

You feel his balls tighten and his cock throbbing even more and he breaks, “Please… May I please cum now?” he begins begging.

His serious demeanor fading away entirely as he turns to putty in your hands.

“How bad do you want it?” you question.

“I…need it...please…give me permission to cum,” he begs, even more desperate than before.

You raise your satisfied cunt off of him, and the vexed Mandalorian lets out what can only be described as a whimper in the absence of the feeling you gave him just moments ago. Then you crawl forward and hover your soaked cunt over the dark tinted visor of his helmet.

“So close, but so far away, it must be so aggravating for you, Mando. Stroke yourself to the sight of my cunt pressed against your helmet until you cum. Then thank me,” you command.

“Yes, of course, thank you,” he replies, thankful to hear that command but wishing he could have filled you with his release.

He begins reaching for his cock, just as you ordered, but you interrupt him when he wraps his hand around his cock to issue one final instruction.

“One more thing, Mando. I want to hear you say something, I want to hear you telling me that my cunt is your creed as you stroke yourself over the edge,” you declare in a cold tone, before lowering yourself against his visor.

He almost shivers with anticipation at the sight before replying with a whining, “Do I have to?”

“This is the way,” you say, mocking his creed.

“Okay, fine… Anything else?”

“No, you can go ahead, you’ve earned it,” you say, finally permitting him his climax.

Then he begins stroking himself, slow at first building up speed and rhythmically thrusting his hips into his hand as his grip meets the base, over and over again until you hear him moaning beneath you.

“Your cunt is my creed,” he whispers.

“Again, louder, or I’ll have you stop,” you threaten.

“Your cunt is my creed,” he quickly moans out, this time projecting his voice to avoid being denied by you any more.

“Now cum for me,” you order, as his release shoots out, covering his hand, cock, and lap in a glistening mess.

“Thank you,” he pants, repeating the phrase over and over again in total gratitude, still stroking his throbbing length as his high comes to a close and he catches his breath.

You climb off of him and step off the edge of the bed, quickly slipping into your clothes and darting for the door. Before you make your exit, you take one look back at the scene of what just happened. The sheets bunched, Mando’s cock out, the trail of his precum leading to the bed, his cum stained flight suit, and your release smeared across his visor.

As the door seals behind you, you hear the muffled sound of Mando calling out for you after the realization clicks.

“Wait a minute, you still haven’t told me where Sorrana is!” he shouts.

You don’t respond, you’re already long gone, having quickly made your way out of the back of the brothel while he puts himself back together. You sneak into a taxi, leaving him behind.

You’re such a good friend to have.

End note: Everyone say ✨thank you David✨

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Part two

Tag list for David lol: @wannab-urs @toxicanonymity @dark-scape @kirsteng42 @kewwrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @theywhowriteandknowthings @jksprincess10 @dins-riduur-anthe @tightjeansjavi @pr0ximamidnight @diversemediums @planet-marz1 @cool-iguana @yamomma19 @basicoccult @pedroshotwifey @pedritosdarling @readingfan @yourlocalmerchgirl @gingaaaaa @xxhypersomnia @pascalpvnk @angel-with-a-heart @love-the-abyss @greensabereyesforcevictim @bluestar22x @beefrobeefcal @josephquinnswhore

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin one shot #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #star wars #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x you #mando smut #pedrostories

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months

Note

heyy do you take requests? If you do is it possible for you to write a small drabble between reader and Bucky, reader teaching Bucky some words often used these days like "ifykwim" or "slay" stuff like that as he's having problems understanding them cause he's from the 40's, thank you so much🫶🫶

Don’t Understand » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has a hard time understanding terms that are used nowadays.

Warnings: Fluff, language, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

Bucky stared down at his phone in confusion. You sent him a text that he doesn’t understand. You texted him “ily”. He read over and over, but doesn’t understand what it means. The only way he’s going to find out what it is and what it means is by asking you.

“Doll, can you help me understand something?” Bucky asks, walking in the kitchen of the Avengers Compound.

“Of course! What is it?” You asked.

“What does this mean?” He asks, showing you the text you sent him earlier.

“That means I love you.” You tell him.

“Why would you say it like that?” He asks.

“It’s a short way of saying it instead of fully typing it out.” You explained. “I can teach you more if you want.” You say.

“Yes please.” He says, taking a seat next to you at the table.

“We’ll start off with the easy ones.” You start. “ikr means I know right. idk means I don’t know. ttyl means talk to you later.” You tell him and explained more of the easy ones to him.

Bucky had a pretty good understanding of what the easy ones meant after you explained it.

“Those are too easy. Give me a harder one.” Bucky says.

“Ok. What about ifykwim?” You asked.

Bucky just stared at you.

“What the hell does that mean?” He asked.

“If you know what I mean.” You say.

“I don’t know what you mean, doll.” He says.

“No, Buck. It means if you know what I mean.” You tell him.

“Ohh.” It took him a second to understand it. “Give me another hard one.” He says.

“Slay.” You say.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what the hell you just said.

“What?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

“Slay.” You repeated.

“As in slaying a dragon in a fairytale?” He asks.

“It’s not that kind of slay, Bucky.” You say.

“Then what the hell does it mean?” He asks.

“It’s like being impressed or assumed.” You explained.

Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled, running his fingers through his hair.

“Everything was much easier in the 40s.” Bucky mumbles loud enough for you to hear.

“It’ll get better, Buck. I promise.” You put a comforting hand on his hand. “I’ll help you.” You say.

“I’m so glad you’re my best friend, doll.” He kisses your cheek. “ily.” He says, making you smile.

“ily too, Bucky.” You say, smiling widely.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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ellephlox · 3 months

Text

Solidarity

Summary: Frank enlists your help on a dangerous mission. Matt’s not happy about it.

Pairings: Matt x f!reader, platonic Frank Castle & f!reader, platonic Matt & Frank

Warning: Strong profanity (looking at you, Frank). Canon-typical violence. There’s also dog abuse in this, so please proceed with caution!

“You will not believe how terrible my day was.” You were already complaining aloud as you started up the stairs to Matt’s apartment, perfectly aware that he’d be able to hear you. “My boss gave me triple the amount of work that’s humanly possible to complete within a month and somehow he expects me to do it within a week. And then he had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s ‘too informal’ for the face of the company. I mean, what the hell does that even mean?”

One of Matt’s neighbors opened their apartment door as you marched up the steps, and you quickly lifted your phone to your ear as though you were talking to someone, lest they think you were just talking to yourself. “And then my coworker took my data — you know, all that stuff I had been inputting onto that Google Doc the other day? And he presented it as his own, no credit to me. I can’t even report him because he’s supposed to retire in a week so it’s pointless anyway.”

You continued to gripe as you unlocked the door, chucking your keys down and tossing your shoes off so violently that they hit the wall. “Anyway, I’m in a bad mood now, so I have two propositions — well, demands, I guess — for you. One: We watch Jeopardy tonight. In pajamas. I will object if you’re still wearing a tie.” You unzipped your coat and tossed it haphazardly onto the coat rack. “Two: My friend asked if we’ve ever showered together before — you know, typical girl talk questions — and I told her we hadn’t, so I was thinking—” You stopped dead as you entered the living room, your stomach plummeting. Leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed, was Matt, wearing his devil suit, complete with the helmet on and his billy clubs dangling in his hands. And across from him, standing with an actual gun in his hand, was Frank Castle. Mortification sent heat into your face, and for a moment you just stood there, at a loss for words.

“We have company,” Matt said dryly, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight.

“I can see that,” you said finally. “You didn’t think to... I don’t know, shoot a text warning me?” Your cheeks were searing; had you seriously just proposed showering with Matt in front of the Punisher, of all people?

“I was a bit preoccupied all day with making sure Trigger Happy over here didn’t shoot anyone,” Matt said, his jaw tense.

Frank snorted. “Red, you’d be bleeding out in an alley if I hadn’t saved your ass. Get off your high horse.”

“Yeah. Okay. But you couldn’t have said something, anything at all, when I walked in? Like, ‘Hey, honey, there’s a wanted fugitive standing in our living room, just so you know.’ Sorry, Mr. Castle,” you added in an undertone to him. “Um — I’m not trying to make you feel unwelcome or anything, I just feel a bit awkward about earlier, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank said shortly, his gaze still trained on Matt. “We gonna stand here with your girl watching us and argue all afternoon? Or are we going to get this done?”

“Get what done?” you asked.

It was Frank who answered, and from the way Matt was standing with his back straight as a ruler now, you had the sense he wasn’t pleased, for whatever reason. “There’s a shipment of heroin that’s supposed to arrive tonight. The dealers have been selling to kids on the street to make a quick buck.”

“It’s due to come in at midnight,” Matt said. “But the source I talked to last night doesn’t know which dock.”

You made of sound of sympathy. “I take it you’ll be having to sweep a lot of territory tonight, then?”

“That’s a damn understatement,” Frank said. “We’re not just talking about the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, ma’am. We’re talking all the way down to Chelsea, and the piers in Brooklyn Heights.”

“But that’s impossible to scope out,” you said slowly. “Even if Matt’s standing in the center of all the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, he couldn’t possibly hear all the way down to Chelsea, let alone Brooklyn.”

“Which is why we’re in for a rough night,” Matt said. “I called Jessica, Luke, and Danny. They’re all out of town.” He jutted his chin at Frank. “And that’s why we’re here together.”

“I ain’t happy about it either,” Frank added. “He’s already talking my ass off about moral obligation and shit. Feels like I’m in church.”

"Because you tried to stab the guy in the throat after he gave us information we needed.”

“If you could see, Red, then you’d know from the look in that guy’s eyes that he planned on murdering us the second that we turned our backs on him—”

“Which is why I tied him up and left him for Mahoney.”

“I have a better idea,” you said, cutting in before anything could escalate. “I can help.”

Matt’s response was immediate and scathing. “No.”

"Oh, come on — I get it if you want to do your whole ‘Fly home, Buddy, I work alone’ thing, but you’re not working alone, you’re working with the Punish— I mean, Mr. Castle. I’ll be supremely insulted forever if you don’t let me help.”

“If you think that I’ll let those dealers anywhere near you—” Matt began, but you interrupted again.

“Look, I’ve always waited here patiently and uselessly while you do your deviling every night, but can’t you give me a chance? Maybe we’ll be a dream team. Terrific trio. Second Edition Avengers. The Scooby gang minus a talking dog.”

“She could help, Red,” Frank said, sending an unreadable look in your direction. “I say we do it. She can camp out at Brooklyn. I mean, the guy said that they could dock there, but they never have before. Odds are they’ll be in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen.”

“So, what? We throw her to the wolves in Brooklyn where we can’t get to her easily if things go south?” Matt looked as though he were about two seconds from socking Frank in the jaw. Or worse, two seconds from handcuffing you to the apartment so that you wouldn’t leave.

“No,” you said firmly. “Things won’t go south. Matt, I’m not going to... I don’t know, engage in a fight with them. I’m not a vigilante. I’ll just hide and keep an eye on the docks, then if they show up, I’ll call you.”

“I’ll stay in Chelsea,” Frank said. “I know you get all weird about the Kitchen, Red, so it’s all yours.”

Matt was standing stock still, grinding his teeth. Finally he ground out, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is driving a car. So is crossing the street. And yet I’ve done both many, many times,” you said. “I’ll be completely fine. Why would dealers have any reason to go after a random passerby, even if they did see me? Which they won’t,” you added hurriedly. “Because I’ll stay safely out of sight.”

“Perfect.” Frank checked his watch. “I ain’t staying here while we twiddle our thumbs and wait for midnight to roll around. Give Y/N my burner number, Red.”

“I’d never have thought you’d do this, Frank,” Matt said, his voice low. “I thought you at least were on my side when it came to keeping people safe who—”

“Who are what?” you said sharply. “I might not have... superpowers, or, I don’t know, a weird bloodthirstiness — sorry again, Mr. Castle — but I can still help.”

“Call me Frank.” Frank leveled his gaze at you. “And cut the apologizing shit.”

“Uh. Okay.” You had to bite your tongue to keep from apologizing again.

And, somehow, you actually ended up on the mission. You took the C train down to Brooklyn Heights after enduring a very long and very dry lecture from Matt on how you were to stay out of sight no matter what and to call him should any boat arrive with men wearing ski masks.

And, in all honesty, you weren’t nervous. The likelihood of the dealers showing up at your assigned docks was slim. And even if they did, you’d just have to make a quick phone call to both of them, and then camp out. Easy-peasy.

You settled in on a wooden bench overlooking the piers, wishing you had worn more than your jacket. The temperature had dropped more than expected when the sun had set, and now you shivered slightly, the cold metal of a knife against your thigh. Just in case.

How exactly you were actually out here, on a real mission, with Matt willingly letting you out of his protection, you weren’t sure. It was exhilarating, though. The city was dark, yet not really; it was aglow with the street lamps and headlights and apartment windows whose blinds hadn’t been closed yet. You scrunched up your legs to conserve body heat and regretted not bringing a blanket, too. And a pillow. That would’ve made the bench slightly less rock hard against your bottom.

Seriously, how did Matt do this kind of thing every night? Fifteen minutes in and you were already missing the warmth of home.

You glanced at the skyline. Somewhere, on the other side of those skyscrapers, Matt was waiting as well. Probably he wasn’t curled up on a bench like you were, though. It was more likely that he’d be stalking the rooftops, or pacing in the shadows.

And then movement caught your eye, at just after 12:30 in the morning. You scrambled to your feet, squinting in the dark. It was a boat, fast approaching the pier just next to you.

No way. Yeah, you were on lookout, but somehow you’d convinced yourself that the dealers wouldn’t actually show up on your end. You waited to call Frank and Matt, though, because in case it was a different boat, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm. You moved away from your bench and began walking leisurely down the pier, as though you were going for a nighttime stroll. All you needed to do was get a good glimpse of them, then you’d head up the street where you could watch from a safer spot.

“In, out! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” someone said, a bit loudly, from the deck of the ship. You swiveled your head to see him, and sure enough, he had a ski mask. Swiftly you pulled out your phone and fire off a quick text to both Matt and Frank. You were about to leave the pier altogether when a bark made you stop short.

....A dog?

“Shut the bitch up!” one of the men snarled. “We get caught, then all the goods get seized.”

“She’s been fucking howling the whole way, what am I supposed to do?”

“Give her a piece of food.”

“What food? You ate the rest of it, man.”

“Can’t believe we’re bringing this dog anyway. Boss already has six bitches. Why does he need another?”

“She’s some special breed, or some shit, I don’t know. Sells for a thousand bucks a pop. Grab that box. Like I said — in, out. We’re already late.”

The dog kept barking, though, and you winced as the man kicked the poor thing in the ribs. Piece of shit. You wanted to go up there and throttle him yourself. If Matt or Frank would just get here already, then you’d be able to relax, but it would still be at least twenty minutes...

And what if the dealers got away in that time frame?

The dog started barking again, and suddenly, without any word of warning, one of the men picked the dog up like a sack of potatoes and threw her overboard. “To hell with the extra cash. That’s how you deal with security problems,” you heard him say as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Get moving, go, go, go! Unload this shit so we can get out of here!”

Below, the dog’s frantic head slipped below the surface.

Oh, hell no.

Your feet were moving even before you could make an executive decision in your mind. The cold of the evening was forgotten, as were Matt’s strict words to not be seen, no matter what happens, and you dove into the water, where the dog had fell beneath the black waves beside the pier.

Fortunately, it was summer, and as shockingly cold as the water was, it wasn’t anywhere near deathly cold. You couldn’t see anything, and desperately tried to listen for the dog, but you didn’t have Matt’s ears, and for a moment panic swelled inside you that this dog would drown, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing.

And then you saw movement, out of the corner of your eye. The dog was struggling to stay afloat, her snout barely making it out of the water. You grabbed her around the middle and kicked with all your might, coughing on water and unable to see hardly anything except for the blurry outline of the pier. There had to be a ladder somewhere along there, and you groped blindly along the edge, seeking out a grip to pull yourself and the dog up.

For a moment, you completely forgot about the dealers behind you. All you could think about was getting the dog safely onto land, and with a massive effort you lifted her up. Her paws scrambled against the edge of the pier, but with a good shove to her rump, she was able to get over the edge and dash away into the shadows.

Good luck out there, doggie. You started to climb the ladder yourself, but froze when you heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked in front of you. Slowly you looked up, your blood running cold at the sight of a gun pointed straight at your forehead. The man holding it had his hair tied back in a bun, and there was a horrible expression on his face that told you he wouldn’t have any qualms about pulling the trigger.

“Should I shoot, boss?” he asked, his eyes not moving from your face. “Stupid girl’s seen us. She’ll probably run her mouth and tell the cops.”

Your brain felt as though it were short-circuiting. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Really, I’ll just leave here, and I promise—”

“Do it!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “Get it done so you can get your ass back up here to help. You know how many bodies there are in the Upper Bay? She’ll just be another.”

Your heart was punching the inside of your rib cage. You considered falling backwards to try to swim away, but what good would it do? There was no other way to get back onto land nearby except for this ladder, and you didn’t trust yourself to swim around the boat and across to the next pier without simply getting shot en route. Lunging up the rest of the ladder to fight him was an even worse option. Even if you could fight like Matt (which you could safely say was not the case), you were at a disadvantage; he had the high ground.

But you didn’t have a choice. The man lunged down and grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, hoisting you up onto the pier. You shivered violently, unsure of whether it was from fear or cold. The man looked you over. “Could hold her for ransom, Tom. That’d bring in some extra cash.”

“No.” The man, who must’ve been Tom, shook his head. “That’s just a surefire way to get attention from the cops. Let’s take her in. We’ll kill her once we’re back on open water and dump her body in the Atlantic. Much cleaner that way.”

The man holding you grunted in agreement and shoved you forward up the ramp to the boat. You obeyed only because of the gun pressed against your temple, feeling like you might vomit any second.

Where are Matt and Frank? The night was as still as a reflecting pool. It was as though the city itself had gone to sleep, abandoning you to these men, and you had to choke down the rising lump in your throat that was making you feel like you might cry any second or pass out. But tears wouldn’t come, as you were led into a cabin, your mouth promptly duct-taped closed. The sensation made you panic even more — a little air could get through to your nose, but not much, and the sudden feeling of being near to asphyxiation made you even more light-headed.

The men, however, seemed to forget about you as soon as they tied you to the chair. That they hadn’t killed you immediately was the most relieving of mercies, and you struggled fruitlessly to escape your bonds, feeling supremely useless. Surely Matt would arrive any second; he would hear exactly where you were, you reasoned, and he’d make his way to you as soon as he could. Any minute you’d hear the sound of a baton ricocheting off some unfortunate skulls or the cracking as bones shattered under his fists.

But instead, it was bullets you heard first. Frank. You gritted your teeth, hearing the shouts of men that were surely being killed without a second thought. Hopping with your feet, you were able to wiggle your chair forward slightly until you could see outside the cabin door. Frank’s silhouette was a menacing shape against the moonlight.

Where is Matt?

One of the largest men — Tom, you recalled — suddenly came barreling into the room, a gun in his hand. He untied you violently, yanking the rope so roughly against your wrists that you gasped under the tape, and then dragged you forward, the gun against your head. Unceremoniously you were toppled from the chair, your knees slamming down onto hard wood.

“Drop your gun!” Tom jabbed his gun against your forehead so hard that you saw stars. “Drop it now and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll blow her brains out!”

Through your fuzzy vision you saw Frank freeze. His gaze was cold; calculating, and for the first time you wondered what your value was in Frank’s mind, compared to the triumph of offing some criminals. Which was worth more to him? For a moment, you feared he would prioritize killing the smugglers. His fist clenched even tighter around the gun, and he drew in level breaths, without lowering his gaze for even a second.

“I swear to God I’m pulling this trigger in ten seconds if you don’t drop it,” Tom said, and he dragged the tip of the gun so that it was placed precisely against your temple. Water was still dripping from your clothing and goosebumps were raised so violently on your skin that you felt like you had chicken pox, but that was nothing compared to the electric adrenaline shooting down your spine, as though your nervous system was screaming at you to do something, anything, but it was to no avail; all you could do was stay on your knees, as still as possible, and keep your head lowered.

And then, as though he’d made a snap decision, Frank set the gun down.

“Kick it over here,” Tom ordered.

Frank obeyed, slowly raising his hands to his head. “The gun’s down,” he said. “Now let her go.”

Tom’s grip on you tightened. “You’re a fool,” he said, and suddenly you knew what was about to happen, from the steadying of his hands and the firmer press of the gun against your temple. You wrenched yourself away from him, just as the bullet fired off, and the heat of it barely grazed your shoulder as you dove away.

The victory was short-lived, though. Tom aimed again, and this time you were on the ground, with nowhere to go. You screwed your eyes shut, sending a silent apology to Matt, and...

The bullet never came.

Gingerly you opened your eyes to see the devil punching Tom with all his wrath and fury. Frank had already picked up his gun again and was running towards the back of the boat, where you knew there were still a few more crew members. Quickly you crawled backwards to get out of the path of Matt and Tom, the latter of whom was being thrown against the cabin wall.

That had been close. Way, way too close. You fumbled for the duct tape and ripped it off your mouth, lightheaded from breathing irregularly. Stars formed in front of your vision and you had to slow yourself down, drawing in air and then releasing it slowly.

Matt was still slamming his fist into the face of Tom, and blood was spurting everywhere. You squinted at them, your heart dropping — far too much blood was spraying out, and Matt was showing no signs of slowing down —

“It’s okay. You’ve got him,” you whispered, the words coming out of your mouth in a rasp. “Matt.”

Matt dropped Tom, who slid to the ground, unconscious. Using the edge of the boat to support yourself, you stood up slowly, and limped over to Matt; your knees were still aching from earlier. Gently you reached towards his shoulders. “I can call 911.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you said. Matt was in a dangerous anger, you could tell; one wrong move and he’d do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Choosing the right words now was imperative. “A judge will decide that.”

“He tried to kill you,” Matt snapped, whirling around and knocking your arm off his shoulder. “If he had — if he’d succeeded—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Does that matter?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Frank got there first. “Cool down, Red,” he said, as nonchalantly as though you were all at dinner together. “Your girl’s safe. We got the drugs before they could get shipped.”

“Don’t talk to me like I need to be calmed down,” Matt said, his voice hardly more than a snarl.

Frank stared at Matt for a few moments. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “To answer your question. It does matter that he tried killing her.” Then, without warning, he shot Tom, square in the forehead. You yelped, looking away from the bloody hole where his head was now caved in. His features were unrecognizable, and hollow in death, and yet you couldn’t help looking back at him, his eyes meeting yours as though he still were alive.

“Get her out of here. Warm her up,” Frank said, nodding at you. “I’ve got other business to do this evening.”

“Other business?” you asked, but Matt was reaching for you, skating his hands over your body.

“Sorry,” you said lamely, shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “I sort of disobeyed the only rule.”

“You could have died.”

“But there was a dog, and I had to save it — they tossed the poor thing overboard. I couldn’t just sit by.”

And, to your surprise, Matt’s lips cracked into a small smile. Though you couldn’t see his eyes under the mask, you could feel his warmth. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Frank was gone already. Together, you and Matt exited the boat, and it took all of your willpower to not look back at the corpse.

“So,” you said, taking Matt’s hand as you walked down the dark street together. The feeling of the duct tape was lingering on your mouth, and the way that you had been tied up — the gun against your head — and it was making your heart race. Even though Matt would see right through you (hear right through you?), you adopted a casual tone. “How was my audition? Can I officially be the Assistant Daredevil?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I’m just wondering if I passed some sort of test, and if you’ll let me join you now—”

“Sweetheart.” Matt stopped short and pulled you into the shadows between buildings. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Your mouth was dry.

“That was intense. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t. You could’ve died.” Matt’s voice shook a bit, and you were reminded that as terrifying as it was for you, it had probably been even worse for Matt. Because if you had died, and it was technically on his watch... yeah. That wouldn’t have gone over well.

You cupped his face, and he leaned into it slightly. “Okay. I’m a bit freaked out. But I’m okay.”

“Who’s reassuring who, now?” he said after a moment, and that warm, small smile returned. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly enough that you had to draw in a short breath.

“Maybe...” Your voice came out in a whisper. “Maybe we both need it tonight.”

A/N: Sorry for the slightly rushed ending but this was beginning to expand a bit too much and I didn’t want it to feel like it should have multiple chapters. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this piece so it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a year now, but it’s been awhile since I posted a one shot, so... here we are.

Hope you all had a great day, thanks so much for reading!

-Elle

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #marvel #daredevil x reader #reader insert #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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mysticalsoot · 7 months

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heaven is you (godbur au)

first installment of my godbur au & gift to my sister <3

➸ note; i wanted to finish this for @lillylvjy. lillys been a big play in why i still write and why i haven’t given up on shifting or given up on myself or this account. thanks to her i don’t impulsively delete things and i move forward. a few months ago i threw the idea of godbur at her and we talked about it and formed this character, she gives me the credit but she deserves just as much credit as i do. she’s my sister, regardless of biological attachment, she is my sister. i love her and i will protect her for as long as she’ll let me. she’s always there for me, holding me up and supporting me. if i’m upset or hurt, she’s there to listen and offer support. she also spends way more money on me than she should. and i love her, so a little note, don’t mess with her. thank you lills, i love you and enjoy this lil fic i somehow managed to finish in a day! also big thanks to @sleeby-anon for helping me pick out the photo and just helping me with this fic- tysm! you’re very cool and i love u (thank you for being a good friend to lilly :3 )

➸ pairing; godbur x gn!reader

➸ summary; after a few (actually, many) instances where you risked your life in order to reach your beloved wilbur’s world, you have a final disagreement that brings him to a few realizations and maybe some more effort to bring you want you want

➸ warning; kinda hurt but comfort at end, illusions to suicide but not flat out said, probably swearing, is there an unbalanced power dynamic? probably, uses of baby (i’m sorry i’m a sucker for it-), i think that’s it!

➸ age-rating; 15+

➸ wordcount; 2k

main masterlist

"darling," the word rolled off wilbur's tongue with ease, like it had been spoken millions of times. perhaps it had been, but your mind was too foggy with fear and desperation to think clearly, "you can't keep doing this."

he pleads for you, hands on your shoulders and eyebrows pulling together as he looks down at you.

"what else am I supposed to do?" your voice cracks as the words flow out, and he frowns, shaking his head and looking to the side.

"live," he pauses, turning his head to face you. his grip on your shoulders tightens just a bit, "there's more to life than seeking refuge in my world. be alive, live in mortality."

he's begging you, pleading for you. he hates to see you hurt, and he hates the way his world's laws are. you can't be thrust into immortal responsibilities yet, and you can't stay long as a mortal with purpose. you have to go, but you would rather die a million more times before you accept that.

"can't you just let me stay? what's the problem in letting me be free where I want to be, with you," you're pleading with him now. on your hands and knees praying to the god before you to just let you stay. you're standing, knees going weak just a smidge. your eyes are burning from tears and your cheeks are wet with a desperation.

"I can't, I really can't," his frown deepens and he pulls you into his chest, face in his white ruffly shirt. he smells like home, but a home you can never truly have. he cups the back of your head with his hand, rubbing at your scalp with his fingertips as you sigh.

"it's the rules," a kiss to the top of your head and you want to scream and cry and bang at his chest. but you don't, you stay still in his grasp, holding your calm in your hands so tightly.

"the rules are stupid," you mumble into his shirt, he moves a hand to rub your back.

he chuckles, nodding in agreement before speaking again, "I agree, love."

days pass after he sent you back, you mulled over ways and methods you could reach him again in desperate hope he'd finally give in to your pleas and let you stay.

you were wandering the woods, pacing between trees as you tried to narrow down your plans. you could try summoning him, but it wasn't fool proof. you could try to speak to him through meditation, but he sometimes ignored you 'for your sake'.

you weren't sure what would work, and you were kicking yourself for not knowing. but also for the doubts that filled your mind. what if he kicked you out again? told you to never see him again and made sure you couldn't? what if he forced you to live out your mortality purely out of his anger at you. what if he was angry?

you sigh, resting your head against the tree, sighing as you screw your eyes shut, banging your fist against the bark before stepping back.

"what more do you want?" you beckon up at the sky, he's not listening, you're sure of it but you need to be angry at something, somewhere. it's unfair.

"for you to listen," his voice mumbles in your mind and you scoff, shaking your head as the memory of his accent echoes in your mind.

"yeah well, you don't have the best ideas, now do you?"

"y/n.." he murmurs, his tone a gentle warning to you so you don't say something you'll regret. or do something, for that matter.

"wilbur," you copy his tone, mocking it almost before you groan, falling to sit on the ground.

"you know you can't do this, you know that," you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he draws it out and softens it just to reach out to you and make amends for it.

"but what else am I meant to do?" you want to scream at the top of your lungs, cry to him and bitch about the situation you're in. how you're continually denied what you want. you thought you proved yourself, you thought you proved that you could handle immortality. that you could handle him.

it's silent, not a sound is made around you or even echoed in your mind. you wondered if his methods of communication were a curse or a blessing. it felt more like a curse at the moment. it felt like a taunt to you, how powerless you felt down on earth, in morality. you felt so out of control, like a puppet. and maybe wilbur was the puppeteer, but who’s to say it wasn’t someone else? maybe he was just an illusion, a hallucination that controlled your motives and thoughts simply by the prospect of maybe having some hope to grasp onto. a nice, soft candle in the middle of a dark and empty room.

he was the light you couldn’t quite reach.

he finally speaks up, his tone rushed and worried, but his words keep you from second guessing it, “i have an idea.”

“what?” you mumble, nearly tripping over the single word.

“you want to stay with me, yes?” he sounds almost frustrated for a moment before sighing almost exasperated.

“yes, yes, that’s what i’ve been saying. you never listen-“

wilbur cuts you off, “i listen, i promise. okay? i listen to you, now, listen to me for a second, okay baby?”

you ponder for a moment before giving in, “fine.”

“i’ll let you come back, under a few conditions,” you wait a moment, giving him time to list his conditions but he doesn’t seem to budge on his own.

“and what are those?” you fold your arms over your chest, huffing as you imagine wilbur pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing at you.

“i’ll tell you when you get here, okay?” he pauses, sand surprisingly you can hear the hesitation almost as if he were there with you and not just speaking through your mind, “there’s a tree-“

“a tree? wow, so fancy,” your annoyance bubbling up at the way he wasn’t being direct.

he warns you again, a whispering of your name to keep you in line before he continues, “there’s a tree a few minutes in front of you, there will be lilliums around the base and a circle door in the middle. it’ll take you here, no need to do what you normally do, okay? please just, don’t do something stupid and get up here, okay?”

you take a moment before answering, wondering if you want to believe him or ignore him at the moment, “okay, fine.”

you wait a few minutes, making sure he doesn’t have anything more to say before standing up and beginning the walk over to the tree. it feels stupid, how hopeful you are and how confident you feel over walking to a damn tree as if it’ll fix your biggest qualm with the way your god’s world works. you stop short, maybe a good eight feet from the base of the tree, your eyes dancing around and staring at the lilly flowers lining the base and spreading over the roots. you play with the idea of turning around and walking back, abandoning him and any loyalty you had to him. but then you look back at the trunk before you and sigh, giving in and stepping back towards it. your fingers reach out to grasp the hook on the corner, pulling it back and crawling in, not without doubts of course but you aren’t sure what you have to lose.

you pull the door back to close it and turn around, darkness encompassing your whole being as you feel a sort of light feeling take over your senses. are you dreaming? it doesn’t feel like a dream, but it seems like one. are you real? is this real?

your thoughts shut off, cut like a guillotine, but the blade being the darkness and silence. you no longer felt anything but a void, and then you began to feel warm fabric, and then a whiff of cologne hit your nose and then you were finally able to open your eyes.

“i see you’re awake?” you peek up, rubbing your eyes as you take in your surroundings, eyes catching on the familiar figure of wilbur, sitting in a reading chair in the corner of his bedroom. you’ve been here before, you’ve slept in this bed but now it feels different. it’s a good different, but it isn’t the same.

“i am now,” you pause, tossing the covers over and off your legs as you sit up against the ornate headboard, gazing over at him as he meets your eyes and sets down his journal, “what happened?”

“i convinced myself that i could manage switching your role to immortal,” he sighs, moving his gaze to the floor as he chews his lip, mind reeling as he lists off all the rules he broke just to bring his love into his life.

“mm, was it paperwork that kept you from it?” you chuckle, much too happy at the moment to even think of how angry you were and still are at him.

“no,” he chuckles dryly, shaking his head, “it was.. more serious than that but that’s no talk for now. how are you feeling, love?” he stands from his chair, finding a spot on the edge of the bed by your feet and resting his hands on your legs.

“i couldn’t be more tired, what the hell happened? how did i get here?” you murmur, rubbing your eyes as you take note of the pulsing ache at your temples.

“i guided you through a dream, to get here, and once you reached this world, i switched some things around in your file,” he squeezes your calf, his eyes staring at the wall for a good minute before meeting your gaze.

“so that means…?”

“you’re immortal and no longer have any ties with your old world, you’re mine now, just the way you wanted,” he sighs, lifting your legs to lay over his lap as he reaches over and kisses your forehead. there’s a sort of calmness about him that you’ve yet to see until now. you never knew such peace could exist in him.

“i’ll answer any question you have.” you nod to him, acknowledging his offer but not knowing where to start,

you have too many questions to even verbalize, or let alone ask, and the growing headache isn’t helping either. so after a moment’s contemplation, you decide to let the piles questions take a rest while you enjoy your wilbur’s company.

you lean forward and kiss his cheek once, and you watch as a gentle rosiness floods the pale skin that he adorns and his lips curl up in a smile.

“how about we have a day to ourselves and celebrate?” you suggest, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, chewing on your lip as you keep your eyes down.

“okay, as long as you promise to ask questions later?” he tilts your head up by your chin, a loving care in his eyes.

“promise,” you smile, kissing the tip of his nose before continuing and jumping off the bed, “now show me that pretty garden you have, yeah?”

he smiles, standing up and meeting you where you stand. he leans down, hands resting on your cheeks with giggles escaping his lips at your excitement, “may i kiss you first?”

“yes, sir you may,” your fingers wrap around his waist as he brings his lips to yours, smiling softly as your mouths move in sync. a moments pass before you both need air and you pull back, moving to tug on his hand, “now come on! show me the lilliums!”

he leads you out to the garden, smiling the whole way as he can’t help but to think how grateful he is that he broke a few rules and let heaven be you.

taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos

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missyaess · 1 month

Text

Maybe Meant to be - Fake Dating pt.6

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

divider credit :@muruffin

tag list 🏷️: @jasmixs @cybertimetravelstranger @tenmaabnesti @luleck @lovra974 @just-your-emo-sensei @lookingforlia @cinnamonroll4ever @just-some-random-simp-lol @chrissyfishywissy @aizawasgirl @jonggunismysneakylink @liaaa-1 @velvet-spider @4evahevah @chixkadee @haleyms @katsuberries @laurenzitaa @chaoticstrawberryland

-Hi Midoriya.No,not really.

As Midoriya sat down next to you,you sighed.You felt relieved all of a sudden,at this moment you wouldn’t want to be around anyone else.You didn’t know why.

-What happened between you two,if you don’t mind me asking?

You explained everything to him and how you felt,as you got to the end you didn’t notice tears coming out of your eyes.

-Hey Y/N,sshh.

He hushed you and laid your head on his shoulders,calming you down.

-I get how you feel.But I just have to ask you,do you think Kacchan is the right person for you?

-I don’t know anymore Midoriya…I thought he was but I am just so tired.

-I get that.I’m sorry you have to feel this way.You are an amazing person,and you’re the only one I could trust with something like this.Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.

He smiled at you and it warmed your heart.You were glad he was your friend.

After you two sat there for some time you decided to go back to your dorm rooms.Midoriya walked you to your dorm room where Mina was waiting for you.

-Alright I can leave now.Goodnight Y/N.

As you two waved at each other Mina looked between the both of you with suspicious eyes.

You turned back to Mina and saw everybody has already left.Mina noticed your looks into your room so she explained.

-I sent everybody away so that we could talk.

You stepped into your room and Mina followed you.You sat down on your bed looking at your feet.Mina sat on the floor,facing you.

-What’s going on between you two?

You rolled you eyes at this.

-It wasn’t what it looked like,Bakugo was just being a hater to Midoriya,he doesn’t like me.So,nothing is going on between us.

-No I don’t mean him!I mean Midoriya!

-WHAT?

You stood up by the shock of what she was asking you.

-Look,I just noticed how you two act together and it might be more than a fake relationship for you.

-Literally what made you think that?

-The way Midoriya got worried today after you and Bakugo went out the room,so much so that he went after you two immediately! How you look at him has changed and I can see that as your best friend.

-He’s my friend,and he knows what an ass Bakugo can be,that’s probably why!And also nothing has changed with the way I look at him.

Mina sighed as you looked at her like she was crazy.

-Look,all I’m saying is be careful,okay?I don’t want you get hurt because of another boy again.

-I assure you there’s nothing to worry about.

-Whatever you say,goodnight Y/N.

After Mina left you were alone with your thoughts.

Could it be possible it was more for him,for you?

A few weeks has passed since the last time you spoke with Bakugo.He would stare at you in class but you wouldn’t look back.You had spent the last weeks with Midoriya,still going on with the plan even if it hadn’t worked out for you,it was going to work out for Midoriya and Uraraka.

As you were at the lunch table ,laughing at something Midoriya had said,Uraraka came over.

-Deku,can we talk in private?

-Uhm…sure.

-I like you!

You knew you shouldn’t have but you and Mina were watching afar from where uraraka was confessing to Midoriya.

-What did she say??(M)

-SSH I can’t hear them with you screaming !

You two were hiding in a bush,not too far away from the two.If Mina kept on whisper screaming you were sure they would hear you.So with one hand you closed her mouth and continued to listen.

-I have liked you for a long time actually…And after seeing you with Y/N,I just had to let you know.(U)

You couldn’t quite understand yourself right now.It made you so mad she was confessing to him.I mean,she knew Midoriya was your boyfriend.Even if it wasn’t actually real and a plan,it still made you mad.

Uraraka got closer to Midoriya and reached out for his hand.

-Please say something.

You couldn’t help the jealousy you were feeling.Why were you jealous of Midoriya?

Mina started biting your hand so you let her go.

-Ouch!What are you doing?!

-SSH,be quiet!(M)

You rolled your eyes at this and continued watching them as the uncomfortable feeling took you over.You just wanted to go over there and…

-I’m sorry,I love Y/N.

…

What?

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stargazing-imagines · 5 months

Text

What we had — Conrad Fisher x Model!Reader

Description — after dating Conrad for a few years, you find out that he has been cheating on you with belly, years later you return to cousins beach… but there a different aura to you

Warnings — mentions of reader being known as a slut, mentions of abandonment issues, bad writing, name calling?

Fandom — the summer I turned pretty

A/n — it been a while since I posted a fic. I hope you enjoy this one! Don’t kill me but this one has a sad ending! It for the sake of the imagine so keep that in mind, besides. I got this idea from an Episode story I read, so credit to the authors of that story!

“I can’t believe you!” You shouted to your boyfriend of 2 years, voices echoing from the fishers beach house

“Y/n, it was a mistake I swear!” Said Conrad as he tried to reason with you, you scoffed

“Please… I know what a make out session looks like and I just witnessed you and belly having one just a minute ago!”

“It didn’t mean anything!” Said Conrad “you have to believe me!”

“You know what, I’m done.” You said on the verge of tears “I hope you two are very happy together!”

With that you left, wiping a tear from your face

3 years later

“Y/n L/n!” Shouted the paparazzi “is it true that you are dating Liam Hosterman?”

You rolled your eyes before responding, sunglasses covering your face. Let’s just say that after the whole Conrad and belly fiasco, you went rogue. Parties all night, and ending the night with a new boy on your arm. It was the life you enjoyed… that was until you got an invitation to belly’s graduation party.

“I think you should go.” Said your best friend Nora as she sat opposite side of the couch from you.

“Please, I rather eat dirt then face Conrad fisher.” You said as you sipped on your tea “besides he wouldn’t want to see me anyway.”

“Girl, he sent you flowers 5 months ago apologizing for what he did.”

“Yeah… 3 years to late.” You said “besides I have a hot date that day so I have to politely decline.”

“I think your being selfish.” Said Nora “the girl speaks highly of you, didn’t you say that you were her big sister for the debutante ball that summer?” Asked Nora, you huffed.

“Just think about it.” Said Nora as she gave your hand a pat before leaving.

Here you were, on the plane to cousins beach… hoping you wouldn’t regret a single thing, after your flight landed, you placed your sunglasses over your eyes.

“This is going to be a long vacation.”

“I’m so excited that you can make it.” Said laurel as she gave you a hug “I think your old room is still the same, susannah has been decorating it ever since she recived your RSVP.”

You nodded your head at the thought

“There’s my darling Angel.” Said Susannah as she opened her arms signaling you to hug her, you hugged her

“Look at you! You look way different then you did 3 years ago.”

“Thanks Susannah, Is Conrad around?” You asked

“He just called, he won’t be landing till in the morning.” Said Susannah

Great that gave you perfect time to figure out a plan to avoid Conrad this whole week

“I’m going to drop my luggage off to my room.” You said as you walked upstairs

It was the next day, and you were out back near the pool tanning as belly was swimming in the pool.

“Hey are you going to make up with Conrad this summer?” Asked belly as she got out of the pool, joining you on the loungers, towel wrapped around her.

“Maybe, maybe not, why?” You asked

“I think you should give the boy a second chance.” Said belly

“Why did you kiss him 3 years ago?” You asked

“Honestly… I just wanted to see if my crush on his was real or a infatuation.” Said belly

“And?”

“It was a infatuation… I’m sorry…”

“It-“

“Belly, laurel wants you in the kitc-“

He stops mid sentence when he sees you, you freeze as you hear the voice

“Talk to him.” Whispered belly as she walked away

“Hey-“

“Don’t hey me!” You said as you stayed glued on the loungers, back turned “In fact, don’t even come near me.”

“You look great…”

“Please stop flattering me… that’s not going to work on me this time.”

“Is that because your to good for me? To good for us?” Asked Conrad “you haven’t even visited us in three years Y/n!” Shouted Conrad “Mom was devastated!”

“I was heartbroken Conrad!”

“Oh so sleeping with every guy that you can find is going to mend your broken heart?”

You sighed, you ran your hand through your hair before standing up

“Your the reason that I am the way that I am!” You shouted “if you didn’t cheat on me 3 years ago we wouldn’t be in this position!”

Conrad scoffed

“Who are you and what happened to the girl that I fell in love with 3 summers ago?”

“She’s changed Conrad.” You said “deal with it!”

You stormed off before feeling a hand on your wrist

“What we had was special.” Said Conrad “if your going to throw away what we had then your crazy.”

With that he left, you pondered for a moment before speaking out

“Wait…” you said, Conrad turned around “I’m sorry ok.” You said “I’m sorry that I left, but I did it because I wanted to focus on me.”

“Yeah but leaving?” Said Conrad “that is the most stupidest thing you ever done, we could have talked things out but what did you do? You ran away.”

With that Conrad went back into the beach house, leaving you by the loungers, you sat back down puffing in annoyance.

“He isn’t going to forgive me belly so just drop it.” You said as you snacked on a cracker

“Look. I know what you did was to better yourself, but Conrad was heartbroken when he found out that you were sleeping with the whole city of New York.”

“I know…” you said “it’s just… it was the only way to take the pain away.”

“Did you at least go to a therapist or a shrink, one?”

“Yeah… turns out I have a bad case of abandonment issues.”

“Your parents were pretty much absent in your life.” Said Jeremiah, belly nudged him

That was true, all your life you only had Susannah and laurel as mother figures in your life. Susannah was a good friend of you’re mom, and every summer you would go with the fishers to cousins beach. Turns out, it was your parents way of saying we don’t wantyou around. Who was there for you when you got your first period? Susannah, who was there when you got your first heartbreak at the age of 16? Susannah, she treated you like you were her own daughter. Unlike your own mother.

“Jeremiah!”

After belly said that, a knock was heard. You turned your head and saw Conrad standing in the doorway.

“I hate to budge in but… y/n can we talk?”

You looked back at belly and Jeremiah, who signaled that it was alright as they left, Conrad walked in.

“How much did you hear?”

“Everything… y/n I’m sorry for what I did.” Said Conrad as he grabbed a hold of your hand “do you forgive me?”

You let out a faint smile before cupping his face

“Of course I forgive you.” You said

You kissed his lips for a brief second before pulling away

“How I missed this.” Said Conrad as he smiled, you let out a giggle.

—

The summer I turned pretty masterlist

#the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x you #conrad x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp conrad

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444rockstargf · 2 months

Note

Hey i’ve never sent a request before and i’m a dumbass 😭 so feel free to ignore this if it’s not rlly your speed. Basically i just want some kinda hurt/comfort with Euronymous where he’s about to leave for a gig and the reader asks if he wants them to come and he tells them they should stay home and he’s doing it for her safety but she takes it as he’s embarrassed of her because she’s not like “Metal” and she has a breakdown while he’s gone about it and he comes back and sees her crying and comfort ensues (that’s prolly the dumbest thing that’s ever come out of my mouth i’m so sorry) anyway thank you so much!! No rush obviously i love your works so much and i’ve just been in need of this trope

thank you so much for the request, anon! my inbox is open to any other brilliant ideas that you want to share :))

"one for the money, two for the show." | euronymous

million dollar man. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp@auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart @imoonkiss @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @randyssister @wild-rose-35

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 1.1k

contents: a tiny bit of angst, mostly fluffy, soft euronymous

“alright, baby. i’m heading out.” euronymous’ voice called out from the bedroom. he walked into the living room where you were sprawled out on the couch, eyes now wide with curiosity as he grabbed his van keys from the holder of the front door.

“where are you going, euro?” you clicked the pause button on the tv remote, stopping the program that was currently playing. euronymous pulled on his leather boots, meeting your eyes as he began fidgeting with his keys.

“i… im off to a gig, doll.” you stood up from the couch, clearing up your area and making your way upstairs. “okay, just give me a few minutes to get dressed. i promise i won’t take long.” as you went up the stairs, you felt his hand gently take yours from behind. you looked back at him, his expression more grave than before. “about that, i think it would be best if you sat this one out.” his words were soft but edged with finality.

your face fell and you looked down. “y-you don’t want me to come to your show..?” euronymous stammered. “i-i just don’t know if this is gonna be your scene, angel. this is gonna be an intense show, and with my friends and all…” his voice trailed off and you began to put things together.

his friends. the same ones who’d sneer whenever he’d show up at gigs with his arm around your waist, you two looking like the oddest pair to ever walk the street. you had to credit euronymous for acting like he didn’t care, but it surely had to bother him at least a little bit. but you’d been so inconsiderate, tagging along with him everywhere he went and not even thinking about how he felt about it.

it was all hitting you like a ton of bricks. he was embarrassed to be seen with you. and you couldn’t even blame him for it either. you looked down at your light grey oversized hoodie, pastel-coloured pajama shorts, and white knee-high socks. you’d make him look like a complete joke showing up to another show with him. tears pricked your eyes as the realization sunk in, much to euronymous’ dismay.

he snaked an arm around your waist, looking at your face. “what’s wrong, baby?” he used his thumbs to gently wipe a tear trickling down your face as he pulled you in, pressing your body into the cold leather jacket on his body. you shook your head, sniffling. “n-nothings wrong.” you walked him back down the stairs, taking him back to the front door as you forced your voice to speak as clearly as possible. “i’m just awfully tired, that’s all. have a great show…” you went on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

he nodded, giving you a half smile as he opened the front door and walked out, shutting it behind him. then the floodgates broke open. you fell to your knees, starting to heave out sobs as you heard his van drive off. giant tears rolled down your cheeks as your mind flooded with all the times you had possibly embarrassed him or damaged his reputation. but he was so sweet and kind that he’d never even said a thing.

you began to spiral, making assumptions that were built on not a single drop of evidence. as the hours passed, you paced around the living room, thinking about the whole situation. you cried until your eyes were red and your lips were all puffy, making your way back to the couch and slumping onto it. you glanced at the clock, seeing that it had been 4 hours since he’d left.

whenever you were with him, you were out for a maximum of two hours, thanks to you and how quickly you’d get tired of all the buzz. he must have been having a blast, and you couldn’t stop the tears that cascaded down your face. minutes later, the front door unlocked and euronymous walked back inside holding a pastel pink box, skin glistening slightly with sweat. usually, you’d greet him at the door with a big hug but you wouldn’t dare do that right now.

he kicked off his boots walking into the living room and seeing your puffy crying face. his eyes widened and he put the box down on the coffee table, sitting down next to you. “oh my god, angel. are you alright? what happened? are you feeling sick, did someone come into the house?” you were bombarded by questions fueled by his concern, your guilt only growing more by the second.

you heaved out a heavy sigh, looking him right in his soft blue eyes. then you spoke, your voice coming out as a hoarse croak. “i’m sorry for embarrassing you, euro…” your words clearly surprised him, but you kept on talking. “i-i don’t want to force you to take me wherever you go. i just love being around you, b-but i understand if your friends don’t like me. i just don’t fit in with you...” you looked at the ground, twirling the drawstring of your hoodie as you felt his gaze on you. then without warning, both his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

you froze, your heart hammering in your chest at this unexpected act of affection. you could feel his heavy breath against your neck, the sound of it stilling your nerves. after countless minutes he pulled away, hands resting on your shoulders as he looked at you with sad eyes. “my sweet, beautiful angel. i would never be embarrassed of you. i must be a damn awful boyfriend for making you think that in the first place.” he used his calloused fingers to wipe away your tears.

you took a good look at his face, finally noticing the several cuts on it that weren’t there before. you traced your finger along a long slit on his jaw, making him wince a little. he spoke, his voice even softer than before. “it was a really dangerous show tonight. there were glass bottles flying all over the place and fires everywhere. i thought of bringing you with me, but i just couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt out there.”

you felt a wave of stupidity wash over you. so you had the wrong idea all along. euronymous chuckled slightly as your face lit up, picking up the pink box from the coffee table. “don’t you wanna know what’s in here?” he shook the box a little, making you fill with anticipation. he took off the lid, revealing a large slice of your favourite cake.

he brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “i had to go all around town to find a bakery that was open at this hour. it took forever but here you go, baby.” your eyes welled with tears once more, but they were joyful instead of sorrowful. you wrapped your arms around his neck, peppering small kisses all over his face until he held your waist, connecting his lips to yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

author's note: yall should never ever have any doubts when sending me requests. I'm always in love with absolutely everything i get sent! (that follow my guidelines ofc)

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #euronymous #lords of chaos #eurorory #euronymous rory culkin #eurory #fluff #rory culkin fluff #born to die #born to die paradise edition #lana del rey

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wintaerbaer · 1 year

Text

things we don’t say: part 2 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.4k

chapter warnings: IN THE SOOP TAE, swearing, alcohol consumption, feelings?, implied sexual situations (not for oc), that chicken fight game you can play in a pool (definitely not the animal cruelty kind, just want to clarify), bartender jungkook (who is also an absolute MENACE), infidelity, namjoon’s chest

a/n: we’re heading into the thick of things now! thank you to everyone who has shown this series love thus far. and even to those who may be silently reading, i appreciate each and every one of you. these characters have been in my head for years, and it’s so incredible to finally get to share them!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

You’re starting to think you might be a terrible friend.

It's been a week and a half since Maya's art show when Jimin slides into the chair next to you in your office building's cafeteria. You've worked at the same company since graduation but in different departments, so while you don't see each other every day, you occasionally grab lunch together or pop over to each other's desk for a quick chat.

"Hey, stranger," he chirps, setting his food on the table before peering closely at your face. "Almost forgot what you looked like."

You roll your eyes at him. After the incident at the gallery sent your brain into an emotional spiral, you had decided to put some distance between you and Taehyung until you could figure out what the hell this all meant for your friendship. As a result, you hadn't been over to the guys' apartment since then—an unusually long amount of time for you to stay away.

Jimin frowns at your lack of a response, leaning forward until you look at him. "You avoiding us?"

"No," you say simply, busying yourself by taking a bite of your lunch.

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Are you avoiding Tae?"

You chew slowly, carefully considering your words before settling on, "Why would I be?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking. For a friend of course." Jimin shrugs. "He mentioned that you haven't really been talking to him—asked if I knew why. Plus, you missed two Sunday meal preps."

"I've missed them before—"

"Two!"

You purse your lips, guilt creeping in at the thought of Taehyung spending two nights cooking alone as you broke your tradition. "You can tell him what I told him—I've been busy."

Jimin frowns again, watching you stare at the table as you chew another bite. "Is something going on? Did he say something to you?"

"About what?" you ask, eyes snapping up to his.

"I..." he hesitates, suddenly uneasy. "I don't know. I just know that I've never seen you two like this."

"Like what?"

"Apart."

You give a dry laugh, more out of nerves than anything. "Chim, we're not literally attached at the hip, you know? We have our own lives."

"Yah, you know that's not what I mean." He sighs. "I can just tell he's missing you, that's all.”

If getting called out on missing meal prep nights made you feel guilty, then this is the true slap to the face. Taehyung may be mild and introspective by nature—a quiet force in his own right—but he holds close those who are dear to him, and you know he can't be pleased with your recent silence.

Still, any guilt tingling through your veins inevitably winds up outweighed by the memory of the flash of heartbreak that had crossed his face at the party, reinforcing your need for space.

"Well we'll see each other in a couple days," you murmur, a tiny burst of excitement breaking into your mind at the thought of your upcoming vacation.

Property of Jungkook's family, the beach house rarely used by his parents had become a staple for your friend group over the years as the go-to site for New Year’s parties and summer holidays. When Hoseok and Sunny had lamented the astronomical cost of the wedding and how they were going to opt out of having bachelor and bachelorette parties to help save money, Jungkook had offered up the house to do a combined pre-wedding bash to celebrate their upcoming nuptials.

Jimin taps his fingers on the table, looking at you quietly before accepting the change in topic. "It should be fun. Jace coming?"

"No, he has that conference."

"Damn," Jimin huffs. "Does that guy ever get a day off?"

"Guess he had to afford the ring somehow," you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up on impulse.

Jimin smiles back. "And here I was, wishfully thinking we might get a front row seat to a proposal this weekend."

“Not his vibe.” You scrunch your nose. “He never went to the house as frequently as everyone else. And I don’t know if he’d want a bunch of other people around. At least not people who know us.”

“Aww, why not?” Jimin whines. “We could all celebrate with you! And Maya could take pictures!”

“Or Tae.”

“Or—yeah, or Tae.”

You pretend not to have noticed his hesitation or the way he startled at that, and certainly not the way it made your pulse jump. Has everyone really been seeing this except you?

“Regardless,” you say, trying to ignore the sudden nausea rolling in your stomach, “I don’t think he’ll do it in front of you guys. And if he was going to ask Maya to take pictures, I think he would’ve done so by now if he was going to propose soon.”

When you had told Maya about the ring the afternoon after the gallery opening, she’d seemed genuinely surprised, clapping her hands together and immediately calling dibs on being maid of honor.

Go figure.

“Ah, well,” Jimin sighs. “There’s always the planning to help with.” He holds up a hand and begins ticking off his fingers. “And the bridal shower, the bachelorette party, rehersal dinner, eventual baby shower—“

“Woah, Park, getting a little ahead of yourself now, no?”

“Y/N, this is an exciting time for you! I’m excited for you!” He slurps down a mouthful of his noodle bowl. “And maybe I’m living a little vicariously through you. Maybe. A little.”

“Geez, Kook’s right, you are in a drought.”

“Oh, great. You too now?”

You giggle as he dramatically presses a hand to his forehead, food puffing out his cheeks.

“But really though,” he says, leaning forward again with concern in his eyes, “you are excited, right? After you told us about the ring, you seemed a bit off.”

Shit.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you get drunk that fast in a while.”

“I was happy for Maya and Tae.”

“And yourself?”

“Yeah, and myself.”

Jimin stares at you for a long few seconds, clearly not buying what you’re selling. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” He leans back in his chair in a way that says he’s letting you off the hook. “But you’d better figure out this weird thing with Tae before he corners you at the house. Good luck avoiding him then.”

Okay, maybe not entirely off the hook.

The rest of the short work week passes in a blink, and you quickly find yourself packing for your trip on Wednesday night, the plan being to leave Thursday morning and stay until Monday. Jace fiddles with his phone on the bed, occasionally glancing up to watch you flit around the room as you fill your travel bag with an excessive amount of clothes.

"Are you leaving for five days or a month?" he teases as you cram ten pairs of underwear into a side pocket.

"I like to keep my options open," you say. "Never know what could happen with the weather."

"Or your bladder, apparently."

"Hey, it's gonna be hot. I'll have to hydrate."

He laughs at that before his eyes settle on you with a warmth that has you shifting under his gaze.

“What?”

“I just love you, you know?” he hums.

Warmth blooms in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“It’s going to suck being apart.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I wish you could’ve come.”

At your words, you feel like you can literally see a light bulb turn on in his head as his expression brightens with an idea. “Do you want to take my jacket?”

He can only mean one jacket. You’d found it together a month after you started dating at a thrift shop downtown, and it’s been his signature piece of clothing ever since. Jace had pulled the bomber jacket and its bright green satin off the rack, and your first reaction had been to laugh. The thing practically glowed.

“You’ll look like a traffic light,” you’d giggled.

But Jace was already pulling the shimmering material over his shoulders. “Consider this your green light to jump my bones whenever you want,” he’d said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“I’d feel bad separating you from it, to be honest,” you say in the present. “I’m pretty sure a piece of your soul is tied to that jacket by now.”

He pouts. “You’ll be carrying a piece of my heart already; what’s a piece of my soul?”

“Smooth.” You poke at your bag. “I may not have any extra room in here though.”

“Fair enough, but if you change your mind, the offer still stands. What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Eleven. Should get us there a little before lunch."

"Us?" He pauses, setting down his phone. "You're driving with Tae?"

"No, Maya." A tinge of panic drops into your chest at the mention of Taehyung's name. Does he know? "Why?"

Jace shrugs, nonchalant. "No reason, just wondering. And you're back Monday?"

"Mhm, by dinnertime." You settle on the bed next to him, trailing your fingers along his forearm. "Do you want to maybe do a date night after work that day?"

He sighs deeply, tilting his head back against the headboard. "We have our conference debrief Monday, so who knows when I'll get home." You nod in understanding, but the disappointment must show on your face because then Jace is leaning forward to take your hand in his. "I'll tell you what, I know work has been keeping me from you lately, so let me make up for it.”

The pads of his fingers lightly dance along your jaw. "Fancy date night next Saturday? That upscale Italian place on Fifth that you love so much? I can make a reservation."

Your heart pounds as you will your eyes not to subconsciously drift to his desk, and you put on your best poker face. "It's a date."

The drive proves an easy one for you and Maya as sunny weather and a surprising lack of traffic has you at the house in under an hour. As you drive through the iron gates, a small mansion, white and pristine, spreads itself out before you, and you're once again reminded of just how wealthy a family Jungkook comes from.

You had grown up very well-off, sure, but Jungkook’s parents and their vast real estate portfolio are on an entirely different level of rich. And while your parents had immediately cut you off right after you left for college, Jungkook’s parents continue to supplement his bartending income with a monthly allowance to this day.

The word “spoiled” is a bit of an understatement when it comes to your friend.

"You sure you don't want anything more serious with Kook?" you tease Maya, who sits in the passenger seat with her dark sunglasses over her eyes. "All this could be yours."

"As if," she scoffs. "Not worth it to have to put up with his ass for the rest of eternity."

You key in the code for the front door and are greeted by a multitude of voices, the cavernous open-concept kitchen/dining room/living room only serving to amplify those inside. Hoseok and Sunny are quick to reel you in, introducing you to Sunny's three bridesmaid friends, Hoseok's brother (who you’ve met a few times before), and—

"Joonie!"

Namjoon swoops in to pull you into a bear hug while lamenting how long it's been since he last saw you. Hoseok's best friend since freshman year of college, the former pre-med major had been a core member of your group of friends, but med school combined with helping to manage his family's restaurant means that you rarely see him nowadays in spite of him sharing an apartment with Hoseok and Sunny.

"How's the roomie search going?" you ask as Namjoon pulls Maya into an equally crushing hug.

"Mmph, still no luck. Though I may have an old friend from grade school moving into the city soon, so we'll see if that pans out." He throws a quirked brow at Hoseok. "But I haven't entirely given up on convincing these two to reconsider breaking up the dream team."

"Ah, Joon, you really wanna live with two newlyweds that badly?" Hoseok whines. "Just think about it for two seconds. Really think about it."

Namjoon clicks his tongue, cheeks now tinged with a dusting of pink. "Okay, maybe you have a point."

The light mingling continues as everyone settles in, and you find yourself taking stock of the kitchen and planning a grocery run with Sunny's friends when the last three members of your party come spilling through the door. Your companions head back to the entrance for introductions, but you stay firmly put, mindlessly busying yourself with plates and silverware, nerves alight at the thought of who just entered the house.

Voices still echoing from the living room, it's only a minute or so later when you sense the quiet presence of someone stepping into the kitchen, and, ever in sync, you don't need to turn around to know who.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

You turn on instinct, your body responding to his voice before your brain can remind you of your avoidance. Taehyung leans against the kitchen island in a long-sleeved yellow shirt, baseball cap turned backwards on his head. Chin slightly tilted towards his chest, he's gazing at you from under his lashes, and you recognize it as nerves. "I, um, I'm about to go on a grocery run."

"I can come with?" he offers. "Keep you company, carry the heavy stuff—"

"I made plans to go with Sunny's friends, actually."

"Oh, okay." His shoulders drop ever so slightly, and you glance away at the shoreline crashing in the distance, anywhere but at your best friend looking like a kicked puppy in front of you because of your own cowardice.

"Listen, Y/N—"

"Later?" You quickly interrupt, not mentally prepared to have this conversation right now, especially with Jimin casting you looks from where he stands in the living room.

Taehyung licks his lips, seeming to scan your face for something before he swallows down words on the tip of his tongue, grimacing as if they're nails. "Yeah, okay. Later."

When you said later, you truly meant it. While you and Sunny’s friends (Taehyung thinks their names were Iseul, Hana, and Yumi) run out for groceries, the rest of the group bustles around the house, splitting up rooms, settling in, and eventually migrating to the pool. Taehyung tries to catch you again when you return, but you hurry past him with a box of liquor, mumbling something about helping Jungkook set up the bar out back. Sunny’s friends dump the rest of the groceries on the kitchen island before scurrying away to the back deck with everyone else, which is how Taehyung winds up unpacking the bags.

Alone.

Nice.

He’s pushing a box of ramyeon on top of the fridge when he hears the back door click and slide open behind him.

“Need a hand?”

Namjoon walks into the kitchen, fingers poking at one of the bags.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

They unload the groceries in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Namjoon says, “So how have things been?”

Taehyung shrugs a shoulder. “Ah, you know, the usual. You?”

“Same.”

Quiet takes over again, and Taehyung thinks the conversation has ended before it even really started as he moves to place a bottle of orange juice into the fridge. But then—

“I heard about Y/N and Jace.”

Taehyung freezes mid-motion, the cool air from the open fridge slipping out and chilling his skin. When he looks up at Namjoon, the other man is studying him with a calm intensity that raises goosebumps along his arms. It’s not his first time being under Namjoon’s microscope, but he’ll never get used to the feeling of being simultaneously picked apart and comforted. Because while his friend may exude a quiet warmth, he always gives the sense that there’s also a million calculations going on under the surface at any given time.

It’s easy to let one’s guard down around Namjoon.

With that in mind, Taehyung opts for the simplest answer, slowly closing the refrigerator and saying, “Yeah?”

Namjoon nods, equally slow. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great,” Taehyung says, breaking the eye contact and closing the refrigerator to reach for another bag. “She’s always wanted this. And Jace is…” He finds himself rooting around his brain trying to find a descriptor for the guy. For someone who he’s known for several years, it’s bizarre how he can’t find a single word for him.

Weird.

“She’s happy with him,” is what he eventually comes out with.

“But is he right for her?” Namjoon presses.

“You think he’s not?”

Namjoon reaches up to put a few bags of snacks into a cupboard. “I don’t know. It’s like he was always around in college, but he was never truly present, you know?”

“That’s a Joon-ism if I’ve ever heard one.”

Namjoon smiles, a dimple dotting his cheek. “You don’t get what I mean?”

“No, I do. But that’s not important, is it? It doesn’t matter if we think he’s the right guy; it matters if she thinks he’s the right guy. And if she does, then I support it. It’s not my place to do anything else.”

The words settle in the room, and he means every one.

“You know, I’ve always admired the two of you,” Namjoon says after a moment. “The way you care for each other is…extraordinary, to say the very least.”

The sincerity in his voice makes Taehyung blush. “Well, we only had each other growing up, you know? She saved my life when we were kids. I truly believe that.”

“I know, you’ve said that before. She gave you a way out.”

“A way out, a purpose, a friend.” He crumples a plastic bag into his hand. “She chose me when no one else did. Not even my own family.”

And you had, when no one else seemed to want anything to do with him, there you were, hanging by his side like his own personal guardian angel.

“She’s the most incredible person I know, and I would just…do anything for her.”

“Including watch her marry him, apparently.”

“Yes,” Taehyung says. Unhesitating. “If that’s what she wants.”

“And where does that leave you?”

Taehyung has nothing to answer that with—his worst fear laid bare in front of him. It’s the thought that keeps him up at night, plagues the very marrow of his bones every time someone mentions that tiny velvet box. Your childhood friendship may have allowed you to grow together as one through the years, but just as trees grow apart as they grow upwards, it feels like only a matter of time before your branches no longer intertwine, drawn apart by jobs and relationships, life and love.

How long until you’ve outgrown him? How long until you’ve started your own family and left him behind?

He has no right to you, and he knows that. The last thing he would ever want to do is hold you back, but perhaps a part of him thought he’d have more time. Now, with you suddenly not talking to him for reasons he can’t even begin to grasp, he feels like he may have already lost you.

Namjoon puts him out of his misery. “Do you know what Plutarch said about friendship?”

“Who?”

“I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.”

Taehyung stares, stunned and confused. Because Namjoon couldn’t possibly be suggesting…

“You’re saying I should tell her to say no to him?”

“I’m saying it’s possible to be selfless to a fault.”

It doesn’t sound terribly different in Taehyung’s mind, but he tries to consider Namjoon’s words regardless. Your happiness has always been his utmost priority, but could his unconditional support really be doing more harm than good? He likes to believe that if he felt your well-being were truly at risk, he would speak up.

Then again, with the way his friend is looking at him, he also can’t help but feel like he’s missing something important.

“What are you trying to specialize in again?” he asks, deflecting.

“Psychiatry.”

“Of course.”

Namjoon chuckles. “It’ll all work out in the end.” He winks, moving to rejoin your friends outside. “Life finds a way.”

You’ve managed to evade Taehyung all day, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t felt his eyes on you.

The early hours had been easy, your supermarket run giving you an (albeit weak) excuse to put some physical distance between the two of you. But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain, especially after your group gathered together to decide what to do tonight.

When you’d entered the living room, Taehyung had already been seated at the end of the couch, a free spot open on his left; with the way that his hand had been resting, it was almost as if he was saving it for you. Instead, you’d chosen an armchair diagonally across from him, squirming more and more the longer he looked at you. Throughout the entire conversation, as the group decided upon going to the beach bar down the street to kick off your first night at the house, you don’t think his eyes left you even once.

You’re being a coward, and you know it.

Now, you sit at the vanity in your room, struggling with your necklace and just about ready to give up on the damn thing so you don’t hold everyone else up. The clasp doesn't want to cooperate, your fingers can't seem to get purchase on the thin metal, and really, who are you trying to look good for anyway?

Right as you prepare to abandon the cause and stuff the offending item back in your bag, someone knocks on the door and you yell for them to come in.

Taehyung saunters into the room, now wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, his hair pushed back in such a way that you can tell he's been running his hands through it. His eyes skim your figure as he softly closes the door behind him, and you feel your pulse double in pace. "Need help?"

"It's okay—I, um—" but before you can stutter out an excuse, he's already taking the thin chain from your hands, and all you can do is try not to focus on how his fingers feel brushing the back of your neck.

"There. Easy peasy." He eyes you up and down again before clearing his throat. "Looks good on you."

"I, uh, thanks." Your voice is practically a whisper, and you busy yourself with your make-up case...which may have been an adequate distraction if not for the fact that you've already done your make-up and so your hands are only left to wander aimlessly. Glancing up, you catch Taehyung gazing at you over your shoulder in the mirror, and the intensity of his stare has you dropping the case back to the table. "What?"

"You're avoiding me." He states it as a fact, eyes unwavering, and you turn to face him.

"I'm not."

"You are." He searches your face as if to find the answer written there in big, bold letters. "Why?"

A tiny spider makes its way across the corner of the ceiling, and you find yourself staring at it as you chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

"Hey," Taehyung murmurs, pulling your attention back to him. "It's me, yeah? We don't keep secrets."

But still you hesitate. "You won't get mad?"

He reaches out to hook his pinky with yours. "Of course not."

Letting out a shaky breath, you ask, "Are you okay with Jace proposing?" The question hangs between you for a second, the air thickening with apprehension.

His eyebrows press together, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, it's just..." You pause to collect your thoughts. "When I told you about the ring at the gallery opening, there was a second where you appeared to be…bothered."

"Ahh, well..." He pushes his hands through his hair, mulling over his next words. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"Please."

"I know we're friendly, but I've just never been his biggest fan, even in college." Taehyung shrugs. "You know I want the best for you, and he seems like a good guy and all, I just—I don't know." Another run of his hand through his hair. "I just get a weird vibe from him sometimes."

You smirk at that. "A weird vibe?"

"Yeah, like," he licks his lips, still fidgeting. "I can't put my finger on anything in particular, just something about him rubs me the wrong way sometimes." You open your mouth to respond and he quickly cuts in, "But I will 100% support you! If he's who you want and he makes you happy and treats you well, then I will cheer you on the whole way. Hell, I'll even walk you down the aisle if you want me to." That draws a small laugh from you, and he smiles. "If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. That's all I care about."

You take in his beaming figure and are reminded of how thankful you are to have this man in your life. But the voice in the back of your head is still not entirely placated and before you can stop yourself, you're blurting, "And that's really it?"

Taehyung's smile fades, lips slowly turning downward into a frown, and you silently curse yourself. After seventeen years of friendship, the man can practically read your mind and you know it. "What aren't you telling me?"

You sigh. Seems like there's no way getting around it at this point, and so you decide you may as well dive in. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you quietly ask, "You don’t…have feelings for me?”

Taehyung's eyes blow wide, and you're surprised his jaw isn't touching the floor. After several moments of stunned silence, he lets out a strangled, "What?"

"No, I just—" you stutter. "Look, someone said you did, and after you seemed upset about Jace proposing, I thought maybe..."

He's deeply scowling now, the crease back between his eyebrows, and a flare of his nostrils indicates that he's pissed. "Who?" he asks.

"Who what?"

"Who said that?"

"Tae—"

"No, Y/N, if people want to talk about me behind my back and screw with my private life, I have a right to know who."

He stares you down until you purse your lips and break. "Maya."

"Fucking hell," he says under his breath as he rubs at the lines in his forehead, and his lack of a denial has your head spinning.

"So it's true?"

"Y/N—"

"You haven't answered the question—"

"No!" He almost shouts it. "I don't."

"Because if you did have feelings for me, you could tell me. No secrets, right?"

He lets out a huff and stuffs his hands in his pockets, leveling his gaze back at you. "No," he says. Firmly. Definitively. "No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. But something in your blood continues to tingle.

"Okay."

And really? You should've known. Should've trusted to get the truth from him and not secondhand from your friends who, though they mean well, have been known to meddle and gossip (and sure, maybe that includes yourself at times).

The heightened tension has dissipated from the room, but the two of you are still left looking awkwardly at each other. After a stretch of time, Taehyung shifts on his feet and asks, "Y/N, are we good?"

There's a hint of fear in his eyes, and it has any residual worry you're feeling melting away. This is still Tae. Your Tae.

"Of course we are." You link your pinky with his. "Always."

The beach bar is relatively crowded for a Thursday night, the warm summer air and mix of bodies driving your group to disperse around the venue. Some migrate towards the live band, while others choose to mingle (and flirt) with the other patrons.

Noticing the way one guy at the bar has been eyeing you since you got here, Taehyung sticks close to your side, just in case. That is, until Namjoon finds his way back to the two of you looking harried, drawing you in so he can gently rest his hands on your elbows.

“Y/N, can I borrow you?” His light smile and the way he leans in close are clearly meant to project the image of intimacy, but his eyes are desperately screaming for help. “There’s an intoxicated woman who seems determined to motorboat me, and I don’t know where Maya is. I need a fake girlfriend.”

You pretend to swoon. “Joonie, with a chest like that, I’d be honored to be your fake girlfriend.”

Something aches behind Taehyung’s ribs as he watches you walk away on Namjoon’s arm when he just got you talking to him again. Still, a bit of breathing room is probably for the best. His conversation with you has him rattled; he doesn’t think his pulse has fully returned to normal since you suggested he has feelings for you. At the very least, he was able to smooth things out, which has noticeably eased the weight he’s been carrying the past couple of weeks.

But speaking of your conversation, you being summoned away by Namjoon gives him the opportunity to address the other elephant in the room.

He scans the crowd, determinedly ignoring the woman who’s been trying to catch his eye from a few tables over. (She pouts in his peripheral vision, shifting the neckline of her shirt to sit lower on her chest.) Finally spotting his target making her way back from the bathroom, he quickly moves to intercept her before she can join you and Namjoon at the bar.

Maya startles as he tugs lightly on her arm, leading her to a quieter spot towards the edge of the beach before abruptly spinning to face her.

"What the fuck?"

"What?" she quirks an eyebrow as if in askance but her overall countenance says that she knows exactly what this conversation is going to be about.

"You know what."

"Maybe, but I want to hear you say it."

Taehyung takes a deep breath. He loves Maya like a sister, but that sibling relationship means that she often gets under his skin like one, too. "You told Y/N that I'm in love with her?"

Her other eyebrow joins the first one in climbing her forehead. "Are you?"

"No."

Maya scoffs. "I'm going to give you another chance to say that, but try to sound like you actually believe it this time."

"You had no right—"

"So you're not denying it now?"

"I said no."

"Okay, that time was better, but it could still use some work—"

"Maya, fuck!" He scrubs a hand over his face. "Don't do this."

"She needs to know! What did you tell her?"

“That I don’t—“

“I thought you two didn’t lie to each other.”

“I didn’t!”

“You’re full of shit, and you know it.”

He’d swear he can feel his eyelid twitch. Maya always seems to know which buttons to press to get a reaction out of him. "She's getting married, for fuck's sake!"

"No, she has a boyfriend with a ring box in his drawer."

"Same difference."

"It's not."

"It is."

"She hasn't said yes yet, Tae."

He goes quiet at that. It’s painfully reminiscent of his conversation with Namjoon, and yet he’s equally at a loss. What are they honestly expecting him to do here? What could he possibly do that would accomplish anything other than drive you away, and rightfully so?

Maya’s gaze rakes over his face, scrutinizing him with a mixture of frustration and pity. "Tell me it isn't killing you."

Taehyung licks his lips, looking out across the bar until he finds where you’re standing with Namjoon. The latter says something that makes you laugh, and his stomach flips watching the way your eyes twinkle with mirth as you toss your head back, hair spilling over your shoulders.

You’re radiant. Stunning.

"She's happy," he finally croaks, but it comes out like he's physically straining to push out the words. "Leave it the fuck alone."

“Hey.”

You find Taehyung in the kitchen bright and early the next morning, already rummaging around and littering the counters with bowls and ingredients. The soft morning light drenches him in a golden glow, highlighting his honey skin, the slope of his nose, the long lines of his fingers as he works.

“Hey!” The smile he gives you is light and easy, the awkwardness between you having evaporated as easy as steam after your discussion last night. “Want to help me make breakfast?”

You jump in, immediately falling into rhythm with the way he maneuvers around the kitchen. God, you’ve missed this. It may have only been a few weeks, but cooking with Taehyung is one of your life’s greatest joys, and after missing two of your meal prep nights, it feels like a part of you has come home. There’s no doubt that you’re breathing a little easier today with the air cleared between you.

And honestly, how stupid to let a single comment from Maya drive a wedge between the two of you. You’ve known Taehyung practically your whole life. If he did have feelings for you, you would’ve figured it out by now.

Surely, he would’ve told you.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even notice that Taehyung is sneaking up on you until he’s already smeared a streak of waffle batter across your cheek.

“Augh, Tae!”

“What?” He quickly backpedals out of your reach, anticipating retaliation, but grinning widely. “You were clearly somewhere else. Had to bring you back to me somehow.”

A while later, as Taehyung sets out the platters of waffles, fruit, and eggs, you begin making the rounds to let everyone know that breakfast is ready. Sunny and her friends thank you from where they’re hanging out on the back deck and say that they’ll be in soon. Moving back into the hallway, you greet Hoseok and his brother, Jiho, as they pass you; Hoseok gives you an appreciative high five when you tell them about the food. Namjoon and Jimin have their door wide open, so you only need to poke your head in, Jimin immediately taking off down the hall at the mention of waffles.

When you get to Taehyung and Jungkook’s door, it’s closed, a series of muffled groans coming from inside. Unhesitating, you knock hard, and the groaning stops, followed by a curse and the sound of shuffling before Jungkook is opening the door halfway, blocking your view of the room. Clad in only a pair of gray joggers, a light sheen of sweat coats his bare chest, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?”

“Tae and I made breakfast. You’re welcome to join.” You nod your chin at the area behind him. “Unless, you know, you have better things to do.”

Jungkook smirks, amused. “Alright, I’ll be out in a minute.”

He moves to close the door, but you manage to stick a foot out to block him.

“Maya, you too!”

There’s a moment of silence as you stand there, Jungkook looking as smug as ever, before a voice sounds from inside the room.

“Okay!”

It's a cloudless, sunny day so your group heads down to the beach after breakfast. Jungkook's beach house sits down the street, away from the center of town and tourist areas, which allows you a relatively private, uncrowded stretch of sand. The air is sticky with humidity, only mitigated by the breeze coming off the water. It's an oddly soothing combination of hot and cool that has you pulling in deep breaths of the salty air. You could stay out here forever.

"This is paradise," Hana says, verbalizing your own thoughts. "I wish I could live here."

You're sitting on your towel in the sand helping Maya sunscreen her back, but you don't miss the cocky grin on Jungkook's face.

"Well, pretty ladies like you are always welcome here."

Maya's shoulders tense up under your hands, and you're tempted to say something snarky in her defense before Sunny beats you there.

"Not my friends, Kook!"

Hana giggles, Jungkook feigns innocence, and you think that's that, stretching out on your towel to sunbathe. But an hour later, Taehyung is plopping down next to you in the sand.

"I need your help."

You slide your sunglasses to the top of your head so you can look at him better. "Sunny trying to set you up with someone again?"

He blushes. "No, Kook wants to have a chicken fight."

You push your glasses back down your face. "No."

Taehyung is quick, reaching over to pull the shades off your eyes entirely.

“Tae!”

“Look,” he murmurs, leaning in close. “Normally I’d blow him off, but he’s pairing up with Hana, and Maya actually seems kind of bothered.”

You peek over his shoulder to where Maya is now chatting with Jimin, throwing furtive glances at Jungkook and Hana flirting by the water’s edge.

“I know they’re not exclusive,” Taehyung continues, “but you have to admit Kook is being a bit of a dick, and I kind of want to show him up.”

You’re still hesitant, lips turning downwards, and so he presses closer, until all you can see are big brown eyes.

“Please? For me?”

The past two weeks creep into your mind, two weeks of intentionally avoiding him—hurting him—due to your own idiocy, and that’s when you cave. You owe him.

“Okay, fine.”

You follow Taehyung down to the shoreline, where Jungkook grins widely at your approach and claps his hands together.

"A challenger!"

You shake your head at his antics and move to tie your hair up and away from your face. "Do we have any stakes?"

Jungkook strikes a dramatic pose: calf-deep in water, hands on hips, six-pack abs already glistening as he pouts his lips in thought.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, he says, "Loser cooks dinner tomorrow."

Well, that's much tamer than you expected. "Just dinner? No, 'loser has to go skinny dipping' or anything like that?"

His mouth forms into a tiny "o", eyes wide with excitement. "Do you...want that?"

"No," you're quick to clarify. "It just doesn't seem like much of a punishment for us."

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. "I like your food."

"Okay, but what if we win?" Taehyung asks, nodding from your right.

The cocky grin is back. "You won't."

Seagulls circle above like curious spectators to your game as you get into position. Taehyung squats in the surf so you can scale his back, sliding your legs over his tanned shoulders. He wraps his arms and hands tightly around your knees to secure you as he walks deeper into the ocean until the water is up to his waist. Roughly ten feet across from you, Jungkook and Hana have assumed a similar stance, and you're not sure if it's the waves rolling in or if Jungkook is actively bouncing on his heels.

"Jimin, wanna count us off?" he shouts.

From his spot on the beach, you see Jimin cup his hands around his mouth.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The men charge at each other through the water until you and Hana collide, grappling at each other's arms. In spite of a tiny build, she's surprisingly strong and sturdy, and you already have to adjust yourself on top of Taehyung, who likewise rearranges his grip on your legs.

"You good?" he grunts from under you, and you assure him you're fine.

You change your tactic, moving to push at her shoulders and send her backwards, but Jungkook shifts his legs to keep the two of them balanced. This gives Hana the chance to bump you with an elbow, and Taehyung likewise has to tighten his hold on you again to keep you steady.

This back-and-forth goes on for a short while, your friends now cheering from the sidelines, until Jungkook pushes forward and Hana collides with you again. This time, Taehyung adjusts to the hit by sliding his hands upwards, his long fingers skating up the soft inner flesh of your thighs and digging in.

A flash of heat rushes straight to your belly.

The sensation forcefully jolts your entire body and sends both you and Taehyung tumbling into the water. You kick around trying to find your footing before he pulls you up, sopping wet and spluttering as Jungkook and Hana celebrate their victory with raised arms and whoops.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Hell if you know. You’d swear you can still feel the pads of his fingers on your legs, and so you merely blink at him with a shake of your head.

A biological reaction, you tell yourself, as you wade your way back to dry land. Nothing more.

You will your body to get a grip as you settle back down on your towel. You love Jace, you’re taken, and you and Taehyung have just reestablished the platonic nature of your friendship. Letting his touch have that kind of effect on you is nothing short of wildly inappropriate on two counts.

Trying to shake the shame poking at your brain, you angle yourself towards the waves and snap a quick selfie to send off to your boyfriend.

You [2:05pm]: miss you so much, wish you were here <3

It’s not long before your phone chimes with a reply, and you open the message to see a picture of Jace taken at a similar angle. He stands in a sea of businessmen and conference booths, suit crisp and hair neatly combed. The smile he wears is bright, eyes crinkling in the way you love so much and setting of a flurry of butterflies in your belly.

J <3 [2:07pm]: i’d say i wish you were here but i wouldn’t wish this place on my worst enemy let alone my favorite girl lol

J <3 [2:07pm]: i miss you too, beautiful :(

By the time the sun starts its descent, you’ve all moved to the pool on the expansive back deck, Jungkook immediately hopping behind the outdoor bar to make drinks.

“You know,” you say from your perch atop one of the stools, “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who can match your enthusiasm for your job.”

He smiles, rattling a cocktail shaker. “It gets me booze and ladies. What more could I ask for?”

Yumi soon joins you at the bar top to ask Jungkook for a margarita, and is quick to strike up a conversation with you. Unsurprisingly for one of Sunny’s friends, she’s incredibly nice, and you learn she works as a hairdresser in the city.

“I’ll have to check out your salon!” you say. “I’ve been meaning to get a trim.”

She claps her hands together eagerly. “If you want to give me your number, I can text you the address!”

As you’re putting your contact information into her phone, she looks at you thoughtfully and adds, “Not to sound like I have an ulterior motive, but Sunny also mentioned that you’re going to be getting married soon, too?”

Heat creeps into your cheeks. “Ah, yeah, nothing official yet. But, you know, it seems like it’s coming.”

“Exciting!” she declares. “Just figured I’d let you know that I do weddings, too, in that case. And I know we’ve just met, but I’d still give you the friends discount. Sunny’s friends are my friends, as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s so sweet of you. I’ll definitely give you a call to talk about it once we’re actually planning.”

“That sounds gre—“

“Sorry to interrupt.” Taehyung wanders up to where you sit, handing you a plate of steaming beef and cucumber salad. “Hoseok and Jimin got the first round of meats done. I knew you’d want it hot.”

The moan you let out as you take the plate from him is downright scandalous. “Ugh, you’re the best.”

You’re rewarded with a light chuckle and a signature boxy grin. “I know.”

As he heads back to the grill and you dig into your food, Yumi lets out a dreamy sigh. “It’s no wonder he’s planning to put a ring on your finger. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

A piece of food lodges itself in your throat, and you cough hard. Yumi stares at you in alarm until you regain your breath and turn to her with wide eyes. “Tae and I aren’t together.”

She looks back and forth between the two of you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not?”

“No.” You shake your head emphatically. “We grew up together. My boyfriend is at a work event.��

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaims. “I just noticed how close you were at the bar last night and how he’s always—“ She cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “Nevermind. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You assure her it’s fine, and she changes the subject, asking how you know the others and what college was like. Your chat carries on for a while longer before you excuse yourself to use the bathroom.

You don’t even make it halfway across the deck, though, before a tattooed arm is snaking across your waist, lifting you off your feet, and carrying you in the direction of the pool.

“Jeon Jungkook, don’t you fucking dare!” you screech, trying to wiggle yourself out of his grip to no avail.

All you hear behind you is a maniacal giggle before you’re tossed through the air and land in the water with a splash.

When you come up to the surface, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes, you find Jungkook cackling by the pool’s edge. You glare at him.

“Asshole!”

“C’mon, Y/N! It’s a tradition!” he laughs. “It’s not a beach house trip without—“ But he doesn’t get to finish that thought before Taehyung shoulders him hard in the back, propelling him into the water next to you.

You only give Jungkook a second to get his bearings before you’re hopping onto his back and trying to play wrestle him back under the water to the laughter of your friends. It’s hopeless really—Jungkook is basically a mountain of hard muscle that barely budges under your touch—but a few minutes of scrambling all over him with determination, and he eventually concedes and humors you by allowing you to dunk him below the surface.

It’s later, once you’ve clambered out of the pool and are toweling off on the deck when you hear him talking to Jiho behind you.

“He got you good. You didn’t even hear him coming, did you?” There’s a shuffle and a “Pow!” like Jiho is reenacting Taehyung’s takedown.

“Ah, it’s alright,” Jungkook laughs, no hint of a grudge in his voice. “I messed with his girl.”

Your party stretches on into the night until the sky has turned inky black, peppered with stars that shine intensely this far removed from the city. Almost ironically, your group has mellowed out as the alcohol has flowed, settling into smaller groups scattered around the deck. Namjoon sits with Hoseok and Jiho, clearly getting philosophical around the fire pit. Sunny is gathered to the side with her friends as they sloppily braid each other’s hair, the occasional burst of laughter coming from their general vicinity. Jimin lays on his back at the side of the pool, drunkenly tracing constellations with his finger. And Maya and Jungkook are nowhere to be found.

There’s a sense of peace that flows through your veins as you watch your friends smile and talk while you grab yourself a beer from the poolside bar. You’ve always loved coming here. Sure, getting a free stay at a waterfront mansion is nothing you’d ever say no to, but it’s really getting to spend quality time with your friends—away from all of your real world responsibilities—that makes this place feel almost magical.

You look out to the shoreline and spot a figure sitting alone on the beach, staring out at the waves. You’d been thinking about joining Namjoon’s group by the fire, but that plan is immediately pushed out of mind as you grab a second bottle and make your way towards the sea.

You’re not loud in your stroll, the soft sand muting your steps, but Taehyung seems to sense your approach anyway, not startling a bit as you seat yourself next to him and hand him a beer.

“Contemplating the wonders of the universe?” you ask. From this angle, he looks almost like he did in Maya’s photograph of him—the same constellations in his eyes.

Taehyung stretches his legs out with a sigh, leaning back on his palms. “Where do you think we’ll be this time next year?”

You sip at your drink. Honestly, you can’t imagine things being all that different.

“Right back here?” you say. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of coming here. This is my ultimate happy place.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “It could be your pre-wedding party we’ll be having next year.”

“You think?”

His brow furrows at your doubt. “I’d expect you’d at least be planning then, no? Or you could already be married by then if you guys want to move fast.”

The thought sends jitters running down your spine. “Who knows?” you challenge. “Maybe you’ll be the one married. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate tomorrow and elope because you know it’s fate, and there’s no point in waiting.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “That sounds somewhat out-of-character, no?”

“Hmm, true. You’re more of a wait five years to move in and another five years to propose kind of guy. Work on your credit score and establish a detailed financial plan before even thinking about merging assets. And don’t even get me started on the background check.”

“Geez, Y/N. Does Jace know you just casually talk dirty to other guys like this?”

You playfully shove at his shoulder, and the pink of his tongue pokes through his teeth as he laughs.

“Oh, wow, look.”

Taehyung points a delicate finger as a tiny flash blazes through the sky, trailing light and stardust in its wake. He turns to you, smiling.

“Make a wish?”

The words come out on a whisper like a secret meant just for the two of you.

As you sit there, gazing out at the shadowy horizon in the distance, you feel perfectly content. What do you wish for when you feel like you already have the world? Work has been going great, and after almost a year of unpacking boxes and rearranging furniture, you feel like you and Jace are finally settled in and cozy at your apartment. You think about Jace—his smile, the soothing feel of his hands on your skin, the little black box in his desk—and contemplate all of the joy you can sense coming your way.

And then you consider the man beside you.

His eyes are closed as he meditates on his own wish, his legs now drawn up so he can rest his forearms on his knees. It flashes you back to when you were kids, lounging away the hours in your room or hanging at your favorite spots around town—the park, the library, the ice cream shop where Mrs. Kang would often take pity and treat the two of you to free cones. When you were young, Taehyung almost always sat like this, knees to his chest as if he was trying to make himself smaller. As if he could make himself invisible to the shadows that followed him every second of each day.

Taehyung’s always been a positive person, steadfastly determined to not let his demons poison his perspective of the world. Though neither of you were fond of explicitly discussing your situations, Taehyung always maintained a bright outlook on the rare occasions when your frustrations would spill over. There’s still the family we can choose, he’d tell you. We’ll find them one day.

Still, though, you could always sense a certain anxiety lingering under the mask of his smile. It showed itself in the way he’d sit with his arms around his knees, in the way his forehead would crease during the moments when you’d catch him lost in thought. This had eased up in college, the change in scenery and your newfound friends loosening his bones and laugh lines. But since graduation, you’ve seen some of that tension return to his shoulders like he’s carrying extra weight, especially in the past year.

You consider the man beside you, and you think, then, that he deserves the world, too.

I wish for Taehyung to have everything he wants. You squeeze your eyes shut, casting the thought out to the universe with everything you have. Every last desire of his heart. He deserves it all.

No one in the world would be more deserving. Of that, you’re sure.

When you open your eyes again, he’s watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What did you wish for?” is all you can think to ask, blinking at him.

“Well if I tell you, then it won’t come true.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a teasing scoff. He smiles.

“Happiness,” he declares. “If I had to put it simply.”

You smile back at him, hoping those stars stay in his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

He’ll find it. You know he will.

It's Sunday morning when shit hits the fan.

After Saturday passes with ease, another lazy day by the pool punctuated with you and Taehyung collaborating on a fried chicken dinner as per your bet with Jungkook, you wake up on Sunday to the sound of Iseul's squeals over there being no hot water, a fact which is soon confirmed after the men team up to check the heater. Jungkook calls his family handyman (apparently those come standard when you have more houses than you can count on one hand), but the man is quick to inform him that he's getting ready for his granddaughter's birthday party and won't be able to come out until tomorrow.

"There's no way I'm making it through the day without a hot shower," Maya grumbles.

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows. "I can show you a hot shower.”

She doesn't even look at him.

You're also not enthused about the prospect of having to either take a cold shower or skip one entirely. So when Maya suggests going home a day early, you're already leaning towards the idea as well.

"It won't be that bad," Taehyung says, lips turning down in a tiny pout when you tell him. "The key is to just go fast."

"I'd rather not have to do it at all." You giggle as his pout deepens. "We're going to stay until the evening. It's only like a twelve hour difference."

"But I thought we were going to do a movie night."

Okay, now you feel bad.

"Temporary reschedule?" you suggest, poking at his bottom lip. "Jace and I are going to dinner on Saturday, but my Friday night is free."

A hand rubs at his chin as he pretends to make a show out of pondering your offer. "Deal."

Later, you're sitting on a chaise lounge on the back deck, soaking up your last few hours of sun with one of Jungkook's signature cocktails in your hand when Maya sighs deeply beside you in a similar show of disappointment.

"It really is a shame though," she laments. "Tonight was supposed to be our big send-off, and now I cleared my schedule tomorrow for nothing."

"We could do a girls night?" you say. "I have this new cab sav I found the other week that we could split."

"Ooh, twist my arm."

Plans made, you pull out your phone. Jace has been texting you on and off from his conference all weekend—just brief check-ins and I miss yous—so you shoot him a quick message now.

You [4:53pm]: the water heater here is busted so i'll be home early tonight. maya is going to come too, might stay over. can't wait to see you <3

The sky is a misty orange when you pack the car and say goodbye to your friends, Taehyung giving you a particularly tight hug. Things were great between you for the rest of the weekend, but you can feel the tension of your conversation lingering in the way he holds you that extra second.

You check your phone as Maya settles into the passenger seat and buckles her seat belt. There's still been no word from Jace. It's not particularly unusual for him to forget to answer his phone—especially since you expect he's busy wrapping up the conference—but a seed of worry still plants itself in the back of your brain. You hope everything is alright.

The ride is mostly quiet, you and Maya occasionally singing along to a song on the radio as the evening gradually turns to night. But about halfway back home, you feel the need to straighten things out.

“So I talked to Tae.”

She’s quiet for a second, her face shrouded in shadow. “Uh-huh.”

“He said he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Maya shifts in her seat, angling herself towards you ever so slightly. “And you believe him?”

“Yes. Definitely.” There’s no doubt in your mind. “He’s never given me a reason not to.”

Silence stretches itself between you, Maya entirely unreadable as she seems to be puzzling something out in her head.

“Okay.”

It comes as a surprise, and you jerk your eyes away from the road to glance over at her. “Okay?”

Maya shrugs. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you want there to be more?”

You work your mouth in a stunned gape. Because she’s right; why are you pushing this?

“No. We’re good.”

When you get to your apartment, you swipe you and Maya into the building and head towards the elevators. You’re a little bummed that your time at the beach house had to be cut short, but you take solace in the fact that you get some time back with Jace.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Maya asks on the ride up.

You grin. “We could play that Twilight drinking game I sent you.”

“Pfft, I know I said I have tomorrow off, but I meant I could handle a mild hangover, not alcohol poisoning.”

You fumble for your key at your apartment door, sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open. The first thing you notice is that the lights are on, so Jace must be home.

“Babe?” you call, as you and Maya dump your bags by the couch.

“Where’s that cab sav?” You nod in the direction of the kitchen, and Maya skips over to investigate.

A moan sounds through the apartment.

You and Maya both freeze, staring at each other. Goosebumps break out over your entire body, a frightening sense of impending doom slamming itself down on your consciousness.

A second moan, and now you notice the lights on under the closed door of your bedroom. There was no sign of forced entry, but the image of a wounded and bleeding Jace pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

You rush to the bedroom door, fearing the worse.

“Jace?”

You swing it open.

And your entire world collapses.

Taehyung can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re slipping through his fingers.

Movie night had been his idea, a way to get you in one spot (and mostly to himself, if he’s being honest) after your two weeks of silence. Now knowing the reason behind your push for space, he doesn’t blame you at all. Maya throwing that wrench into your relationship was surely unsettling, and he understands wanting time alone. But he’s missed you; he’s not going to deny that. And he’s desperate to prove that things can be okay between you. Things can be normal.

But the universe, it seems, is stacked against him.

He’s ambling through the house, wondering if Jimin might be up for a game of ping pong in the downstairs game room, when his phone blares in his pocket. It’s a jarring sound, violent in the way it disrupts the calmness of the house, and Taehyung frowns when he sees Maya’s name on the screen.

Maya never calls.

“Hello?”

“Tae, oh thank God.” Her voice is high and tight—clearly in distress. “You need to come to Y/N’s apartment as soon as physically possible. Grab Jimin and Kook if you need to drive them back—whatever. But just—as soon as possible.”

“Wait, wait, slow down,” he urges, hairs standing at attention on the back of his neck. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay? Is Y/N okay?”

“We got back to the apartment, and Jace he…”

Time seems to slow in anticipation of Maya’s next words—the kind of eerie stillness that precedes a storm, quiet and disarming in its disguise.

And then she drops the bomb.

“He was with someone else.”

Taehyung’s ears ring. There is no possible way he heard that right. “What?”

The breath that comes from the other side of the phone is heavy, like Maya can’t even believe the words coming out of her own mouth. “He was in bed with someone else.”

A chill drips down his spine, pushing its way through his veins until his entire body runs cold. This can’t be happening. Not to you. You’ve had enough pain and hardship in your twenty-five years of life—he’s seen it, weathered it with you. Things are supposed to be getting better; this is supposed to be the payout for years of heartache. Surely, the universe wouldn’t be so cruel.

But then it happens. A single, anguished sob rings out in the background of the call, sharp and pained in its grief.

His heart shatters, shards piercing the spaces between his ribs.

“Tae? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“She needs you. Please just get over here.”

Then line goes dead.

Taehyung is only frozen for a second longer before he’s bounding into motion, tearing down the hallway and into the living room where Jimin lays on his back on the couch. The latter shoots into a sitting position when he sees the look on Taehyung’s face.

“You okay?”

“Y/N—she—we—“ His mouth feels like it’s filled with sand, and while he stands there, working his jaw in agonizing frustration, Jimin leaps to his feet to close the distance between them, grasping Taehyung’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong? What happened to Y/N?”

His lungs burn as he finally finds the words. “Jace is cheating on her.”

Jimin goes still, the same stunned shock registering in his body.

“We need to—we need to go,” Taehyung gasps, and Jimin is quick to sit him on the couch.

“I’ll get Kook. We’ll take care of this,” he says, voice steady. Commanding. “You just wait here and breathe.”

The next several minutes are a blur as Jimin rushes to get Jungkook, and they work on packing the car, briefly explaining the situation to the others. Taehyung can’t think of anything but you, his focus reduced down to a pinpoint in his mind. You must be devastated. In spite of what he had said about his own feelings on Jace, he knows how much you love him, how you were expecting to spend the rest of your life with him. How must you be feeling to have an entire future ripped away? To have to bear witness to and suffer that kind of betrayal?

He’s not quite sure how it happens, but he winds up in the passenger seat of his own car, Jimin sliding behind the wheel and peeling away from the house and onto the highway. The air inside the cabin is thick, a stifling combination of premature summer heat and heavy silence, with even Jungkook sitting oddly quiet in the backseat. Taehyung is thankful for the absence of conversation; he doesn’t think he can handle talking about any of this until you’re in front of him and he can hold you, feel that you’re safe.

He realizes somewhere along the way that he’s shaking, your cry still ringing in his ears.

The trip from the beach house to the city only takes about forty-five minutes, but it feels like days, headlights and street lamps zipping by like tiny suns as Taehyung wills the car to go faster, faster, faster. He’s never felt further from you before, never been so determined to close the distance between you like he is now.

Whatever you need from him, he’ll give it.

Jimin finally pulls into your apartment parking lot, and the car hasn't even fully stopped before Taehyung is bolting out at a near sprint. Jungkook and Jimin catch up to him as he pulls out the duplicate access card you had given him in case of emergencies, swiping them into the entryway and down the hall where he pounds the button for the elevators.

"It'll be okay," Jimin says, staring Taehyung down where he seems to be vibrating in his shoes. "She'll be okay."

"She'd better be," Jungkook mutters, fists clenched tight.

(Jimin hopes Jace has long cleared out of the building, lest they run into him.)

The elevator ride is tense and slow, the numbers ticking upwards in time with the pounding in Taehyung's ears.

2...

The bastard was sleeping with someone else.

3...

You thought you were going to marry him.

4...

He'd spent time with Jace all through college. Even laughed with him at times.

5...

The sound you'd made on the phone, like you were physically wounded.

6...

If he ever sees that piece of shit again—

The doors open with a ding that snaps the mess of Taehyung's thoughts into focus.

He's here. You need him.

It's a brisk walk to the end of the hallway, and then he's practically punching your apartment door, which swings open almost immediately as if Maya was waiting on the other side. She and Taehyung stare at each other for a brief moment, her mouth stretched into a tight line before she simply nods her head in the direction of the bathroom. Taehyung makes the final leg of the trip in five long strides before freezing in the doorway.

The fractured shards of his heart turn to dust.

You're curled up on the bathroom floor, a tangle of arms and hair covering your face as your body trembles with quiet sobs. They echo around the tile, filling the space between you until Taehyung thinks he can feel the sound burrowing itself under his skin, a morbid tattoo he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to erase. This image, he thinks, will surely haunt him for the rest of his life.

You. Completely and utterly broken.

He falls to his knees so he can brush your hair aside, the strands draping themselves over his fingers like a tether. Your face is red and stained with tears, and he reflexively wipes at the ones he sees rolling down your cheeks as you peer up at him, only now registering his presence.

"T-tae?"

"I'm here," he murmurs as his hands continue collect your tears, trying to carry them for you.

When you hear his voice, your cries start up again in earnest, and you reach out to clutch at his shirt. Taehyung immediately gathers you into his arms and tucks you into the haven of his chest, holding you like if he squeezes hard enough, he can press your broken pieces back together.

"T-tae...h-he..." you gasp at his collarbone, words failing you as Taehyung hugs you to him even tighter.

He runs his hands through your hair, presses kisses to the crown of your head, trails his fingers up the length of your back as you burrow into him, wails escalating.

"Shh, I've got you, baby."

He does. He'll hold you forever if he has to.

"I've got you."

a/n: thoughts? guesses as to what taehyung used his wish on? likes, reblogs, and feedback give me life :)

taglist is open!

a/n 2: oh, fun fact. when jace caught oc going through his desk in part 1, he wasn’t even thinking about the ring box when his eyes flicked to the drawer. he was worried she was going to find the condoms, which would’ve been weird since they hadn’t used them in like two years (oof) (this isn’t plot relevant, just a detail tidbit lol)

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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