#sun is best wingman | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitten4sannie · 5 months

Text

pairing: ex! san x fem! reader feat. wingman seonghwa and instigator mingi

genres: omg actual plot ??, exes to lovers, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff, an attempt at humor, smut finale

summary: during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with Choi San, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.

w.c: 8.2k

tags: features the unholy trinity: misunderstandings/miscommunication/messiness, drama (i bring drama-ma-ma-ma~), alcohol use, mutual jealousy, mutual pining, lots of banter, third parties, poor sannie and reader are just two big dummies with even bigger hearts </3,, like 20 flashbacks (okay it’s like 2 but i like being dramatic sue me), too many winter analogies, insecurities, confessions, l bombs, tears, all that jazz

warnings: soft dom! san (literally the softest dom to ever exist IM SICK), subby! reader, pussydrunk san and cockdrunk reader (like these mfs are so desperate for each other it’s actually disgusting), dirty talk, pet names, praise, possessiveness, kissing, a lot of spit (leave me alone!!!), tit play, grinding, body worship, oral (receiving), passionate condomless lovemaking by the fire baybeeeee, breeding kink, bulge kink, creampies

a/n: so i listen to last christmas religiously every year and while i was jamming my hamster brain was like “WRITE WRITE WRITE” so i diddd and yeahh this happened??? lmao but fr this was the most fun i’ve ever had writing since feb filth fest…. like wtf. i gotta write plot forward fics more often this shit’s like a drug man. anyways i hope you enjoy my dear lovelies <33

*shoutout to my sweetheart bunbun @cottoncandy-girl for beta reading and hyping this fic up during the writing process. i would’ve second guessed myself twice as much if not for you. you’re a lifesaver!! mwah mwah ~~

song rec for the general vibe: last christmas by wham obv <3, fool by frankie cosmos, snowfall (slowed and reverb) by oneheart, know me by gemini, easily by bruno major, flowers and chocolate by eyedress

angst: pleaser by the wallows, do me right by gemini, homesick by wave to earth, cherie by hojean

smut: mice city by hotel ugly, between your thighs by jimmy brown, lock me in by hojean, touch by keshi, your love by brb

Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”

With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”

“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.

She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”

You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”

“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.

Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that just knocked all the bad memories out of my brain. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.

Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers with a pout on your sullen face. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”

“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”

She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”

“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.

Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”

You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”

Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.

Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.

“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.

“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”

You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”

San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”

Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”

San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.

And then your door opened.

“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”

“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.

“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just emptied a clip right in between his tits, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”

You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”

“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like it was waiting for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”

San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”

You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”

Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?

“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.

His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I–”

Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen– Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”

You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.

Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.

You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you playfully asked your friend, pouting.

“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried dramatically, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.

San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.

“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”

You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”

Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.

You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.

By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”

Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.

“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”

“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”

Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”

“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.

You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.

“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.

San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”

After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.

You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.

❆ ❆ ❆

You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”

“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?

“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.

San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.

You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”

San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”

You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.

He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.

You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.

“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.

You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”

“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”

“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”

She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.

“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.

“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”

You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.

You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.

❆ ❆ ❆

“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of Christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.

“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”

The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.

“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.

“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“

You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying ass pick-me like that.”

“But you picked…him.”

“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”

You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”

“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.

“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.

“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.

Your bitter, frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”

San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and walking away from him.

Your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare, before you stormed out. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering “Do something,” encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright.

“San, listen to me.”

San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”

Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”

San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”

Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”

San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”

Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”

A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been sitting inside and collecting dust for the entire year. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.

❆ ❆ ❆

With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.

Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.

“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.

San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.

San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”

“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.

“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.

San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

San stroked his hair with a shaky hand in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.

“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.

“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”

“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”

San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”

The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth the risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.

Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”

“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”

“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”

You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”

San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.

You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.

❆ ❆ ❆

San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.

“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.

“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”

You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.

“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”

Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”

“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.

“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”

“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.

San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.

“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.

“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”

A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in glowing, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.

“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”

San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”

San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.

“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”

Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.

“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.

“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”

“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”

San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”

You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.

Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”

“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.

“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.

You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.

“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby…mine to eat, mine to fuck….mine to fill, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.

San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pulsing hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.

“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”

“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”

Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.

San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”

“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”

“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins growing more visible when he gripped your thighs tightly. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”

“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.

Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Again?”

“Again.”

San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.

“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Need to show you my love.”

“Show me, baby,” you sighed affectionately, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.

The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the remaining pieces of firewood still crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.

You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the cozy blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and spiced cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.

“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.

You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”

San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”

You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.

San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”

San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt safe. Whole. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #ateez #san #ateez san #choi san #ateez smut #san smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x you #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines

2K notes · View notes

seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — YUTA x FEM READER

You’ve been trying to get a boyfriend to get over your one sided crush, but being known as Yuta’s girl across campus is a major cockblock for your romantic endeavours. The worst part? You’re not even dating.

wc — 4.8k

tags — pining, childhood friends to lovers, jealous Yuta, possessiveness, college au, Getou #1 wingman Suguru but only cause he gets a kick out of watching Yuta suffer, Yuta and you are so delusional, some suggestive content

♫: cologne — beabadoobee

This is the fifth boy that’s turned you down so far. You’re starting to wonder if something’s wrong with you.

As with all of your woes, it ends with you at Yuta’s apartment. Is it pathetic to be comforted for your failed attempts at flirting by the boy you’re in love with? Very. Do you trust anyone else but Yuta not to make fun of you? No.

“Yuta,” you whine into his stomach. He’s sitting on the couch with his legs tucked neatly together to form a cushion for your head. “Am I ugly?”

He drops his controller instantly, muttering a quick sorry to Inumaki who’s suddenly left single handedly defending their team against the enslaught of monsters. “Why would you say that?”

He pinches your cheeks between two fingers, squishing your face until your lips form an ‘o’. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world! Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Clearly not, or Yuta would have you. He’s just saying that because he has to. He’s your best friend.

“Did someone say something to you?” He asks.

“So you do think I’m ugly!”

Yuta grabs you by the wrists and hauls you upright so you’re face to face on the couch, knees uncomfortably entangled with his as you’re forced to sit up. He’s too earnest, too eager as he presses your hands together in his grip and says, “Everything about you is pretty! I never want to hear you say that again. Don’t disparage the eyes and lips and nose that I love.”

This is the reason why you can never get over him. How can you when he says things like that? If you hadn’t known Yuta since you were five, you would say he was leading you on. But because you’ve grown up together, you know it’s just the way he is, like the sky is blue or the sun is warm. Yuta just loves you - but not like that. Not in the way you want.

Never in the way you want.

It’s been difficult. You and Yuta have no secrets between you, or at least you used to. It’s a side effect of growing up practically out of the same womb. What’s his is yours and vice versa. When you share everything with each other, it goes against your very nature to hold things back. Your secret strains at your lips, climbing up your throat, constantly begging to be set free even as you suppress it.

“You’re making me sad,” he says, poking at your cheek at your silence. He’s trying to provoke you. “Why can’t you see yourself the way I do?”

Normally he can get a smile out of you under any circumstance, so it distresses him not to be able to cheer you up instantly. He’s your best friend, the only one you have. You’ve been together your entire lives. Would telling him really change everything?

You want to trust him more than the fear that he would reject you. Even if he can’t love you back the way that you want him to, at least this nightmare would be over. You could learn to accept what he was willing to give you, in time. Isn’t it a slight against the love you share to doubt him like this?

But you’re scared. A childhood friend is irreplaceable. You can make new friends, but you can never get another Yuta. You’ll never be able to replicate the way he’s shared all of the bumps and bruises of your childhood with someone else. His mother has a box of your baby teeth that she keeps with her mementoes of his childhood. Who else can you say that about? You can’t risk it.

“Yuta. Stop flirting and get your ass back in the game before we die!”

Inumaki’s normally quiet voice hits a volume so loud it echoes through the headset. Yuta winces. Sorry, he mouthes at you. Talk later.

God damn it, Inumaki. You were so close.

“It’s not my fault,” he says through a mouthful of rice at lunch the next day. “How was I supposed to know that’s what you guys were talking about? I thought you guys were making your usual goo goo eyes at each other, not making breakthroughs.”

“To be fair,” Panda says. “We never thought you were going to make a breakthrough, so it can’t be Inumaki’s fault.”

“Ouch,” you rest your head against the cool linoleum of the table. “Way to let me down easy, guys.”

“Come on,” Inumaki pushes his miso soup at you in a show of contrition. “You know we’re just joking.”

“I know, I’m just annoyed cause you’re right - keep your mouth shut, Inumaki. He’s never going to see me that way.”

“Didn’t you just jump from friend to potentially attractive friend? Sounds like a win to me,” Inumaki says.

“For anyone else, yeah. For Yuta, it probably just means he’s going to start setting me up with his friends so I realize I’m pretty.”

Inumaki and Panda share a look. You know the look. It means they think you’re being dumb.

You steal Panda’s soup too as payback.

Inumaki and Panda are easy to talk to about Yuta. More often than not, they’re the ones who bring up your relationship woes first because Inumaki loves teasing you and Panda secretly loves rom coms.

It’s a complete contrast from your other best friend. You’re too scared to tell Maki about the latest development in your relationship because she hates hearing about it. She’s a good friend who cares about you and your feelings, or so she claims, but she can’t stand watching you drag your feet.

“Just confess already,” she hisses, using her textbook to shield her face from the professor.

“I can’t! It’ll ruin everything!”

“Don’t be a baby,” she snaps back, unaware of the professor walking towards her. You try to gesture at her to shut up, but she’s too focused on saying her piece.

“Ladies. Would you like to continue your riveting discussion outside?”

Even getting kicked out of class isn’t a deterrent for Maki. “Fine. You won’t confess to Yuta. What about your other plan?”

“No one will talk to me because they think I’m dating Yuta,” you wail as quietly as possible.

“You serious?” She squints at you. “I’m telling you, just confess at that point.”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Fine! Ignore me if you want to, but you see that guy coming our way? Try it one more time so I can see.”

Maki pushes you down the path towards him before you can say no. You have an inkling how this is going to go based off the five previous times you’ve tried this, but Maki’s stare is drilling holes into the back of your head.

“Hey,” you smile.

“No thanks,” he says immediately. “Just save yourself the trouble. No one’s stupid enough to go after Yuta’s girl.”

“Yuta’s girl? What does Yuta have to do with anything? Why does everyone keep saying that to me?!”

“Bark up the right tree enough times and eventually you’ll find the devil.”

“…I think the saying is ‘if you knock on enough doors, the devil will answer.’ How did you even come up with that?”

“I’m just saying! Feels like the answer’s obvious to me, Yuta’s girl.”

“Argh!” You march back to Maki, who’s giggling to herself. You just hope that at least she’ll be able to help you after that embarrassing little display. “So? What’s your advice?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t have advice. I just wanted to see it happen in real time.”

Maki’s no help, either.

The problem with being in love with Yuta is he doesn’t even allow you the grace of trying to get over him. No one will touch with you a ten foot pole until Getou.

Getou is two years your senior, thinks of Yuta as this cute little puppy that follows Gojo around, and looks just right for your purposes. He’s not a carbon copy of Yuta. He just shares features with him. If anything, he could be his older brother. He has long black hair instead of short, but the same haunted eyes.

It’s better that way, easier to not cut too deep. You know exactly how far you can go before the pleasure of pain tips too far into the wrong side. If he looks like him just enough, then you can slip in between lucid dreams. Yuta’s face comes to you in flashes rather than consistently when you’re together with Getou.

He’s a smart man. He picks up on it almost instantly.

Another reason Getou’s perfect for you?

He simply doesn’t care. It’s not his problem what his darling little underclassmen get up to as long as it doesn’t interfere with his life. If you just want to have a good time, he’s down for that too.

If you weren’t so hung up on Yuta, you think Getou might be fun. Fun could turn into love, perhaps. But those were only what ifs that were useless to you. It’s Yuta, it’s always been. He’s the only one for you.

You can’t lose him.

But you want him in ways he isn’t willing to give you. Incessantly, he haunts you at odd hours. You’re doing homework at one in the morning when your thoughts wander and you’re thinking of him. The way he’d coach you through this problem. The sure, strong strokes of his handwriting, as familiar as your mother’s voice.

It’s hopeless. Every part of you has already been attuned to Yuta since childhood. You can’t extricate yourself. You can only hope to outlast the growth, and cling on as long as you are able. The only concessions you can allow yourself are small ones.

Yuta’s a good student who sleeps early, but he’ll pick up for you. He always does. You’re his childhood best friend after all, and that leaves a sour taste in your mouth even as you begrudge yourself your own greediness.

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep, husky and low in a way that you know doesn’t belong to you. You savor it anyways, these small intimacies you get to keep until he finds a girl of his own and doesn’t need you anymore.

“Hello?” He says again. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“Just bored,” you reply, playing with your pen. “Sorry, were you asleep?”

“Don’t play with my feelings like that,” he laughs. “We both know you knew I was. Want me to stay up with you?”

“Nah. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“You know I’d want you to, anytime. Are you working on the paper from English?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep,” you say, letting the smallest of smiles grace your lips. Alone in your room, you can allow yourself these small weaknesses.

“Mm, but I wanna stay up with you,” he says, even as his voice grows softer and softer. You can almost picture him, hair sleep tousled and eyes half lidded. It’s a sight out of your dreams.

“I’ll hang up when I’m done. Go to bed, Yu.”

By the time you finish, you can hear his breathing evening out through the speakers. He’s a light sleeper, so you tip toe around as you finish getting ready for bed. When you have to hang up, you’re almost tempted to leave him on speakerphone so his soft breaths can lull you to sleep.

You banish that unwelcome thought to the deepest, darkest, most remote time out corner of your brain and immediately text Getou to meet up the next day. You need to get a hold of yourself.

“You know,” Getou drawls, “keep calling me out like this and I might get the wrong idea.”

“If you fall for a girl that only talks to you about how much she likes her crush, that’s your own fault.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “So what is it this time?”

“I called him at night and his voice was so sleepy-“

“I meant,” Getou says, a finger running over the rim of his coffee cup as he looks at you. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Please make me forget him.”

Getou smiles at you. “What a coincidence. I needed to blow off some steam today.”

If you close your eyes, you can imagine someone else when Getou kisses you. One thing leads to another and he ends up taking you home.

The thing about your relationship with Getou is it’s so ridiculously easy. There’s no strings attached for either of you, so when you wake up to his peaceful face in bed the next day, there’s no regrets.

Well, except one.

Getou’s a gentle lover in every way, but he’s a biter. There’s a trail of dark bruises blooming over your neck and collarbones.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” He calls from the bed as you admire yourself in the mirror.

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him. “I have to get breakfast with Yuta today.”

He grins. “That’s the point.”

You barely have time to messily apply concealer before you’re almost late to your appointment with Yuta. He’s waiting at the place he and you claimed as your own the very first day you arrived on campus. The nice granny who runs this diner has a soft spot for the two of you and often gives you free desserts.

You slide into the seat across from him just as he’s wrapping up one of his readings for that day. He barely looks up when he feels you come closer, just lifts his arm wordlessly so he can tuck you into his side like a baby bird under its mother’s wings. He turns his head to the side even as his eyes are following the words on the page to press a light kiss to your temple, his breath stirring your hair as he rests his head against yours for a brief moment before returning to his textbook. He flips a page.

Would he still allow you these gentle, nonchalant touches if he knew how you really felt? Your stomach drops at the intrusive fear that he might be disgusted by you afterwards, withdrawing the easy skinship he shares with you that he thinks nothing of, but you savor. You’re hyper aware of every brush of his hand against your shoulder as he lets his arm hand loosely around you.

“I’m done,” he announces, stretching out so his lanky body is pressed flat to the table for a second before he straightens. He must be sore from hunching over his textbook all morning. In sympathy, you lightly rub at his shoulders.

“Did you eat yet?” He asks. “Want me to order you something?”

“No-“ You’re in the middle of replying when his face is suddenly far too close to you.

“Hey there,” you laugh nervously. “What are you doing?”

Yuta pulls back, but there’s a minute crease in his expression.

“There’s something on your neck.” He says.

“What?”

His hand curls around the base of your neck. It doesn’t hurt. There’s a complete lack of pressure in his grip, fingers loose and curled. He’s just holding you. You inhale sharply, a recoil aborted.

“Sorry,” he says, easy smile and gentle demeanor that doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re a little shadowed today, harried. He wears his emotions all over his face. You know he has a final today, that he likely didn’t sleep last night. It must be why he’s acting weird.

His fingertips ghost over your neck, light tap-tap-tapping that makes you shiver. “What’s this?”

You pull out your phone to check yourself in the camera. The concealer you put on this morning has sweated off, leaving streaks on your shirt. Underneath the smudges, the blurry outline of the marks Getou left on you last night are visible.

Your face burns with mortification.

“Yuta! You shouldn’t ask people stuff like that!”

It’s not like he’s a child. You know he knows what a hickey is. He’s just pointing it out so you know he knows.

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I’d be more careful about what I was saying if it was anyone else, but it’s you. What the hell happened? It looks like you had a tryst with a vampire.”

Gingerly, he touches your neck again, his fingers cold from holding his iced latte. You need him to stop doing that before you do something stupid.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“It felt good-“

“Stop! I didn’t need to know that,” he says, face turning red.

Defensively, you retort, “Well, you asked!”

“Forget it,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I spent all of breakfast studying. What are you doing later?”

“Hanging out with Getou, probably. He said he wants to go to this new restaurant that just opened up.”

“He’s the one that gave you all those love bites?”

At your nod, Yuta rolls his eyes. He’s certainly in a mood today. Poor thing. He’s been working really hard lately. Not just today, but every day this past week, he’s been studying non stop. You should reward him.

“Don’t go with him,” Yuta coaxes. “Hang out with your best friend instead. We can have another sleepover. Don’t you want to game all night?

The decision is made before Yuta even offers you a choice. You text Getou a quick apology, to which he replies with a lazy ‘lol. Loverboy?’

You’re happy Yuta asked you to come over. You’ve spent so much time fearing how he’d react if he knew that you’d forgotten how nice it felt to just hang out with him.

You’re cuddling with Yuta on his couch as you watch a movie. He opted for a quiet night instead of gaming, so he broke out the snacks and remotes instead of controllers. You wish there was a way to push him away without explaining what’s going on. You and Yuta have always been touchy like this, comfortable with each other in a way that superseded even the closest of friends.

It was never abnormal until now, when new love has redefined every aspect of your relationship with him. It makes it awkward to touch him, to be this close. But you always want to be this close. It’s hard, fighting a war with yourself.

You snuggle into the hoodie he lent you, trying to hide your face. Your eyes dart to him, watching him instead of the movie. His hair has a faint blue sheen from the screen. He’s enraptured, staring open mouthed at the action sequence.

Your heart beats double time, as it always does around him, prey instincts going into fight or flight. Yuta just does that to you, makes your body sing like it’s in the most exquisite agony possible. Like a runner’s high, you’re addicted to the pain of having him but not having him. Even the scraps of romance you can get are worth more than a lifetime of other lovers.

You hope he can’t tell. Yuta has always had weirdly sensitive senses.

Yuta’s line of sight shifts from the TV to you. You feel like a deer in headlights, trapped in the yawning black void of his gaze as he looks back, watching you as you have been watching him.

‘Hey,’ he mouthes at you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile.

‘Hey back,’ you mouth in return, wanting him, loving him, missing him.

You rarely bring clothes when you’re staying the night at Yuta’s. Either he has some for you in a dresser he’s saved for your use, or you can just borrow his. You always end up changing into his clothes, anyways, so big and comfortable they swallow you up.

He’s lying on his belly on the bed when you come out of the bathroom freshly showered and in his T-shirt. He looks up when he hears you.

“Oh,” he says. He blinks once, hard. “Come here, please.”

Self conscious, you cross the room to him. Your crush makes you miserable, coloring your every action. The fear that your desires are written across your face shadow every step you take. Are you that transparent? Can he tell?

He reaches up to touch your face, reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, then he pulls you down onto the bed next to him.

“Don’t tease,” you tell him.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you. Even this feels too much. His skin against yours feels like a thousand colts of electricity. Where his nose brushes against your nape is so sensitive you squirm in his grasp, kicking uselessly in his hold.

“I only say things that are true,” he tells you solemnly. “You are pretty.”

You don’t know how you’re supposed to sleep after that.

In the morning, you’re finally back in your own set of clothes to head out and face the day. You and Yuta get ready together, running through your morning routines. You brush your teeth and eat breakfast side by side.

Before he leaves for work, he spritzes himself with the cologne he leaves on the dresser. When you reach for the perfume you keep in his apartment, a twinning his and hers set you had gotten together one day during the holidays, he pins your hand down. With an appeasing glance over you, he spritzes his cologne on you instead.

He leans in and sniffs experimentally.

“You smell nice,” he says.

You lift your wrist to your nose and inhale.

“I smell like you,” you say, laughing. He smells like a crisp winter morning, a hint of pine and frost.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I wouldn’t have picked this scent if I didn’t like it.”

It’s true. Nothing Yuta does is unintentional.

“What the hell,” Getou says as soon as he opens the door to you. “You reek.”

Your face burns.

Getou roars with laughter when you tell him why you smell the way you do. “What a brat,” he says.

“Hey!” You feel the compulsion to defend Yuta against even the smallest of slights. It’s instinctual, even though you know Getou doesn’t really mean it.

He shakes his head at you. “I really pity you, you know? You’re so whipped.”

Hanging out with Getou doesn’t end in anything physical tonight. He injured himself playing volleyball with Gojo and he’s not interested in anything but good company. You don’t know if you’d be interested, either. It’s always easier to pretend you don’t want him after a little bit of distance. Trying anything right after seeing Yuta would only tear your heart apart. You and Getou pass the time in amicable silence, working on your separate assignments in the same room.

Your phone buzzes three hours in.

Yuta 4:15 You busy?

You 4:24 With Getou Working on homework Why?

Yuta 4:24 Come over I miss you

You 4:24 I saw you this morning

Yuta 4:24 …

Yuta 4:25 …

Yuta 4:25 I always miss you when you’re not here

Getou cackles. You jolt, startled. You had honestly forgotten where you were.

“Is that loverboy?” He says, trying to grab the phone out of your hand so he can see the message. “You look so lovestruck.”

You yank it back from him. “I gotta go.”

“Abandoning me again?” He shakes his head in mock sadness. “I’m really just a toy to you, huh?”

That makes you hesitate, even though you do want to see Yuta.

He ruffles your hair. “Ah, youth. So gullible. I’m fine, sweetheart. Go see your beau. And send him my regards,” he says with a devious smile as he walks you to the door. His eyes light up when he sees the forgotten garment he had discarded on his coat rack.

You look at him quizzically. It’s not strange for him to be a gentlemen, but it is strange for him to offer you his letterman before you leave. He loves that jacket. He wears it so often that his name emblazoned across the back has been worn down into a soft cream instead of eggshell white.

“What’s this for?”

“Just wear it. And tell me how Yuta reacts.”

With that, he pushes you out of the door.

Yuta wrinkles his nose at you in a display of badly disguised contempt. He was so excited to see you when you walked through the door, but as soon as he saw what you were wearing, his smile dropped off his face.

“What’s with that guy?” He grumbles. “It’s so weird that he’s giving you his letterman. Isn’t that almost like a claim in the sports world?”

For some reason, it pisses you off. On most days, Yuta could commit a crime and you’d help him cover it up, but this time you seriously can’t tell where he gets off acting like this. He’s not dating you. He’s not interested in you. He doesn’t even see you as a potential partner.

You jab your finger into his chest, punctuating every word you speak by prodding him. “Why do you think you can judge Getou? You don’t even know him.”

“I know that he’s going after a taken girl.”

“We’re just friends, Yuta.” The admission stings. No matter what anyone else thinks of your relationship with Yuta, that’s all you will be.

“Yeah, but no one else thinks so.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Is it so bad to be seen with me?”

“It is if I’m trying to get a boyfriend! You’re the reason no one wants to date me!”

“Do you need to date someone?” he says. Every word out of his mouth only makes you’re more incensed. He’s being condescending without meaning to, but it doesn’t soften the blow.

“I want to!”

“And if I don’t want you to?”

“Excuse me?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your head is spinning. “That’s not funny.”

“I don’t want you to be with Getou,” he says. “I want you to be with me. You’re right, it’s not fair, but I get this ugly feeling in my chest when you’re together and now I know why. I can be so much better for you than he is.”

“This isn’t about who’s better! You’re always-“ You’re on the brink of tears. “Ugh! You’re so frustrating, Yuta! I’m trying to get over you and you think you’re being noble by dating me because you want to keep me safe? Why would I ever want that?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, so soft it makes you want to run into his arms and run away from him at the same time. Then he frowns. “Did you say you’re trying to get over me?”

You glance at him, then the door. The calculations you run in your head say you can make it outside before he catches you. You turn so fast on your ankle the floor makes a despairing screech beneath the soles of your shoes as you beat a hasty exit.

The calculations in your head are wrong. He loops his arms around your waist and picks you up, throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder so he can carry you to the couch. You’re deposited with a soft grunt as he climbs over you and pins you down so you can’t even think of escaping. You thrash, regardless.

“Let me go, Yuta!”

“I thought you called me Yu,” he teases.

“You aren’t being cute!”

“Is it him?”

“Him?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to look at me that way this whole time,” Yuta says despairingly. “I didn’t want to scare you away, but I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. But before I even got a chance, this asshole steals you away?”

“Yuta, what are you talking about?”

“Are you in love with Getou?”

“Are you stupid?” You can feel hot tears well up in your eyes. It’s frustrating to be crying so easily because you’re embarrassed and angry. “I said I was trying to get over you! Just say what you have to say, don’t torture me like this.”

“Did it work? Are you over me?”

“I’ll never be over you,” you sniffle. You just want him to leave you alone now so you can wallow in your own patheticness.

“I’m glad,” Yuta says, and then he cups your face in his hands so delicately, like he’s holding the most precious treasure in the world, and kisses you like he’s trying to steal the breath from you.

Your knees crumble underneath you. He catches you easily and hoists you up, letting you settle with your legs wrapped around his waist. He holds you up with just one arm as he presses you harder against the wall, cushioning your head carefully. You’re pinned between his body and the wall. You moan against him, pleased and warm and disgustingly in love with him. All your senses are full of him as you cling to him..

Distantly, as if through water, you hear your phone buzz.

Getou 6:01 You owe me for that, by the way.

#sera writes #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta fluff #yuuta fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x you

5K notes · View notes

moonpetrichors-blog · 1 year

Note

AHHH HIHII!! i luv ur work it literally has me twirling my hair and shi, i was wondering if u could write a neteyam x navin reader where the reader is like playing with tuk and neteyam realizes he was in love with reader on the spot the whole time and he could imagine like a future with the reader aswell?? TYSM I LOVE UR WRITING SM

Something About You

Tags: Neteyam x Omaticaya!Reader, Fem!Reader, Fluff, Crush Blush, Longing Look, Tuk is The Best Wingman, Good With Kids

Warnings: None

One afternoon, Neteyam had to watch over his youngest sister. You insisted on accompanying him, and he agreed, not minding the extra help. As you played with Tuk, the thought crossed Neteyam's mind that suddenly, you might just be the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

EIOEWGHOEH EVERYTIME I SEE ASKS LIKE THIS I START GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET LMAOO 😭😭 this idea is super lovely, and tysm for the support, happy new years btw ♥♥ also if u look at the title, I based it off the eyedress song 🤭 italics are Neteyam’s thoughts btw!!

* ˚ ✦ 1075 Words • Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [01/01/23] ❞

Neteyam sighed as he followed you and his sister. His parents had requested him to watch after her today, and you had overheard their chat. You asked Neteyam if you could accompany him because you enjoyed playing with Tuk, and he concurred. He's never been sure what his little sister liked to do, so your assistance was greatly appreciated.

Tuk squeezed your hand as you guided her towards the woods. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the foliage was soaking up the warmth. The trees were golden in hue, and you eventually found a large expanse of grass for you and Tuk to romp in.

Neteyam selected a tree to relax against, and settled comfortably while you and Tuk traveled only a little further away. He looked at you both, laughing and spinning around the woodland.

Neteyam was frightened for a moment and nearly leapt out of his seat when you lifted up Tuk to toss her into the air, but he calmed down when he saw how effortlessly you retrieved her again. He cannot help but be concerned about his siblings' welfare, but he knows you're excellent with children. You'd never do anything that would harm them.

Tuk's laugh resonated through the treetops as she pleaded with you to throw her again. She appeared to be having fun, but you suddenly realized that Neteyam must be bored sitting alone and observing.

You caught Tuk once more and gently lowered her on the grass. “Neteyam, why don’t you come here and play with us?”

He shook his head, and smiled. “I’m okay.”

You shrugged, and continued to play with his little sister.

...

You ultimately grew tired of tossing Tuk into the air, so you devised a brilliant plan.

“Tuk, why don’t I decorate your braids?”

She seemed perplexed for a moment, before you clarified that you were going to pick out some flowers to put in her hair. Her eyes sparkled at the thought, and she, of course, answered yes.

Tuk was seated in your lap as you meticulously ornamented her braids with an assortment of various, colorful flowers you had gathered. Neteyam maintained his gaze from a distance, and he began to grin to himself. He thought to himself that you were wonderful with kids, and his smile only grew even wider when Tuk gazed into her reflection in a nearby waterhole.

She giggled with delight at her enhanced appearance. “Thank you so much Y/N!”

Because she was so adorable, you pinched her cheeks.

Tuk scrunched up her nose, recoiling from the action. “Let me put flowers in your braids too!”

You agreed with a nod and sat down in front of her. You failed to notice Neteyam's intense stare at you as Tuk adorned your tresses with the leftover blossoms. The sunlight cascaded over you so sweetly that you gleamed like a gift from Eywa herself. Neteyam couldn't believe he'd never noted how stunning you were, and the feeling was further accentuated by the flowers in your hair. He massaged his burning cheeks with his palm; was he blushing?

Tuk's amusement at using you as her personal doll unabated, and the one idea orbiting Neteyam's short-circuiting mind, aside from how you looked straight out of his dreams, was how natural you were with children. Would you behave similarly with your children together, too?

Wait, what?

He had to mentally scold himself for thinking such a thing. Even though it felt improper to envisage it with you because you were only a friend, he couldn't peel the gaze of burning desire away from you. His brain begged him to suppress these feelings, but his heart and blazing cheeks revealed a different story.

His heart stopped. When you decided to turn around, you met his eyes that refused to look away. Neteyam sucked in a breath, fearful for a moment that you could see into his thoughts. He released a sigh of relief as you merely cracked a smile towards him, not knowing how he was really staring at you.

Then another terrifying thought had crossed his mind. Had he always liked you?

You veered away from Tuk to catch a glimpse of your reflection in the waterhole as Neteyam battled with himself internally. You clasped your hands together, praising Tuk on her work, and hugged her warmly. She was scooped up again and twirled around.

You sidled up to Neteyam after you had laid Tuk down, scratching the back of your neck. The sunshine from behind your figure seeped into his vision as he stared up at you through his thick lashes. He didn't mind that he could only see you.

You looked at him sheepishly. “How do I look?”

He snapped out of his reverie, and stuttered for a moment before registering that you asked him a question.

“So pretty.”

As you looked straight at him stupidly, he threw his palm over his mouth. You were both matching blushes as you were suddenly feeling blisteringly hot. Tuk giggled from behind you, her eyes narrowed at her brother.

It didn't help that she was whispering 'Neteyam's got a cruushh...'

Damn that child.

You turned around to hear what she said, and out of your peripheral vision, Neteyam lifted his fist at her, mouthing for her to quit speaking. When your gaze met hers you arched an eyebrow, but she had already closed her mouth and remained serious. She cracked an innocent smile at you.

You looked back at Neteyam, and decided that all of a sudden you had very, very important obligations to attend to at that moment.

“Well, I think I should get home now, haha!”

Neteyam stood up abruptly, laughing nervously. He was chanting in his head to speak confidently.

He stuttered instead. “Oh, me too, haha! Me and Tuk should be meeting with our parents again.”

You couldn't stop giggling uncontrollably like idiots, and while you were heading in opposite directions, you unintentionally bonked heads. He groaned in pain as he touched the tender region on his forehead, but apologized profusely when he noticed that you were also afflicted.

You couldn't bear how mortified you were, so you let out a torrent of apologies and hurried out of the woodland as swiftly as you could. You couldn't believe Neteyam had declared you were pretty!

In your wake, you left behind a trail of flowers. Neteyam discreetly grabbed and pocketed one. You know, for safekeeping.

There was just something about you.

4K notes · View notes

absolutebl · 20 days

Text

This Week in BL - We Are Surprised

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 2 of 12 - Oh it’s fucking great. It could all go horribly south, of course. But it’s awesome at the moment. Messy gay and one of them is already pining? Got to love it. Including the negotiation.

I’d love a good sex negotiation, it’s almost as good as linguistic negotiation. This show makes me happy. All that said, it’s moving awfully quickly for a 12 episode run. Not sure what’s gonna happen on the backend.

My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 3 of 12 eps - I’m still enjoying it but I’m ready for him to die again now.

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 5-6 of 16 - Toey is going after the Namgoong Award for Best Wingman this year, I see. And in exchange, literally all the rest of the friends are going to be his wingmen. It’s adorable. I also like that Phuwin got to be the aggressor for the first kiss. I like that this is mostly just boys flirting, and not really any prescribed seme/uke stuff. In general, I think these last two episodes I improved the show in my regard a lot. But then middles are always GMMTV's strong point, it’s whether they can stick the landing that’s an issue.

Two Worlds (Thurs iQIYI) ep 9 of 10 - Apparently we have the Frodo walking into Mordor episode. Also the sides were cute. In Thailand (like Taiwan) all gangsters are gay, apparently.

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 5 of 12 - It’s cute but very cringe and dorky. Silly singing. Terrible pickup lines. Still, that was a ridiculously charming confession.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 12fin - Oh so good. Very few shows that feature one-sided long-term pining of this kind can resolve the unevenness of that power dynamic into a more stable and equal footing with such class. We really got to see the object of the desire turn completely around and become equally besotted. An age gap, stepbrothers trope like this one is hard enough but at this length? Very well acted boys! Unknown managed to show the older brother softening in a believable way that’s pretty unusual in narratives of this type.

All in all?

Unknown is a wonderful BL with a pitch perfect portrayal of long term pining, age gap, and the stepbrothers trope. The acting and chemistry are ON POINT (especially from the leads) which made the resulting characters very believable. When it dwells in intimate family drama, it's stunning. It's slightly less successful when it leaves the home and goes gritty. It's few flaws are the result of curtailed length. It could have used more breathing room to deal with side plots, characters, and companion character development. The editing was occasionally choppy and packed with flashbacks that broke the emotional tension. Still, those are mere quibbles. This is an excellent show that I know I'm going to be recommending a lot. 9/10

Finally Taiwan hits another one out of the park.

About.

Damn.

Time.

Blue Boys (Korea Sat YouTube) 4 of ? - Oh it’s so good, and they are so tortured and it’s just charming and I can’t EVEN. I just love it. I love that Korea is giving us this right now. You’re an idiot if you’re not watching this show, it’s truly spectacular.

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Well well well Japan. I see how you kneed. I enjoyed this episode better than the first two, and I am way into our Bad Boy second lead. I can already feel myself succumbing to the syndrome. Next week = the obligatory onsen ep!

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - Omg most adorbs failed linguistic negotiation.

Boys Be Brave AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 5-6 of 8 - I love the side couple. It’s a shame we’re finally getting some truly great class conflict and it’s relegated to crumbs.

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 11-12fin - Well that was a waste of time. There was no connection (of any kind) between the leads. The language thing was hella weird and likely added to that. The past history of the Korean character was necessary to know from the start, its lack throughout, meant there was no depth to his character. They tried to tackle all the interesting stuff in the final 2 eps. AND they even killed the dog. I never thought I'd type this sentance, but Peach of Time is better.

I don’t know. 5/10 I guess

All in all:

A disappointing lackluster and barely cohesive BL about a jerk Thai actor (speaking Thai) who has to work for a Korean animal rescue cafe as a publicity stunt. It's difficult to believe the leads like each other, let alone fall in love. The acting is stiff, the characters lack motivation and cohesion, and there's not much to recommend this show beyond some pretty visuals. Also, they kill the dog. All in all, a disappointing and unsuccessful joint venture that mostly highlighted that between Thailand and Korea the style of BL, narrative approach, language cadence, and acting techniques all clash.

It's airing but...

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - mini series staring the I Will Knock You couple Tar & Bom, started but I couldn't find it. I also didn't try very hard.

A Balloon's Landing (Taiwan movie) trailer - A frustrated Hong Kong writer, Tian Yu, meets a Taipei street gangster, Xiang (Fandy Fan from HIStory2: Crossing the Line), and the two of them embark on a journey to find the Bay of Vanishing Whales. Along the way, they discover unexpected twists and turns and close bonds, which brings out the message that "there is always someone like you in this world who is waiting for you. This released to cinemas in Taiwan, no word on international release.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - it's done, tell me if I should bother?

Fan's Only Corner

Someone asked in a comment (which tumblr promptly ate) about group sleepovers in BLs. It's happened a few times but the only one I can recall being noted and particularly lovely (and VERY college) was in Nitiman. There's also one in Lovesick.

Next Week Looks Like This:

5/16 Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - Strongberry doing classic uni BL! Weeee!

5/19 OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 1 of 10 - LeeFrank are back - not unlike the undead (as it were). But how do we feel about it? Unsure given their track record.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

May Releases

VBL (Taiwan) is releasing 4 'Special Episode' epilogues to their 4 2023 shows every Friday this month on Gagaoolala, Viki & Viu. Not sure on search terms or how to find these. (Or, frankly, if we need them.)

5/10 – You Are Mine

5/17 – VIP Only

5/24 – Stay By My Side

5/31 – Anti Reset

5/25 The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer - HoTae & DongHee are back but unfortunately not in a cinema near me. Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS.

5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer

5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

LOVE a smile kiss. Love it. Two killer kisses from PondPhuwin. Elegantly done, boys. Thank you very much.

I love them a lot all of a sudden. (All We Are)

It's hard to give MaxTul a run on their crown as best bodies in BL, but boy these two are giving it their, erm, best. (Wandee Goodday)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

183 notes · View notes

jessamine-rose · 11 months

Text

꒰ The Spider and the Fly ꒱

This is for my hormones every artist/ writer who dragged me into the Miguel O’Hara fandom. Your content is absolutely amazing, and I hope this piece can measure up to the brainrot you’ve given me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

Tw:: YANDERE, kidnapping, manipulation, blood, violence, self-deprecation, mention of suicide, bondage, noncon, nsfw, MDNI

Note:: Female reader, double POV, ATSV spoilers, Best Wingman Award goes to LYLA

♡ 7.6k words under the cut ♡

i. spiral orb web

You’ve always been attracted to pretty things, and that includes spiderwebs.

In your eyes, the spider’s craft is the closest thing to art in your everyday life. It is a natural phenomenon marked by intricacy and utility, yet one so easily overlooked due to its associations with pest behavior.

Fortunately, public reception has shifted since the emergence of Spider-Man. It is thanks to your “Friendly Neighborhood Hero” that the spiderweb has been rebranded as a symbol of safety. Be it a weapon or a life-sized shelter, there is a certain beauty to those human creations.

Though the same cannot be said for Miguel O’Hara’s.

Spider-Man 2099’s webs belong to their own category. His are scarlet, bright as lasers, conspicuous and dangerous in equal amounts. When Miguel traps a villain in his webs, one is reminded that a spiderweb is the tool of a predator.

Miguel’s webs are not the only thing which set him apart from the other Spider-Men. He has more inhuman powers—claws, fangs, paralytic venom. His jaded personality and intimidating stature are also far removed from the public image which inspires hope in civilians.

Perhaps that is why you find him all the more alluring. Or it could be simply because he is the one who saved your life.

He’s done more than rescue you. After catching you midfall, Miguel regards you with shock and…pity, you think. It is the only logical explanation as to why he is being so gentle with you when your dimension’s stability is a greater concern.

It also explains why he allows you to follow him into the departing portal. No, follow is a self-preserving term. More like burst into tears, ran after him, then told him your pathetic life story and how anywhere is better than here.

Much to the surprise of his coworkers, he relents.

꒰♡꒱

At first, Miguel thinks you are an Anomaly.

It is one thing to find you in another dimension. It has happened before, and he always avoided your Variants for their sake. But you are inescapable.

Among every version of you, the happiest one was his Variant’s wife. Then there’s you, the one whose life would’ve ended if not for his interference.

He tries to justify his decision. Your departure doesn’t affect the Canon, so no harm will come to your universe. And judging by your personal data, you would be much safer in a different dimension.

His dimension, to be specific. Where he can keep a close eye on you.

He is also logical enough to recognize you as your own person. You aren’t his wife, and his observations support that theory. Your hairstyle is different. You code-switch more often. You sleep and wake up at earlier hours. You’re not as confident in your abilities.

You are alike and unlike her in so many ways, yet he still sees a spark of his sun in you.

ii. funnel web

Since then, you’ve resided in Nueva York.

In return for permanent residency, you are hired as a secretary for the Spider Society. It’s civilian work, nothing dangerous, but more purposeful than what you’d ever achieved in your old job.

Strangely enough, you encounter Miguel quite often.

At first, it feels totally warranted. He is the only person you know in Earth-928, so he guides you through every step of your adjustment. He gives you a Dimensional Travel Watch, shows you around the facility, and instructs you on how not to mess up the multiverse.

After your first week, he invites you to move in with him. Miguel claims that his home already has an extra bedroom, though LYLA’s remarks suggest otherwise. Regardless, you accept since it means a familiar roommate and better living quarters.

How thoughtful of him.

꒰♡꒱

“It’s easier to look after her if we’re under the same roof,” he rationalizes.

“Sure,” says LYLA. She flickers above his shoulder and watches the holographic screens with him. “And it’s not because she reminds you of a certain someone?”

Ignoring her, Miguel switches to a different camera angle. Peter B. Parker walks past your desk and does a double take, and he is promptly summoned for a meeting.

No doubt, there will be questions about you.

“What about the redesigns?” LYLA pulls up a screen showing two bedroom layouts, one collapsed and the other abandoned. “Should we pick one? Merge them? Think of a new design? Or we can ask for her input, seeing how she clearly has better taste than you.”

One of the monitors catches their attention, announcing an Anomaly in Earth-131222.

“We can talk about this later.” With that, Miguel opens a new screen and analyzes the data. On second thought, he adds, “She prefers thin bed sheets.”

Later that day, he escorts you home. Your mood has greatly improved since your change in environment, though you’re still quiet around him. LYLA compliments your coat, a purple remnant of her closet which Miguel lent to you, but he ignores her knowing glances.

You wear it differently, he notices. It’s the same article of clothing, but fully buttoned with a silver brooch on one lapel. The effect is significantly less casual.

“So, this is it.” Your expression turns hesitant as Miguel unlocks the front door. “Are you really sure that I can stay here?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure,” he points out.

And it means less time monitoring the CCTVs.

“And you haven’t seen your room yet!” adds LYLA. “We know you’ll love it.”

“I guess it would be impolite to back out now.” You follow him inside and remove your coat. “I’ll try not to be a nuisance.”

He pauses.

That green dress…he could swear that he’s seen it on you before. Many shades lighter, paired with a bright smile, to match the T-shirt of the little girl by your—

“Miguel?” You frown at him, then your gaze flits to your dress. “Is there something wrong with my outfit? I didn’t commit a serious fashion crime in your dimension, did I?”

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly. But upon noticing your lingering anxiety, he admits, “You look good in it. That’s all.”

You nearly drop your coat. “W-What? Are you serious?”

Miguel could swear that you look more shocked than during your first meeting. If he were to come close enough to touch your face, it would surely feel warmer than average.

That’s enough.

“I meant what I said,” he replies, walking ahead. “Do you want to look around or are you just going to stand there?”

That snaps you out of your fluster. You follow him into the living room, a small smile making its way to your face. “The living room is pretty. Was it you or LYLA who designed it?”

The change of topic is a godsend. As Miguel shows you around, you recover from his comment and focus on your surroundings. LYLA is the next to admire your dress, winking at Miguel as she asks about the color, and he takes note of your reaction.

More vulnerable to flattery, regardless of speaker. Extremely happy afterwards.

His wife wasn’t like that. Usually, she’d be the one teasing Miguel with praises, pick-up lines, and inside jokes which he pretended to understand.

Still, it’s nostalgic to sit next to you on the sofa. He could get used to this again.

iii. lace web

In the following months, you fully adjust to your new life.

Your job in the Spider Society is manageable, fun even. Aside from the Spider-Man of your dimension, your close coworkers are kind enough to welcome you into their group. They look out for you, include you in their conversations, and appreciate your hard work.

They even indulge your aesthetic interests! One word from you, and they are already comparing webs. Among the various designs and techniques, however, none have fascinated you as much as Miguel’s.

…You do wish he’d let you roam Nueva York more often.

In case of Canon events, you need to get his permission first. Then you have to wait for him or an assigned Spider-Man to accompany you, and the latter is always a stranger whom you find difficult to bond with. Conversations with LYLA can only do so much.

You’ve recommended your coworkers before, but Miguel doubts their reliability. And every time you invite them to go with you, a new mission cancels your plans. If not for the official records, you’d suspect them of making excuses.

It’s a bit frustrating, honestly, but you know better than to complain.

You should already be satisfied with Miguel. He is an agreeable roommate, he trusts your capabilities, and he acknowledges your efforts. And no matter how closed-off or overworked he is, he's still deemed you worthy of his company.

…He is also very nice to look at. Muscular physique, handsome face, a serious gaze occasionally tinted in red. It’s a shame that he rarely smiles.

In another dimension, a better version of you would have definitely pursued him.

꒰♡꒱

“...and get this, he can shoot webs with stabilimenta. The designs are so detailed!”

“Oh, wow.” Miguel barely looks up from the monitors, grimacing at yet another Anomaly. He quickly sends an alert to the dimension’s Spider-Man. “What else?”

Behind him, you suddenly grow quiet.

“Now that I think about it, you must already know that since you recruited him. Sorry if that wasn’t anything worth listening to…are you sure I’m not bothering you?”

“You’re not.” It comes out faster than intended.

He turns around. Once again, you look surprised by his words, but you don’t ask for confirmation this time. You just nod and return to your digital reports.

Why did you visit his laboratory again? You said it was a false alarm from LYLA, who’d likely sent it on purpose. Lately, she’s been on his case about how rude it is to “avoid” you through extra work. He thinks he could easily do without distractions or triggered memories, however.

Miguel opens a private file and thinks of what you’d just told him. Apart from concerned looks from Jess and Peter B, most of the Spider-Men haven’t given you any trouble. Your coworkers, however, are a different matter.

23) ______ laughed because of some stupid pickup line from Web-Slinger. Smiled when he complimented her outfit (purple blouse, black high-waist skirt, favorite heels, pearl hairpin).

24) ______ talked about the other agents’ webs again.* She admires stabilimenta.

“You should be careful with your friends,” he tells you. He types a few more observations and closes the screen. “The last thing I need is for you to get involved in their mess. Don’t think that I can’t see them slacking on the job.”

To your credit, you don’t apologize. “Noted.”

“Miguel!” LYLA appears and moves the screens around him. “We have an Anomaly in Earth-332. Spider-Woman called for backup.”

Great, another one. It must be a persistent villain if Jess needs his help.

“I’m on it.” He types the coordinates on his watch and activates the portal.

“How dangerous is it?”

He stops, just a few meters short of leaving.

You leave your desk, an anxious look on your face. “I know you told me not to worry before, but I really have no idea of what your battles are like. So…will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you. A hug comes to mind—it always calmed her anxieties—but he instead gives you a shoulder pat. “Don’t wait for me. If it takes a while, LYLA will call someone to escort you home.”

“Okay.” You’re still standing in front of him, but he can feel the tension leaving your body. “It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight, right? I’ll prepare a nice victory feast so look forward to that.”

A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “You don’t have to.”

You pout at him. “But I want to. Besides, it’s not fair that you are so good at making my favorite meals. I still haven’t perfected yours.”

Secretly, Miguel thinks your cooking tastes better than his wife’s. But whatever keeps you distracted while he is saving the multiverse.

It’s also…nice to talk about work with you. With her, he had to act normal and make up excuses for his sudden disappearances. It’s refreshing to see your concern and know that you are praying for his safety. To imagine your relieved smile when he comes home.

“Miguel!” LYLA reappears between the two of you. “I hate to ruin the moment, but Spider-Woman could really use some help right now. I know you’re counting the seconds!”

No more time to waste.

“I’ll see you later.” He lets go of you and walks into the portal.

“Take care!” you call after him.

iv. triangle web

“Welcome home, love!”

As the door opened, Miguel resisted the urge to flinch. The lights were always too bright.

His Variant’s wife wasted no time hugging him. “What took you so long?”

“Something at work came up,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Again?” You closed the door behind him, a frown replacing your smile. “That’s the third time this month. Is there a problem in your office?”

“It’s…classified information. But nothing to worry about, mi sol.”

The house felt lively, even with Gabriella temporarily away. Warm lights. Family photos. Personal belongings scattered about. Your cheerful presence leading him.

The TV in the living room was on, paused at the beginning of a new film. Movie nights were an old family routine, he’d learned. The first time Miguel arrived in your husband’s place, you and Gabriella had agreed on an animated classic.

“Okay then. I’m just glad your office isn’t in the same area as that crime from earlier. Was there any debris blocking the road?”

“Not much.” And definitely none on the route to your workplace.

Upstairs, Miguel took a shower and contacted LYLA. The Anomaly had been returned to its original dimension. If he were lucky, none would appear tomorrow.

You were on the sofa when he came back. Wordlessly, he sat next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder. The film began playing.

“I called Gabriella,” you murmured. “She and her friends are already planning their next sleepover. I’ll pick her up tomorrow morning.”

“That’s good to hear. Have you gift-wrapped her present?”

A pearl ring glinted above your intertwined hands. “It’s in my closet.”

Note to self: Ask LYLA to record the party. It will be a nice memory to revisit.

He smiled at you. “I can’t wait to see her reaction.”

The movie had a happy ending. It was, in your words, a cinematic masterpiece.

“That’s how it ends?”

Your outburst prompts Miguel to face the opposite end of the sofa. In the dim light, he can easily make out the unimpressed look on your face.

“The ending looks decent to me,” he muses. “If you ignore the logistics of their reunion, the film is entertaining enough to rewatch.”

“I think it could be more realistic. And you’re saying that across the multiverse, this is the most common version of the movie?”

“In five dimensions, to be exact. Others have the same ending but different actors.”

You pause. “I’ll admit that Earth-928’s version has superior costume design. But I still prefer my dimension’s neutral ending. Maybe it’s because our societal values are different.”

The closing credits continue, but neither of you leave the sofa. You’re still criticizing the film under your breath, unaware that Miguel can understand every word. He does agree that the happy ending causes a few plot holes.

At least with you, he can adjust the brightness levels.

“We can watch your version next time,” he offers, reaching for the remote with his webs.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

He turns off the TV. “We can do it on my next day off.”

Knowing LYLA, this won’t be the last time she plans a movie night without telling him.

“Well, what else could I do?” she asked after he privately demanded an explanation. “You’ve been working yourself too hard, Miguel. You could really use a break, and so does ______.”

You take the remote from him and untangle the web fluid. “Do you mind if I keep this?”

Miguel gives you an odd look. “For what reason?”

You twist the web in your hands, forming string figures.

“As a decoration, maybe. Oh, and for the record, I don’t go around collecting webs from your coworkers. I just find yours particularly interesting.”

Weirdo. “My webs are functional like the others’. That’s all there is to it.”

You look him in the eye this time. “Hey, you should give yourself more credit. It’s my belief that every spiderweb is a work of art. And before you call me overly romantic, there have always been artists who thought they were worth noticing."

The web loops around your ring finger, in the place where her wedding ring used to be.

He averts his gaze. “I don’t see it that way. But whatever works for you.”

Another moment of silence.

“There is another reason,” you add softly.

He side-eyes you. “Is it about that day? You don’t need to keep thanking me for saving your life. As I said, I was doing my job and anyone would’ve done the same.”

“I wasn’t talking about you catching me.”

Oh, you meant that.

The web tangles in your hands.

“Listen.” You take a deep breath, eyes on your lap. “I know you’ve been avoiding this subject. Maybe it's so I don’t feel indebted to you or pressured into reliving bad memories. But…I just want you to know that I’m glad you foiled my plans.”

…It would be best to let you finish first.

Your voice shakes. “I mean, you’re smart, aren’t you? Even without my meltdown, you would’ve figured out that my fall had nothing to do with the Anomaly in my dimension.”

He did. And that was precisely why Miguel mistook you for one at first. It wasn’t just your identity but the fact that you were found in danger after the Anomaly had been captured.

Ten minutes post-battle. The undamaged state of the nearby buildings. The passive acceptance in your demeanor.

He can vividly recall the rest of that day. Those hours spent studying your personal data, identifying every action and condition which diverged from his wife's path.

A loud sigh. “I just—I couldn’t take it anymore, okay? I thought it would be easier to put an end to my mistakes, then you had to show up. And thanks to you, life has been great! I like this world, I’m not alone, I still have my personal issues to work through but I’m trying to do better. But yeah…I’m just sorry for forcing you to get involved.”

“It’s not your fault,” he insists. He scoots closer to you and puts his hand on top of yours. “I made the choice to bring you here. And I couldn’t exactly leave you, knowing your situation.”

That is a lie. Rather, half of his thoughts were about his wife and how he’d been able to sustain her happiness. How that farce proved he could do the same for you.

“Either way, I’m grateful.” You look up, your lips curving into a shy smile. “I’m really happy now, Miguel. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’ll never regret my decision to follow a cryptic stranger into a portal. Even if it meant learning that the multiverse is in constant danger. Or that my favorite film has an alternate ending which makes no sense to me whatsoever.”

Has his wife ever looked at him like that? There is a soft brilliance to your gaze, wholly reserved for him. It triggers a warm feeling in his chest.

The moment is quickly ended when you cover your face with a cushion.

“Anyway! If you don’t mind, I’d really love to move on and talk about something else. How was your mission earlier? Is Earth-199999 still giving you a hard time?”

You’re still seated next to him, legs touching. Your tone leaves no room for objection.

He lets go of your hand. “You would not believe what kind of shocking messes we’ve had to deal with. We are never recruiting Dr. Strange or his little nerd.”

“You can tell me all about it.” You untangle his web from your hands; it loops around your pinky finger this time. “I’m here for you, okay? For as long as you’ll have me.”

v. mesh web

There have been more Anomalies lately.

You walk past the detained villains, silently counting them. Their increase in numbers has kept the Spider Society on high alert for the past weeks. While it means more documents for you, the effect on Miguel’s stress levels is concerning.

Come to think of it, has he returned from his mission yet? If not, you hope the cafeteria’s takeout boxes have a self-heating function. As you get closer to Miguel's laboratory, you hear the door open. The sound is followed by two sets of footsteps.

“Do you think it’s healthy for him?”

“I’m more worried about ______.”

You stop walking.

Is that Peter B and Jess? Why are they talking about you?

Jess’s tone is reproachful. “The poor girl has been through so much already. It’s not safe for her to be here, at least in HQ. He knows that she is a different case from Gwen.”

“You know how Miguel is. I’ve already asked about her, and he won’t tell me anything new. Not even my Super Adorable Mayday album could convince him.”

“I don’t like this, Peter.”

Their footsteps become louder. You go back to the entrance of the hallway, just within earshot but hopefully far enough to evade their Spider-Senses.

“Neither do I. But you should’ve seen him when he lost their daughter, Jess. Now think of his wife: He never got to see ______ before she disintegrated. Then one day, out of nowhere, after staying away from countless Variants, he finds a version of her who needs him.”

…What the hell are they talking about?

The walls close in on you. You take a step back, followed by another.

Then, at the sound of a sharp “Is someone there?”, you drop the takeout box and run.

Their daughter. His wife. A version of her.

You already know that Miguel lost a family in another dimension. It was briefly mentioned when he warned you about Canon disruptions, but he refused to share the details. Is this why?

This whole time…you are a Variant of his wife?

You aren’t followed. Your coworkers cheerfully greet you, but you ignore them and return to your desk. It’s arranged the way you like it, complete with personal decorations. The drawer holds a stress ball in your favorite color, a gift from Miguel of all people.

You never did tell him that it is your go-to stress reliever. Was it the same for her?

You squeeze the ball and take deep breaths, but the action does little to calm you.

It all makes sense. Why else would Miguel take an interest in you?

Your gaze lands on your Dimensional Travel Watch before you remember that the idea is futile. Yours is only a modified version which prevents glitches but can’t be used for travel. And the Go-Home Machine would require Spider-Byte’s help.

…Why are you even wasting your time on an escape plan? How are you sure that you won’t mess up and make another mistake?

“______?” LYLA appears in front of your face. Her greeting sounds different.

He knows.

You force yourself to answer. “Y-Yes?”

“Miguel is back.” She flickers as usual, but it doesn’t change the nervous look on her face. “He wants to see you.”

꒰♡꒱

Peter B will be dead when he gets to him.

Several screens surround Miguel, each playing CCTV footage. He focuses on a live recording of you on your way to his laboratory.

At least you are complying with his orders.

The platform is fully lowered by the time you get there.

“Hey…welcome back,” you stammer. “How was the mission?”

“It was fine,” he replies brusquely. “Jess and Peter B spoke with me as soon as I came back. I was just confirming the status of Earth-67 when I checked the CCTVs. Care to explain?”

A heavy silence falls between the two of you. LYLA is nowhere to be seen.

Your panic is evident. Your gaze wanders, at everything but Miguel, until it stops at the dented takeout box on his desk. “Is that…is the food still warm? Or have you already eaten in Earth-67? I forgot to ask in advance.”

He glares at you. “Are you seriously worrying about my lunch right now?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say?” you shoot back. The anger in your tone is unmistakable. “‘Hey, Miguel, when was I supposed to know that we were a family in the dimension you accidentally collapsed?’ Does that sound any better?!”

“Believe me, I was going to leave you alone at first.” He grips the edge of his desk, resisting the urge to raise his voice. “But how could I do it after the way you reacted?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You could’ve easily said no! This whole time, I wondered why you were so willing to help me. I thought you were being nice, that you believed giving me a better life was worth all these risky accommodations. Was…was I wrong?”

Your voice cracks at the last part, and you hastily wipe your eyes. It’s reminiscent of your first meeting, the distressed shock which Miguel had never seen in his wife. Only that time, you had sought out his comfort.

“Tell me, was it because of her?” you whisper. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill. “Is that all you’ve ever seen in me?”

“You have the wrong idea.” Miguel approaches you, but you instinctively back away. He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “If you would just listen to me—”

“How can I?!”

Your hand settles on your wrist, unconsciously fiddling with your Dimensional Travel Watch. The clasp loosens, and his reaction is immediate.

He grips your arm. “Don’t do that! You’ll get yourself—”

“Let go of me!”

You pull back, clawing at his wrist, but Miguel's grasp only tightens. His other hand taps the watch’s controls to activate the Lock feature.

“This is for your own good, ______." In the split second that he releases you, his webs shoot out and bind your limbs together.

“No!” You collapse onto the floor. The scarlet threads dig into your skin, emitting a harsh glow in the dark. “Please, just let me go!”

After everything he’s been through, he is not losing you again.

Ignoring the stab of guilt, he picks you up and salvages what is left of his composure.

“You see, this is why I didn’t tell you.” He sighs, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

You’re still shaking in his grasp, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I…I’m not—”

His kiss easily silences you. It’s far from intimate but the sensations are familiar. Warm lips. The scent of your perfume. The addictive rush of euphoria. Physical and chemical reactions which couldn’t be adequately explained in words.

And the whimper that escapes your lips when Miguel pulls back to press a light kiss to your forehead.

“We can continue this conversation when we get home.”

vi. cobweb

Your days in the Spider Society are over.

Not permanently. Miguel says that you can resume work once you’ve calmed down, but you doubt it will happen under any pretense of freedom.

Since your confrontation, you’ve been confined in his home. As it turns out, Miguel had already prepared for this—locks, alarms, hidden cameras, a comprehensive speech which only elevates your horror.

“She wouldn’t want this,” you keep insisting. You writhe against your restraints, but the webs remain taut against your skin. “How would your ______ feel if she knew?!”

“She’s not here anymore.” Miguel looks away from your face, as though the reminder physically pains him. “What matters now is that I have you. The both of us can start over.”

“How can you say that?!” At this point, you’re on the verge of hysteria. “You…you don’t actually love me. You’re only doing this because I’m the closest you have to getting her back!”

The hand on your cheek makes you flinch. The gentle caress does little to soothe you, not with the underlying threat of his claws. His eyes flash red in the dim light, brimming with—what do you call it? Grief? Desperation? Obsession?

You can’t tell, not when those sentiments are for someone else.

“You only say that because you don’t know any better,” he says softly. His lips meet yours, trapping you in a deep kiss. “Now get some rest, mi sol. It’s been a long day, and we know how you get when you’re stressed.”

My sun. What a lie. Since when have you done anything to deserve such a title?

You can’t bother to fight back. You’re too tired to think, to resist the kiss, to move an inch as Miguel undos your restraints and tucks you into bed.

Instead, you close your eyes and retreat into slumber. But even in your last seconds of consciousness, his gaze is strongly felt.

As it turns out, Miguel really did consider all possibilities. Your Dimensional Travel Watch has an exclusive Lock feature, should you ever be tempted to escape him through death. It can only be removed during your scheduled baths, with LYLA acting as your timer.

You rarely talk to her, either. She clearly feels sorry for you, but not enough to help. She monitors your daily activity, keeps you company when Miguel is away, and tries to cheer you up. She has yet to accomplish the last task.

Against your better judgment, you ask her about your Variant. She is resistant at first, knowing the negative outcome, but you are persistent. In the end, LYLA decides that it’s better to show you a few videos than for you to ask Miguel directly.

…Your Variant is perfect. Pretty. Carefree. Successful. A calming presence. You can see why Miguel would fall for her, with how she effortlessly puts a smile on his face.

Among your Variants, isn’t there one who bears a closer resemblance to her? Or were they too important to leave without disrupting the Canon? Is that why he settled for you?

“You have a better sense of style,” LYLA offhandedly mentions. “It was Miguel who said that. And do you know that he calls you one of our best workers?”

It doesn’t make you feel any better. “I see. Thanks for letting me know.”

As LYLA predicted, the information only makes you feel worse. You can’t stop thinking about your other self. How did she turn out like that? How did she succeed in your failures? How has Miguel perceived his moments with you, as new memories or a replica of lost time?

You don’t want to ask him. You’ve had enough disappointments for one lifetime.

Neither do you make an escape plan. On the low chance that you succeed, you don’t have anywhere to go. The Spider Society, or most of them, is loyal to Miguel. And it’s not like you’d be better off in your dimension, back to your empty home and dead-end job and daily reminders of your insignificance.

At least here, you can feel valued. Even if you owe that to someone else.

꒰♡꒱

“I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so.”

Miguel doesn’t look up from the screens. “Now is not the time for this.”

LYLA is anything but smug. ”Are you sure? Because you said that when I asked if you’d ever tell her the truth, and look where that went. A civil explanation might’ve been nice.”

“How is she?”

“No better than with you.”

The CCTV switches to the kitchen. By now, you've established a new routine—lie awake in bed, rearrange your room, watch TV, cook your own meals. It's repetitive but easy to follow.

He zooms in on the ingredients. “Do you see anything suspicious?”

“No potential poisons,” LYLA responds, equally focused. “Oh, is she cooking dinner again? Last night’s meal looked really good.”

“It probably helps. Gives her something to preoccupy herself with.”

In the end, you’ve chosen the docile route. You’re still tense around Miguel, but your behavior can’t even be counted as malicious compliance. You just go through your new routine, trying to create some semblance of normalcy in confinement.

Though internally speaking, he has no access to your thoughts.

“She’s quite different from his wife, isn’t she?” asks LYLA. “I like this version of ______.”

Miguel zooms in on you this time. In your current state, you’ve revealed more contrasts to his Variant’s wife. It actually doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

When did his feelings for you begin? Was it when he saved you? When he saw a spark of his beloved in you? When that spark turned out to be your own brilliance?

All he knows is that you’re the one who consumes his thoughts nowadays. Your distinct preferences, your little quirks, your quiet words, your uncertain expressions, your attitude towards him and no other Miguel.

...There must be a way to persuade you. If Miguel was able to play along with his Variant’s family, to the point that his love for them became genuine, the same can be said for you. He just needs to prove that you can and will be happy together.

The only thing missing would be Gabriella.

vii. sheet web

You’ve been promoted to Miguel’s bedmate.

His room isn’t much. It is dark, minimalist, often empty due to the nature of his work. There are zero mementos of his lost family, not even a framed photo or something of her influence.

They’re probably hidden somewhere. How considerate.

On most nights, you act oblivious to your new sleeping arrangement. You just say good night to Miguel, lie down on your side of the bed, and try to fall asleep as quickly as possible.

…That turns out to be more difficult than expected. Try as you might to feign sleep, you can’t relax in Miguel’s grasp. He holds you tightly in his sleep, your back pressed against his chest. You wonder if it is a familiar position or a means of keeping you close.

Lately, he has switched tactics. Movie nights have become a regular pastime. You’ve received permission to work from home, sans contact with the Spider Society. The two of you have even gone outside for a few dates, though his grip on your hand discourages any escape attempts. Awkwardness aside, he’s been more physically affectionate.

It’s absolutely jarring, but you’re somewhat grateful for the added comforts. If your choices are different from his wife’s, Miguel doesn’t seem to mind.

This should be fine. It’s better than when he was acting like an overprotective control freak…even if those methods had left no speculation as to who the intended receiver was. With this approach, you can never be sure if Miguel sees you or his wife in front of him.

You try not to dwell on it more than you already have. You’re still here. Your living conditions have marginally improved. Miguel doesn’t expect you to be more like her.

You just need to keep it together, like you always have.

That is what you keep telling yourself, up until the night Miguel asks for your thoughts on starting a family.

“No. Please, stop!”

Red. In the dark, all you can see is red.

The lurid color wraps around you, binding your wrists to the headboard. The webs are taut, no-frills, effective in their sole purpose of keeping you trapped.

No, what’s worse is Miguel. His gaze is trained on you, scarlet orbs alight with crazed desire and your own terrified reflection.

“Stop struggling,” he sighs as he pins you down. Blood decorates his bare arms, from where your scratches failed to stop him. “You’re only going to get yourself hurt.”

You continue, anyway, only to scream as he leans down and sinks his fangs into your neck. It hurts, the flesh burns, everything feels heavy—

You can’t move.

It doesn’t take long for the venom to kick in. The numbness spreads throughout your body, leaving you dizzy and helpless. Your limbs won’t cooperate at all.

Yet despite the paralysis, the pain stays with you. It’s the only sensation you can feel—the sharp ache in your neck, the chafing around your wrists, the sting from where Miguel accidentally scratched your thigh while tearing off your clothes.

“Mi sol, you are still tense,” he mutters. His lips remain on your neck, administering light kisses to the fresh wound. A clawed hand presses down on the bed, puncturing the fabric, to support his weight. “You need to calm down.”

You can only bite your lip as he moves on to your chest, tainting the skin with love bites. His other hand retracts its claws and strokes your stomach, tracing—are those patterns supposed to be her stretch marks?

Of course he memorized them. She must be on his mind right now.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but the ministrations continue. His thumb strokes your hip, eliciting a stifled moan, and the self-inflicted darkness gives way to the sight of Miguel’s irritated expression.

“You’re not listening to me, ______.” His eyes flash, daring you to try again. The sight of his exposed fangs, speckled with your own blood, triggers another wave of dread.

Should you even be surprised that he knows your sensitive spots? He already made it clear that any form of escape is in vain.

It's pure torture. It would be easier if Miguel would just have his way with you, use your body to his heart’s content, leave you to your thoughts. But no, he is taking his time and making sure that you physically enjoy this. Ensuring that you will be ready for what comes next.

“S-Stop.” Your lips are still numb, but you manage to form words. “I said…I don’t want this! I’m not ready!”

“Shh.” He silences you with another kiss, his palm pressing down on your stomach. “You’re only saying this because it’s our first time. You have to trust me.”

It’s hard to believe him when you know that his composure is slipping. What is he trying to hide? His ragged breaths? The hardness pressed against your inner thigh? The urgency with which he lifts your legs up onto his shoulders?

“You’ll understand once our child is here,” he says. He breaks off the kiss, his voice hushed to a reverent whisper. “We will be so happy, happier than you can ever imagine.”

“You’re lying…I can’t—!”

You can’t stand to look at him. His gaze is so cruel, clouded with love, adoration, hope. Skies, he looks so hopeful. You don’t want to wait for the day he looks at you differently.

Was this how he looked at her? How did she return his gaze? It must’ve been passionate. It must’ve been romantic. It must’ve been so promising.

“I can’t give you Gabriella!”

The world stops as soon as those words leave your mouth.

“...What did you just say?” Miguel stares at you, eyes wide.

Of all Variants, why did it have to be you?

That is when you burst into tears.

How humiliating. It’s hard to breathe, it must be an ugly sight, and you can’t do anything to cover your face. But it’s enough to make Miguel stop and listen to you.

“I can’t give you Gabriella,” you repeat in choked sobs. “It requires an exact time, specific cells and DNA. And even if we succeed, I can’t raise her into the child you knew. I...I can’t restore your family. I can’t be her.”

In the end, you will only disappoint him.

“______…” He raises his hand to wipe your tears, but you interrupt him with a glare.

“Honestly, why did it have to be me?!” you shout. “Why couldn’t you have found a better duplicate of your wife? This wouldn’t be happening if you’d chosen the right ______!”

He doesn't respond.

For a few seconds, all you can hear is your own pitiful weeping. You vaguely register the feeling of your legs hitting the mattress, of the absence of Miguel’s touch, but you keep your eyes closed. It’s easier that way.

Suddenly, there is the sound of threads snapping. Then the sensation of strong hands coming under your back, lifting you upwards, pulling you into an embrace.

Your eyes fly open. “What—”

“Ya, calladita.”

Miguel…is he hugging you? He holds you tightly, repeating the words in a hushed tone. The message is followed by a string of curses which, judging by the way he turns away from you, must be solely directed at himself.

Paralyzed, you can only stare down at your lap. At his webs, still wrapped around your wrists but no longer connected to the bed. “What are you—”

“Could you let me talk for a second?" he snaps. He tilts your face upwards, allowing you to take in his glare. “You are my first choice. Not the version of you from Earth-94, Earth-835, or any other dimension in the multiverse. It doesn’t matter that you are different from her.”

This can’t be true. “Still, I—”

“As for Gabriella, you’re right." There is a flash of resignation in his gaze, so sorrowful that it clashes with his words. “I knew that from the start.”

“...Then why?”

Your head spins. His hands are still on you, caressing your cheek and keeping you in his grasp. The numbness gives way to warmth.

“Well, it doesn’t change the fact that any child from you will be ours,” he answers. His voice softens, as does his gaze. “Just as you are mine and I am yours.”

The words get stuck in your throat. “Are…are you sure?”

How can he say such a thing? Your sense of hearing must be damaged. It is the only logical explanation as to why—

The look in his eyes leaves no room for doubt. “I promise.”

...What else can you possibly say?

Your vision blurs. Miguel is still speaking, another quiet reassurance from the sound of it, but it’s all static in your head.

What the hell are you supposed to do with this information? It’s beyond your comprehension, too subjective and unproven for the likes of you. And yet you feel…good. Happy. So, so happy despite everything you have been through.

Skies, you are truly pathetic.

No, what’s more pathetic is the way you cry harder and melt into Miguel’s embrace. It’s the way you listen to his remaining praises and beg him to keep talking. To list everything about you that is good and faultless and desirable to him, everything he thought was worth noticing.

And when he kisses you, you willingly reciprocate.

The darkness is soothing.

The dim lights cast the bedroom in shadows. It’s a blessing to your dizziness, your eyes tired from crying. With this obstacle to your vision, you can pretend that the previous hours never happened.

Almost. The soreness, the deft hands tending to your injuries, and the immense euphoria are impossible to ignore.

It’s also painful, unbearably painful now that the venom’s effect has fully worn off. You can only sit up and wince as Miguel disinfects another wound.

He looks up in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” You give him a weak smile as he bandages your thigh and mumbles a second apology. “I feel better already.”

His own injuries are equally evident, from your hesitant love bites to the scratch marks on his back. As guilty as you felt, you could only say so much before Miguel silenced you with a withering look.

…You will make it up to him tomorrow. If you are still capable of walking.

The thought leads you to cry into the pillow, muffling your curses. If Miguel can understand you, he doesn’t say anything. Rather, he closes the first aid kit and holds your hand.

“I’ll draw a bath,” he tells you. “Can you wait for a few minutes?”

Your thumb brushes against his pulse point. His heart rate is frustratingly calm, perhaps slightly above average if you are to flatter yourself. Maybe you can count the number of beats and ask LYLA tomorrow. She will be happy to confirm it.

You meet his gaze, intertwining your fingers with his. “Sure.”

You’d like to think that his last kiss is another promise.

With that, Miguel stands up and leaves the room. As for you, you lie down and go back to screaming into the pillow. Tired as you feel, you haven’t felt this thrilled in years.

Then the spiderwebs catch your attention. They’re still stuck to your wrists, albeit frayed. There are loose threads from where Miguel broke them.

Red. Illuminating the dark, holding you close, keeping you safe.

Carefully, you pick apart the threads and twist them around your hand.

No string figures this time. Your technique is clumsy, irregular, lacking beauty and order. Nonetheless, you continue until your left hand is covered in a glovelike pattern.

The final knot is above your ring finger. It’s a perfect fit.

It is the prettiest thing you have ever seen.

♡

Author's Note ๑ Side Story 1 ๑ Prologue ๑ Epilogue ๑ Side Story 2

“I’m just going to write a short post to purge my brainrot,” I say, shortly before Miguel O’Hara unlocks a core memory of me reading The Spider and the Fly and inspires me to write 7.6k words with literary references.

Thank you so much to @diodellet for beta-reading this and @yanmaresu for helping me with the Spanish phrases!! As for my readers, I hope you enjoyed my take on Yandere! Miguel and his darling. Do entertain me with your comments and brainrot ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @kocherry @yandere-romanticaa @yandere-daydreams @bweoo @h2o2-and-baking-soda @ansy-tea @yandere-wishes @weebsinstash @curesi @robindere @crystalcrynight @mrlidocaine @handsomeunderwear-art @blughxreader @chiikasevennn @fortheloveofleon

896 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 9 months

Text

ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

MODERN! EDDIE x FEM! READER

MODERN! KING! STEVE x FEM READER

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

summary: taking the back roads to Indianapolis was Eddie’s idea. the day trip there was Steve’s. But when Wayne’s borrowed truck grinds to a halt on the hottest day in September, the tension and the boys’ tempers aren’t the only thing to rise.

warnings: 18+ smut, alcohol use, drug use, drug mention, kinda sadboy! Eddie, king Steve being king Steve, modern times so things such as google and Snapchat are mentioned. no use of y/n, reader has a nickname, pet name usage.

The blazing swell of the late September sun had been pelting down on you all day. Stuffed right between your best friend Eddie and his best friend Steve, the humid Midwest air trickled through the open windows in a hazy wave of oven door heat.

Between Steve’s hair-brained idea of driving to Indianapolis for tickets to the annual Irvington Halloween Festival and Eddie’s even more ridiculous idea of taking Wayne’s single cab truck, without A/C to make the 4 hour round trip drive— it was no surprise when the clunking metal of the brown ‘86 Chevy spluttered to a grinding stop alongside the highway.

100 miles from Hawkins, and nothing but pent up anger boiling at the surface to keep you all company.

“Oh this is just great Munson,” Steve groaned, swinging open his door and slamming it shut with a metallic bang. A ring of sweat set deep in the Hawkins athletic shirt he was wearing, a heavy hand pushing his hair from his face, “dude, let’s take the truck!” he mocks the long haired metal head, “fuckin’ told you this would happen!”

The boys weren’t exactly getting along for the entirety of this trip. Eddie and you had made plans to decorate your apartment tonight for Halloween, a month too early just like you did every year, a night full of themed snacks and cheesy 80s horror movies, the perfect opportunity to finally make his move.

But when Steve showed up at the light blue trailer looking for his wingman to help him score at Hargrove’s party— he was less than impressed to find you peeking around Eddie’s outstretched arm holding open the door, a shit-eating grin on your face. Even more pissed when Eddie told him that you would be tagging along. A roll of his eyes and a scoff on his lips as he pounded down the concrete steps.

Steve wasn’t your favorite and you definitely weren’t his. He didn’t get the appeal.. Always too loud, too annoying, acting like one of the boys when clearly you were just too insecure to have any friends that were girls.

As he stomped through the dead grass he told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that you turned him down freshman year, never mind that it was six years ago and Steve had plenty of girls added to his belt, his snap score and drawer full of stolen panties proved it. Never mind that his bruised ego from that night at a bonfire in the woods pushed him into his King Steve era. He flicked a cigarette into the dirt, muttering under his breath.

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie gripes as he shoves the gear shift into neutral, he lowers down to his left and pulls the hood jack towards him. “It’ll be an easy fix.” He says to you, his breath fanning your sweaty cheek as he shoves open the door and jumps out, boots crunching along the gravel as he pushes the hood open.

To be fair, Wayne’s truck had about a 50/50 chance of making the trek to Indianapolis, but Eddie had wanted to take it for a few reasons, and not one of them was for a trip down memory lane like he had told Steve.

The first reason he wanted to drive the truck opposed to Steve’s BMW, was lol was because it was a stick shift. An opportunity to let him float the gears and have his veins pop out that he knew was a panty wetter for most girls, he had only hoped you fit into that category.

The second reason was simple: there was no air conditioning, meaning the small tank top you were wearing would undoubtedly become very hot, and maybe… just maybe you would think of taking it off to cool down.

And finally the third reason mimicked the first… you would be sitting bitch in the middle, and with each shift between gears, his arm would be sliding around the soft plains of your luscious thighs. The same thighs that were bare besides a high waisted pair of cut off shorts that had his mind flipping the perv meter to dangerous levels when you hopped off your bike this morning.

Greeting him with the same smile that cooked his brain to mush for years.

Only today— you were starting to flirt back with him, pushing your ass out and bending at the waist just to untie your shoes. Even though in the history of forever, you had never once taken off your worn converse in the Munson trailer. You also were wearing a tank top, accentuating your curves, and Eddie was ready to chew a hole in the makeshift drywall of his trailer when you bounced up the steps to greet him.

Usually you hid your body with a baggy shirt and a pair of jeans, your fuck-off attitude is what earned you the right to have Eddie as a friend in the first place.

Tonight he was going to push the limits, share a joint with you when the yellow harvest sun dipped low into the indigo trees, kiss your ear with chapped lips while he held you when the movie had a jump scare… he had a plan. And Steve ‘cockblock’ Harrington was being the worst wingman of all time.

Sliding out of Eddie’s door, the Navajo rug blanket snags against the cracked leather of the worn seat. The back of your knees were sticky and shiny with sweat, same as your cleavage, not a single stitch of wind to be found along the gravel road— unless you counted Steve’s annoyed huffs.

—

Steve bitched and moaned the entire time Eddie was bent over the truck. Investigating what had gone wrong, “aren’t you supposed to be some sorta mechanic?” He grumbled, pushing his hair from his forehead, slotting his hands back into place around the Levi’s on his athletic hips, “swear to God if you make me miss this party, and what Lily has been teasing me with on snap,” his eyes roll into the back of his head at the thought of it, almost letting out a desperate whine.. “I’ll shoot you dead Munson.”

“Take it easy Stevie,” Eddie grunted, his jaw tensed and an irritated tone on his lips. His brows turned inward in concentration as he twisted a wrench with strong grease covered hands from behind the hood, “just need’t.. fuck.” Dark smoke started billowing out around him.

His foul mouth spewed a string of words that barely made any sense, ending his fit with a slam of the hood and his wrench thrown into the ditch.

You walk pointed nails across his sweat covered bare back easing his bruised ego with a sickly sweet voice, “it’s okay,” you preen, pushing your chest into his side when he wiggles from your tickling fingers, his dark eyes swirling into calm and the huff from his breath lost in his throat, “I’ll just call AAA.”

AAA did not service in your area, and according to google— the nearest gas station was twenty miles away, a podunk hole in the wall that sold newspapers for a quarter and had 1 star reviews.

“Fuck,” Eddie shouted, kicking the tires and hiding the burn of ache traveling up his leg, “the hell are we gonna do now?”

“Guess we’re fucking stranded! Great idea Munson, gonna die by the inbred hands of the family from The Hills Have Eyes, but god we just had to take this piece of shit!.” Steve spit as he flopped back into the bed of the truck.

Eddie pointed a greased finger into Steve’s chest, “you,” he said prodding with emphasize, “were the one who didn’t want to buy them online, oh God Eddie let’s just get out of Hawkins for the day, make Lily sweat a little bit, make her think I have a bitch in Indy..”

“Fuck off,” Steve said shoving Eddie’s hand away, sitting up, casting a stank eye in your direction, voice laced in venom, “at least my dick is getting w—”

A pack of cards hits Steve right in the chest, hard and knocking the insult from his lungs.

It was your idea.

The slick pack of cards in the glove box with paisley red design on the front was sure to lend some relief and make time pass between now and when Robin would be on the way, driving Steve’s BMW with white knuckles and the radio off no doubt. You had texted her when the boys were arguing, explaining the situation and promising her a small white baggy from Eddie’s stash when you got back.

“great idea,” Steve accuses, “s’ gonna take at least 2 hours to get here,” his hands fly in the air in defeat as he yells, “she’s failed her drivers test four fuckin’ times because she drives like my grandma, and that old bag has been dead for years!”

“Cool it, you didn’t have any other ideas besides whining Steve,” Eddie defends, fingers wrapped around the neck of a foggy glass bottle filled with amber liquor, he hands it to you in a slick move of his wrist bending and presenting both a blunt and the bottle like a flower blooming in his open palm, “might as well relax a little s Sswhile we wait, make it worth our while.”

The liquor went down with a burn, hotter than the pinked shoulders of Eddie’s sunburnt skin. And the small band of splotchy salmon across Steve’s nose.

Eddie wrestled a dusty moth bitten blanket from behind the seat, and spread it on the bed of the truck. Before you could push your ass up onto the tailgate, he had wrapped his hands tight along your hips and hoisted you up. A grip so tight he didn’t want to let go, your body feeling just right in his palms, and you were feeling it too.

As the liquor bottle got lighter and lighter, the tension eased, Steve was actually laughing at Eddie’s jokes and wasn’t rolling his eyes as much when he had to give you a card or when Eddie praised you for winning again.

When Steve threw his cards on the blanket and twisted his arms in a pout at losing another round of Go Fish, it was his idea to play another game.

“It’s real easy,” he explained around a puff of smoke as he shuffled the cards back into the pack with his large tanned hands, a single bead of sweat sloping down from his temple and curling around his chin. “You hold up five fingers, and if you’ve never done what one of us says, you keep a finger up, but if you have… you put a finger down and take a sh—- hey dickhead!”

Eddie’s lips turn sinister around the glass bottle as rogue drops of Crown dribble from his chin. “Ooops,” he says coyly, eyes bigger than Betty Boop’s and already feeling the combined high and drunken stupor take over his body, “were you needing this?”

Dragging a hand down his face, Steve sighs, “yeah it’s kinda the whole point of the game, fucker,”

“Hey…” Eddie whines, “be nice Stephanie.”

With another ten minutes of arguing about Eddie being a jackass and Steve being crabby in hot weather, you all agree to play the game, the loser has to finish the bottle and strip off an item of clothing.

“Okay so let’s start this easy,” Steve explained, “never have I ever been arrested.”

Eddie puts a finger down and scowls, “good one Harrington,” he adjusts his legs and leans back against the frame of the truck, “just because you got away doesn’t mean your ass wasn’t just as guilty as mine.”

“Shoulda ran faster,”

The boys make annoyed faces at each other and it’s Eddie’s turn, “never have I ever… nope I’ve done that… never have I.. shit.. okay pass! I gotta think.”

“Your turn,” he says, passing you the bottle of almost empty liquor.

“Okay, Uhh..” you hold the bottle with both hands and gently peel back the label with your fingernail, rubbing the sticky residue between your fingers, you rack your brain for something that would get them both, “never have I ever… peed standing up.”

The boys roll their eyes, and each put a finger down, “cheap shot,” Steve whines, and glowers when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Oh I got one!” Eddie says rubbing his hands together, splaying a wicked grin on his face, “never have I ever, socked Billy Hargrove in the face.”

You push Eddie’s shoulder and slap his chest playfully, as he laughs like a hyena, “he deserved it!”

Steve chokes on his inhale of the passed blunt, “that was you?!”

“Fuck yeah it was!” Eddie says proudly, “that’s why she’s banned from the pool.”

Laughing at the now funny memory of Billy slapping your ass as you walked by him in your swimsuit.

The way Eddie’s fist felt in your hands as you shoved it down, the rage in his eyes as he was ready to beat the bricks off of Billy.

The sick twist of his mustache when it formed a grin knowing that Eddie was on his last strike with Hopper and couldn’t defend you.

And the satisfying crack of his molars splintering in his gum line when you knocked your fist into his jaw.

The pain and swollen fingers were worth it.

“And I’d do it again,” you say lowering a finger and taking a swig from the bottle, the burn of the liquor barely there now.

Steve laughs, a new sense of almost admiration, as he looks at you with his hair in his face, grabbing the joint from Eddie’s fingers and holding it firm between his teeth, “my turn,” he says clearing his throat, “uh..never have I ever… kissed Eddie.”

You and Eddie look at eachother and giggle awkwardly around the cloud of dense smoke, but your fingers never budge.

“Seriously?” Steve says incredulously, looking from you to Eddie and back to Eddie and then you again, “can’t lie in this game, dude.”

Eddie had come close to kissing you on a few occasions. Once in high school at Steve’s party after winning the beer pong tournament, he looked at you the way someone would a lover, wetting his lips and looking at your mouth, but in the end he gave you a bone crushing hug and twirled you around the room.

Another time during the 4th of July fireworks last year when you had both smoked two bowls from the pretty pipe he gifted you earlier that year on your birthday.

The air was warm, just like today, and you leaned your back into his front as you laid lazily on the roof of his van. He was singing a song you were too high to comprehend and when you turned your head into his shoulder and looked up at him.

His fingers wrapped around a lock of your hair and you hummed in approval. Snuggling further into him. And the next thing you knew it was nearly dawn and you had fallen asleep.

It just never seemed like the right time.

“So who’s turn is it?” Eddie said clearing his throat.

“Oh n-n-n-n-n-n-no!” Steve said leaning further into the circle, clearly interested to know what’s going on, “we aren’t just gonna skate past this.”

“Drop it, Steve,” Eddie said all too fast, his boots stretching out to kick at his thigh.

The bottle in your hands is suddenly heavy and you set it down with a clunk on the bed of the truck. And you pick hastily at your nails, avoiding two sets of brown eyes.

“Fuck it,” Steve says, tongue dancing around his mouth trying to stop a smirk, “I dare you to kiss her.”

You're certain your heart stops beating.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs. Running his hand on the back of his neck, his open cut off flannel shirt showing off his tattooed chest.

“Y-you don’t have to Eddie, it’s okay…” you say trying to brush the tension off, not noticing the way his hands are fiddling with the ends of his shirt and how his eyes haven’t left you, “but I dare you to.”

It could have been the combined high. It could have been the fact that you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eddie since you parked your bike against his trailer this morning.

He was always good looking, in that goofy best friend kind of way. And although your friendship was never normal, Eddie’s hands always searing through your skin like grill marks on a hotdog, it never crossed the boundary into something more. And you’d be lying if you weren’t curious about how his lips would taste.

That was all the convincing Eddie needed before he pushed himself up in a fluid motion, balancing on his knees, and leaning back with a second guess, but it’s you who leans up on your knees too, meeting him halfway.

His dark curls swing around your face as he gets impossibly closer. “You sure?” he asks, working a finger under the tip of your chin.

And your surprised when your nod is followed by soft lips, slipping against yours.

He tasted like the liquor you’ve been drinking and matches. Musky, and woodsy. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip and catches into the corner of his mouth, the brine of sweat on your tongue has you whining into his mouth and he swallows your noises with glee.

He shudders when you pull him closer, fingers hooked into the fabric of his shirt. His eager hands holding your face, lips smacking against yours, and for the first time today, it’s not the heat that has your panties wet.

Kissing Eddie is like finding money in your jeans after they go through the dryer. It’s easy, and slow, and so fucking good.

Seconds, minutes, days? go by before Steve clears his throat and mutters an ahem!

Eddie finished the kiss by nudging is nose down the apple of your cheeks and kissing behind your ear.

“Fuck…” is all Steve can muster and you bite your lip and sit back down, lips still buzzing with Eddie’s spit still on them.

Eddie is smiling and looking at you, eyes drunk on lust.

“I— uh, yeah, it’s my turn I guess, ” straightening your back and crossing your legs in a pretzel, you know damn well you’d get at least one finger down from Steve. “Never have I ever… kissed Nancy Wheeler.”

Steve rolls his eyes and puts a finger down, and when a long finger covered in grease despite the many wipes against denim jeans also disappears into a fist… a sloppy grin lines Eddie’s mouth as Steve looks like he might throw up.

“Are you fuckin’ serious man?”

Eddie explains to a butthurt Steve, “let me explain, fuck— it was like a hundred years ago, after junior year, she kissed me!”

It was true.

Nancy went to Eddie to buy some “forget-‘ems” (Eddie’s coined word for ecstasy) after Jonathan left her for the pretty long haired new boy from California. She was scared and didn’t want to be alone while she took the white pill. Drug use being foreign to her entirely.

Eddie? She had asked kindly, unsure about herself for the first time. Take it with me?

His long curls bounced as he nodded his head, taking one of the pills from her dainty hands and placing it between his teeth. Tipping his head back with a quick jerk and a rough swallow, hoping it looked cool, he looked into her blue eyes and gave her a grin.

It was strange, having the preppy Nancy Wheeler in his trailer with her proper fitting cardigan and light wash skinny jeans.

He could tell she was uncomfortable, the normal glow of her skin was lost behind shallow cheeks and dark rimmed eyes, pressed tight with setting powder to try and hide it.

maybe she should have had a smaller dose, being that her small frame had never dealt with drugs before. And right when Eddie’s high took over, Nancy Wheeler had started to feel it too.

She ran around the trailer giggling and feeling the rough edges of the peeling wallpaper. She did flips on Eddie’s bed and spilled cereal all over the kitchen, laughing with dark wide pupil filled eyes. Completely rolling.

The high lasted longer than Eddie had thought it would, and she started to cry when thinking about her mom, crying harder when she asked Eddie about his. Forgetting she was gone.

She took it a step further by kissing Eddie square on the mouth, wet cheeks and harsh lips pressed to his before he could pull away. And immediately after, Nancy threw up all over his lap.

Ending the high and the four hour sudden friendship they had gained.

Eddie had told you the story one night when he got too drunk, making you swear to secrecy the next morning that you’d never tell a soul, and you hadn’t. Keeping the pinky promise with your friend all the way to your grave— if he hadn’t just spilled it all to Steve.

“See,” you say to try to smooth things over, voice calm and cool through your own high, “no harm no foul, Stevieee,” you chirped, hiding a small giggle behind bit lips.

“Really?” Steve spit, flustered and a bit bold trying to mask his hurt with venom. Tongue pressing deep into his cheek and his dark eyes locked on your own, hands tapping onto his bent knees, “then maybe we should even the score, huh?”

Eddie blows a ring of smoke into the air, following its lazy descent into the dense humid sky. “You wanna kiss Chrissy?” He looks at you with a quizzical expression, laughing at your stunned face, not understanding what Steve is getting at, “be my fucking guest, dude.”

“No,” Steve says firmly, not breaking eye contact with you, dark knives of fury peel back each layer of skin, “her.”

Eddie says your name in disbelief, and you’re stunned to your core, realizing the air was suddenly much stickier and hotter than before.

He sits up straight and leans over the discarded card game, pointing at Steve, eyes narrowed in on him, “you don’t even like her.”

“Sure I do,” Steve lies, sniffing loudly, his wicked eyes glance towards Eddie and he licks his lips when he turns his head back to you, eyeing you up and down, as he leans back on his palms, “don’t I, Taffy?”

Eddie’s nickname he had given you when you were kids for love of the cavity inducing candy, felt wrong falling from Steve’s mouth, especially in the grim sentiment it was said in.

Of course he was referring to the way he had approached you at that party at the lake all those years ago.

You could still smell his Acqua Di Gio cologne, the way the sun highlighted his hair that summer, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, the warm beer on his breath.

You make a face in disgust towards him, “I’m not kissing you, Harrington.” Crossing your arms in finality as if your words held enough power to command an entire kingdom.

Eddie shoves Steve’s shoulder, “what the fuck man,” mixed pleasure of pain and concern painting his face, “don’t be weird.”

Steve knew how much Eddie liked you, having spent many nights on the roof of his practically abandoned home listening to Eddie through FaceTime over analyzing how to make his move.

“‘m not,” he says with a shrug, long fingers tapping against the metal of the truck bed behind him, legs stretched out so the tops of his air forces skim your bent knees, eyeing what he wanted, you.

“just trying to get even,” Steve said nonchalantly.

“She’s not gonna kiss you,” Eddie said, shaking his head and throwing his hands around, hurt lacing his voice, “give it up.”

Steve wiggled the toe of his sneaker against your knee, shooting you a wink, “not until she does.”

It’s not as if the question hadn’t crossed your mind. It had more times than you’d like to admit. What would it be like to kiss Steve Harrington?

“Dude! She doesn’t wanna do it. Fucking leave her alone.” Eddie’s voice was loud and on the cusp of breaking as he pleaded with his friend.

What would have happened if you fell for his charm instead of turning him down? He was definitely sweet back then, taking your hand in his and guiding you along the rough terrain of the woods.

“Let her speak for herself!”

Eddie’s eyes fall to yours in desperation, his heart aching for you to tell Steve off, “c’mon, tell him, Taffy.”

Pressing your eyes shut tight you can feel Eddie’s hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to remind you that he’s there.

“One.”

“What?”

“What!”

“Just one kiss, then you need to shut up, got it?”

“Taff, you don’t have to do this, we can— we can just get home and I’ll pay him or something.” He’s desperate, willing to do whatever it took to not have this happen.

“It’s okay, Eddie, what’s one stupid kiss gonna hurt?”

You don’t hear the way he groans and throws himself back against the side of the truck, pinching the corner of his eyes between his fingers trying to ignore Steve’s low chuckle and smirk planted on his face.

“C’mon then,” Steve presses, man spreading his legs and patting his lap, “get over here.”

You roll your eyes and push yourself up again, “cocky aren’t ya?”

“all confidence babe,” he says back, licking his lips, and you roll your eyes again before kneeling in front of him.

Eddie groans and kicks at Steve’s leg again.

“Sorry dude, just bro code,” he said to Eddie, “and you,” he says addressing you with a nod, “ready?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He doesn’t move like Eddie, he’s grabby and rough, taking what he wants and not waiting for cues. He bullies his way into your mouth with his tongue, colliding yours with his and massaging it wildly. It wasn’t bad, just completely different than how you were just kissed by Eddie. When his teeth bite the flesh of your lip you yelp in surprise.

You turn your head and Steve’s lips trail down your neck, hungry hands grab at your waist and pull you into his lap. Your eyes are closed but his are open, looking at his friend and moving his hand in a wave to beckon him over.

A second set of hands is on your shoulders and you feel Eddie’s lips against your neck.

“This okay baby?”

His breath is hot and stuttering as you reach up and fist your fingers in his hair, your answer muffled by Steve’s mouth.

You moan their names, and it drives Eddie wild.

Eddie’s hands lower the strap of your tank top scraping your skin with the blunt of his nails. He groans when he sees the absence of a bra strap, diving into your warm skin with a lapping tongue, thrashing slow against your skin, working a strawberry shaped bruise into your skin.

Steve’s hands are already working to pop the button on your jeans, and you whine when you feel his hard cock beneath your leg.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Eddie breathes as you crane your neck to meet his lips, desperate for your lips to connect with his sgain.

His hands fumble on your tank top straps and he groans when his fingers skim over the swell of your tits, you twist his hair in your fingers when his rough hands pinch at your nipples.

Steve takes his shirt off and tosses it carelessly, his skin is warm on your bare chest as he licks at your exposed neck and earns another moan from you, causing you to whine into Eddie’s mouth and move your hips against his cock.

You’re all a tangle of bare chests and sweat coated skin. The boys are barely giving you any time to breathe between open mouth kisses and lazy tongues before the other one commands your attention.

“oh, fuck,” Steve whimpers when he works your shorts down, his large fingers find their way into the wet folds of your pussy, “no panties?”

Eddie pulls his mouth from yours to let out a desperate groan as your hands unzip his jeans, “shit, all day and no bra or panties,” his hands caress your cheeks and his thumb slips into your mouth open, which you close around him and moan, “you’re a bad girl, huh?”

“With the tightest little pussy, fuck,” Steve groans as he pushes a finger into your slick walls.

“Mm’mm” you answer them both at once, grabbing needy at Eddie’s cock through his boxer briefs as it flips into your hand, heavy and leaking a pearl of cum from the slit.

Noises of all kinds flood the bed of the truck.

Wet sloshing from you gushing over Steve’s fingers, him coaxing an orgasm from you as quick as he could, determined to hear your pretty mouth hum.

Eddie almost in tears as your mouth devours his length and the head of his cock slides into your throat.

The velvet skin of Eddie’s heavy cock slides in and out of your mouth at a slow speed, a small patch of hair rubs on your nose as you take him deeper.

He’s muttering incoherently and Steve is egging you on. His lips wrapped around your nipples and teeth nipping harshly.

“Jesus Jesus sweetheart, Taff— I’m gonna, don’t want to shit shit shit,” you open your mouth and he slides out on accident as you cum all over Steve’s fingers. Sloppy and wet as he rubs at your clit like a DJ.

“Thas’it,” he encourages, “so fucking wet, pretty little pussy, yeah, you like this? The two of us giving you what you want huh?”

“Yes, Jesus Christ yes!” you’re a blabbing mess, as your high peaks and Eddie spins you away from Steve.

Steve’s jeans are soaked from you and he’s pitching a tent big enough to host a family reunion.

“My turn baby,” Eddie says kissing you sloppy on your lips, “been wantin’ to taste this sweet pussy for years.”

He helps you lay down on the blanket, making a makeshift pillow with the discarded clothes from the three of you.

You’re covered in sweat and more than likely sunburnt in places no one ever should be, but you could care less. Being worshiped by Steve and Eddie had you feeling like the sexiest woman alive, and nothing could compare to the separate high that alone was giving you.

Eddie nudges his nose in the crook where your thighs meet, tongue lapping up the pleasure leftover from Steve. “What’d’ya think Stevie boy? Wanna bet I can make her cry?”

Steve’s busying himself with unthreading his legs from his jeans, his cock in his hand as he strokes it up and down at the sight of you spread out and naked for them.

“You’re on, Munson.”

Eddie’s tongue was tantalizing. Demon-like against your puffy clit and going further into your pussy than any tongue has before, including Robin’s.

His nose pushes up against your clit as he goes deeper, swirling his wicked tongue and slurping your folds into his mouth.

You’re buzzing all over. Vibrating from the intense pleasure. Moaning and yanking Eddie’s hair between your fingers as he moves and licks and darts his tongue.

Pretty whimpers elicit your body and are swallowed by Steve’s lips, as he hungrily works his tongue into your mouth. The swirling and twirling is all too much. Their tongues work like hands on a clock and your second orgasm arrives quick fast and in a hurry. The tears spill from your eyes as your writhe and moan beneath them, clawing every inch of their skin.

Eddie cleans you up with his tongue holding your hips in place as you shake and try to wiggle away from him. Too sensitive as you lay practically lifeless on the bed of the truck.

“Told you,” Eddie says as he sits up, with a sheen of your arousal all over his face. Smiling wide. “I’m just that good.”

Steve sits up and tucks his cock back into his boxers, pushing his hair back from his sweat slicked face, “yeah yeah, whatever…” he says, looking out towards the blue sky and the wavering, heat wave horizon, a stupid grin on his lips, “better get dressed sweet girl.”

“Thought we were just getting started,” you whine as Eddie kisses his way up your body, laying on his back next to you, his finger threaded with yours.

Steve chuckles and points a long finger to the road, “it’ll have to be another time, princess, our ride is almost here.”

I have a part two partly written .. lemme know what you would think of that?

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #steve fanfic #steve x female reader #steve harrington smut

607 notes · View notes

writing-intheundercroft · 5 months

Text

The Perfect Gift - O. Gaunt

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Word Count: 4,129

Rating: T

Summary: Ominis overhears the girls talking about some singer, and decides to write MC a song for Christmas. Sebastian can't help but be his wingman.

A/N: @darch7995 sent me a song and I had to write something fluffy and happy for Ominis! Listen to the audio HERE. Merry Christmas!

Ominis Gaunt was rarely stopped in his tracks, but once he’d heard the low warbling coming from the gramophone, he halted, holding his hands to his ears. He hated the insinuation that his blindness enhanced his other senses, but he did have impeccable hearing, and the song emitting from the sun room next to the Charms classroom had his ears ringing.

“Isn’t he just so dreamy?” Poppy sighed.

“Clarence Warbeck is my favorite singer of all time.” Leonora Everleigh declared. “I would listen to him all day if I could.”

Ominis rolled his milky blue eyes, ready to walk into the warm, sunlit room to say something snarky, until he heard her voice.

“I think he’s quite the romantic,” she said. His dear friend had a lilt in her voice towards the end of her sentence, as if she hadn’t finished her thought.

“You mean easy on the eyes?” Leonora teased.

She let out a laugh that had Ominis shivering, stumbling behind the column to avoid them seeing him.

“I just think music is quite lovely.” she mused. “And a song? I think that’s the sweetest gift a person could ever give.”

Ominis bit his bottom lip as he blushed. That was valuable information, he thought, especially with the holidays approaching. The wheels started spinning in his mind as he imagined a song, especially one about her–

“Oh, hi Ominis!”

He blinked, turning towards the voice. His friend had seen him, and now he had nowhere to hide.

“Hello, ladies.” Ominis said smoothly.

“Come to take a nap in the light?” Poppy said kindly. He blushed again; clearly his napping habits were quite public knowledge at this point.

“Come over,” his friend beckoned him closer. “We can sit on the cushions, if you’d like.”

“If you insist,” he stuttered.

Ominis awkwardly scampered over to the sound of her voice, settling down on the various plush cushions that were set on the floor. He felt her sit down next to him, tucking her feet under herself as he splayed out on the floor. One of the many cats that lived in the DADA tower slid against the two of them, purring.

“Comfortable?” she asked softly, the sound of the music dulled by her voice.

“Very,” Ominis hummed. He settled onto the cushions, his head falling into her lap. She continued her conversation with the girls as he drifted into a light sleep, the crooning of Clarence Warbeck filling the background noise.

Ominis and Sebastian sat at the Slytherin table in the great hall; with the holidays quickly approaching, most students were busy packing their trunks for the journey home. The Hogwarts Express was departing Hogsmeade station for the holidays the next morning, but per usual, Ominis and Sebastian were spending the holiday at the castle. As Professor Ronen decorated the Christmas tree, the boys sat at the table, loitering before dinner.

“And honestly, I took that quite personally. So I don’t think I should have gotten a detention for setting Leander on fire, he was the one who was in my way…Ominis, are you paying any attention to me?” Sebastian asked, eyebrows quirked.

Ominis rolled his unseeing eyes, waving off his best friend. “Yes, yes, something about nearly giving Leander Prewett third degree burns because he looked at you funny in potions again.” he said lazily, waving his wand again. His eyebrows were furrowed as he waved his wand again. His dictation quill scratched out a few words on the parchment in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked, narrowing his eyes at the many pages in front of his friend.

“Nothing,” Ominis said hastily, snatching his pages together before Sebastian could get his grubby hands on them.

“Why so secretive?” Sebastian asked, clearly intrigued by the change in Ominis’s attitude.

“It’s none of your business,” Ominis sniffed. “Back off.”

From the blond’s biting tone, Sebastian knew it was in his best interests not to press. However, his best interests were rarely ever actually on his mind. Lurching forward, Sebastian snatched a piece of parchment from Ominis’s hands, taking glee in how the blond panicked.

“Each year I ask for many different things–”

“Sebastian stop,” Ominis panted. “It’s not funny.”

“But now I know what my heart–”

“Sebastian!” Ominis screeched, nearly ripping the parchment from his best friend’s hands. “Stop it, I’m begging you.”

“What in Merlin’s name are you writing?” Sebastian laughed, watching as his normally impenetrable friend reddened, pushing the wrinkled parchment into his bookbag. “Is that a poem?”

Ominis’s face was bright red. “It’s a song, if you want to know so bad.” he scowled.

Sebastian’s face softened. “I didn’t know you were back at the old piano again.”

It wasn’t common knowledge that Ominis was an accomplished pianist. Mrs. Gaunt had insisted every child in the Gaunt family mastered an instrument, and he’d spent most of his childhood dreading piano lessons. Despite his initial disdain, Ominis had taken quite well to the instrument, and it became a hobby. Once he was at Hogwarts, he’d slip into the music room every now and then, practicing his rusty skills whenever he was under duress.

“It’s for a gift,” Ominis mumbled.

“Pardon?” Sebastian asked, now grinning. He had an idea of Ominis’s motivation, but wanted to hear the words from the boy himself.

“It is a Christmas gift,” Ominis hissed. “For her. Are you happy, Sebastian?”

“Blissful.” Sebastian leaned into the table, tucking his chin in hand. “This is rich–you’re writing a song for a girl.” he crooned. “How sweet, Omi. What gave you the idea?”

Ominis gave him a rude hand gesture, sparking laughter from the brunette. “I overheard her talking with Poppy and Leonora about that singer–Clarence Warbeck–and how they loved his songs.”

“Right, the prat who sings all those cheesy love songs the girls are obsessed with.” Sebastian noted. “Isn’t he doing a show in London over the holiday break?”

Ominis gave him a dry look. “Precisely. His lyrics are…uninspired, to say the least. And I was already thinking of what to give her for the holidays–you know she’s impossible to shop for. The girl has every piece of clothing known to mankind, every potion, book, broom at her disposal. I thought to myself, she deserves a song. You know, something actually personalized to her.” he said sheepishly.

“Well, I think it’s very kindhearted of you.” Sebastian said smugly. “Are you admitting it then?”

“Admitting what?” Ominis feigned indifference.

“Your crush on her.”

“Could you be any louder, Sebastian?” Ominis hissed. His hands flew to his temples as his best friend chortled next to him. “I just–”

“Just writing her a lovely, romantic song for the holidays.” Sebastian snorted. “Oh come on, I’m just teasing you. I think it’s great; you never play the piano, so it must mean something special.”

Ominis felt his face flush; despite his disdain for Sebastian in the moment, his best friend was right. Ominis had minimal experience with the fairer sex. The concept of romance was lost on the Gaunts, choosing to pair their children in arranged matches to bring honor to the bloodline. He’d never even imagined the idea of dating someone until she’d arrived at Hogwarts. Their friendship had gotten off to a rocky start, thanks to the freckled heathen sitting next to him, but the events of their fifth year had only drawn them closer to one another. What had started as an admiration for her bravery turned into a funny twist in his stomach whenever he heard her laughing. As of late, it had gotten so unbearable, Ominis had turned into a blushing mess whenever she sat next to him in class.

“Speak of the devil–she’s coming in.” Sebastian murmured. “Hide your sheets, then.”

Ominis heard her footsteps draw closer and closer as he hurriedly shoved his parchment back into his school bag.

“Hello you two,” she said sweetly, standing next to them. Ominis could smell her perfume wafting towards him, still smelling like the sweet scent of strawberries in the dead of winter. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” both boys said in unison.

Despite his blindness, Ominis could almost sense the arch of her brow. “Alright, weirdos.” she chuckled. “I have good and bad news.”

“Do tell,” Sebastian said.

“Good news, Leonora’s mother surprised us with tickets to Clarence Warbeck’s show in London!” she said gleefully. “I was going to stay in the castle for the holidays, but Leonora’s parents decided to surprise her early so she could bring friends, and she invited me to join!”

“O-oh.” Ominis said, feeling his heart crack in half. “So you’ll be gone, then?”

“Yes, well that’s the bad news, you see. I know it’s such late notice, but I hope the two of you won’t be cross with me,” she said wistfully. “It’s just such a good opportunity, and I’ve never been to a real show before–”

“Of course we’re not mad,” Ominis interjected. “If it makes you happy, we’ll be happy for you.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you understand,” she sighed in relief. “I am going to miss you over the holidays, I hope you know that.”

Ominis pursed his lips. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sebastian chuckled. “I’m positively bereft you’re leaving us.”

Despite his inner turmoil, Ominis knew she was excited for the opportunity to visit London. It was silly of him to write the song, he thought; he was no great wordsmith, nor half the performer that Clarence Warbeck was. He felt a pit of jealousy in his stomach as he pictured her singing and cheering for him in a crowd, waiting for his autograph at the side door to the theater–

He was broken out of his thoughts at the feeling of her kissing his cheek.

“Don’t miss me too much, Ominis.” she said kindly.

“I’ll be counting down the days until you’re back,” he said softly. Realizing just how lovesick he sounded, he quickly covered with a cough. “Can’t forgive you for leaving me with this one,” he elbowed Sebastian, who yelped in return.

She gave a sparkling laugh, which brought warmth to his cheeks once more. “I’ll try to see you before I leave tomorrow.” she promised, her voice getting further and further away as he heard her walk towards the door.

The boys were silent until they heard the door properly shut.

“Lots of talk, use of the word we,” Sebastian noted. “When you’re the one supposedly preparing a love song for her.”

“Shove off,” Ominis mumbled. “I knew it was a stupid idea.”

“Don’t say that,” Sebastian assured him. “You can give it to her when she’s back.”

Ominis knew he was right, but he was rather hoping to give her his song over the holidays. He’d already spent so much time planning his confession, and her leaving for the holiday was a major setback. Ominis wasn’t sure he could muster up the confidence to play his music for her again, let alone with a castle full of other students who might walk in on them.

“Whatever,” Ominis sighed.

It had been a few days since the train had departed for London, taking her to London and far, far away from Hogwarts for the holidays. Ominis had since retreated to the music room nearly every night, wishing to be alone. It was late, and Ominis was seated at the piano again. His long, lithe fingers softly danced across the keys, playing the tune he’d written for her song. Under his breath, he mumbled the lyrics; deep down, he didn’t really want to be alone, but she had been the only company he’d desired. He imagined her, standing at the Clarence Warbeck show, swaying to the lame lyrics with her girlfriends, and it made his piano strokes a bit heavier and angrier than he’d wanted them to be.

He was so lost in thought, he hardly noticed the sound of skittering feet approaching the music room. It wasn’t until the door burst open that he stumbled over the keys, lifting his wand to identify the intruder.

“Sebastian? What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Ominis barked.

“She’s–Ominis, they–show got canceled–she’s here,” Sebastian rambled, panting for air.

“What are you even talking about?”

Sebastian took a big gulp of air. “The Clarence Warbeck show got canceled,” he breathed. “She caught the train back to Hogsmeade instead.”

Ominis blinked at his best friend. “She’s here?” he said, voice strained.

“Do you have your song written?” Sebastian demanded.

“Er, yes–I was just finishing the melody.” Ominis admitted.

“That settles it–you have a song to deliver then, Ominis.” Sebastian said proudly. “I can grab her, if you like–”

“Are you insane?” Ominis gaped. “It’s not–I’m not ready!” he panicked.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “There’s a piano, you have your lyrics, what aren’t you ready for?” he asked.

Ominis began wringing his hands. “But it has to be romantic,” he wheezed. “And this isn’t romantic at all. For Merlin’s sake, I’m wearing pajamas!”

Sebastian was quiet for a few moments; Ominis could tell the cogs were moving in his best friend’s head. The brunette snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!” he said gleefully. “The perfect idea.” He could hear Sebastian’s boots scuffling around him, muttering under his breath.

“What are you doing?” Ominis asked curiously.

“Candles.” Sebastian said simply, muttering a conjuration charm. “You’ll need a lot of candles, girls love them.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know that,” Ominis scowled, standing up and raising his wand. He could sense Sebastian conjuring dozens candles, setting them around the piano.

“And you–you should change into something a little nicer.” Sebastian tutted. “Not that your pajamas aren’t cute and all, but you’ll want to look your best.”

“I know that,” Ominis rolled his eyes. However, he couldn’t contain the flutter of excitement in his stomach. “Are you suggesting I change now?”

“Run down to the dungeons, I’ll take care of the room.” Sebastian assured him. “Ambiance, by Sebastian Sallow.” he joked.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Ominis said earnestly.

“Get fewer girls, that’s for sure.” The brunette snorted.

“Don’t start.” Ominis warned him, backing up towards the door.

“Is that any way to treat your personal elf?” He didn’t need sight to know there was a smug grin stretched across Sebastian’s face. “Go on, get prettied up. I’ll be here, getting everything prepared.”

“I know you can’t see yourself, but you look quite dashing.” Sebastian hummed. He adjusted Ominis’s tie, the blonde slapping his hands away in return. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Ominis lied. “What’s to be nervous about?”

“I dunno–the fact that it’s nearly midnight and you’re about to host your first solo concert to the girl you’re in love with.” Sebastian hummed. “I know I had some mistletoe around here somewhere…”

“Hello?” A feminine voice called out. “Is anyone there?”

Ominis slapped Sebastian’s arm. “She’s here!” He hissed. “Get out!”

Sebastian yelped in response; Ominis straightened his waistcoat as he heard his best friend stumble across the music room, his boots clacking against the stairs.

“Ominis, are you in there?” Her voice sounded nearer, about to turn the corner into the room.

He gulped, twirling his wand rather anxiously at his side. “I am,” he choked out. “Do come in.”

He could hear her delicate footsteps as she walked into the music room; first quickly, and then stopping in her tracks. It felt like eons before her feet picked up again, taking slow deliberate steps towards him in the corner, next to the piano.

“Sebastian sent me an owl, saying it was rather time-sensitive.” she said hesitantly. “That it was an emergency.”

“That twat,” Ominis grumbled. “It’s not an emergency, per say, but I did want you to meet me here.”

“So no one is dying, gravely wounded, or in need of protection?”

“Did he say that was the issue?” Ominis choked.

She snorted. “Rather implied it was a life or death matter.”

Ominis scolded Sebastian in his head, rolling his eyes. He’d have to set him straight later on.

“I wanted to ask you to come meet me here,” Ominis chewed on his lower lip. “Because I knew you were quite disappointed when the Clarence Warbeck show was canceled.”

“Oh, right.” she said quickly. “Yeah, Leonora was a bit upset over it, and I didn’t really have any other reason to be in London, so I caught the train home.”

“Well, with that being the case, I thought this was a good time to give you your Christmas present.” Ominis swallowed thickly.

“Omi, I thought we weren’t doing presents,” she said, her voice slightly panicked. “I haven’t gotten you anything–”

“This,” Ominis interjected, pointing his wand towards the piano. “This is the present.”

She paused, clearly confused. “The piano? The one that’s always here in the music room? I mean, thanks Ominis, but I doubt we can steal the school piano–”

“No,” Ominis groaned. He tugged her hand towards the bench, gesturing for her to sit next to him. “This is the present. Me–er, rather, a song for you.”

There was a pregnant pause as she slowly slid into the bench next to him. Her shoulder bumped into his, and he could feel the ends of her braid tickling his skin. They’d never sat so closely before–not under the pretense of anything other than a friendly afternoon nap in the corridor.

“You wrote a song for me?” she asked, her voice suddenly small and subdued. “Ominis, I didn’t even know that you could play the piano.”

Ominis set his wand down on the piano’s ledge with shaky hands. “I did–I do play the piano. I learned when I was younger,” he admitted, his fingers finding the ivory keys. “I’m actually quite good, if I do say so myself. Sebastian tells me I am too.”

“You’ve played for Sebastian, but not me?” she scoffed, a playful tone returning to her voice.

Ominis began playing the tune he’d written, the one he’d memorized in a matter of days just for her. “I only share this with people I love,” he said softly. Realizing what he’d just said, he coughed quickly to cover his blunder. “Like my friends. Anne, Sebastian, and now you.”

She rested her chin on Ominis’s shoulder. “Well, go on then. Let me hear it.”

“And you won’t make fun of me if I’m a lousy singer?” Ominis asked, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“I would never,” she reassured him.

Ominis began singing; he could hear her breath catch as his voice echoed in the room. The words tumbled out of his mouth as his fingers danced across the keys. Despite not having his wand in hand, he started to feel more confident as his tune went on, his voice only cracking slightly when he felt her soft hand on his leg.

So just please fall in love with me, this Christmas

There’s nothing else that I would need, this Christmas

Won’t be wrapped under a tree, I wish that this would last forever,

So kiss me on this cold December night;

They call it the season of giving; I’m here, yours for the taking

I’m here, I’m yours

The notes trailed off, Ominis’s fingers lifting from the keys. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands; in his nervousness, he clenched his fists in his lap.

“I tried to copy Warbeck’s style,” he gulped. “Since you like him so much. I overheard you talking with the girls last week, that you thought a song was the sweetest gift a person could give.”

“You listened to me,” she murmured.

Ominis squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to articulate his feelings. “I…I’m always listening to you. I want to make you happy.” he wrung his hands together.

“Ominis, this is…the song…” she trailed off.

“Do you hate it?” he asked nervously.

She threw her arms around him; he yelped as she squeezed him tight.

“How could one hate a song so beautiful? This is my favorite Christmas gift I’ve ever received, the most perfect gift.” she gasped. “No one has ever written me a song before.”

Ominis sighed in relief, blushing as he found the courage to wrap his arms around her waist, hugging her in return. “I’m glad you liked it.” he murmured into her shoulder.

She pulled away, pressing her small, warm hands against his cheeks. “Liked it? Ominis, I loved it!” she exclaimed. “I never knew you had such talent. You need to play more often for me.”

Ominis smiled as he pressed her forehead against hers. “Well, now that you know, I’d be happy to play for you whenever you’d like.”

Her warm hands left his cheeks, falling to hold his hands. There was a brief pause; he could tell she was chewing on her lower lip.

“The lyrics,” she murmured. “You…you mean them, right? They’re not just lyrics?”

Ominis took in a sharp breath as her fingers entwined with his. “Well, Mr. Warbeck is quite forward with his feelings in all of his songs, so I thought I should do the same.” he whispered. “I wanted it to be romantic, and all I could think of wanting this Christmas was you.” he confessed.

“I thought so,” she mused. “So you would like me to kiss you?”

Ominis blinked rapidly, his cheeks burning hot. “Only if–” he started to say, quickly cut off by her lips pressing against his.

She smiled against his lips, and Ominis melted into her touch. His hands cradled her face while she held onto his forearms, keeping him close. He whined softly as she pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Only what?” she asked.

“If you mean it, truly.” Ominis fought the smile that tugged on the corner of his lips. “I hope you do. Or I guess in this case, did.”

She laughed; the melodic sound of her giggles rivaled even the sweetest of songs. Her chin dropped to his shoulder again, and she nuzzled closer.

“You didn’t need to write a song to capture my heart, Ominis.” she breathed. “It’s been yours for a while now.”

Ominis went slack jawed. “What?”

“Why do you think I caught the first train back to Hogwarts?” she nudged him with her nose. “I wanted to be back here, to spend Christmas with you, Ominis.”

“But the show–Clarence Warbeck–”

“He’s a good singer,” she laughed. “But he’s not you.”

Ominis surged forward, and she yelped when he pressed his lips against her face, slightly missing her lips. No matter; she chuckled again, angling her face to meet him perfectly. One of Ominis’s hands tugged her closer at the waist, the other trailing up to her soft, strawberry scented hair.

“I love you,” he admitted, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

Just as she was about to open her mouth in response, the two heard a cough from the rafters. They jolted apart, Ominis nearly falling off the bench to maintain a proper distance from her in case it was a professor.

It wasn’t–he could hear a familiar voice huffing at them.

“Can I come down now?”

Ominis furrowed his eyebrows. “Sebastian, what the bloody hell are you still doing here?” he gasped.

“Well you didn’t give me much time to get down from the rafters,” Sebastian complained. “I was trying to hang the mistletoe for you two.”

“Get out!” Ominis groaned, while she laughed next to him on the piano bench.

Ominis could hear Sebastian’s snickering, and the familiar beat of his steps as he ran out of the music room. He groaned, his head falling against her shoulder.

“So embarrassing.” he muttered into the fabric of her shirt. “I can’t believe he heard the song.”

“Not at all,” she cooed. “Wouldn’t quite be a moment between us without Sebastian interrupting, would it?” she pressed a soft kiss against his hair. “Play the song for me again?”

“Only if I get to kiss you more.” Ominis whispered.

“That can be arranged,” she said coyly, tilting his chin up towards her. She adoringly pressed kisses against his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and then finally his lips again. Pulling away, she leaned her head on his shoulder once more, sighing happily as his fingers started dancing across the keys again.

“Happy Christmas, Ominis. I love you too.”

Those four words were music to Ominis’s ears. He played the song for her over and over again, his voice more confident every time he repeated the lyrics. The fourth time he repeated, she stopped him, kissing him breathless.

“Saw the mistletoe,” she whispered against his lips, slithering her arms around his waist. “He managed to hang it after all.”

Grinning into her kiss once more, Ominis reminded himself to thank Sebastian.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt fan fiction #pianist ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x oc #had to do a happy ominis piece somehow

279 notes · View notes

elminx · 29 days

Text

Witch Tip: Getting Started With Planetary Magic

Note: This is, as always, my personal experience of studying astrology and working with the planets for twenty-five years. There's some UPG in there. Your results may vary. My paradigm is based on creating relationships with the planets rather than demanding they obey your commands. This is what I mean by work with: begin the process of forging a relationship.

If you are looking for a place to start with planetary magic, work with the traditional planetary ruler of your Sun, Moon, or Ascendant - whichever of the three feels right.

They are as follows: Aries - Mars, Taurus - Venus, Gemini - Mercury, Cancer - the Moon, Leo - the Sun, Virgo - Mercury, Libra - Venus, Scorpio - Mars, Sagittarius - Jupiter, Capricorn - Saturn, Aquarius - Saturn, and Pisces - Jupiter.

If you are under the age of 30, I would steer you away from working with Saturn to start with and if you are under 25, I would steer you away from Jupiter as well. (as intermediary planets they require a bit of life experience to fully actualize)

The Sun and the Moon can be looked at a bit like parents. Most of the time, they like you and want to support your life and successes. Sometimes they can be bossy or naggy and they definitely will always think they know better than you.

Venus and Mars are like your besties, or sometimes, your siblings. They can be your wingman when you need them and will definitely beat somebody up if they've been bullying you. They may not always agree with you, but most times you can convince them to your side.

Mercury is a capricious bitch. They will play tricks on anyone, including you. They are endlessly convinceable so just be reasonable and you will probably get what you want (though sometimes in a roundabout way).

Jupiter doesn't have an inside voice. Thankfully, they tend to want the best for everybody. That includes people you don't like, though. You may have a problem with moderation if you work with Jupiter too often, some people like it that way.

Saturn is a buzzkill. Some buzzes need to be killed. Working with Saturn too much can lead you straight into depression. But if you need to stop something, get a handle on a situation, or just slow the fuck down, this is your slightly Scary Uncle. Intimidation x10.

Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto don't care because they don't have dominion over our everyday lives. And that's okay, they control the inevitability of change (Uranus), death (Pluto), and the Unknowable (Neptune). They can't be convinced because we cannot control the inevitability of change, death, and the unknowable. They happen to us - all we can do is accept it or (very occasionally) get out of the way.

Do you like my work? You can support me by tipping me on Kofi, commissioning me to write an astrological report for you, or signing up to become a monthly supporter of my writing.

#witchblr #astrology #planetary magic #astrology 102

153 notes · View notes

cottonlemonade · 3 months

Text

How You Met

word count: 832 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kenma x chubby!Reader feat. Kuroo (as The Wingman™ doing the most)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

____________________________________________

“You need to get out more. Don’t you ever miss the sun and …”, Kuroo looked around his friend’s gaming room, noting empty take-out containers and energy drinks and balled up socks, “fresh air?”

“No.“, Kenma simply said as he rifled through the games on his computer, trying to decide which one he would stream tonight.

“Come on, let‘s go out. Not for a drink or anything, just for a walk.“

Kenma knew he wouldn‘t be able to hold out long against Kuroo‘s incessant pleas that were bound to follow and so he gave a demonstrative sigh and got up, ignoring the other‘s wide grin.

“Now isn‘t this nice?“, Kuroo took a deep breath of the crisp evening air.

Kenma just looked at his phone and tapped on a nearby checkpoint collecting his rewards.

“It‘s raining.“

“Hardly, drizzling at best. Do you wanna check out that new restaurant that just opened up?“

“No, let‘s go back home. We can order food.“

“We‘ve barely been out five minutes.“

That was already 5 times longer than Kenma preferred in a week.

“Look, the app says there is an event in the park over there. Why don‘t we check it out?“

Lured with the promise of a good game, Kenma shuffled after Kuroo, not hiding a groan of contempt that made Kuroo laugh, “Just like the good old days!“

According to the app the upcoming battle would take place at a fountain in the middle of the small aforementioned park. Only a few other people were already waiting there, periodically checking their phones for the event timer.

Kenma looked around, already thinking about what food he craved once he was back in his warm and cozy house.

There were two young school boys who, in Kuroo‘s opinion, should have gone to bed long ago, another man a little older than him - and you. You stood under a cream coloured umbrella, concentrating on your phone like the others. A fluffy white dog sat at your feet, leaning close to stay dry.

You looked really cute, stunningly cute actually, as far as he could tell in the dim light of the street lanterns, subdued by the misty air. The washed out video game shirt was tied to a knot at your hips, hugging your curvy shape. You reminded him of the big bunny plushie he had gotten a few years ago as part of a game promotion.

The event finally began. He tried to keep his focus on the game but snuck curious looks every now and then across the fountain. Did you live around here, too? How had he never seen you bef- oh, right.

After a few short minutes it was already over and everyone went their separate ways.

“So, what do you wanna have for dinner? Kenma? Hello? Hm?“

Kuroo‘s eyes followed the gaze of his friend and grinned when he spotted you, digging around in your bag.

“Kenma-kun?“, he said teasingly, leaning closer to his friend‘s ear, “You still with us?“

“Huh?“

The younger one snapped out of his daze.

“Why don‘t you go talk to her?“

“Talk to who?“

“Her.“, Kuroo nodded in your direction.

“Why would I?“

“Oh geez, I dunno. Because you‘re staring and for you that is basically equivalent to Tora salivating.“

“Am not.“, Kenma muttered defensively and hated that his ears turned hot.

“Uh huh. Hey, excuse me!”, Kuroo ignored the panicked tug on his jacket when he called out to you.

You looked up, then at them, looked around in confusion, then pointed at yourself.

“Yes.”, Kuroo called with a bright confident smile and walked over to you, Kenma who was still holding onto his jacket followed, but quickly let go before you noticed.

You seemed a bit worried at the tall figure calling out to you randomly in a park but calmed when he asked, “Did you score anything good?” He pointed to your phone.

“Oh. Yes, yes I did.” You turned your phone to show off the rewards.

“Nice. Didn’t you say you got something good, Kenma?”

The younger one nodded and turned his screen for you to see.

“Wow, lucky!”

“I’m Kuroo. This is Kenma.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m (y/n).”

Silence followed.

“And who is this?”

Kuroo pointed at the dog to your feet that sniffed his foot quizzically.

“That’s Plume. I named her after -“

“The berserker in Cloak and Dagger II.“, Kenma finished.

His ears turned hot again when your face lit up.

“Yes! Oh my god, I never met anyone offline who knows the game!“

Silence fell again, Kuroo tapped his foot impatiently.

“Hey, Kenma, isn‘t Cloak and Dagger a multiplayer game?“

“Yeah.“, Kenma replied, weirdly annoyed that his friend would ask such a dumb obvious question in front of you.

Another short stretch of silence.

Kuroo sighed. “Why don‘t you two exchange tags then? You could play together.“

“Oh! That would be great, but I mean, of course you don‘t have to.“, you said quickly.

“Oh no, he wants to.“

____________________________________________

a/n: let‘s just pretend the picture is post-time skip - also this game is entirely made up and it took me way too long to think of a name

#kenma x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma fluff #hq kenma #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #kuroo deserves an award #chubby reader

190 notes · View notes

calypsocolada · 8 months

Text

BEGIN AGAIN | nanami

(this is part two! click here for part one)

synopsis: nanami ruined his wedding for you, now's he just waiting for your call. authors note: as peoples princess brittany broski once said, 'i need him in a way thats concerning to feminism'. enjoy :) cw: cussing, angst, wingman!gojo, making out, fluff wc: 2.4k

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

You sink into your seat at the bar, fingers around a cold glass, the condensation dripping onto your hand. This was your third drink of the night, and you were aiming for a lot more. There were things you were wanting to shove down and forget, if only for the night. But the night was young, the sun hadn’t even begun to set yet, still golden in the sky. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and before you even dared to look at it you took a gulp of your drink. Let it ring and ring before you breathed in and pulled your phone towards your face. Gojo’s contact filled up on the screen. Not exactly who you were wanting to hear from but you answered nevertheless.

“Don’t start.” You said immediately into the speaker. You heard Gojo laugh, it sounded like more of a scoff to you though.

“Shouldn’t have even picked up then.” He joked. You grabbed your drink in preparation for this conversation.

“I texted him, alright.” You sighed out.

“You texted him? Texted. Come on, Y/n. He’s practically in his fifties, he’s not gonna read your text.” Gojo said as you rolled your eyes hard enough to give yourself a headache.

“He read it.”

“And didn’t respond?” Gojo asked. You were quiet.

“I shouldn’t have even texted him. I should’ve just, ya know, let things go. You’re a terrible influence.” You sighed, gulping down the rest of your drink. Gojo laughed this time, like what you said should’ve been obvious. And it was, but when it came to someone you loved you did stupid things. You always did stupid things.

“What did you text?”

“I’m not gossiping with you, Gojo, I’m trying to enjoy my night.”

“Where are you?”

“No, I don’t want company.”

“Okayyyy. What did you text him then?” Gojo asked exasperatedly. You sighed heavily, pulling up the text even though you had reread it over and over and over again for the past few hours.

“I said, ‘I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me but Gojo told me you were getting married. I'm happy for you. Congratulations!’.” There was a silence over the phone that made your patience run thin. “Well?”

“I told you he was getting married so you could stop the whole thing, not congratulate him.” Gojo finally replied as you sucked in a breath.

“I’m not a homewrecker, Satoru.”

“He’s not happy.”

“Has he ever been?”

“Yes! With you!” Gojo argues as you let your head fall against your hand as you rub your temples. This conversation was having the very same effect you had been trying to avoid all day. The inevitability of your past being trudged up. You heard Gojo sigh over the phone. “I don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t want to do, Y/n. I never got the chance to tell someone that I loved them and I never will. I don’t want that for you.” You closed your eyes. Now you just felt selfish, like a kid crying over something trivial.

“You just had to go there.” You said, pulling out your card to pay for the drinks, any hopes of forgetting and moving on seemed to be stopped in their tracks.

“Nanami would be content in never being happy again if he thought it was in your best interest.” Gojo says, his words cutting you right to the bone. You pushed from your seat and walked towards the entrance when you saw the white haired man sitting at a table just outside. He gave you a wave as you rolled your eyes, walking out to him.

“Are you stalking me now?” You asked as Gojo patted the chair next to him with his hand. Reluctantly you sat, slouching slightly.

“You have terrible awareness by the way.”

“Shut up.” You snap, not actually angry. Gojo leans back, crossing his legs as he looks over at you.

“Are you okay?” He asks as you sigh heavily.

“I just want to go home and not have to think about Nanami.” You say and part of you really meant it. You’d been thinking of him since the day you left him. Wondering if you made the right choice. You two were young but you’d never felt anything close to what he made you feel and that scared you.

“Let’s not talk about it then.”

“Gojo, come on, you came all the way out here to play wingman for your friend.”

“You and I used to be friends too.” He points out. You two used to be very close back when you and Nanami were together. You missed that probably just as much as you missed Nanami.

“You’re too cool for me now.” You say and Gojo tilts his head back in laughter.

“Yeah, right.” He laughs. You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and when you pull it out your heart drops right out of your chest. Gojo reads your expression with ease. “Answer it.” He says as you place your phone down on the table, shaking your head. Gojo sighs, looking at you with his striking eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks as you swallow, turning to look away from him.

“I already feel like shit for texting him, Satoru. He’s moved on. He’s getting married for christ sake.” At that statement Gojo laughs with his full chest.

“He will never move on and neither will you. You both are stubborn and prideful.” He says as you turn to look at him.

“This is why we’re not friends anymore.” You say as Gojo smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Your phone buzzes one last time and you know it’s because Nanami has left you a voicemail. You push Gojo away and grab your phone, standing up from your chair. Sure enough there’s a single missed call and voicemail from Nanami. You swallow, your throat dry as you pull the phone up to your ear.

“I wanna hear!” Gojo jests as you flip him off. You hear Nanami’s voice, his tone raspy and almost desperate as he speaks.

“I don’t know if you're asleep or not. I know our time zones are different. I just-- I wanted to talk to you. I don’t want to say what I have to say over the phone but I need you to know. I still love you. I’m not ever going to stop. I ruined my wedding, I ruined everything. Just,” He pauses and you can almost hear your own heartbeat. “Please call me back.”

Nanami grips the steering wheel, a car honking behind him. He hadn’t noticed when the light turned green. He pressed his foot on the gas. Nothing felt real, he kept getting lost in times that he wished he’d know again. Times where you were there. He wasn’t far from home and as he kept driving his eyes would dart to his phone, he wanted nothing more in this world than for your contact to pop up on his phone. But it was too late. He’d fucked it all up. You were happy he moved on, you’d told him that and still foolishly he imploded the entire day.

A chance with you was worth it. You were always worth it.

Happiness was fleeting for him. Before he met you he was just going through the motions. You taught him things, taught him to try and enjoy life. The simple things. That working to the grave wasn’t his only option. But he wanted to provide for you, wanted you to never have to worry about anything and when he set his mind to something sometimes he got lost in it. He lost you. He tried to replace you, to fill the hole that you carved in him but nothing fit. Nanami just felt like shit, for finding someone and almost marrying them when he should’ve just been alone. He should just be alone.

“Nanami?” He hadn’t even noticed when he left his car, until he was walking up to his front porch where you sat. Nanami startled slightly, stumbling back a step. He couldn’t believe his eyes. You, with your doe eyes and pink lip, looking at him in a way that twisted his stomach.

“Y/n… What- what’re you doing here?” He asked. He took in the sight of you, your tousled hair looked at though you ran your hands through it a few times. You waved your phone at him.

“I got your message.” You said simply. Nanami swallowed. He wanted to play Mr. Cool Guy but he couldn’t fucking form a single coherent thought right now. The last time he saw you was when you were packing your things to leave him. Nanami reached up, loosening the tie around his neck, sighing.

“I’m sorry, did it ruin your night?” He asked, he watched your eyes, how they took in the sight of him in a suit. The suit he was supposed to be married in.

“Did my text ruin yours?” You asked. Nanami scoffed, amusement on his lips.

“Yes.” He said as your brows shot up slightly.

“I wanted to be supportive.” You say, throat dry. Nanami looked entirely too handsome right now. He was always handsome but something about him in a suit, hair a mess, tie loosened was doing something to your insides.

“I didn’t want your support.” He said, walking forwards slightly. You wondered if you’d misheard his voicemail, if he was angry at you for the text. You sighed.

“You can thank Gojo then, he’s been badgering me all week.” You say as Nanami smirks.

“You too?” He asks as you laugh slightly. The tension easing just a bit. You swallowed, looking up at him.

“Did you really call off your wedding?” You ask. His eyes meet yours, the air turns electric. He nods his head. You couldn’t imagine what shit show he’d just caused. The poor girl he left at the altar. “Jesus.” You say simply. It really only took one text to change the course of his entire life.

“Did you mean what you said in the text? Were you happy for me?” He asks as you swallow.

“Yes and no.” You say. Nanami takes another step forwards, sliding to sit next to you on the porch. You turn to face him, his striking eyes and sharp lines. He looked tired, exhausted even. He reached into the space between you, tucking your hair out of your face. You leaned into that touch, after all you craved it for years.

“I love you.” Nanami says softly, letting it linger in the air. Your heart skips, you suck in a breath. “I’ve loved you since that first night.”

That first night. When you met Nanami you were a mess. You’d been in a shitty on and off relationship with a boy back home. You were waitressing at some diner in the city. You’d just come off your break where the boy you thought you loved told you he wanted to take some more time apart. You had mascara all down your cheeks and when you went to take Nanami’s order he was kind and attentive. He told you that loving someone shouldn’t be this hard, it shouldn’t leave you in such turmoil. You took that to heart because he was right. Loving isn't all easy but it's worth it when it's right. Nanami left you with an extremely generous tip. You thought you wouldn’t see him again but a day or so passed and he was back. He wanted to check in on you. You asked him to get lunch with you on your break and that was that. You ended up kissing him by the end of the day because the moment he checked in on you, someone who was practically a stranger you had fallen for him. Loving Nanami was easy, then it wasn’t, and now you weren’t sure which it would fall under, but you knew you still loved him.

“I was a mess.” You say affectionately as Nanami’s mouth quirks in a smirk, his eyes looking from yours to your lips, lingering there.

“So am I.” He whispers in the space between you two. Desire feels like a kick to the stomach, his voice raspy and wanting.

"We did a lot of wrong back then." You said. Nanami shook his head.

"I did. Not you."

"Nanami, it's not all on you." You start but he kissed you quick.

"I appreciate your apology but I don't accept it. You tried to make it work, you made time when I didn't. I was the asshole, I know that." He says, thumb rubbing against your cheek. "I want you, desperately. I want to make this work, I want to make time." He lists off. You swallowed, fingers gripping the porch so as to not yank Nanami against your lips. But the famine settled for Nanami, the desire for more now that you're here right in front of him. In the flesh. His eyes flick to yours. He couldn’t afford to look at you for this long, as it was entirely difficult to look away once he started. He watched your throat bob. There was so much to unpack, so much to say but there was a universal way to make things known. "Let me show you how much I want this." He breathes out against your lips.

Nanami’s fingers slide into your hair as he brings you against him, taking your lips with his own. A thunderstorm erupted at the action. Your hands grip the front of his dress shirt as you move your lips in time with his. Kissing him felt so natural, like sliding into a comfortable routine. Like no time had passed. Nanami pulls away and sweeps you to your feet, kissing you passionately as he pushes you back against his front door, body caging over yours. You gasp into his mouth, the desire mingling with want making you sick with love. You could talk in the morning. There was always morning. You're not sure when Nanami got the door unlocked but you're dragging him inside as his hand pulls you by the chin, lips enveloping yours as you stumble inside. Things crash in the wake of you and Nanami’s hurricane. Your breaths heavy, practically panting into each other's mouths as he pulls you on top of him on the stairs. His hands travel to your hips, digging into the skin there as your fingers slide up under his shirt. He shivers against your cold fingers. He picked you up then, a startled giggle erupting from your lips as he kissed you quiet, hauling you off to his bedroom. You’d thank Gojo in the morning, his meddling finally did some good.

Nanami pressed you into the soft comforter on his bed, caging your body with his own. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and peppered kisses over your cheek to your jaw and down to your neck. You breath hitched as his trailed his lips back up to your own. You closed your eyes as flashes of Nanami standing on the altar assaulted your thoughts. You hadn't noticed your jealously until now. Wondering what world of hurt you were in for if he had gone through with it. You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and brought him as close as possible. If you had it your way Nanami would only get married once in his life, and it would be to you.

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

tags: @vlbi

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #nanami fluff #jjk gojo

339 notes · View notes

queenie-avenue · 6 months

Note

Hey! I saw your post about the requests and was wondering if you could write a story about Sebastian and a female MC, which contains a lot of angst ( with a happy ending ) maybe about a huge misunderstanding with jealousy on MC’s side and all is good in the end? :)

Thank you!! 💚

You're so pretty, it hurts.

—> he's so popular he can barely give you the time of day now.

⤻ reader is a female, reader's house is not specified, reader is insecure, reader is easily jealous/a bit clingy, angst with a happy ending but it's like more internal turmoil than straight up arguing, jealousy, all characters are in their sixth year, ominis is the best wingman, mentions of the events in hogwarts legacy, sebastian is on the quidditch team as a beater

note: i know that sebastian is canonically unfit, and i love him for it, but i think he would be good as a beater. thank you for the ask, btw anon! <33 keep them coming!

🦋 ⤻ archives.

Ever since the events of last year, you and Sebastian weren't that close anymore. He had promised things would be the same, but a part of you felt like Sebastian blamed you for the events that happened in your sixth year. You blamed yourself too, to be honest. If only you had been more persistent, if only you had been more persuasive, Sebastian wouldn't have lost his sister and uncle.

You still dream about the hollow eyes of Solomon Sallow, at times. Regretting how you did nothing to stop Sebastian from going down the path of evil.

Although you and Sebastian did not talk that much anymore, you still heard whispers about him. Well, technically they weren't whispers given how everyone was speaking about him to the point the whispers grew into a buzz that you could not fizz out from your brain. Your dearest slytherin boy had decided to try out for the quidditch team this year now that Professor Black finally allowed the darn sport to be played. Ominis told you — yes, Ominis and not Sebastian — that Sebastian wanted a way to let loose that anger inside him, he hoped that being a beater would help with his issues, get his mind off things.

That seemed to work, given how little he seemed to think of you nowadays.

Even now, as you sat in the library, you heard giggles from girls who thought that Sebastian looked rather dashing in the quidditch uniform or how some guys were jealous of the attention Sebastian was getting. Even some guys fancied the slytherin boy too.

You slammed your book shut and practically stormed out from the library. "A library is meant for studying, not gossiping." You muttered, overcome with jealousy, ignoring the fact that you had been gossiping with Poppy just weeks ago.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You stood at the side of the quidditch field, staring up at the sky as the slytherin team flew overhead, practicing drills for next week's match with hufflepuff.

"You know, this would be much easier if you talked to him." Ominis said, interrupting the gawking session you were currently undergoing. You had invited Ominis over to the quidditch field in an attempt to make things less awkward when Sebastian would eventually descend from the sky back onto the green patches of grass.

You stood there alongside with Ominis, making small talk as you stared up into the sky — your eyes almost being burnt off by the afternoon sun — as you look at Sebastian flying up there.

His hair riding against the waves of the wind, the curls flapping like a bird's wings, the way all the worries in his chocolate eyes flutter away when he rides on the broom, going against the current of the wind. He looks happier, happier than he was throughout the remainder of fifth year and you can't help but feel jealous and left out. You wished you could make him that happy, so joyous that all his frustration seemed to melt away like snow when spring slowly came to reap.

Insecure thoughts plagued your mind as you played with your fingers, your head slowly dipping as it now paid more attention to the ground and dirt rather than the glorious sight that was Sebastian Sallow.

You didn't even notice when he landed and began speaking.

"[y/n]! [y/n]!" Ominis' voice brought you out of your daydream, and your eyes immediately snapped up to be met with those eyes.

"Hey." Sebastian's smirk was brighter than the sun.

Hey? Was that all he would say to you after avoiding you for the better part of the first two months of the year? "Hi." You replied dismissively, looking away. Ominis seemed to sense your apprehension as he nudged you. Poor Ominis, really.

"What are you guys doing here?" Asked Sebastian as he reached out to grab your shoulder but you simply moved away.

You would have paid to see that look on his face again.

"Just watching the show." You shrugged as you looked over at the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team that had landed. Imelda seemed to shoot a particularly dirty look at Sebastian for riding away from them. "You did well. I saw you." You commented rather stiffly.

"Yeah well, training will do that to you. I can finally walk up the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower without running out of breath!" He laughed and you responded with a polite chuckle.

Then you both just stared at one another.

"Confident about the game?" Ominis asked, attempting for what seemed like the millionth time to help with the relationship.

"Yeah." Sebastian said rather cockily, looking like the fifth year you first met. "We're going to pummel hufflepuff, just you wait." You smiled at that.

Just then, one of the other beaters, a rather tall girl practically ambushed Sebastian, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Oh Ominis, and the new fifth year!" She said, but all you could focus on was how chummy she was with Sebastian.

"I'm a sixth year now, actually." You corrected, perhaps a bit too sharp.

"Hah, yeah, sorry. You just made an impression was all, the whole defeating Ranrok thing." The girl smiled and you could tell she was genuine in her awe of you but your eyes kept glancing over at where Sebastian and her made contact. You had no claim over the boy but you felt like your heart was shattering into glass pieces as he returned her side hug.

"We should probably head back to doing drills, before Imelda burns a hole in either of our heads." Sebastian commented, his eyes drifting towards you intently.

"You will be watching us during the match, right?" The boy confirmed, looking at you with anticipation.

You were almost tempted to make a snide remark about how he didn't need you anymore given the fact that he had a whole team and school of people who wanted to be near him.

All you did was give a simple nod before excusing yourself, not wanting to have your heart broken further.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

As he soared through the winds, your eyes still remained on him and only him. You didn't even know whether or not Slytherin was winning. You could hardly care for anything else other than the triumphant look on his face every time he blocked or parried a bludger. God, maybe a bludger to the head would help see sense and just speak to you properly about why he was acting so strangely.

You barely registered it when they announced that Slytherin had won the match, only realising it when Sebastian practically tumbled to the floor, thrown onto it by the same girl you had been so jealous of the other day.

Sebastian smiled at her and lifted her up into the air, his eyes brighter than ever.

Had he ever looked at you that way?

You wanted to puke, you wanted to scream, but you couldn't. Not here. Maybe because of your pride but the moment his eyes met yours, you dashed. Skirts fluttering in the wind as you ran and ran, practically sliding down towards the edge of the black lake. With no one there other than the mermaids at the bottom of the lake, you sank towards the ground.

Perhaps it was a bit dramatic but you were a teenage girl and you saw your crush embrace another girl like it was nothing. You think you had the right to be dramatic.

You sat down, not caring about whether or not the dirt or water would stain the fabric of your skirt. You didn't care much about anything except the way Sebastian looked so happy without you.

Had avoiding you really made him that more relaxed?

You curled up, holding your knees close to your chest as you fought back tears.

The sun had set by the time you finally regained enough sanity to wonder whether it was time to head back to the castle.

Before you could have any other rational thought, you heard the rustles behind you, your wand raised and pointed at the intruder only to see a boy with freckles dotted all over his face raising up his hands. His forehead was marred with sweat, cheeks red and mouth panting as he stared at you.

"Where the bloody hell were you!" He practically screamed, causing you to lower your wand.

"Well, I'm here, as you can tell." You didn't mean to make his worries seem like a joke but it just slipped out.

"I was-" he panted. Despite how fit his arms had gotten, Sebastian still couldn't run well, it seemed. "I was looking for you everywhere! I thought you went to go fight Ashwinders, or something! I was scouring the entire place for you." He said, approaching you and grabbing hold of your shoulders, shaking you like a mad man as he looked into your beautiful [e/c] eyes. "Don't- Don't scare me like that. Please." He begged.

"I- I didn't mean to." You replied, shocked at how emotional Sebastian suddenly was.

"Please don't do that again. You know I lost her, I can't lose you too." He said and you knew he was obviously referring to Anne and you felt pity for him, but you also felt annoyed. You wanted to push him away as he embraced you, his sweat smearing all over your dirt-stained clothes.

"If I'm so important to you," you started, "why have you been avoiding me?" You finally let your emotions spill out as you caressed the side of Sebastian's face, eyes leering over his prominent freckles. You had once joked they looked like constellations but really, Sebastian was as bright as a star. "You kept running away from me," your hands gently touched his skin, enjoying the texture of the slight stubble he had shaved. "You didn't talk to me, I thought I did something wrong."

"You did nothing wrong." Sebastian cut in.

"Then tell me why."

"It was- I couldn't help it. I was terrified. I know you promised to always be by my side. But I was so scared I'd disappoint you, I wanted to better myself. At the start of the year, throughout the holidays, I kept having the urges to use dark magic. I knew I might cave in and use it and I- I didn't want you to see me when I eventually failed." Like you, it seemed Sebastian was finally spilling out everything he ever wanted to say. "It was so stressful." He whispered, head buried in your chest.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact the mood was so emotional, you would have thought Sebastian was trying to cop a feel.

"It didn't look stressful earlier when she hugged you." You thought aloud.

"Is that what you're upset about?" Sebastian asked, looking up from your hug.

"Ngh.." you groaned, not wanting to admit your jealous tendencies but Sebastian simply smirked as he wrapped an arm around your waist knowingly.

"I just needed a way to vent out all that stress. Ominis suggested Quidditch so I gave it a try. I just wanted to be better for you." He whispered. "You like more athletic guys, don't you? The way you look at the Gryffindor boys when they fly tells me a lot." He said, expressing his own envy.

"I don't like other boys, I just like you." You left those words hanging in the air.

"I was scared I wouldn't be. That if I caved, you would leave, like Anne did." He said, his grip on your waist tighter now.

"Even if you fell back into dark magic, I'd be there to pull you out. I would never abandon you." You emphasised, holding Sebastian closer.

"But it wouldn't sit right with me. I wanted to let you go, that's why I didn't respond to your letters all that much during the holidays, I thought you deserved some better." He said, blurring the lines between your relationship. "But when I saw you on the first day... I just couldn't. I wanted to be selfish. But I knew I didn't deserve you, so I wanted to become someone who did."

"You were always enough." You told the slytherin boy, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm getting better. I don't- the urges for dark magic aren't there anymore. Whispers tempting me but when I look at you, they all disappear." He admitted, one of his hands reaching up to brush your lips, taking in the curve of your eyelashes, the blush on your cheeks and finally the way your lips were pursed. "All I think of when I see you," he breathed, inching closer, "is just how much I want to be with you." He admitted.

He was getting closer and closer until there was barely a centimetre between the both of you.

His lips were so soft.

Both of you tumbled to the ground in a passionate embrace as your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. It felt like forever as he continued kissing you, giving you only a bit of space to breathe before he dived back into your lips, wrestling your tongue like if he didn't taste it, he may die. His hands travelled up, bunching around your hair as he tugged softly, causing noises of ecstasy to escape from your lips.

"Sebastian." You called.

"[y/n.]" He responded as he pushed his lips harsher into yours.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he pulled away. His eyes bore into yours, the reflection of you sparkling in his.

"Trust me, you are enough for me." You whispered as you pulled him into a chaste kiss, something sweeter than the desperate first kiss both of you had.

"You'll never leave my side?" He asked.

"Never." You smiled.

Sebastian's tense expression finally loosened as he kissed you again. "I suppose we can't exactly call each other friends anymore, can we?" He chuckled as he dived back into another kiss.

"Yeah, and that also means you can't let anyone else hold you like this. Even your quidditch team." Sebastian laughed at your words.

"With how jealous you are, I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner."

He kissed you again and it felt like heaven.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #ominis gaunt #anon ask

181 notes · View notes

callsignhoney · 2 years

Text

just a chance ➤

pairing(s) ➤ bradley “rooster” bradshaw x reader

genre ➤ a little angst, fluff

summary ➤ your reckless behavior leads to a water logged confession

———

Your hands hadn’t stopped shaking since the day before. Usually, you had total control from the second you put on your flight suit to the moment your feet hit the tarmac. You grip the yoke with steady hands and are fully in control of your plane. You’ve always felt at home in the cockpit, free in a way you never felt on the ground.

Your hands still wouldn’t stop shaking. It didn’t matter that you’d made it out with nothing but a few bruises. It didn’t matter if the doctors told you Catchphrase, your weapons system operator and best friend, would be fine. They told you he’d been in and out of consciousness and likely had a concussion but would otherwise be fine. That didn’t matter.

You almost died yesterday. You and Catch almost died. Your engines failed. You spiraled uncontrollably. Catch was still in g-LOC from the training exercise you’d just completed. Maverick was ordering you to leave him, to save yourself. You disobeyed.

“Catch, wake the hell up!” you’d screamed. “Come on, Catchphrase! Don’t do this to me! Wake up!”

“Parkway, leave it! Eject! Eject now!” Maverick had yelled at you.

You couldn’t leave him. He’d been with you through everything. If he was going down, you were going with him.

“LINCOLN HARLOW, GET YOUR ASS UP AND EJECT RIGHT NOW!”

He gained just enough consciousness to eject himself before you followed suit. You two narrowly avoided the deadly crash that would have followed. You had almost lost your wingman.

Your hands would not stop shaking.

“Park!” a voice bellowed from behind you.

You recognized it and didn’t deign to turn.

“Park! Parkway!”

You closed your eyes and let the salty sea breeze blow on your face. Water lapped around your knees and up to the bottom of your thighs. The setting sun glowed warmly as it began to sink below the horizon.

“PARK!”

You came here for some quiet but evidently would not be finding it. Looking over your shoulder revealed a very pissed off Rooster standing on the shoreline.

“Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, dumbass. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?”

“What were you thinking?! You almost got yourself killed! What would have happened if you died? Huh? What would have happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you said simply, turning away from him.

“That’s too damn bad, because we’re going to. You can’t put yourself in danger like that! When your captain tells you to eject, you do it. You don’t wait around. Those extra seconds you spent in that plane could have killed you. We don’t get a little extra time up there.”

“I don’t need you to tell me things I already know,” I shouted over my shoulder at him.

“Then—Jesus Christ, you self sacrificing piece of shit,” Rooster mumbled.

A glance behind you showed Rooster pulling off his shoes and socks and rolling up his pant legs, beginning to wade out to you. You huffed out an annoyed breath.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Rooster,” you said.

“I want you to tell me what you were thinking putting yourself in danger like that!”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

You rounded on him, shoving him back. “You don’t have someone in your plane with you, Bradshaw. You don’t have someone relying on you to keep them safe. If you go down, you don’t have to experience the fear of both of you not making it. You get to worry about yourself and no one else. I don’t get that luxury!”

Rooster pushed you right back. “And how would Catch feel knowing you almost died because of him?”

“Pretty damn good, I’d hope, seeing as I saved his life!”

“By almost losing yours!”

You shoved him again. “He’s safe! What’s it even matter?”

Rooster pushed you back. “It matters because I almost lost you!”

“You never even had me!”

“And I almost never got the chance!”

Another shove sends Rooster back, foot catching on something that sends him falling into the water. You can’t find it in you to feel bad. He kept pushing you, so you pushed him back. But what did he mean he “almost never got the chance?”

Flinging water everywhere, Rooster rose up out of the ocean, now completely soaked. You stare at him, mouth open. You wouldn’t apologize for shoving him, but did he mean that? He almost lost you. He almost never got the chance to have you. He wanted you?

“What does that mean?” you demanded.

“What do you think it means?” Rooster spat with a mouthful of sea water, shaking water from his hair like a wet dog.

“You—you can’t just—what does that even—?”

“I care about you, okay? You’re amazing! And I’ve wanted to tell you but it was never the right time but then yesterday happened and—… I’m scared that if I keep waiting I’ll lose you entirely.”

“You never even had me,” you repeated lamely, weakly.

“That’s my point!” he exploded. “I want you! You’re all I’ve wanted since I met you.”

“That was, like, four years ago.”

“I know, I’m pathetic. Thank you for pointing out the obvious.”

“No, I—it’s just—… You want me?”

“Yes,” he emphasized. “Is that really so hard for you to wrap your head around?”

“I’d convinced myself you wouldn’t want me like that,” you admitted. “It didn’t seem probable. Or very smart, to be honest, considering fraternization and all that. But I want you, too.”

Rooster let out a breath. “That’s good. Otherwise this would have been really embarrassing.”

“You’re insufferable,” you scowled.

“And you’re a reckless idiot. We all have our faults.”

“My ‘fault’ saved my best friend’s life.”

“And I almost lost you.” Rooster held your face in his hands and you were acutely aware of just how close the two of you were, just how easy it would be to kiss him. “Don’t make me lose you.”

“That’s a dangerous promise to make in our line of work,” you breathed.

You could feel his breath fan across your lips as he tilted your head up to his. Four years he’d been waiting to do this. How long had you waited to have him? You don’t know when friendship tilted towards something deeper, more intimate but at some point your yearning for him was no longer platonic.

“Then at least give me a chance to have you before you self destruct,” he amended.

“That can be arranged.”

“Glad to hear it.”

You held your breath as he moved to close the distance between you. His head tilted to the side. Your lips slotted together, and you’re sure nothing had ever felt more perfect. He held you tighter until you couldn’t have pulled away even if you wanted to. You held onto him as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

Then your feet came out from under you as he unceremoniously tossed you into the surf, dunking you underwater. You popped back up spluttering to the sound of Rooster’s laughter. You shoved your hair out of your face.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “oh, that’s payback, darling.”

“You know when I said I’d give you a chance? I take that back now.”

He caught you by your hips and pulled you into him. “No returns, refunds, or exchanges.”

“God, what?” you groaned. “That’s a crappy return policy.”

“Looks like you’ll just have to keep the merchandise, then.”

You hummed. “Maybe I just will.”

You wrapped a hand around the back of Rooster’s neck and pulled him down to kiss you. He returned it eagerly, mouth fitting against yours. He went to slide an arm around you again but you caught it.

“Dunk me again and we’re gonna have problems,” you warned against his lips.

He hummed and reconnected them.

His hands instead found purchase on your thighs and tugged, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He kissed you again, and again. Now that he’d started kissing you, he didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want him to. You could get drunk on him faster than any liquor in the world.

Making himself fall backwards, Rooster took you down with him as he fell into the water. You coughed as you came back up, Rooster right beside you and laughing again. You splashed him and he didn’t even try to defend himself, not until you tackled him back underwater and he got to his feet, collecting you up in his arms.

“Rooster, I swear to god—“

He threw you into the water again. When you righted yourself, you launched yourself at him. Arms around his shoulders, you dragged him down underwater with you. With you still hanging around his neck, continually trying to drag him under, he crawled toward the beach until the waves were little more than trickles of water at your feet.

“You are a vengeful little thing,” he said, bracing himself above you as you finally released him and dropped onto you back on the sand below him.

“You’re lucky I didn’t have my phone on me.”

He laughed. He ducked down to kiss you and you let him, cupping his jaw.

“Your mustache tastes like sea water,” you muttered into the kiss.

He darted down to kiss your neck. “You taste like sea water.”

“I wonder why,” you said.

“Who knows?”

You laughed, cut off as Rooster kissed you again.

You returned home that night partially covered in sand, smelling like the ocean, and hand in hand with Rooster. If you were looking for a distraction, you sure found a hell of a one. You kissed him goodnight and told him to get some sleep for tomorrow’s training. As you followed your own instructions, you realized your hands had finally stopped shaking.

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun rooster

4K notes · View notes

kaleidohscopic · 27 days

Text

IN THE DYING SUMMER SUN — BBH

PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader SUMMARY: a weekend up at the beach house might just be enough to make you crack and come clean about your little (big, fat) crush. alternatively, park chanyeol is possibly the worst wingman ever. GENRE: friends to lovers! au, crush! baekhyun, romance, fluff, a pinch of angst, pining, humour WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension!!, slightly suggestive, reader and baekhyun are both kind of clueless tbh WORD COUNT: 9.4k NOTE: happy birthday baekhyun!! thought it would be fitting to start off this blog with a fic for bbh on his birthday. this was supposed to be a 4-5k piece of fluff but somehow it ended up being double that and a lot more serious than i originally intended (oops?). kinda nervy posting such a long fic for the first time ever so feedback is most certainly welcome and i hope you enjoy!

“You definitely rigged this.”

Chanyeol only rewarded you with a shit-eating grin.

The scrap of paper couldn’t weigh more than a few grams, but in your hands, they felt like the barbell plates at the gym that he could never leave alone. Especially since a certain someone was also holding another scrap of paper with ‘ground floor twin room’ hastily scrawled across it.

You shook your head vehemently, fixing the tall boy with a dagger-like stare that he seemed completely unfazed by. “I demand a redraw.”

“Which is not going to happen,” was his gleeful response. “We all agreed — no take-backs before picking.” The hat that you had all drawn out of, now empty, was tossed on the coffee table as everyone else began to move their bags into their freshly chosen rooms. Somewhere down the hallway, Jongin tripped over the wheels of his suitcase, his pained groan and Kyungsoo’s laughter bouncing against the walls of the AirBnb.

“Besides,” Chanyeol continued, hand coming up to ruffle your hair, “if I had actually rigged it, you should be thanking me. I’d be doing you a favour.” He gestured towards Baekhyun, who was busying himself with packing his hoodie back into his duffle bag, hopefully oblivious to the fact that the two of you were conspiring about him less than three metres away.

“Yeah, say it any louder, why don’t you. And no, that wasn’t an invitation,” you warned, catching the wicked glint in Chanyeol’s eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to make good on your request and let the whole house know, only to choke back a groan at the elbow you shoved into his side. Behave, said the glare that you shot at him. His replying smile was anything but reassuring, before he picked up his bag and headed upstairs.

That was what you got for getting a little too drunk at Jongdae’s housewarming get-together last month and accidentally slipping up about your big, fat, debilitating crush on Baekhyun after the third glass of pinot noir in one night. If it had been anyone else made aware of your juvenile secret, you would probably be feeling a little less uneasy — but it just had to be the one person who couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Not to mention Park Chanyeol was a terrible wingman, having heard about the ridiculous escapades he put Jongdae through before he finally cuffed his girlfriend. Lucky for you, you were now getting to experience it first-hand.

“I can ask Jongin to swap, if you really don’t want to room with me,” came a soft voice from your right. Baekhyun regarded you with an expectant, if somewhat hesitant expression.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, trying your best to mask the panic that was fighting its way into your voice. It would be just your luck, that he would think your reluctance to share a sleeping space with him was because you didn’t like him enough, and not that you liked him a little too much. The slight furrow in his brow seemed to melt away with your words. “I just wanted the big room with the queen bed, but somehow Chanyeol got it. I seriously think he did something to these,” you said, waving your slip of paper that matched the one he was holding.

Come to think of it, you and Baekhyun had also been the last ones to draw out of the hat, since Chanyeol had insisted on going counter-clockwise around the dining table. How he managed to game the room allocations was beyond you, but you were now almost certain that he did.

“It’s good that he’s by himself though. The snoring would drive anyone mad,” Baekhyun mused, and you had to chuckle in agreement.

“That time he passed out at my place after Saturday drinks…I genuinely thought I’d end up with a murder charge that night.” you said, chest squeezing at the way his eyes crinkled into crescent moons at your words. You busied yourself with your own bag, hoping he wouldn’t see the dumb smile on your face, and be able to tell how pleased you were to have teased a laugh out of him. Laughter was not something he usually withheld — he gave it freely, if not a little too generously — but it always did a funny thing to your heart when you were the cause of it.

“Definitely can’t have that. Pretty face like yours would not last a day in jail.” With one hand around his own duffle, he draped the free one around your shoulders, letting the warmth of his arm wrap around you as you headed down the corridor to the room you’d be sharing for the weekend.

Having a crush on Baekhyun was no big deal. Probably even normal, if his college days were anything to go by. But what made it so debilitating was things like this — the little comments he’d throw around that could easily be passed off as just friendly flirting if you were so inclined, though you sometimes let yourself imagine his intentions came more from the flirting than the friendly part. He was a generally touchy person too, never missing a chance to pat Kyungsoo’s ass when the opportunity arose, but sometimes the brush of his fingers against the inside of your wrist felt a little too affectionate for two people united solely through friendship, even if you were the only one who internally crossed that line a while ago. It was things like this that made you question, every once in a while, if your feelings were as one-sided as you believed. Most of the time though, you chalked it up to his disposition, his easy-going magnetism, and concluded that whatever signals you thought he was sending were merely due to your overactive imagination running wild with hopes that he felt the same way.

“Dibs left,” he said, plopping down on the twin bed closer to the window. His arms raised above his head in a long, yawning stretch, revealing a thin strip of skin at the waistband of his jeans. Just the sight of it was enough to control your blood, sending a rush of it to your face, and you internally cursed yourself for being so weak to such a small thing. It was obvious you had been alone for way too long. He was too comfortable to notice the flush on your cheeks, eyes shut and enjoying the tension leaving his body after the long drive up.

You sat yourself down carefully on the remaining bed, noting the gap between the two mattresses. Whether you wanted to push them together or against opposite walls of the room, you couldn’t be sure. It was hard to form coherent thoughts when he turned to you with a boyish playfulness that curled the corner of his mouth upwards.

“You’re not going to sleepwalk your way into my bed, are you?” he asked, chin in his hand, a teasing glint in his eyes. You tried hard to catch yourself from choking on your own saliva.

“I’ve been known to kick in my sleep,” was your reply, voice much more nonchalant than you thought you were capable of, given that he had just planted the seed of the two of you sharing a twin mattress that was definitely not big enough to lie down on without touching in at least three different places. The glint in his eyes faded immediately, giving way to thinly-veiled concern at the threat underlying your words.

“I was kidding,” you clarified when he sat up and started to back away from you. “At least, I haven’t done that for fifteen or so years. But you never know, it might come back again tonight, when you’ve finally fallen asleep, and then BAM! Foot to the face. You better sleep with your eyes open, Byun Baekhyun,” you warned, giggling at the realisation dawning over his face before his pretty features settled into mock annoyance.

“You just think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He was on all fours now, making his way towards you with a wolfish grin. In no time, he had crawled over the gap between your two beds and suddenly his fingers were prodding at your ribs. It was a well-planned tickle attack, and one you had no chance of escaping from, since his legs had caged you in and the rest of him was pinning you down. You were helpless against the ambush of his fingers, succumbing to them with gasping giggles, punctuated by desperate pleas for him to stop. He showed no intention of letting up, fingers digging even deeper into your waist.

If you were going to die like this, you thought, at least you’d be dying while lying under him.

“When you two are done canoodling, we’re going to go set up on the beach,” came a voice from the doorway. Baekhyun’s merciless fingers paused, and the two of you looked back to see Chanyeol’s amused face at the foot of your bed, smirking like he knew some big secret that neither of you were privy to. God, you were seriously regretting that third glass at Jongdae’s new apartment last month.

Baekhyun turned back to you, your noses almost touching, and you could feel the air from his exhales fanning against the skin of your cheek. There was a mole just above the corner of his mouth that you don’t think you had ever noticed before. Warmth from his jean-clad legs radiated into your hips and meandered up and down your spine, and suddenly the late summer air around you was becoming sticky and heavier than usual.

As if just now noticing the proximity you were in, he slowly untangled himself from your limbs, making sure not to crush you in the process. You sat up, still breathless, having just calmed down enough for full inhales again, but so was he, you noted. Surely tickling wasn’t that exertive of an activity? Or maybe you’d put up a better fight than you had thought.

“Don’t forget your towels,” was the last thing Chanyeol said before he ducked out, yelling at Jongin to grab the beach umbrellas, not the rain ones. There were a few seconds just filled with the sounds of your slowing breathing.

“I’m going to go get changed,” Baekhyun said, turning around to dig through his bag for his swim shorts. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could hear the slight tremble in his voice that indicated he hadn’t quite recovered from whatever was afflicting him. “We’ll probably just be setting up the umbrellas, so no rush, just come down when you’re ready.” As he turned around to head towards the bathroom, he flashed you that familiar smile, the one that always resulted in one of your own to mirror his, and set you at ease again.

“And make sure you bring your sunscreen,” he added, before disappearing down the hallway. You watched him go, throwing yourself back onto the bed with a frustrated groan once you were sure he was out of earshot. Two whole days and nights in this tiny room, in the languid death of summer, with his body just an arm’s length away from yours — you had no idea how much of this you could stomach and emerge with your sanity intact.

This was shaping up to be the longest weekend ever.

The afternoon sun was unforgiving when you emerged from the house. Though you had thrown on a cover up before leaving, you could feel the heat tingling on the surface of your skin through the thin cotton. From the top of the bushy path leading down to the beach, you could already hear the tell-tale signs of a competition brewing between the boys, even if you couldn’t quite see them yet. A few steps down and you could make out their figures, managing to catch the view of Chanyeol flipping backwards off the jetty before plunging into the water, where the rest of them were bobbing around. Baekhyun’s voice floated above the others the way it always did when he was teasing, liltingly distinguishable, though perhaps that was only because you were now so attuned to it that other voices naturally started to sound more foreign.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when he went from Baekhyun, your friend who tended to get a little too rowdy after half a can of beer, to Baekhyun, your friend who made your heart pick up a little faster when you thought of him. One day his hiccuping laugh was teetering on the edge of obnoxiousness, and then all of a sudden it became endearing to hear the raw joy in his voice. If you knew exactly when the switch flipped, maybe you’d be able to retrace your steps and stop yourself from ever setting off down this path to end up where you were now, watching the sunlight glisten against his wet face with an overwhelming affection, wondering what it would be like to be the private audience of his radiant smile everyday.

You set your things down on the sand next to the pile of clothes and towels that were already there, recognising Chanyeol’s hat somewhere in the mix. The beach umbrella that Jongin had set up was already beginning to lurch towards one side, the brim rather close to the ground. Fixing it back in place and digging it into the sand a little deeper, you let out a fond laugh — some things, like the way Jongin used his hands like they weren’t his own, would stand the test of time.

You had hoped that your friendship with Baekhyun would be one of those things, but the more time you spent casting longing glances his way when he wasn’t looking, the more you weren’t sure if you could ever recover from his rejection if you ever did decide to be honest about your feelings towards him. So you did your best to bury them, content to enjoy his company in the way you were both familiar with, afraid that if they did surface, they’d taint your friendship with something unpleasant and irreversible. If you couldn’t own the sun, at least you could still revel in its warmth.

Satisfied with the position of your towel underneath the shade of the umbrella, you looked back at the water, returning Baekhyun’s sweeping wave with a small one of your own. It was just enough of a distraction for Chanyeol to turn around as well, and Baekhyun seized the opportunity to dunk him, gleefully howling as the taller boy’s head disappeared below the waves. Before Chanyeol could resurface and enact his retaliation, Baekhyun was already making his escape, swimming towards the shore with fearful determination. Chanyeol made to follow, but upon seeing you sitting on the beach with your eyes fixed on Baekhyun’s approaching figure, he thought better of it, turning back around to continue the diving evaluation as Jongin took his turn to leap off the jetty.

With an amused smile, you watched as Baekhyun hurried out of the ocean, wet hair flying in all directions and flicking droplets of seawater across the sand. The water trickled down the planes of his bare torso, and you tried to keep your eyes away from the firmness of his pec, or the flexing movements of his abdominals as he made his way over to you. One thing was for sure — the gym sessions with Chanyeol were paying off.

When he finally reached you, Baekhyun slumped onto your towel, ignoring your protests for him to stay away, and proceeded to soak you in the remaining water that was still clinging to his body. The skin of his stomach was cool against your calf, and he giggled delightfully at your attempts to push him off to avoid getting more water onto your clothes.

“Stop trying to fight it, you’re going to get wet when you go in anyway,” he said, finally rolling off you.

“I wasn’t planning on going in. I’m scared you’ll try to drown me,” you huffed, lightly flicking some sand onto his shoulder with your toe. He turned back around, chin cradled in his left hand, and flashed you a boyish smile.

“I would never do that,” he said, though the glint in his eyes was anything but convincing. “Besides, what are you going to do at the beach if you’re not getting in the water?”

You picked up the book nestled in between your shoes and waved it at him. “Read, of course.” He regarded the worn paperback with amused disbelief, eyebrows slightly raised. It was only when you flipped the book open to the paperclip you’d been using as a bookmark that he realised you were serious, and let out a scoff that was laced with something akin to fondness.

“You are such a cliche. Pretty girl reading at the beach? Unbelievable, seriously,” he said, before wriggling his head into your stomach, relishing in your shocked squeals as your cover up began to dampen again. His mischief had left a few wet patches on the fabric that were beginning to stick to your body in the uncomfortable fashion of late summer. You reached for the hem, pulling it off not without some struggle, and immediately felt the sun kissing against your bare shoulders. Though you were mostly covered by the shade from the umbrella, the last thing you wanted was a blistering sunburn where the straps of your tote bag usually rested, so you grabbed the sunscreen you had so diligently packed and began applying it on the parts of your skin that were exposed.

Baekhyun had gone uncharacteristically quiet. If you had been paying attention to him instead of so attentively rubbing the cream into the underside of your knee, perhaps you would have noticed the way his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than would have been polite. They followed the path your hands took, from the expanse of skin below your neck, across your stomach, and down the length of your legs.

“Do you want me to do your back?” he blurted, his voice a little more strained than usual. He was wearing an odd expression on his face, something you couldn’t quite place, but it was different from the usual playful one you were most well acquainted with. Nevertheless, you agreed, passing him the tube and turning around so your back was facing him.

His fingers were still cold from the water, and you jumped when they first made contact with your skin. He only laughed, squeezing both hands around your shoulders to hold you still before he got back to work again.

The first graze of his hands across your shoulders was tentative. You could feel the heat of him behind your back, the smell of salt and sun clinging to the air around you. His breaths fanned the skin on the back of your neck, sending goosebumps down your arms and legs despite the thick heat of the afternoon. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Slowly, his hands made their way down to your lower back, and it was then that you realised you might be in trouble. His hands pressed against the grooves of your spine, curving ever so slightly around your waist, and if you shivered, he pretended not to feel you tremble in his grasp.

It was when his fingers slipped underneath the ties of your bikini top that the alarm bells began to go off in your head. His movements were hesitant, fingers stuttering in their dance across your skin before they gingerly pulled the strings aside to spread the sunscreen between the top and bottom halves of your back. It was too much, feeling his warmth, knowing there was only an inch of space between your bare torsos, having his hands on you doing such a thorough job with the task he had assigned to himself. When the tips of his fingers brushed the side of your ribs, just under the edge of the fabric, you couldn’t help the breathy noise that escaped your lips.

“Actually, I think I left something back at the house,” you said suddenly, words hurriedly running into each other as they tripped over your tongue on the way out of your mouth. Twisting away from his dangerous touch, you bolted to a stand and hoped he’d attribute the pinkness of your cheeks to being outside in the brightness of the afternoon. Your words came out staggered, the slight tremble in your voice betraying the composure you were fighting so hard to maintain.

Baekhyun’s gaze was careful, if not a little confused. The more his eyes ran over you, the more you were sure that the depth of your feelings towards him were beginning to surface on your face. Another second and he’d be able to tell, he’d figure out the little secret you’d been trying to conceal for the last couple of months. And then you wouldn’t be able to deny its existence anymore.

So you fled, tossing a rushed promise to be right back over your shoulder before scurrying up the bushy path again. Away from the scrutiny of his eyes, away from the truth you did not want revealed to the world. The ghost of his touch lingered between your shoulder blades and along the ridges of your spine, your body already committing to memory the caress of his skin against yours. You realised then, that it would not be possible to continue living on as usual, now that you knew the taste of his closeness, as fleeting as it may have been.

“I think you should just go for it.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass at his words. Chanyeol’s tone was light and pragmatic, speaking as if the act of unfurling your heart were nothing more than a decision about whether to have steak or pork belly for dinner.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, bringing the bottle to your lips.

“I’m serious though,” he continued, nudging your arm with the lip of his own beer. “I think you should just tell him, and see what he says. And stop expecting the worst. You’ll never know how things could turn out if you never do anything.”

You let your head fall back to lean on the doorframe you were both standing against, gazing out at the patio that had begun to darken following the sunset. Baekhyun and Jongin were placed at opposite ends of the ping pong table that had been wheeled out of the living room after dinner, neither seeming to mind the soft prick of grass at the underside of their bare feet. Whether the game was proceeding well was difficult to deduce, since both were sporting wide grins and rosy cheeks, courtesy of the glasses in their hands — but judging by the cluster of orange balls around Baekhyun’s feet, you had an inkling that victory would not be his. He didn’t seem to mind yet, laughing gleefully as Jongin swung his racquet too hard and launched a ball over the fence.

“Not everyone is as good as you when it comes to talking about their feelings, you know,” you said, fixing Chanyeol with a knowing look that was halfway between admiration and resentment. If you only had his courage of expression, perhaps you would’ve put an end to your suffering a while ago. Ripped the band-aid off cleanly instead of peeling away at it, day by day, bit by bit, until it was hanging on by the last of its adhesive. You weren’t sure how much longer your resolve could last, if it would even survive this weekend without snapping under the force of your attraction.

He only shrugged. “You can’t get good without actually doing it.” You pondered his words in the short silence that settled while you both took another sip. He was right, of course, you knew that, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“I think… I’m just scared,” you began slowly. Realising you were about to put his advice into action, Chanyeol turned to you with reassuring and patient eyes, waiting. You took a deep breath, swinging the contents of your bottle back and forth, and continued, “I’m scared that if I do tell him, it’s going to change our relationship and then I’ll lose him completely. At least if I don’t say anything, he’s still my friend, and I get to keep being in his life.”

He regarded you for a moment, brows furrowed thoughtfully, as he decided on his next words. It was no easy feat to try on honesty the way you just did, having so carefully avoided it for your entire life, and he was well aware of it. The slight tremble in your hands was a dead giveaway.

“And I think that’s completely understandable,” he finally said. “There’s always going to be a trade-off, no matter what you choose to do. But I guess you have to weigh up which one means more to you, and if you’re willing to take that risk on the chance that it does work out between you two. I’m only telling you what I think you should do. You’re the one who knows your own feelings the best.”

Another silence fell over the two of you again. Your bottle was nearly empty now, the beer inside already lukewarm from being out of the cooler for too long. Jongin let out a cheer as the ball sailed over his head, landing far behind him on the grass and ignoring Baekhyun’s flagrant attempts at contesting the point. Even under the patio lights, he was still so pretty, cheeks pink and glowy, the shape of his mouth so endearing as it settled into a pout. By now, you were used to the longing, and paid it no mind as it filled your chest with a bittersweet warmth.

“Aren’t you two best friends though?” you asked, the thought suddenly occurring to you. “You’re telling me you don’t know anything about how he feels about… whatever is going on?” The look you gave Chanyeol was suspicious, but he stood strong, resisting your prying eyes.

“I wouldn’t be much of a best friend if I went around blabbing to you about his feelings, would I?” was his response, accompanied by an elusive smile. There was something in his words that lingered in your mind, some important detail you felt as if you had overlooked, but his amused expression gave you nothing to hold onto. “You’re both so clueless,” he chuckled after a beat of your thoughtful silence, downing the rest of his drink.

Baekhyun was skipping over now, having officially lost 18-21 to Jongin, who was heartily celebrating his victory with a series of hoots and giggles. He headed straight for you, hair all messed up from running his hands through it during the game, and a rosy flush to his face, though you weren’t sure if that was from the game or the glass that he had left at the ping pong table. When he wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your shoulder, you knew that it was probably the latter.

“I lost the game,” he whined, petulant and firm against you. His hair tickled your chin, and you could smell the faint scent of his shampoo from his shower after the beach.

“Are you drunk already?” you asked, trying to mask your breathlessness at his proximity with a few giggles. Baekhyun’s affinity for physical contact was the worst — or best, depending on how you looked at it — when he had alcohol in his system, and it didn’t take much to push him past the borders of sobriety. His ache for touch and affection was most often relieved on you, and you always obliged, gladly and readily letting him take whatever it was he wanted.

The tip of his nose brushed back and forth against your skin as he shook his head. “Just a little, tiny bit,” he said, voice muffled, and you felt the warmth of his breath through your t-shirt.

“Where’s the love for your best friend?” Chanyeol teased, the only one amused at the way Baekhyun had dived straight into your arms without even sparing him a glance.

The boy in your arms didn’t even falter, only snuggling further into you. “You know it’s because she’s my favourite,” he murmured, lips skimming your collarbone ever so softly as he spoke. The panic onset was instantaneous, and you prayed he was too drunk to pick up on the sudden rapid thundering of your heartbeat inside your chest. You tried to look at Chanyeol for help, but he was setting off across the patio, taking up Jongin on his invitation for a match with the promise that he would wipe the floor with the younger boy.

Baekhyun only hummed contentedly, oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking inside you, tightening his hold around you when you made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle out of his arms. His pink lips set into another rounded pout, brows slightly creased as he pulled back to look at you.

“You know you’re my favourite, right?” he asked, trying to be convincing despite the slight slur to his words. You could only nod, letting a small smile twist the corners of your mouth upwards. Whether he realised or meant what he was saying, you weren’t all that concerned, simply happy to bask in the warmth of his full attention knowing it was probably just nonsensical babble brought on by the drink in his belly. It was so much easier to be close to him when he was like this, hazier, and sure to forget most of what he had said the morning afterwards. It didn’t hurt that you were also starting to feel a little blurrier around the edges, the beer from earlier making its way through your system and leaving behind a pleasant fuzziness that made it all the more tempting to come clean about your feelings. But you weren’t quite there yet, and you had no plans to get to that point tonight.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, he curled back up into you. With your hands around his back, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfortingly even beat of it through his rib cage. It was so easy to imagine this was the way it had always been, and would always be, so easy to slip into the fairytale you often found yourself fabricating when your one-sided longing became too much to contain. It would be so nice if you could live in this moment forever, you thought. But was this small pocket of peace worth risking your entire friendship?

“I wish you’d stop running away from me,” he murmured, or at least that’s what you thought he said. It was a little difficult to concentrate when his lips were grazing your skin again, lightly feathering across your neck as the words shaped his mouth on their way out of it.

And then you felt it, the unmistakable and deliberate press of his lips against your collarbone, the gentle pressure and the slight moisture on your skin from it searing through you like a lit trail of gasoline. This time, he had to have heard the stilted gasp that escaped your mouth.

He lifted his head slowly to look at you again, searching your face with glassy eyes — for what, you weren’t quite sure. The only things you were sure of right now were the fiery burn in your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your heart that echoed between your ears.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, though his expression was nowhere near as apologetic as his words would have you believe. If anything, his gaze on you was almost daring, waiting to see how you’d respond, if you’d shrink back into yourself like you always did when he got too close and crossed that invisible boundary you only danced around. If you’d run away from him the way he had just said he wished you wouldn’t. Or if you’d let him push you over too, just this once.

Seeing the hesitation in your face, he slowly extricated from you, retracting his limbs and warmth until they hung limply by his sides again. Scratched the back of his head. Let his eyes wander around the patio and settle on anything except for you.

“I’m going to see if Kyungsoo needs any help with cleaning up,” he said quietly, not waiting for your response as he headed back into the house. The drink had made his gait unsteady, and you felt him sway against the doorframe as he brushed past you. A chilling unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you watched him go, the shape of his back getting smaller and smaller as he was swallowed by the light of the living room.

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, and that there was a possibility it had not been in the direction you had hoped for.

Perhaps the second glass of wine had been a little overambitious, you realised, staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedroom. Kyungsoo had been so excited about the 2012 Shiraz he had brought from home, pouring you a full glass with an enthusiasm he didn’t often display. You couldn’t say no, and you didn’t protest when he refilled it a short while later. If he noticed the faster-than-usual speed with which you drained its contents, he did not show it. Whilst alcohol tended to put people to sleep, it had the opposite effect on you, dangling sleep in front of you like a carrot you could never get a hold of easily, or for long. That second glass of wine was the reason you were lying in bed, not soundly asleep like you wished, but keenly aware of every breath and every movement from the other occupant of the room, only an arm’s length away from you.

Baekhyun had spent most of the night with Chanyeol out on the patio, drinking and laughing under the generous light of the moon. Even if he wasn’t purposely avoiding you, you felt his absence from your side sorely. He didn’t say much during the wind down for bed either, only asking if you wanted the curtains fully shut, to which you gave an affirmative. Still, a sliver of moonlight speared through the gap between them, illuminating the room just enough that if you turned your head to the side, you could make out the outline of his body beneath the covers and acquaint yourself with the familiar curve of his nose.

It was only fair that the wine, having taken your sleep, offered something in return to mark an honourable trade. That something manifested itself in the restlessness of your mouth, which battled against the remaining rationality of your mind. Loose-lipped and anxious, you dug your nails into the palm of your hand, willing the war inside your head to approach a ceasefire. You did not want to make a fool of yourself in the intimacy of this small room.

However, your resolve could not last for long, corroded by the hours spent without his presence, without the familiar warmth of his touch, without his little comments meant only for you as he pointed out something silly or poked fun at Jongin’s whining. Barely above a whisper, you called out his name, letting your voice permeate the darkness. It was loud enough that he’d hear it above the silence, but soft enough that he could ignore it if he so wished, and you’d attribute his ignorance to the deepness of sleep.

There was a second of silence, which he followed with an answering hum and a shuffle of his legs on the mattress. He was awake, and he was waiting for you to speak.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked the ceiling.

“No, I’m not mad at you,” was his reply, accompanied by a quiet sigh. He was conversing with the ceiling too, just as reluctant to face you.

Your hands twisted the sheets in dissatisfaction. The even tone of his voice indicated truth, but his answer didn’t explain why he had spent the whole night outside without calling for you even once, when he usually couldn’t last half an hour without pressing into your side and tickling your shoulder to grab your attention.

“Then what?” you probed, cringing at the whiny edge to your voice.

He was quiet for a while, letting your words hang in the air, that for a moment you thought he wouldn’t speak, that your brief conversation had already come to an end, and you’d be left with unanswered questions as bedside companions for the night. There was another rustling from his side of the room as he settled himself under the covers.

“Sometimes, I think I want too much from you,” he finally said. He was quiet, but you heard every word with the clarity as if they had been projected through a stereo system. “And you can’t give me everything I want, but that’s not your fault. It’s an indication of my own greed and selfishness more than anything else.”

You kicked around at your sheets to signal your unrest at his words. “I don’t think you are greedy or selfish. At all. At least not with me.” If anything, you were the selfish one, wanting all his smiles and touches for yourself, wanting the entire spectrum of his existence to only ever be shown to you. Your generosity only ever came to light when it was in service of him, gladly letting him take your attention, your time, allocating space in your mind for him and him only.

Baekhyun only laughed a soft and short laugh at your reply, the sound so different from the usual one filled with boisterous joy that you had grown the most used to. You heard him turn over in his bed to face you. In the quiet darkness of the room, the focus of his gaze flooded over you, and the intensity of it was so blinding you didn’t dare to look away from the smoothness of the ceiling, fearing you’d smoulder into ash the moment you locked eyes with him.

“You know that you are a really important person to me. You know that, right?” he asked, eyes searing into you with the force of a thousand suns. “I mean, everyone else is also important because they’re my friends, but you’re different — you are a special person to me. I don’t see you the way I see Chanyeol, or Jongin, or anyone else.”

His words were still tinged with the slight slur of the beer from out on the patio, but you could feel the delicate care with which they were chosen and spoken. Something was different about tonight. You could taste it in the thick air between the two of you, feel it in the wire-taut tension stretching across the gap between your two twin beds. Your fingers dug into the comforter, willing the turbulence in your chest to subside.

He paused and took a deep breath, as if bracing himself against something devastating. “I don’t want the same things with them as I do with you.”

You held your breath until you felt the pain of deprivation in your chest.

“But I’ve made peace with the fact that what I want from you, and the way I feel about you, are things I’ll have to carry with me. They’re things I have to bear the weight of alone. I don’t — I would never want you to be uncomfortable, or see me differently.” There was a slight catch in his voice at the end.

You didn’t even know if your lungs were still working while you listened to him speak. There was a surrealness to the night, as if everything had been covered in a blanket of haze and everything that was transpiring was the product of a fever-induced dream, existing on an alternate timeline.

Baekhyun… it didn’t even feel right thinking it.

Baekhyun had feelings for you? And he had convinced himself it was one-sided?

“It’s pretty selfish, isn’t it? Asking you to act like things between us won’t change after everything I just said,” he laughed, but there was little humour in the sound. You finally turned your head to look at him, the wry curve of his mouth catching the moonlight as he gazed at you. He was smiling, the shape of it meant to comfort you, but he could not hide the sadness weaved into the downturn of his eyes. He had always been braver than you, perhaps not in the aspect of riding roller-coasters, but certainly in his ability to be honest and open about his emotions, regardless of whether they were good or bad.

It was your turn to be brave now, and shed your own fear to meet him where he stood.

“I’ve been seeing you differently for a while now,” you admitted, turning under the sheets to fully face him. You were grateful for the darkness, hoping that it would conceal the heat creeping up your neck and face, painting your cheeks with a hot blush that accompanied the start of your confession. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to process your words, confusion settling in the crease between them. You held yourself back from reaching out to smooth them over.

“What do you mean?”

“What makes you think you’re the only one who feels this way?” you asked instead, leaving his question unanswered. There was a tremble in your voice as you spoke, and you were sure he heard it above the quiet of your bedroom. It was the closest you could get to telling him without actually telling him about the silent battle that had been raging in your head for the last few months.

This was it, you thought. He had to know now.

“Am I not?”

The weight of his stare pressed against you, drawing you to him with the tangible pull of gravity. The eyes that roamed your face had replaced their previous confusion with questioning, and a glimmer of something akin to hope. He had never looked more beautiful and devastating than he did right now. You felt the light of dawn breaking over your skin, a promise of something new and good sure to follow. Its warmth simmered within you, staving off the chill of the late summer night with a heat that had you pushing off your covers in a hurried frenzy and rising to sit on the edge of your bed, toes just grazing the floorboards beneath you. Would you still have had the same nerve to face him in the daylight, rough and exposed without the lulling comfort of darkness? Would he still look at you, unpolished and flawed in the clarity of the sun, the same way, with the reverence of man at the sight of an angel?

Baekhyun mirrored you and sat up on his own bed, slowly, as if not wanting to spook you, fearing you’d run off and retreat back into the confined familiarity of your own head. His knees knocked against yours in the small space between your two mattresses. You jolted at the feeling of his skin on yours, having gone without it for so long that the mere touch was like the first drop of water after emerging from the desert. He made to move away, trying to shuffle across the length of the bed, but stilled at the hand you placed just over his knee, willing him to stay put. Surely, he could feel the beat of your heart thrumming through your fingertips.

It was your turn to be brave now.

Fueled by the second glass of Shiraz and the muted encouragement of darkness, before you could second guess yourself and overthink every possible negative outcome of what you were about to do, you closed your eyes and leant towards him. Slowly, inch by inch, until your journey ended with the soft, tentative press of your lips against his. It was short and chaste, nothing more than a gentle pressure, and you pulled back when you felt his lips part in surprise.

“Does that answer your question?” you whispered, heart in your throat.

There it was. You had gone and done it.

His eyes were closed, and in the dim moonlight peeking through the curtain, you could almost make out each of his eyelashes, fluttering dark and soft against the smooth skin of his cheek. For a few seconds, the room was filled only with the sounds of your breathing as you waited for his reaction, for the consequences of your actions and what that meant for your friendship with him.

Then you heard it — his soft laugh, coloured with appreciative disbelief, and felt the air of it caress your face. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into a small, pleased smile. His eyes blinked open slowly, taking you in with a hunger that had desire curling in the pit of your stomach.

“You are just so…” he began, but you never found out just exactly what you were. He was already pulling you back into him, slotting his mouth against yours like they were always made to fit perfectly together. This time, the kiss was anything but chaste, the sheer force of it enough to scorch your insides down to your bones. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush towards him, and your knees parted around his thighs to adjust to the new position. Your own hands found purchase in the softness of the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, in fear that the realisation of this moment would somehow make it slip away.

This was what it felt like to stand unafraid and bare in the light of unbridled wanting, to consume and be consumed by a ravenous appetite with no propensity for satiety. When his hands slipped past the hem of your sleep tank, fingertips grazing across the skin of your lower back, you were sure you could erupt into flames. He swallowed the breathy noise that escaped your lips, tongue brushing against yours as he claimed your mouth with his own.

This was what it felt like to hold the sun in the palm of your hand.

When you broke apart to catch your breaths, his eyes were bright, lips plump and swollen, chest heaving beneath your hands. Somehow, you had ended up back on his bed, his head against the pillows, hands under your shirt and keeping you close to him with an unforgiving hold. He was gazing up at you with a devotion that made your heart swell even more than it did pulling oxygen back into your lungs.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” he admitted, hiding his head into the crook of your shoulder. You felt his abashed smile against your skin and wondered how it could be possible that you had contained all of this, the longing, the yearning, inside you for so long.

“How long?” you asked, hearing the smile in your own voice.

“Since Chanyeol’s birthday, when you wore that brown sweater with the little bow on the back.”

Last year, Chanyeol had gotten everyone together at his place for a nice dinner and wine followed by a binge watch of all the Iron Man movies in one sitting. It was all going according to plan until a quarter of the way into the third one, when he began snoring at his own birthday gathering. The bowl of popcorn was sliding out of his hands and sure to make a buttery mess all over the rug, and that’s when the rest of you decided to turn the television off and call it a night. Sehun and Jongin tasked themselves with getting the birthday boy into bed, and likely collapsed onto it with him immediately after, while Baekhyun had offered you the couch, assuring you he’d be fine with the blankets on the floor. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. As chaotic as he could be, Baekhyun was nothing if not kind, and you had been grateful that his kindness had always extended to you over the three years you had known each other.

“But that was more than half a year ago. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

His fingers prodded into your sides, eliciting a few choked giggles from you. “I didn’t know how you’d react. You know you’re not the most expressive person on the planet,” he said dryly. “Or the most observant. I literally frenched your collarbone and you’re telling me you didn’t realise I liked you more than as a friend?”

“Okay, well when you put it like that,” you huffed, feeling the vibrations of his laugh through his chest. “But you really didn’t know I had feelings for you? Chanyeol never said anything?”

His movements stilled, leaning back into the pillows so he could lock eyes with you again. “You talk to Chanyeol about me?” he asked, to which you nodded sheepishly. “Since when?”

“Last month, Jongdae’s housewarming. He fished it out of me after dinner,” you sighed, picturing his smug grin under the lights of Jongdae’s fancy new kitchen when you realised that you had slipped up and let him in on your little secret.

“But I talk to him about you.”

You looked at each other for another beat, realisation breaking over the both of you, before dissolving into another fit of disbelieving giggles. Maybe Park Chanyeol did know how to keep his mouth shut after all.

“So he’s a terrible wingman, is what I’m getting out of this whole thing,” Baekhyun chuckled, rolling you over so you were now lying on your side, face to face with him. He planted a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, taking his time to acquaint himself with the shape and taste of your mouth, and you felt the contentment of his smile against you. “I can’t believe we could have gotten together a month ago. Some best friend he is.”

“Gotten together?” you echoed, one eyebrow raised in feigned dispute, delighting in the way his sweet mouth settled into the pout that you adored.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t want to be with me after your tongue was all up in my mouth?”

You pushed his face away, groaning, “Gross, don’t say it like that.” He, however, had different plans, hooking a calf behind your knees and tugging you back into him, before weaving the other leg in between your own.

“You know you like it,” he murmured into your neck, squeezing his arms around you just in case you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. One hand traced absent-minded circles over the grooves of your spine as he breathed you in, warm and familiar against your chest.

Yes, you thought, you’d risk any and everything for this exact moment. It was worth all the doubt and heartache, all the time spent replaying those moments in your head, unsure of the meaning behind his actions. You could be sure of it now.

“I do,” you agreed, threading your fingers through the softness of his hair. “I probably more than like you,” you added, tilting his face upwards to steal another kiss, giddy and chest swelling with affection. Perhaps you weren’t quite yet ready for that other four letter word, but you had no doubt you would be one day, and soon. He was all too willing to comply, letting his mouth mould against yours with the poise and patience of a saint.

“I probably more than like you too,” he replied, punctuating his confession with one final kiss to the tip of your nose. It was enough for the serene smile on your face to persist, even past the arrival of sleep.

“I knew it.”

You cracked one eye open, trying to adjust to the light flooding in through the open door to your room. Chanyeol stood at the foot of your bed, grinning from ear to ear with what could only be described as a look of triumph as he took in the scene before him. The boy next to you stirred lightly, digging his face deeper into the pillow, reluctant to leave the realm of the sleeping. Chanyeol was not in the least sympathetic to his friend’s struggles, striding over to the window and pulling back the curtains with a clang. You winced as the full force of the morning sun barged in, and Baekhyun let out a soft noise of displeasure at the intrusion.

“I fucking knew it,” Chanyeol said again, quickly bringing you to your senses as you registered the weight of another body on top of your own. You made to remove yourself from him, fighting the flush creeping up your neck and face, but it was an effort which proved futile as he only tightened the arm around your waist, loath to let you go.

“Can you be quiet? You’re going to wake the whole house,” you hushed, finally succeeding in untangling your legs from Baekhyun’s, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately.

“They’re already up. I came to call you for breakfast,” Chanyeol replied, the grin seemingly stuck to his face. “Which actually reminds me,” he began, before sticking his head out of the doorway to holler, “You better pay up, Jongin. And you too, Kyungsoo!”

“You bet on us?” came the groggy voice from the pillows behind you.

“What the hell, Chanyeol? I thought you said you didn’t go around blabbing about his feelings!” you exclaimed, indignant.

“To you. I never said anything about telling anyone else,” was his reply, smug and victorious at having outsmarted you.

Kyungsoo appeared in the doorway, donning a flour-covered apron, as if to confirm for himself that he was in fact a debtor to the taller boy. “Even if he didn’t say anything, it wasn’t all that hard to figure out,” he said lightly, surveying the room with curiosity and paying no mind to the shock painted on your face. How had everybody known about your now not-so-secret crush on Baekhyun except for the man himself? “Anyways, I only said that it would be unlikely to happen over this weekend, not that it was impossible. So Jongin is the only loser. Now come for pancakes.” And with that, he headed back towards his bowl of batter on the kitchen counter, chuckling at the sound of Jongin’s complaints against fulfilling his end of the wager.

Baekhyun, having somewhat freed himself from the clutches of sleep, rose to a sitting position and shot a drowsy scowl at his friend. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that right?”

But even the expletive could not put a damper on Chanyeol’s mood, his smile never slipping. “You two should honestly be thanking me,” he said, to which you also shot him a glare. “Also, I’m happy for you and everything, but can you please keep the PDA to a minimum in front of the rest of us? I will lock you out of the house if you don’t.”

Baekhyun turned to you, the creases of the frown on his face slowly but surely smoothing out as he took you in, cheeks puffy and hair a mess from having just woken up. He had seen you in worse states, and definitely in better states, but none of that seemed to matter as he regarded you with nothing but fondness in his eyes. You were sure that your expression mirrored his, affection spreading throughout your entire body, reaching even the tips of your fingers and toes, at the sight of his tousled bed head, the sleepy droop of his eyes, the sweet pinkness of his lips.

The sun was yours. There was no feasible way to stop the smile from blooming across your entire face.

“No promises.”

#baekhyun #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #exo x reader #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun au #exo au #exo fluff #kaleidohscopic works baekhyun

146 notes · View notes

ghostwnby · 1 month

Text

Crashing Tides

Authors note: So remember about 3 or 4 ish months ago I said I was working on a surfer shop worker!Daniel + moody rich 19 year old!Max age gap romance fic? Well, surprise! After a billion years the first part of it is finally here. I'm not 100% happy with it but I decided to finally just say fuck it and bite the bullet with it. I am hoping to write more in the future about this au but in the meantime if you have any suggestions or ideas about this au please feel free to share them with me :) my asks are always open <3 otherwise, I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,029 (2k)

----

The warmth of the Australian sun beats down harshly on Daniel’s skin as he tries his best to dodge and weave through the crowded boardwalk, not wanting to run anyone over with his bike. He wipes the layer of sweat that had gathered on his forehead off on the back of his hand, cringing slightly at the sheer amount of it.

He silently regrets not taking a shower before leaving the house, but at this rate, with the amount of people blocking his way, he was going to be late.

Damn tourists.

He can hear his boss, Mark, now: "Look, who finally decided to show up! I’m glad you think this company runs on your schedule.” He rolls his eyes at the mental image of the older Australian man passive-aggressively scolding him. You would think a person who owns a beachside surf shop would be more laid-back, but no. Ever since his wife left him last summer, his boss has been nothing but a crotchety old man. And trust me, Daniel has tried many times to invite him out to bars to be his wingman for the night, but every time he offers, he gets immediately shut down and scolded for even offering.

Sorry, he was just trying to be a good co-worker and get his boss some stress relief in the form of a one-night stand with a beautiful lady.

Pulling up to the shop, Daniel rushes off his bike, hastily reaching into his bag to grab his bike lock and securing it to the pole near the side of the building. Once secure, he practically bolts into the front entrance of the shop, accidentally slamming the door open a bit too hard for his liking, causing a few customers and his coworker, Lando, to perk their heads up and look in his direction.

“I know. I know. But technically, I’m early. I still have a minute until I’m supposed to be here.” Daniel says matter-of-factly, shining a bright smile at the younger man as he walks up to the front counter that his co-worker is lounging lazily against.

“You're cutting it close, mate.” Lando comments as he glances up at the shark-themed clock on the wall. (What? His boss might be an ass, but at least he’s an ass with good taste.)

10:59 am

Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know if you want to push your luck too much. Mark is in a pissy mood today.” He explains.

Daniel rolls his eyes. “When is he not?”

Lando glances over his shoulder, making sure the door to the manager’s office is shut before whispering, “I don't know, mate; he seems grouchier than normal. Like something’s really ticked him off.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow at the younger man. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the door of the manager’s office slams open, revealing his boss on the other side.

“Speak of the devil.” Lando whispers as both of the men straighten back up as their boss steps out of his office.

"Daniel, I'm so glad you finally decided to join us for your shift that you were scheduled for.” Mark greets, scowling at him.

“Good morning to you too, Mark.” Daniel says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm that coats his words. The older man scoffs at him, rolling his eyes in a way Daniel can only describe as Oscar-worthy with how dramatic it was.

“Whatever. It’s not like I have been waiting for you all morning to get your lazy ass here.” Mark hisses, motioning his hand to the shark clock on the wall. 11:00 am. Daniel has to repress the urge to roll his eyes. He’s been there for less than 2 minutes, and he’s already having to deal with Mark’s bullshit. That has to be a new record.

"Sorry, I wasn’t here earlier. Emily decided to have a breakdown this morning about having to stay with my parents for the day.” Daniel explains half-heartedly, knowing no matter what explanation or excuse he gives the older man, he’s not going to be pleased either way.

“Well, maybe you should invest in some parenting classes then since you aren’t doing a great job at controlling your kid.” Mark sneers, “You know what? Never mind, I don’t care at this point.”

Daniel can feel his frustration growing by the second. Honestly can’t he just back off? He’s here, isn’t he? It’s not like he’s one of the only workers there, besides Lando, who does his job. If it wasn’t for the fact that the pay was nice, Daniel would have been out of there the second Mark started acting this way last summer. Plus he’s been working at the surf shop for almost 5 years now and what has he gotten for it? Nothing except for the temporary title of shift lead whenever Mark isn’t there.

As if he can sense the tension in the air between the two older men, Lando decides to speak up.

“Oh uh..by the way, Mark, this dude called earlier. I think he said his name was Jos? He said his son would be here around 11:30.”

Lando and Daniel both watch as Mark inhales deeply as if Lando’s words were the most aggravating thing he has ever heard.

“That brings me to my next point. A friend of my old man asked me to hire his son for the summer while they are vacationing here.” Mark explains. Daniel and Lando share a confused look. Mark continues, “The reason why? I have no clue. Something about how he wants his son to learn what the real world is like even though his pocket money is more than what we all make in a year combined.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow at him, “And you just agreed? Just like that? Who’s going to train him?”

Mark smirks devilishly, “Well that’s where you come in Daniel.”

“What do you mean ‘that’s where I come in’?”

“Well, you are always complaining that you’ve been here the longest and still haven’t gotten any type of raise or promotion. Well here you go, I’m promoting you to training associate. You are in charge of training the kid and also keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

Daniel can’t help but feel the heat of anger from earlier rise beneath his skin. “So you expect me to not only train this kid I’ve never even met but also babysit the little brat as well? What the hell do you think I am? A damn babysitter?!” He snaps, crossing his arms and scowling at the older man.

“I’m nineteen. I don’t need a babysitter.”

All three of the men snap their heads back towards the front door, only to see, who Daniel presumes is the kid Mark was mentioning, standing in the entryway. Daniel blinks as he tries to take in the teen’s appearance. He doesn’t look like any nineteen-year-old Daniel has ever seen. Sure, he has semi-smooth skin, with a blemish here and there, and an overall youthful glow about him but for some reason, something’s off about him. Maybe it’s the way his shoulders are a bit broader than his own or how his jaw is a bit too sharp for Daniel’s liking. Either way, he doesn’t like it.

“Max! I didn’t expect you to be here so soon! Is it 11:30 already?”

Daniel glances at the clock on the wall. 11:09 am.

The teen trudges over to the front counter where the others are standing and crosses his arms. “My dad said I should show up early just in case you guys were busy or something. But, by the looks of it, you aren’t and are instead talking bad about me behind my back.” Max explains, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

Daniel looks over at the teen, studying his face more intently now that he is standing next to him instead of a few feet away at the door. His brow is furrowed. His pale skin is tinted with a shade of pink from the harsh Australian sun. There is a collection of freckles that are scattered across his jawline and up to the middle of his cheek, with a single one lying on his upper lip. He notices now that the teen is just a bit taller than him. Not by much but enough to make Daniel even more wary than he was before.

Mark shakes his head, “Please forgive my employee, Daniel, here Max. He has had a bit of a rough morning so his mood isn’t the best right now.”

‘The only reason why I have had a rough morning is because of you jackass.’ Daniel thinks to himself as he shoots a glare at his boss.

Max rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

Daniel and Lando exchange glances once again, as if to telepathically ask each other if this is what they are really going to have to deal with for the next two and half months.

The sound of Mark clearing his throat makes the two of them look up towards their boss.

“Anyway, as I was saying. My employee, Daniel here, will be in charge of training you and just overall making sure you're settling in here nicely.” Mark explains, clearly trying to skip over the part where Daniel called Max a brat that he has to babysit.

Daniel shifts his eyes over to the teen next to him. Max doesn’t look impressed. He still has his arms crossed and his lips have formed a tight line of annoyance. Honestly, Daniel can’t blame him. If he was in his shoes, aka if he was a rich kid who probably hasn’t worked a day in his life and his parents suddenly made him get a job at a dingy old surf shop while they were on a summer vacation, he would be pissed too.

There is a beat of awkward silence that fills the air between the four.

“I’m guessing this is the part where I introduce myself?” Lando chuckles awkwardly, drawing the other’s attention to himself. Max stares at him silently, as if he is waiting for the other to say something else that will ultimately aggravate him even more.

“I’m Lando. I started working here about a year and a half ago. I go to the university just up the street. I usually work in the mornings because I have night classes.” He explains. Max doesn’t say anything, instead, he sighs, uninterested.

Lando scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh..When I’m not working or in class you can usually find me in my dorm playing video games.” The mention of video games makes the teen’s ears perk up with interest.

“You play video games?” Max asks in a slightly less annoyed voice than before.

“Yeah! I play all sorts of games like GTA, God of War, and F123. I actually stream my gameplay on Twitch with my friends from time to time. You should join sometime. I bet it would be really fun.”

Daniel doesn’t know if it’s the heat getting to him or what but he swears he sees the faintest hint of a smile on Max’s face when Lando mentions him joining him in a gaming session.

“I’ll think about it.”

Seemingly pleased with the exchange, Mark claps his hands together like a coach trying to round up his team for a debriefing after a game. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, Max, how would you like to follow Daniel around for today to get a feel of the environment and how things work around here?”

Daniel can feel the teen’s eyes on him before he even turns his head. His stare is as cold as ice and Daniel worries that if the teen doesn’t look away, he might burn a hole through his head.

The universe must have been on his side because just as Daniel thought he would never look away, Max shifts his eyes toward Mark. The stare he gives Mark is just as cold.

“Whatever.”

“Perfect. Now let’s get started.”

#f1 fic #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #maxiel #formula 1 #red bull f1 #mclaren #lando norris

85 notes · View notes

heart4reigns · 1 year

Note

i wanted to know if i could ask for a Roman Reigns x fem reader imagine. Like based off that one tiktok sound, ‘are you in the mafia? Am i in the what?’ although he’s most definitely in the mafia lol

UNDERGROUND PROBLEMS, roman reigns.

warnings: cigarettes, alcohol, guns, violence, curse words, blood, slight age gap, pet names, creepy dude trying to flirt with you

tags: owww mafia roman in action.. i need him

summary: maybe it's okay to be suspicious of your rich boyfriend

THE sun was literally on top of your head. it was a great thing that you decided to buy an extra pair of sunscreen because the sun was going to be the death of you. the wind tingled your skin as you breathed out the fresh air. "hey, do not provoke me, i'll beat your asses in volley if i can!" you heard your boyfriend yelling at his cousins. "they're still going?" you asked. "looks like they're not stopping anytime soon." he chuckled. "a private beach, jimmy, jey, and solo. doesn't sound like a good combination to me."

yes. a private fucking beach. you told him you wanted to go to the pier for a date, but again, he just had to do something out of your reach–your boyfriend, roman, had a private beach near his house. you knew dating him was an extraordinary experience, he was very extra. at certain times you wondered about his life and why he didn't like going out to public places. "i hate crowded places." was always his answer.

you started dating him 6 months ago. the two of you met in a bar, for your best friend's brother farewell party. it was a stretch but hey, you could never decline free drinks. the two of you hit it off right away, finding similarities that you thought was kind of weird at that time. you were the polar opposite of him when you first met. he was intimidating, of course, he had the figure of a man you wouldn't mess with. but when the two of you started talking, he was a totally different person.

ever since your first meeting, your days were never filled with mundane things. sure, he was rich, but the way he treated you, it was like something that came out of the movies. he gave you the full princess treatment, even if you didn't ask for it. roman showered you with love, gifts, affection, and everything you could ask for. you were very lucky to have him in your life and he was very lucky to have you too.

"how are you enjoying this, baby?" he asked, tying his hair. "i love it, thank you, love." you looked at him with a smile. "although, you went very extra with it, i should know by now." you chuckled. roman held your head and kissed your forehead. "you deserve good things in life, baby." the warmth of his love gave you nothing but happiness. he was genuine and it showed. you couldn't help but to wonder about his daily life with you knowing only a little about his life.

you felt the sun disappear for a second. someone was standing in front of you. it was his personal assistant, paul. "sorry to bother you, but you have a call, chief." roman looked confused for a second. "i told you i'm not accepting any calls if i am with (y/n)." "it's from hunter, chief." he immediately let go of his embrace. "babygirl, how about you play with them? i have a very important call." you pouted. "okay."

"(Y/N)! FINALLY! SOLO SUCKS ASS, WE NEED ANOTHER PLAYER."

weekdays came and you were back in you class. not to study, but to teach. you were a college lecturer, teaching criminology. you loved your job and you loved your students. "good morning, as i promised after your finals, we're going to watch a movie." your class was filled with excitement. "jason suggested we watch joker, but no one voted for that movie. sorry jason." you let out a laugh. "asuka suggested the shining, with the highest votes, we are going to watch that today."

"these kids will be the death of me." the lecturer lounge was empty, leaving only your best friend and old college buddy, seth. he was practically your wingman in every scenario. he taught english literature, which was the class next to you. "looking rough, buddy." you chuckled at his distressed hair. "they beat my ass in word games. i'm devastated." he groaned, taking a seat in front of you. "where you going after this?" "home, i have to check their finals." he nodded. "well, stay safe. i think i might be sleeping here."

you checked the time, it was 11 pm. to your luck, roman was going to pick you up in 15 minutes. you pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. it was a bad habit, you knew–but a single cigarette after every lesson was something to look forward to. as you were walking outside the campus ground, you heard footsteps behind you. you felt goosebumps as you looked behind and didn't see anyone.

once again, to your luck, it was very dark. you were practically power-walking. your other hand was inside your bag, trying to look for a pepper spray–incase things went downhill. "hey, you alone?" an unfamiliar voice rang in your ears. "no, i'm waiting for my someone." your voice was laced with venom. "i don't see that someone here, how about you leave with me?" you shook your head. "sorry, he'll be here anytime soon."

"code 03." roman read the text solo sent to him. "fuck." anger boiled inside him. "paul take care of this deal, i got a code 03 from solo." paul nodded and took the paperwork inside his bag. "i don't want the fucking guns from damian, they're a rip-off. if they want to score a deal with us, tell them they shouldn't bring counterfeits in front of my fucking eyes." paul nodded.

code 03 meant that someone in the business was bothering you and he wasn't there to intervene. solo could've step up if things went to an extreme extend, but that would leave you more confused on how he got there in an instance. "dude, please leave me alone!" you yelled at him, looking for someone to help you. "i'm just being nice sweetheart, i can treat you nicely." he kept pestering you. seeing you like this broke solo's heart, he wanted to lunge on the guy but he had to wait for roman's command. the guy had a familiar tattoo on his neck, solo noticed that. the guy reached out for your arm. "come on!"

"she said no." you were relieved to see your boyfriend in front of you. "i don't give a shit about what she said." the guy said, still holding your arm. "get the fuck out of my face and let her go." your heart skipped a beat. you've never seen him like this. he was always a sweetheart to you, even with his cold facade. "just trying to give her a good time." the guy continued. "oh, you're going to have a very good time if you don't let her go now." the sentence was dripped with sarcasm. "let's go." roman slightly yanked your arm, pulling you away from the guy.

roman had to make sure that the guy wasn't following the two of you or he just might whip something out that you weren't supposed to see. he knew that guy, he was familiar with his face. "baby, are you okay?" as soon as you entered the car, he let his guard down. "i'm okay, love." you assured him that you were fine. "i'm sorry i wasn't there... baby, i'm sorry it happened." you shook your head. "love, i'm okay. now let's go back, i have to grade some papers." you gave him a reassuring smile. "let's get you ice cream first."

you passed the street that you were on earlier and the guy was nowhere to be seen. you could've sworn that you saw someone dragging the guy away, but it was probably your mind playing tricks as you were very tired.

after grading your papers and eating ice cream (which you insisted getting a cone but roman just had to buy the entire tub for you), you felt sleepy. "i'm going to bed." you announced, seeing your boyfriend slump on your couch watching football. "go to sleep baby, i'm still watching the game." you nodded and went over to give him a kiss. "i love you." "and i love you too, baby."

you were fast asleep and roman silently went outside your apartment, already thirsty for blood. you were his and no one should lay a finger on you. the drive to his warehouse went quick as he was already boiling with anger. the guy earlier was tied up to a chair, shaken up by the act. "well look who is here." his voice was deep, greeting the guy. "r- roman, i'm sorry." he stuttered. "sorry for what you did or sorry because your sorry-ass messed with the wrong person?"

jey, jimmy, and solo stood by waiting for his command. "i don't usually deal with situations like this. but you touched my girl and you're going to pay for it." roman barked, intimidating the guy. roman was in love, his cousins thought. he could't careless about other people except for his bloodline before he met you. his family business was his top priority, but now, you were always on his mind.

the first punch roman threw sent the guy on his back. all those private trainings pulled off. "who sent you?" he didn't answer. roman picked him up with force. "i said," he paused a second to throw another punch. "who sent you?" the guy cracked. "t- the judgement day! they didn't like how you insulted their shippings! they told me to get your girl to intimidate you." the fucking judgement day. roman clenched his fist, preparing for another punch.

blood splattered across the room. his fist was busted as well. "if you and your little emo band cross our path again, i'll fucking kill you. if i ever see you again, i'll fucking kill you." the guy was beaten up to an extent where he was already begging for roman to stop. "throw him somewhere in the east coast, give the judgement day some warning." jey nodded.

roman was powerful in many ways. he was feared by everyone, no one crossed his path and they knew not to mess with him. as one of the top dog for the mob business, everyone respected him. it was hard hiding things from you. he didn't want you to see him in a different light. so he told you that he was the one in charge of his family's company. there were almost slip ups along the way, but being the man he was, his secret was still safe–not for long.

his cousins; jey, jimmy, and solo all worked for him. they owe him their lives and they were ready to take a bullet for you and him any day. you were special for them, like a shining with light glimmered with hope, you were a breath of fresh air.

you woke up to the sound of his snoring. "love, get up. seth is picking me up today." he groaned in despair. "you know i can drive you or have the twins drive you there right?" you shook your head. "seth and i are going to our weekly lunch, it's a tradition since high school. you've met him countless times, i'm safe with him." roman was still on top of you, unbothered. "i'm going to kick your ass if you don't move in 5 seconds." "i'd like to see you try, babygirl."

lunch with seth was always fun. it was in his nature to make people laugh their asses off. "becky made me workout last sunday, my arms are sore." he complained. "because you never workout and your wife has her own gym." you stated the obvious. "well, you're a criminology lecturer and your boyfriend is a ceo, that doesn't add up too!" he defended himself with a chuckle following his sentence. "that's because i don't pry." you replied.

"i don't know, (y/n). it's kinda fishy." seth shrugged his shoulders. "what's kinda fishy?" you raised an eyebrow. "you've never been to his workplace, you don't know his work life. he doesn't like open places, always takes you on a private date. hell, the dude doesn't even have instagram. what if he's like a mafia or something?" his question made you laugh.

"seth, just because he's jacked doesn't mean he beats up people for a living. he's afraid of cockroaches, for fuck's sake!" you furrowed your brows. "well, i don't know. even my brother doesn't know what he's up to. but as long as you're happy, (y/n)." seth gave you a thumbs up while fixing his sunglasses. "you're thinking about it now!" he pointed his fork at you. "i am not! there's no way my boyfriend is in the mafia, he's just your regular joe!" "i've known you since we were babies, i know when you are thinking about something."

it did get to your head though. but you brushed it off, there's no way your oat milk-loving boyfriend was in the mafia. roman picked you up, exchanging goodbyes with seth. "you owe me a lighter!" seth yelled, waving at the two of you. "i don't owe you shit, rollins!" you laughed. "how was lunch?" roman asked, driving away from the cafe. "it was fun, we gossiped about you." his right arm was on the steering wheel, weirdly enough–covered by bandages, the other was holding yours. "gossiped about me? what'd you say?"

"oh we thought you were in the mafia, so like are you in the mafia?" you joked. for a second you saw him clenching his jaw and the grip on your arms tightened. "am i in the what?" he furrowed his brows. "i don't know, it all adds up." you continued your joke. "you have paul as your personal assistant, i've never been to your work and you rarely talk about it, you have random bruises on your back from 'working out'." yet again, the grip tightened.

he pulled over some random street. "baby, you know i am not in the mafia. that's just insane." roman chuckled. "right? seth is out of his mind, you know how he is!" roman had to be careful, as your best friend was picking up some clues. but he knew he couldn't hurt seth. you'd burn the entire world just to find out who laid a finger on your best friend. "paul has been working for my family since god knows when, you've never been to my work because there's nothing going on, it's just boring board meetings. i rarely talk about my work because i want to be a hearer not a talker, baby. i get bruises because i work out." he explained.

"baby, you don't really think i'm in the mafia right?" "no, that would be very stupid of me, love."

he was relieved. "okay baby, do you want to go somewhere tonight?" roman asked, starting the car again. "let's go watch a movie." he nodded. "right, i'll rent a place." "NOOOO, I DON'T WANT A PRIVATE NIGHT. LET'S JUST GO TO THE MALL NEXT TO MY PLACE." he was sure that you were going to be the death of him. "okay baby, whatever you say." roman would risk his life for yours. but little did you know, the mall was filled with his men. it was never a normal day with the mafia boss of the reigns clan.

"you do realize this is the first time we ever went to a public date?" you teased him. "yes." he was oddly wary of your presence. "are you okay? you look distracted." you furrowed your eyebrows. "baby, i'm okay." he made eye-contact, giving you a warm smile. "i just don't like going out in public places." he confessed. "i'm sorry, love. do you want to go home instead?" roman nodded, feeling very tense at the thought of being out. "okay, love. let's go home now."

the walk back to the parking lot was filled with conversations about the movie that you watched. "thank you for watching barbie with me." you chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "anything for my baby." he stole a kiss from you. "i knew you would like it." the black-haired male actually loved the movie. despite his strong persona, he was a softie. especially to you. "it was a fun date-" before you could finish your sentence, you heard screams coming from... solo? when did he get here? you thought.

there was a sudden bang outside. "GET DOWN!" solo yelled. roman immediately pushed you inside the car. "JEY, DRIVE!" roman yelled, taking off his sweater, revealing a gun strapped to his side. "WHAT THE FUCK!" you yelled in a state of panic. "I TOLD THOSE FUCKING EMO CLUB NOT TO MESS WITH ME, NOW I'M FUCKING PISSED." you've never seen roman like this. "PAUL, CLOSE THE DEAL WITH THEM. THEY FUCKING PISS ME OFF! THEY MESSED UP MY DATE NIGHT." roman yelled at the phone. the two of you almost got shot and you were only the one panicking.

"SO YOU ARE ACTUALLY IN THE MAFIA?" "YES BABY, I AM ACTUALLY IN THE MAFIA, NOW GET DOWN!"

a/n: THANKKK YOU FOR THE FIRST REQUEST <3333 i hope you enjoyed it!!! requests are always open!!

327 notes · View notes