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mintmatcha · 5 months

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one, two, and....

Hanamaki x reader x Matsukawa

cw: cisfem reader, threesome, PIV sex, squirting

a/n: I've been working on this forever and I think it's time to release it into the world. Originally it was supposed to have three different endings to choose from, so maybe one day I'll release the Snyder Cut With all three lol!

"I've been thinking of starting an OnlyFans."

You and Makki turn to your friend, sharing identical blank expressions. Mattsun doesn't crack a smile, eyes never leaving the television screen. With a few swipes of his thumbs, the dark-haired man has knocked your video game character off of the map with absolutely no mercy, forcing you to half heartedly return to playing.

"You kinda gotta be hot for that," Makki chides. He's been dead for a while now, so he just tosses his controller to the side. He's on the other side of his friend, leaning back away from the arm of the couch with a half-cocked smile.

"I am hot. Like, really hot," Mattsun replies, "And I have a pornstar cock."

A heat washes over your face and drains down your whole body. You can't deny it: Matsukawa Issei is hot. Like, really hot. Even in the low light, with only the neon flickering of the television illuminating the sharp angles of his face, he's beautiful. Heavy lidded eyes and thin lips that break into a troublesome grin-- it's almost tragic how beautiful he is.

You'd give your right leg for either of them to think of you as anything other than a 'bro'.

"Shut the fuck up." You're jamming the controller too hard and the plastic whines under the pressure, " 'Pornstar cock.' As if. You're such an asshole."

"Nah, that's true. He does have a massive cock." Makki nods, sticking his tongue through the gap between his canine and molar. He's cuter than his dark haired friend, with round cheeks that dimple when he laughs and round eyes that almost disappear when he smiles. It's a different type of hot-- an imperfect one that you crave all the same.

"Oh, you've seen his dick?" you ask, a bit sarcastically. They did play sports in high school; it's possible a penis popped out in the changing rooms.

"Duh." Makki puffs his chest, "We've had a threeway."

That's news. A sticky, dark feeling clings to your chest. It's wrong of you to want either of them, and yet you want both-- the idea that someone else beat you to it makes your stomach flip.

“It was a good one too.” Mattsun says. He doesn't even bawk, clearly more concerned with the game than this.

“Aww, it’s always good with you, babe.” Makki blows a kiss, with a flourish of his wrist, "That hand job? Phenomenal."

Your character dies in a blaze of color and lights, it's sad little noise soon drowned out by victory music. Mattsun tosses his controller to the side, pumping his fist in a rather calm victory. You quickly exit out of the game and let the opening screen loop, your mood soured.

"You guys are just fucking with me,” you grumble.

“Like I’d ever joke about sex.” Makki sends you a wink and you hate that it makes your cheeks a little hot.

“It’s the only thing he takes seriously," Mattsun agrees. They both elbow each other conspiratorially, sharing a laugh that might be at your expense. Mattsun’s dark eyes flicker to you and his wolfish smile grows toothier as he draws his gaze down, raking over every inch of your body. Oh, they are definitely lying. Your jealousy immediately drains from your body.

“Are you -?”

You interrupt Mattsun before he can even finish.

“Prove it then."

Both men turn in unison, Makki’s eyes wide and Mattsun’s narrowed.

“Prove you’re had a threesome,” you clarify with a shrug. Your voice is dripping with victory and you can barely keep the grin from your face.

“How can we prove that?” Mattsun laughs, “I didn’t take pictures.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Kiss each other.”

“What?” It's Makki's turn to laugh.

“Kiss each other,” you repeat, making a jerk off motion in the air, “You guys rubbed cocks, but you won’t kiss? Really?”

They share a quick glance, communicating silently between themselves with fleeting expressions and pointing chins. Mattsun suddenly scoffs, turning back to you with a raised brow. Neither of them say anything and you know you’re won.

“‘I’m going to start an OnlyFans,’” you taunt, “‘I have a huge cock.’ ‘I’ve had so many threesomes.’ You’re such bad liars.”

Makki moves first. He presses forward on to his hands, gripping his friend’s thigh as he leans in head first. He lingers in the lack of space he's created, nose brushing up against his friends. They share a couple of unheard words before Mattsun closes the gap between them with a lazy tilt of his head, lips just barely touching the others in the faintest of kisses. Before you can claim that a kiss that chaste doesn’t count, Makki moves again, swinging a leg over to straddle Mattsun in a practiced move. You gasp out loud as they meet again, mouths parted and tongue sliding against each other.

Then, it’s a tangle. Mattsun’s fingers are woven into strawberry blonde hair, dragging him closer to catch Makki’s lip in between his teeth. He seems to enjoy the pain; Makki’s hums of approval rumble so deep you can feel it resonate in your chest, filling the space between your ribs with a burning desire. Hands wander, gripping shirts and hips and the back of each other's necks, barely giving them space to pull in a breath. It’s pornographic, the way they grind into each other, rutting like dogs. If it's an act- it’s a good one. Through the thick fabric of his jeans, you swear you can see the outline of Makki’s cock against his thigh, waiting for attention.

You want attention too-- you're dripping for it. You push back into the arm of the couch and clamp your legs together, hoping to smother the want that's built there. Part of you wonders if they’d ever notice if your hand slipped down the front of your pants; they’re so lost in the moment that you think they’ve forgotten you exist.

Just as you debate it, hand on the buckle of your belt, Makki’s head snaps your way knowingly. The dark haired man doesn't stop though; Mattsun's lips immediately latch onto the base of his neck, sucking a hickey on to freckled skin.

“C’mere.” There’s a pitch to Makki's voice as teeth sink in right before his Adam's apple. "C'mere."

There’s no time to hesitate. Makki’s hand clamps around your ankle and tugs, sliding you closer and trapping your legs between the men’s bodies. You barely manage to remain sitting up and you almost immediately regret not falling over. Makki is too close, watching you with a hazed over expression that makes your stomach twist tight.

Somehow, Mattsun is unphased, eyes so heavily lidded that you can barely make out how they flicker to you. At least, you think he’s unaffected, until one of his fingers catches under one of your belt loops. They pull you closer together, folding you until you're angled awkwardly beside them, legs still trapped.

"I-" you start, a pant to your voice. Sometimes you forget how tall they both are, but right now you are very aware; they both tower over you, a hunger in their eyes you barely recognize. "You guys-"

"Dude," Makki's breath tickles against your cheek, "Shut up."

"Yeah." Mattsun agrees into the soft of your neck, sarcastic as always, "Read the room."

The chaos of both of them slowly envelops you. Makki's lips meet yours as Mattsun's teeth nip and all you can do is gasp as every nerve in your body flares. It's overwhelming to be the center of both of their desires, being tugged and pulled back and forth, someone's hands digging into the soft of your stomach, someone else unbuttoning your pants.

When you break away to breathe, Mattsun is there, catching you right where Makki left off. He kisses differently- lazier, slower. His counterpart kissed you so roughly your lips burn where his teeth once were; Mattsun approaches with a feather touch, barely enough to satiate your need for him.

Hands snake across your back and around to your tits, greedily cupping them through your shirt. Somehow, you've migrated, now straddling Mattsun's lap with Makki at your back. Your bra gaps and gives and Makki grumbles in annoyance.

“Issei,” You’ve never heard Makki use his first name before, “Unhook her bra.”

Mattsun finishes the kiss, lingering, savoring, watching with his deep, dreamy eyes.

“Do it yourself.” His voice is practically a sigh. You want to melt into him, sinking into him to slot your mouths together.

"You know, last week Issei over here told me how bad he wants to suck your tits," Makki whispers into the shell of your ear. A warm touch slips under your shirt and your bra suddenly feels loose. You lean back enough to give the blonde enough space to go back to kneading your breasts and this time his long fingers roll your nipple between them, "He's been hard for you for a while now.'

A twitch has started in your legs, trembling tight as the hot feeling inside you screws tighter and tighter. The way your jeans sit gives you nothing to grind against, not even the rock hard cock that's pressed into your thigh. It's thick -- much thicker than you expected.

"I wanna suck them too, obviously," Makki continues, "I wanna put my mouth everywhere."

He pecks your earlobe. "Wanna suck your clit while you struggle to take Issei's cock."

Mattsun hums in approval as he grabs your hips, tugging your hips impossibly closer, "If she can even take it."

That turns your core molten. They want you-- they want you the way you want them. You wish they'd keep talking and blab about all of their dirty whims and wants-

"Yeah," you breathe, "Yeah, I can take it."

Mattsun slips his hand from your legs and ghosts them up to your waistband. The open button of your jeans makes it easy for him to slide in, dipping down under your panties. His fingers are wide, brushing against the cleft of your pussy delicately.

"She isn't shaved." He talks like you aren't there, looking over your shoulder to his friend.

"Oh, I like that," Makki chirps. The ministrations haven't stopped; he's still rolling and squeezing and pinching, watching for what makes you wiggle and gasp. He finds a good motion just as the heel of Mattsun's palm grinds against your clit. Those massive fingers waste no time, forcing their way inside you. The suddenness stretches you tender.

All three sensations combine and suddenly your brain is fuzzy-- your eyes can even stay focused. It's too much, it's not enough; you squirm and you can't tell if you're trying to get away or get more.

"Oh shit," Mattsun chuckles, scissoring his fingers side to side. This time you yelp-- mostly out of surprise -- and that spurs him on further. "There's no way you're fitting me. Fuck, I don't know if you'd fit Hiro."

"You're making me sound shrimpy."

"Shrimpier than me."

"I'm not shrimpy! Dude's like, inches longer than the national average. I've checked."

"You named your cock Dude?"

"Oi, it's a good-"

You cut in, voice flat. You love them both, but the quips just aren't that sexy when you're those horny, "Please stop doing-- that--" Oh, your voice is broken/, "You're killing my orgasm."

"Oh shit, you gonna cum?" Mattsun realizes, grinding back down again. That sparks something in you again, but not quite as bright, but your body cramps at the thought of not chasing it. "You that sensitive?"

"Love an easy girl," Makki chirps.

"I was going to-" You shook a glance between them, both sheepish and grinning- "until you guys opened your mouths."

"Aw, does that mean the threesome is off?" Makki says that as he's lifting your shirt up. You help, letting him strip your top bare.

"No," you admit in a low voice, "I wanna keep going.”

They exchange a look and you swear they are mentally high fiving each other. You wriggle off your pants and they both sudden spring into action, afraid of this moment passing by.

"You should ask Hiro to fuck you first." Mattsun pulls his own shirt off, "Let him stretch you out nice and good for me."

"Nah, fuck Issei first," Makki is quick to say, "I like sloppy seconds."

You don't have to think about it.

"Mattsun."

You're too greedy to wait.

Mattsun dips his thumbs under your panties and gently lowers them as he dips his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a surprising amount of stubble on his face- more than you’ve ever noticed before- tickling the softest softs of you. “These are really cute by the way.”

You clearly weren’t expecting to get dick today; you’re in your full coverage, full butt panties, the ones that hang out in the back of your drawer and digs a bit too much into your hips. “Really?”

He tries to bite back his smile, tongue poked deep in his cheek as he helps you off of the couch and onto the floor. You can’t help but wonder the last time these guys vacuumed as you watch the brunette lay down, urging you on to this lap with gentle hands. You end up on his thighs, just low enough that the lump in his pants is right above you.

"Yeah. They’re like, I dunno, homey. Comfortable. " He runs his hand up your sides. The other man doesn’t join; Makki just scooches the coffee table over with his foot to clear a space for him to watch. His palm is pressing into the noticeable swell on his pants as he watches, eyes flickering between the two of you. Suddenly, your least favorite pair of underwear is your favorite. You can't help but preen and pose, arching your back and cupping a tit coyishly.

"You just gonna sit there and watch?" you tease, even though your heart is racing, “It’s not really a three way without you.”

"Hey, this is free OnlyFans content! I’m gonna enjoy it!” He jerks his chin towards his friend, "Plus, I wanna see your reaction.”

Your eyes roll themselves at that. You turn back to Mattsun, waiting for him to laugh or tease, but he just watches you back, an overly cocky smile smeared across his lips.

“Are we really going to pretend your cock is that big?” You let your fingers trail down his bare chest and hope he can’t feel like them tremble. God, you can see it kick through the denim. It’s getting harder and harder to tease him now that they both know you want this.

“You’re so right,” Mattsun’s voice drips with sarcasm, “I’m tiny.”

He finally pops the top to his jeans and snakes them down. The light blue pattern of his briefs does nothing to conceal the growing sticky stain that's formed on the front. Most of his length is still hidden under the denim, but the bit you can see is….

Fuck, that that cannot be a cock. Maybe a fucking TV remote.

“So fucking small, huh?” You realize you’re making a face when he starts laughing.

“What a shame,” he continues as he frees the rest, “Hot guy with a micro-- you should pity fuck me or something.”

It’s pretty. That’s the fucked up part about it. The head is a soft pink, glazed wet with precum, fading into a surprising tan color. It’s thicker than your wrist, with a single vein down the underside and would be perfect to drag your tongue across. Mattsun gives himself a single, slow pump, pulling a perfect droplet of clear liquid from his slit. With the other hand, he takes your wrist and pulls your touch to his, letting you grip his length. Your thumb and middle finger barely connect.

“Hey, Issei?”

“Yeah?”

Your fingers pulse, testing the firmness. There’s some give-- he’s not even fully hard.

“You were right, this is a pornstar cock.”

Mattsun rolls his eyes and gives you another toothy grin. His legs spread wider, therefore spreading yours too- so far that your labia slips free from the short fabric of your panties. The damp skin feels cold against the air, but the heat of anticipation is making you sweat.

“I told you.” Makki chimes in. You hadn’t realized that he had moved until his voice was rumbling against the fat of your ass. He’s the one who’s spread Mattsun’s legs, crawling in between them on hands and knees to press kisses against your back. “You gonna take it?”

You’re not sure you can. It’s a comical amount of dick, but your pride won’t let you back out. “I’ve taken bigger.”

“Oh yeah?” Your underwear digs further into your skin as Makki tugs it to the side and completely frees your cunt. “‘cause it looks pretty small back here.”

With a squelch, two fingers slip easily into you, reaching and curling deep. A moan hits you like a punch, crumpling you at the waist. Hands on Mattsun’s shoulders, you just brace yourself as Makki eases out and pushes back in, this time a bit slower.

“Are you sure you aren’t a virgin?” He wriggles for effect and your body clenches around him in response.

“Oi, lemme feel.” Mattsun’s hand pushes through the petals of you. Just as you think Makki’s going to pull away to give Mattsun space, the stretch grows more intense; two sets of hands are crammed into you, knuckles brushing against each other, and it makes your vision starred.

“Oh-” Your voice hollows out on you, “My god--”

It’s all you can do to take it, letting them squelch and move and prod asynchronistically. It’s clumsy and strange and honestly a bit weird, but your body seems to disagree; excitement is literally dripping from you, running down your thighs and smearing across their hands, popping and slicking and practically leaking. They’re treating you like a toy, you realize, exploring instead of trying to please you.

Someone's talking. Your brain tries to fight through the fog of pleasure to figure out what's being said, but the pulses and twitches of pleasure running through every muscle in your body are simply louder. Everything inside you is teetering towards the brink in a way you're never felt before. It's not like any other pleasure you've ever felt-- it's internal, it's uncomfortable, it's----

And everything lets go. You're cumming, you think. You realized your eyes have been closed this whole time, too absorbed in what's happening inside you.

"Ohmygodohmygod." It's been your voice this whole time. When you finally come down, you realize the two have gone still, just watching you.

"Damn." Makki whistles low."Do you always squirt?"

Oh, you burn with embarrassment. You tey to close your legs but there's two men in between them. "I've never done that before."

"That's so hot."

“Fuck,” Mattsun is trying to angle your hips with one hand and adjust his cock with the other, angling for your hole, “I’m gonna cum so quick, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

Trepidation turns your stomach. You're wet all the way down your thighs, but Mattsun is a monster-- it's going to ache no matter what.

"Go slow, okay?"

"Aw, you'll take what I give you." Mattsun rolls his eyes with a smile, running his cock head through your folds. His cock slips and misses a couple times, prodding where it shouldn't be.

"You're embarrassing me," Makki whines, "Let me fucking do it."

Two fingers spread your pussy lips open wide. You can't see, but the strawberry blonde must be holding his friend's cock now because it immediately finds where it wants to be; the head catches against your opening and sinks in ever so slightly. You have to will yourself to relax and not fight the intrusion-- even though the stretch is wild//.

"Hey," Makki taps your thigh and you realize you're shaking. The pleasure and the discomfort are different sides to the same coin- both make your toes curl and your breath hitch as Mattsun sinks deeper and deeper.

"You have a pornstar pussy, baby." A finger runs over where your body meets cock and you can feel how taut you're stretched. Your body pulses at that realization and it rips a groan from the man under you. "It's so sexy to see you get ruined like that."

"Oh, it feels so fucking good too," Mattsun gasps. He looks so good like this, with pink cheeks and sweat touched hair. His pretty lips are pressed together with effort, trying to hold himself steady and he carefully gives you more and more.

Fuck, you swear you can feel him in your guts and he's not even halfway in. Your toes are curling from the pressure alone, but you refuse to make any noise about it; you’re not going to stroke his ego anymore. You can handle him putting it in-

"I'm gonna eat your ass-- is that cool?"

Makki doesn't wait for a reply. The sloppy wet prod of his tongue against your skin is the breaking point. It feels strange and wrong in the most delightful ways and your body absolutely betrays you again; your head is absolutely swimming as you bump and grind into both men, taking more cock than you can handle as Makki defiles you-

“Yeah, squeeze tight,” Mattsun is jerking his hips up, driving into you with short strokes, “Holy shit, girl, you’re gonna make me look fucking stupid-- squeeze, that’s it--”

“I'm going to fuck you the second Issei is done with you, I swear to god--”

That sounds good to you. That sounds very good. You hum a little agreement, and Makki just laughs.

Hands are pressing down on your hips and you swat at the brunette in panic-- only to realize it’s not his hands that are rushing you. Makki, as he sucks and slobbers, is urging you down faster and faster, trying to get your hips against his friend’s. You try and obey, letting him greedily force you down, but a sharp twist of a cramp slowly starts to twist inside you.

“Hiro--” Mattsun sucks air through his teeth, eyes screwed tight, “Hiro, youch, she’s full. I’m touching her cervix.”

Your hips feel like they are miles away from Issei’s. Holy shit. Holy shit. It should be illegal to be that long. It hurts, it makes your insides twist--

But, damn, you kind of like it.

You press up on to your knees and sink down again, locking into the gentlest of rhythms. The aching slow movement is enough to make your body spark, electricity thrumming through your core and up your spine. The man under you can only watch, those puppy dog eyes wider and wetter with every stroke. Eventually he starts moving with you, bucking up into your cunt hesitantly.

The two loudest, most annoying men in your life are now silent, too focused on you to do anything else. All three of you just sort of click into a groove, grinding and bucking and loving and squeezing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, every muscle twitching and tense with need-

Somehow, you don’t cum first. Mattsun’s hands are suddenly everywhere, gripping your ass and rolling your nipple under his thumb. He fucks up into you hard and that sharp cramp returns, followed by a familiar pooling, wet warmth right against your deepest parts. You can feel the throb of his cock as he unloads, giving you every fucking drop he can. Issei’s lips are parts with effort, teeth marks imprinted on his lower vermillion. There’s almost a haze to his eyes, caught in his pleasure and still looking for you.

“Oh, shit-” he hisses mindlessly, “Oh, fuck, shit--”

It’s dripping from you and down Makki’s chin.

“You on birth control?” Issei asks weakly, all tension drained from his body.

“It’s a bit late to ask that,” Makki chimes in. The thinner man pushes you forward, shifting your weight onto your hands. Like this, Issei’s softening cock can’t stay in- it slides out with a dribble. Mattsun is now so much closer now, his face nearly nuzzling yours. Your eyes meet his, dark and tired, and you’re struck by the urge to kiss him properly.

You’re then struck by the sudden sensation of being stuffed.

Despite their teasing earlier, Hanamaki is //not// small. He's not inhumanely big like Mattsun, but you're aware of every inch, pressing almost as deep as before. The squelch of cum being displaced from you is loud and disgusting, but all three of you reveal in the sound.

“God, I love a fresh fucked pussy,” he coos. “You’re gaping and messy, baby.”

Where Mattsun moved slow, Makki does not. He's rutting into you hard, pushing you into Mattsun's chest. The man below you kisses your cheek with a laugh, clearly enjoying the faces you're making. You're wet down to your knees, smeared with a mixture of bodily fluids, and it offers no resistance for Makki as he enjoys himself.

It's like you're a toy, being used just for him pleasure, and you're body can't get enough.

“You gonna cum?” Mattsun asks mockingly. He just enjoy the sight, watching your tits hang against his chest. You almost say no, even though you're dangerously close to the edge again. “Ah, don't rush yourself. Hiro can last all night if you need it.”

“Hm, I'm just trying to give you some time to recover before round two,” Oh, you hate that he doesn't even sound phased, “I'm pacing myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Mattsun says.

Makki thrusts even harder, accenting his words. “How else are we supposed to go all night?

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

Text

A Swing and a Miss

Crazy golf with the boys

Landoscar x reader

I'm in such a landoscar//poly-fic mood rn (pls send me thoughts/requests/recs)

"I'm gonna kick your asses," Lando said to Y/N and Oscar as they approached the first hole.

F1 drivers were insanely competitive, both on and off the track. Y/N should have realised they were going to all be in competition together when she suggested crazy golf to blow off some steam.

It was a sunny day, a seaside town. The crazy golf place had way too many different themes, from animal safari to pirates cove and the Jurassic age. There were at least twenty five holes, all of them spiralling out away from a bar that sat in the middle. This was shaping up to be a fun day.

Oscar went first, since it was his rookie season. It had taken Y/N a hot minute to convince Lando to let him go first. The golfer was buzzing - Y/N had to wrap her arm around his waist to keep him there.

The first hole was in the animal safari part of the course. It was incredibly simple, with it being the first hole and all. There were no obstacles, just a couple of plastic lions to the side.

Oscar was no golfer. Lando watched in pain as he missed the hole again, and again, and again. It should have been an easy whole in one (at least for Lando).

"Oh, Osc," Y/N laughed at she wrote a five on the score card. "Baby, that was..."

"Shut up," he groaned as he strode back over, letting an impatient Lando began his turn. "I don't spend my my spare time golfing, like you nerds."

Y/N snorted as she wrote down Lando's very low score. "We're not nerds, Oscar. We're civilised."

It was Landos turn to snort. "Sure we are, cupcake." He smacked her ass as she walked up to the hole, taking the score card from her hands.

Y/N did it in two easy shots and the three moved onto the next hole. For this one, you had to hit it through a snakes mouth for it to come out in the ideal place.

Again, Oscar went first. Again, Oscar did terribly. The Aussie was was visibly tense as he walked back over to his partners.

As Lando took his go, Y/N pit her things down and placed her hands on Oscars broad shoulders. "Baby, relax," she said as she rubbed. "You're all stiff and locked up. You need to be loosey goosey, baby. Loosey goosey."

Loosey goosey. Oscar could do loosey goosey. He watched Y/N (there was no point watching Lando, who took golf way too seriously. He played much more than Y/N and, when they played together, they didn't get much golf done). He watched as she played down her pink golf ball and swung.

Her ball went straight through the snake and out the other side, appearing just beside the hole. When Oscar had tried he'd hit the side of the opening several times before giving up and hitting around it.

For the next few holes, Oscar was still trying to get into the swing of things. He was doing better, definitely, but he was still oh so many points behind Y/N and Lando.

"Drinks?" Lando suggested as they finished the safari section of the golf course.

He left Y/N and Oscar as the first of the jurassic holes as he went to get them drinks. Only beer that'll last them most of the course. When he walked back over Y/N had her hands wrapped around Oscar, helping him to putt. It was an adorable site, one Lando couldn't take his eyes off of.

Not only adorable. It was funny, too. Lando was taller and broader than Y/N, who was having a hard time wrapping her arms around him.

"We're not telling Lando about this, right?" He asked as he watched his ball roll into the hole.

"Of course not," Y/N replied and she reached up to kiss him.

Lando stood back for a moment, letting them have their moment. As Oscar pulled away from her he stepped forward, placing the drinks on a barrel beside the hole. "You two having fun?" He asked as he set himself up to take his shot.

"Yep," Y/N answered, her voice a higher pitch than usual. "Yep, did it in three shots as well. All on his own."

Oscars elbow hit Y/Ns arm, giving her a soft jab to tell her to shut up. But, when Lando laughed, he realised he knew. Lando knew what they had done. And he wasn't saying anything.

As Y/N took her go, Lando wrapped his arms around Oscar. Even with their height difference, Lando was always stood behind Oscar, holding him that way. The boys watched as Y/N hit the golf ball towards the hole.

The three of them drank their beers as they moved from hole to hole. When they moved from the jurassic section to the pirate seconds, Y/N let Oscar carry her golf club as she jumped on Landos back. "Thanks, Lan," she said and kissed his cheek as he walked.

When Lando put her down, he demanded a proper one, not just one on the cheek. And then he insisted she give Oscar a kiss for good luck.

Towards the last four holes, the competition got fierce. There was cheating involved, Lando using his foot to block their balls and Y/N hitting their balls into the shallow water that surrounded the holes.

The day was a day full of joy and laughter. There was a point where Oscar wrapped his arms around Y/N and lifted her up just before she took her shot.

"And our loser is," Y/N began as soon as they had finished the last hole and given back their clubs. "Oscar Piastri!" She called and clapped.

"Well done, Osc," said Lando as he kissed the side of his head.

"Yeah, yeah," Oscar muttered as he turned his head to kiss him properly.

Y/N cleared her throat, regaining the boys attention as she read out the next score. "In second place we have me," she said as the strode forward to give her a kiss on each cheek. And then she got a proper kiss from each of them.

"And the winner is Lando! But, seriously, did we expect any difference."

"No," Lando said as he grinned. He two got kissed by his boyfriend and his girlfriend. To celebrate properly, the day was filled with whatever Lando wanted to do. Which meant more golf, a nice dinner and a night in the bedroom, without much sleeping.

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steddiealltheway · 10 months

Text

After the bats, Steve gets a bit self conscious about his scars, and starts going on less and less dates because he doesn’t know how to explain them to girls.

He’s hanging out with the fruity four when he starts complaining about it. Eddie snorts and says, “Imagine how I feel.”

Steve cringes and apologizes because everyone knows he got the worst of it.

Robin starts suddenly laughing maniacally, and they all look at her. Nancy asks what she’s laughing about.

Robin jokes, “Well the solution is right in front of you. Just date each other.”

Nancy joins in laughing with her, but Steve and Eddie eye each other. Steve had never thought a gaze could hold more than words until he sees the way Eddie is staring at him.

In all honesty, Steve wasn’t just missing all the physical stuff that comes with a relationship. Well, he was definitely missing it, but more importantly, he was missing the way it felt to have someone that loved him so unconditionally. In reality, he had only had the illusion of that before, but it had been nice. And it was especially nice to care for someone so deeply that it felt like his life had a whole new purpose - to make them happy.

The more he looks at Eddie, the more the laughter from the girls becomes white noise. He thinks that he could treat him that way. Hold him as if he’s doing it for him and not for himself. Call him to wish him a good morning and good night so he could be the first and last thing on his mind every day. Also, to give himself a reason to wake up and a calming voice that can lull him to sleep.

Maybe it would work. Even if Eddie’s not a girl, he thinks he might be able to overlook that. Especially with the beautiful depths of his brown eyes and the big, soft lips of his and that adorable nose even though it’s not a button nose like Steve usually likes. Honestly, Eddie is beautiful in his own way, and Steve knows he isn’t immune to it especially in large doses.

So, he shouldn’t even begin to consider the thought. Fake dating or sort of dating Eddie is completely off the table.

But Eddie’s staring at him, eyes scanning over him and settling on his lips in a way that makes Steve’s heart thud so hard he thinks everyone in the room might be able to hear it.

Okay, maybe the dating stuff isn’t completely off the table, but there’s no way he’s bringing it up first. He nods at Eddie once and looks away trying to signal an end to whatever discussion / consideration they just had. But he can still feel Eddie’s eyes linger on him the rest of the night.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, three of the four are leaving Steve’s place with Nancy offering Robin a ride and Eddie lingering behind a bit. Steve’s been overly aware of his presence since Robin’s whole dating each other suggestion.

What makes it worse is that Eddie is also aware of what his presence does to Steve and keeps shooting him knowing looks and winks. Until now.

Now, he hovers in Steve’s doorway and watches as Nancy and Robin pile into a car and drive off. Then, he takes a few seconds before turning back to Steve saying, “Tell me I’m not the only one considering Robin’s idea, please.”

Steve thinks about it for a moment before he takes Eddie by the wrist and pulls him back inside, closing the door behind him.

“I’m not saying like… actually dating,” Eddie says, the confidence from earlier all but evaporating into thin air as he fidgets anxiously with his rings. “I mean like… we’re just each other’s rock or something. Hell, if you just let me flirt at you and tell me things are going to be okay, then I’m fine with that. You can look at it as practice while you regain your confidence with the ladies or whatever. Just…” Eddie trails off, and Steve thinks he knows exactly what he means.

He finishes Eddie’s thought out loud, “It’s hard going through everything we did without someone to hold us and tell us it’s okay to feel scared sometimes. I mean… it’s one thing to have friends, best friends even, but… they get girlfriends and while you’re their platonic soulmate, their actual soulmate always comes first a little.” Steve sits back on his couch and runs his hands over his face. He hadn’t meant to project about Robin and her relationship with Nancy because he’s happy for them really. He’s just jealous that he doesn’t have what they have.

And really, he knows that friendships are everything, and Robin is his everything but… he sighs. Sometimes it would be nice to be held and kissed and get lost in someone else so deeply that everything else disappears.

Maybe that’s just Steve though. Always running from relationship to relationship for something he’s never able to find.

The couch shifts next to him, and a hand slowly comes up to Steve’s pulling it away from his face, and intertwining their fingers together. Steve’s heart skips a beat as he turns to stare at his and Eddie’s hands together. Steve talks without really thinking, “I know relationships aren’t everything. Friendships are really what makes a person whole, and you can’t get everything out of a relationship but… I really want to trial run this thing with us. We can call it speed running to more than best friends or something.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “That sounds like friends with benefits.”

Steve rolls the term around a bit in his head and squeezes Eddie’s hand while shrugging. “That works too,” Steve mutters.

Eddie shifts towards him and looks him in the eye. “You’ve gotta clear up what that means, man. Terms and conditions and shit.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips. “I wouldn’t mind kissing you. Going on dates or hanging out or whatever you want to call it. Cuddling - hell, anything touching I’m fine with… with reason,” Steve says although with the way Eddie is staring at this lips and the warmth coursing through his body, he’s not sure he has a limit to the whole touching thing. Shit. He knew he wouldn’t be immune to Eddie.

“I’m good with that. Yeah, just… communication is key here, right?” Eddie asks eyes still dipping down to Steve’s lips and back to his eyes between his words.

“Communication,” Steve echoes, staring at Eddie’s lips before communicating, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Finally,” Eddie says before leaning forward and locking their lips together, his hand squeezing Steve’s but he can hardly register it because of how badly he wants to do nothing but kiss Eddie until he’s forgotten any bad thing to ever happen to him.

Then, Steve feels it. The small (big) part of his heart that’s screaming at him that he needs this to be more than a friends with benefits trial run. He needs Eddie to be his and only his if a simple kiss can ruin him like this.

He pulls away and looks at Eddie, searching his gaze and seeing something there he hadn’t seen before. “Eddie, remember everything I literally just said about the trial run and friends with benefits.”

Eddie nods in response. His hand still in Steve’s squeezes.

“I don’t want that,” Steve says and panics when he sees the broken look cross over Eddie’s face as he pulls his hand away.

“Sorry, man. I shouldn’t have-”

Steve cuts him off. “It’s because I want more than that, and you deserve more than that. Screw this trial run and all that shit. I want to date you. Like… actually date you and give this a shot. If you want to that is.”

Eddie’s tongue quickly swipes over his top lip over and over nervously as he stares at Steve. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. God, Eddie, I can’t believe I even suggested friends with benefits like a dick,” Steve says with a groan running a hand through his hair.

“I’m the one who accepted it very willingly I might add,” Eddie says with a big smile that fades to a smaller one. “But I’d love more than anything to make this something more.”

Steve’s stomach flips and he feels absolutely giddy with joy. “Quickest trial run ever, right?”

Eddie laughs. “Thank god.”

Steve leans in and kisses him again before pulling back and saying, “Best communication ever, right? Good thinking on your part.”

“The best thinking,” Eddie says then kisses Steve again.

Steve thinks that maybe he’s finally found what he’s always been searching for (but really doesn’t want to give Robin the credit).

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #where they actually have good communication #for once!

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theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass · 6 months

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I win | L.N.

Lando Norris x reader, Oscar Piastri x friend!reader (platonic)

Summary: Oscar brings you to the American races and Lando is continuously flirting with you, but you are determined not to take it too seriously...

Warnings: fluff.

Word count: ~0.7K

The American Grand Prix and its vibrant atmosphere was definitely an electric energy filled space. Oscar had invited you to come with him and experience the thrill of Formula 1 racing in person, and as you stood near the pit lane, you couldn't help but be captivated by the sheer excitement of it all.

"Oscar, this is insane!" you exclaimed, your eyes glued to the sleek racing machines zooming past. "I never thought I'd be this close to the action."

Oscar grinned. "I told you it's a whole different world here. And also there's someone I want you to meet." He motioned toward the McLaren garage.

You followed Oscar to the garage, where the McLaren team was busy preparing for the race. Your gaze was immediately drawn to a young, charismatic driver with curly brown hair and a mischievous smile.

"Y/n, this is Lando Norris, one of the worst drivers in Formula 1," Oscar introduced you to his teammate, poking fun at the boy.

Lando extended his hand with a wink. "Nice to meet you, Y/n. I hope Oscar has been treating you better than me." He returned the favor.

You shook his hand with a friendly smile. "So far, so good. But I won't let his head get too big," you replied, glancing at Oscar seeing him roll his eyes at the two of you.

You two just met and were already ganging up on him. Unbelievable.

Lando laughed, and there was an undeniable twinkle in his eye. "Good for you, Y/n. I like a bit of spunk."

As the race weekend continued, You and Oscar spent more time in the paddock and pit area, getting a behind-the-scenes look at Formula 1. Lando seemed to appear at every turn, offering friendly banter and laughter. His flirtatious comments were hard to ignore, and you couldn't deny that his charm was winning you over, at least on some level.

Throughout the race weekend, Lando's playful flirting with you continued. He complimented you every step of the way. It was either your smile, outfit or something you‘ve done with your hair that he admired. He also made jokes that made you laugh, and offered to show you around the paddock every chance he got. Yet, you remained resolute in your determination not to take it too seriously. You were not one to get swept away by charming race car drivers.

One evening, Lando found you sitting in the McLaren hospitality area, sipping a glass of champagne. He sidled up to you, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Y/n, can I tempt you to a little wager?" Lando asked, leaning in closer.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "A wager? What do you have in mind, Mr. Norris?"

Lando's eyes twinkled as he outlined his proposal. "If my McLaren finishes in the top three in tomorrow's race, you have to give me a chance to take you out for dinner.“

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Wow so much for believing in me. But if it doesn’t I’ll … buy you a car” he smiles brightly.

“Lando a car?! You’re insane, but if you insist…”

You couldn't help but admire his confidence and the way his eyes shined awaiting your answer.

"Alright, you're on, Mr. Norris. But don't think you're getting an easy win. Even though i hope for the first outcome, just out of curtsey to your bank account."

The next day, as the race unfolded, you found yourself torn between rooting for Lando's success and the latter outcome as you were becoming more nervous about the idea of dinner with him.

As the race came to a thrilling conclusion, Lando fought valiantly and secured a third-place finish.

He approached you with a triumphant smile, soaked in champagne.

"Looks like I won the bet, Y/n. Dinner with you it is."

You couldn't help but laugh at the turn of events. "You're a clever driver Lando, i should have known"

“Well I did have one hell of a reason to win tonight” his eyes never left yours as he admitted more than you could yet comprehend.

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff

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srjlvr · 5 months

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꒦꒷ enhypen ! enhypen’s ships with you as enhypen’s 8th member !

idol-ot7!enhypen X 8th enha member!FemReader … full fluff … no warnings<3 || not proofread !! || note. i have no idea what this is im so disappointed in this but pls dont kill me

ε ї з — heeseung

heey/n the whole way!! fans started shipping the both of you ever since the first episode of I-LAND, and they swear they’ve never seen such good chemistry between two idols.

fans are CONVINCED you both are dating and honestly? both of you are not helping them relax!

with the amount of flirtings the both of you exchange in front of cameras is enough for fans to go crazy!

on the first episode of I-LAND fans could swear they saw heart eyes when they witnessed your and heeseung’s first time meeting each other.

the fact that you debuted in enhypen only helped the fans ship the both of you more, and let’s be honest you even act like a couple so fans are getting good reasonable reasons for your ship.

“you look so pretty today, y/n”

it was fan meeting day today and all fans were watching you and taking pictures, heeseung thought it was a good idea to come and give you and back hug.

“thank you, hee” you smiled and turned around to hug him. fans cheered and took as much as pictures as they could.

heey/n4life: “DID YOU SEE THE WAY HE HUGGED HER?? AND HIS LOOK TOWARDS HER?? i’m on the verge of fainting someone send help”

enhaloverforever: “heey/n is selling i want all to witness this *the video of you and heeseung hugging*”

iluvenha: “heey/n is that kind of relationship that i want”

ε ї з — jay

when you and jay first made some food to all I-LANDERS, fans started to notice you and jay more than before.

jongy/n became trendy in a blink, and fans kept waiting for more content every week.

your kind of ship is more like a parents ship, you’re definitely the parents of enhypen members, even when heeseung is the oldest.

the way you’re taking care of everyone and making food for everyone just makes the fans sob over the fact that the both of you are just cuties together.

when it was jay’s sunoo’s and jungwon’s graduation, you decided to make them some food, and jay joined you as soon as he noticed you. you’re just like that, inseparable.

even the members mentioned that a lot of times, you and jay are definitely something else when it comes to taking care of your members and feeding them well, only when you’re doing it together.

“what are we making today?” you asked jay, slapping your hands on the counter next to jay.

“some pasta and steaks for the eaters” jay smiled, “and some for the camera staffs too, so we have to make a lot”

as soon as the food was finished, you and jay started to serve everyone their food together.

jongy/n: “i want jay and y/n to cook me more than gordon ramsay😻”

enenenhypen: “if they ever open a restaurant i called dibs first!”

jjong: “look at how jongy/n is taking care of their members☹️ they’re so cute together *video of you and jay cooking together*”

ε ї з — jake

so we all like know how jake is taking a good care of ni-ki like he’s his older brother right? so double it!

fans started shipping you with jake as soon as they noticed that the three of you literally go everywhere together.

they call ni-ki the third wheel, it seems like you and jake are too busy flirting around to notice ni-ki’s mischievousness. you’re like the couples that takes care of the third wheel and spoiling them as much as they want.

besides hanging out with ni-ki together, you and jake always seem to walk around while holding your hands. at first it was really hard for fans to notice the both of you, because both of you were too shy to communicate, but as soon as you opened up, it was more visible to fans.

wether it’s holding hands together or even casually matching outfits, fans would go excited whenever they get a content of you two.

jaey/nlvr: “THEY MATCHED AGAIN TODAY!! their outfits are so cute do you think jay helped them with that😭”

jakieandy/nie: “a collection of photos of ni-ki third wheeling and rolling his eyes whenever he’s with jake and y/n😻‼️ *attachments of photos*”

iluvluvluvenha: “i want someone to hold my hand in public like jake and y/n pls😞”

ε ї з — sunghoon

your first meeting with sunghoon convinced EVERYONE that you’re THE perfect match so it was no wonder when fans started calling you and sunghoon ice prince and princess!!

from being super anxious around each other to going to ice skate together, fans witnessed EVERYTHING and got obsessed over anything both of you would do.

you’re a sucker for ice skating and know some exercises and fans know that too, but you still asked sunghoon to teach you, later on admitting that you just wanted to spend some time with him and get closer to him. the fans went indeed feral.

the ice prince and princess title belongs to you and sunghoon period and your fans will make sure everyone knows that.

“hold my hand and be careful, i’m here with you” sunghoon smiled at you while holding your hand tightly.

you wanted to joke around a bit so you pushed him down, making him fall.

he glared at you, but started laughing as soon as he saw you laughing, “next time don’t do it though or i’ll make you fall even harder”

y/nhoonmyloves: “okay but did you see the way sunghoon looked at her when he directed her? i would’ve fainted if i were her😫”

enhypenpen: “our ice prince and princess strikes again with some now ice skating content!! *photos of you and sunghoon skating* i missed watching our royalties skating together!!☹️”

ineedmorey/nhoon: “does anyone else just go back to that I-LAND episode where y/n and sunghoon went to skate together or is it just me? they looked like those cute couples that you see in ice rinks”

ε ї з — sunoo

i’m sorry to break it to you but you and sunoo are basically bestie and fans know that damn well.

you + sunoo = world domination! fans love love LOVE your friendship all the way from the first episodes of I-LAND.

they always say how your vibe matches his vibes so much!! some even see the both of you dating each other because you’re literally perfect for each other, like the other’s lost puzzle piece.

you won’t stop talking about each other, going around to places together A LOT, even skin caring together. your love for sunoo is very visible and you’re not even trying to hide it, same for him.

you’re his partner in crime and he’s yours, no one can take you away from him and it’s the same the other way.

“i’m gonna grab some coffee sunoo come with me” you got up from your seat and called sunoo.

all eight of you were sitting together when you suddenly decided you want some coffee. “it’s like a minute walk away can’t you just go there alo-“

“no riki! i need sunoo”

suny/n: “y/n and sunoo has that kind of friendship that everyone wants but never gets😭 suny/n teach me your secrets!!”

givenhypen: “i wouldn’t be surprised if sunoo and y/n would end up dating i’m ngl! look at how they always look at each other i’m so jealous”

ddeonuddeonu: “they’re the cutest! *photos of you and sunoo hanging out together* they probably sneaked out to hang out alone without any other member😫”

ε ї з — jungwon

oh it’s definitely the responsible siblings type of relationship. both of you are the official therapists of enhypen, and you’re each other’s best therapists too.

jungwon, being dealt with lots of worries, always came up to you to get advice, and you did the same. people who watched I-LAND and your conversations, found it so comforting and beautiful.

jungwon has mentioned you as someone he relies on so much and you did the same. fans ships you as the healing couple, you’re jungwon’s healing and he’s yours, and there’s something so special about it.

you and jungwon basically know everything about the other, that’s why you feel more attached to him more than others, and the fans noticed it right away.

they can’t explain it, but you’re in someway jungwon’s guardian angel, and he’s yours.

“how are you today?” you asked jungwon as you hugged him tightly

jungwon hugged you back, “i’m okay, thank you for listening to me even though we stayed awake until like 5 AM”

“EXCUSE ME?? 5 AM??” ni-ki asked and the both of you shushed him.

istany/nwon: “they’re so precious together it makes me cry😭 i want y/nwon as my therapists right now!!”

srjlvr: “im so jealous i need people like them in my life😭 i envy enhypen members so bad rn😞”

engeneforlife: “i’m just replying y/nwon’s therapy times and i love it!! y/n and jungwon are just so perfect for each other”

ε ї з — ni-ki

you have adopted ni-ki as your younger brother as soon as you first saw him in I-LAND and you didn’t even try to hide it.

fans started notice how childish you’d be around him, and when you were asked about it you said it’s because you want ni-ki to still live his teen years in the best way he could.

after making your fans sob over the fact that you’re so cute, they paid more attention over you and ni-ki. they found itself the most adorable friendship they ever saw.

ni-ki looks up to you so much, and takes so much after you. he always searches for you and takes care of you whenever he can. you do so too, playing around with him and teasing the other members all the time, going to do some mischievous plans and pissing them off together is never failing to make the fans and you laugh.

you always ask ni-ki for dance tips and he’s always happily helps you out because he enjoys his time with you.

“who took my phone away!”

it’s the third time jake shouted that question. you and ni-ki tried your best not to laugh as you know where it’s been hidden.

“hey why’s there a phone in the refrigerator?” sunghoon suddenly asked.

“Y/N AND NI-KI I SWEAR—“

y/niki: “i bet hiding jake’s phone was y/n’s idea this time😭😭 she’s getting worse lately but it’s really worth it after seeing ni-ki laughing so hardly”

enhaenhaenhypen: “y/n and ni-ki are like my little siblings, always annoying but so adorable that you cant even get mad at them😫”

rikissquid: “having y/n and ni-ki together is like asking for a death wish but it’s so funny pls”

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 (bold means cannot be tagged)

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 7 months

Text

Imagine Shanks finding out you're a painter

You: *humming along to some music as you apply a fresh coat of paint to the wall of the galley*

Benn and Lucky Roux: *walk in*

Benn: Hey Kid.

You: Hey

Lucky Roux: Did you make sure to use the mold resistant paint?

You: Yes Roux.

Benn: And you applied the sealant before the paint?

You: *nods your head* And the primer, I got this man, thanks for checking in on me.

Benn: Alright then, I'm just gonna open this here winder to get some fresh air in here, so you don't get high off the paint fumes.

You: aww, but that's the best part.

Lucky Roux: *snorts* Let me know when you're done, so I can start dinner. Also, when you are done, you might want to put up a barrier, so none of the others accidentally lean on it.

You: I enjoy seeing them covered in paint. So I think they're gonna be in for a surprise, or at least the boss will be. Because I bet you a thousand berry that he's definitely gonna lean in the paint.

Lucky Roux: I'll take that bet.

Benn: I ain't, because he'll definitely gonna do it.

The next morning

Shanks: *Still annoyed that he got paint in his hair the night before* is this shit finally dry?

Benn: yeah, the kid didn't paint in straight lines though.

Shanks: what! But they're usually so meticulous about doing tasks perfectly.

Benn: it was on purpose too, take a close look.

Shanks: *leans in and glides his fingers across a floral design in the brush strokes* do you think they like painting?

Benn: I believe so, that, or they inhaled too much paint fumes and decided to have fun with it.

Shanks: both are possible... Didn't they repaint the hallway, and bathrooms?

Benn: yeah? They painted patterns there too.

Weeks later

Shanks: Hey (y/n) I got you something! *Presents you with a colorful variety of house paints, and a bunch of supplies*

You: ... Wow, that's a lot of paint, are you wanting me to repaint every room on the ship?

Shanks: no silly, for you to have fun with. We noticed the patterns you painted in the galley and thought you might like more colors.

You: but where would I paint?

Shanks: where ever you'd like.

You: *Kisses him on the cheek, scoops up the supplies, and runs to your room*, Thank you!

Two days later in the galley

You: I finished my room is it okay if I paint this wall now?

Shanks: Go for it.

Benn: *watches you run off* they painted their whole room you know.

Shanks: I saw, I was impressed they managed to paint such steady line work with the ship moving so much.

Benn: I think the little maze design the pained on their door frame was my favorite. Do you think they take requests?

Shanks: I dunno.

You: *pushes the box of supplies onto one of the tables*

Benn: is it okay if I asked you to paint something?

You: sure!

Yassop: Wait, you take requests! I want the pillar in my room painted.

The crew: *crowd around you listing off the things they want painted*

Shanks: Guys, let em breathe for fuck's sake! Make a list so they can start painting.

Lucky Roux: I ain't writing down my request because it's simple, don't paint any more realistic bug on the damn walls. I nearly shit myself when I saw the cockroach you painted in the bathroom, that was not a fun surprise at three in the morning.

You: only termite holes, got it.

Lucky Roux: (y/n) no! No termite holes.

You: fine fine, although the fact that the paint on that cockroach didn't even get to dry before one of y'all smacked it, is hilarious.

Shanks: no more realistic bugs, dear, in fact avoid painting realistic critters all together please.

You: ugh fine.

Shanks: I have a project I'd like you to paint, but I'll need to get you a canvas for it. *Winks at you and wiggles his eyebrows*

Benn: Gross.... if he's getting a nude I want one too.

Shanks: You want my nudes too?

Benn: I want a nude of myself, ding-dong.

List of Up-and-coming works

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #shanks #red hair shanks #shanks x reader #benn beckman #yassop #lucky roux #lucky roo #red hair pirates #red haired pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #9/23/23 #no beta we die like men

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acewoo · 4 months

Text

Jjk men Bf head-cannons

Note: pure fluff, Sfw Characters included: Gojo, Geto, and sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo will send you tonssss of voice messages talking about literally anything. He’ll be on his couch laying down and he’ll send you a voice message about how the show he’s watching is so boring. “The female lead doesn’t even have any personality and is just there to make the male lead look good!” You’ll complain to him sometimes that he send too many of these voice messages but, he responds that it couldn’t be true because, you love the sound of his voice. (And to be fair you do listen to every one he sends.)

Gojo cannot cook for the life of him. Anytime you try to teach him something wrong will always happen. For example you tired showing him how to make spaghetti and meatballs which is simple enough, right? Wrong. Because Gojo, not only ended up burning the pasta (somehow which still boggles your mind to this day) but, the meatballs weren’t exactly balls… They were certainly meat, and they tasted like meatballs but… they were only shaped to say the least.

Gojo definitely spoils you. And anytime you try to tell him he's doing too much he’ll come up with an excuse for why buying you a 180.00 skirt was necessary. “Well I had to get it, it was the last one and it’d work perfectly for that Christmas party we're attending!” To clarify he was talking about, the Christmas party that was three months away. Of course in all fairness you wouldn't complain too much… It would look pretty nice on you.

Suguru Geto

Even the smallest gestures he does for you are full of thought. Whenever you're having a long day at work you'll usually text Geto about your frustrations. He's trying to be supportive as you rant and help you calm down. When you get home you’ll be welcome to a newly cleaned apartment and Geto in the kitchen finishing up making your favorite meal for dinner. When he sees your home he’ll immediately start talking to you “I’ll finish up here soon, how are you feeling?” The rest of night would end up being him taking care of you fully making you forget about work entirely.

This mf definitely remembers the small things within your relationship and he’ll remember things about you no one else will. For instance you disliked when people surprised you from behind. It wasn’t anything that majorly bugged you but, it made you feel uncomfortable. (Especially since you weren’t a huge fan of being touched) When Geto found this out when we you guys were out in public or hanging with a group of friends he’d always stay slightly behind you. When you questioned why he did this, he said it was so he could make sure no one will surprise you like that. Even though you insisted he didn’t have to he still did which you couldn’t help but love him even more for.

Sukuna

He’s possessive, like really possessive. (He swears he’s not though). Anytime your in public around people or not he’ll make it clear your his. Whether that’s an arm around your waist or being very intimate with you even if it’s not the most appropriate… Whenever it’s at places such as a club it’ll be even worse, not only will be touchy but his whole mind and body will be focused on you. (Even if he doesn’t realize it..) And that’s the thing he doesn’t realize he’s like that infact anytime you bring it up to him he swears you’re just overthinking things. Because, him, Sukuna being possessive over another person? Fucking ridicules. Totally not in denial.

One thing you wouldn’t expect from Sukuna would be him to be rather supportive of you and your decisions. Of course it wasn’t exactly the most traditional way people are supportive. But hey, it’s Sukuna nothing about him is ‘normal’. Sukuna is supportive in the way where you’ll feel insecure about wearing and he’ll give you a confused look. “Why the hell would yah not wear it?” Flushed you respond. “It makes me look bad like-“ “I don’t know what you’re on about I like how it looks on you so you’re wearing it.” And of course you weren’t going to argue with your bf so, you wear it. Throughout the day He’ll make comments about how good you look which make you blush. Of course it isn’t exactly the lovely dovey kind of comments but still.

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mingirn · 20 days

Text

only lovers alive

song mingi x reader

synopsis: you return back home after graduating college to a new relationship you have to navigate with your childhood best friend

warnings: smut, a lot of mentions of sexual acts, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, dirty talk, phone sex, sort of (very brief) exhibitionism, gender neutral reader

word count: 20,3k

notes: hello. i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for 1-2 years and saw a tweet that said ”i’d pick you up from the airport in every universe” and decided to let this out of jail bc of that. although the fic itself is inspired by this song. fic title comes from this song. i’m gonna schedule this to post while i’m asleep because i’m terrified to post after not being on here for such a long time. please be gentle with me >:(

It’s dark outside your window, but the streets are lit up by countless glimmering lights. Even though the day is turning into night, there’s still plenty of traffic. Beaming headlights join the streams of light from street lamps, and it’s just your apartment that is missing a glow from a lamp on its windowsill. You’ve got all yours packed up and sent away already, and you’re taking in the city for the last time.

”Are you going to miss it?” Mingis's voice is soft on the other end of the phone. You’ve got him on speaker, lying right next to you.

”I guess, yeah. It’s been nice, even though I haven’t spent much time exploring or enjoying the city.”

It’s true. You’ve just finished your last semester and finally graduated after moving hours away from your hometown to go to your dream school. It feels like eons since then, when you had to say tearful goodbyes to your friends and family and settle down in a cramped little dorm room. You’d been lucky enough to get student housing in your last year, a bigger place where you’d been living for the past two semesters. This city wasn’t just a stark difference to your hometown, it was the definition of complete and total opposite.

The town you grew up in was the type to hide, not really forgotten, just barely there. Small and tucked away between long stretches of forests and fields. You’d be blessed to live there your whole life, yet lucky to get away. You’d go home to visit during summer break and just bask in how simple life was back home, but beyond all, how it was still home to all the things you held most dear. Top of that list: Mingi.

”You’ll always be able to go back, maybe we can go during the summer and you can take me to that Chinese place you’ve talked so much about,” Mingi says. He’s starting to sound a little sleepy, and it’s a reminder that you should probably get to sleep soon. You’ve got an early flight to catch, then it’s just a span of a few hours separating you and Mingi. He’ll be coming to pick you up, so you suppose you better let him go too so he can get some sleep.

”You know I’d love that,” you smile, and slump down on your bed. ”I think we should head to bed though, maybe we should leave this future talk for some other time.”

He hums in agreement, and the line goes quiet for a minute. You can hear his breathing through the speaker, slow and steady. When you close your eyes it’s almost like he’s here.

”Hey, uh,” he begins, and he swallows audibly. ”Do you think it’s gonna be weird?”

Ah, there it is. You’ve almost been waiting, expecting, him to ask it.

”No, I don’t… It’s not like we haven’t seen each other since I moved away. We’ve spent almost all of the last three summers together, right?” you reason. It’s not really what Mingi is referring to, but you have to start somewhere. Soften him up, reassure him.

”Well yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just different because we weren’t doing those things then, and now it’s… well, different.”

”Mingi,” you say with firmness in your voice. ”It would only be different if you said and did all those things just because it was over the phone. If you didn’t mean any of it.”

Mingi takes another moment of silence, and you can imagine that he’s probably chewing nervously on his bottom lip. It makes you a bit nervous as well, the fact that you can’t see him. You’d always been so good at reading his face and figuring out what he was thinking. You need that more than ever now, the ability to read him, because so much has changed.

”I’ve meant every word I’ve ever said,” he says, and something about the words feels so heavy and serious, and he seems to realize it too. ”I really, really want to fuck you, not just over the phone.”

Mingis voice is normal when he says it, not a hint of underlying desire or desperation, but the words themselves send a flash of warmth through your body. It’s become regular at this point, this shift in your friendship. The first time you guys crossed over that invisible line had been under the influence of alcohol, you had come home drunk from the bar after celebrating good test results with some friends and Mingi had been celebrating getting a new job with your mutual friends back at home. It just sort of happened, you dialing his number and gushing about how much you missed him. The conversation went on for half an hour when you started trying to undress from your bar clothes and Mingi had asked what you were doing. He’d asked about what you were wearing, and what color your underwear was, then he informed you that he was just in his boxers, and for some reason you found yourself telling him about how sexually frustrated you had been lately in hopes that he’d offer help. And he did.

That first night it was quick and needy, neither of you initiated it, it just happened in perfect symbiosis. You checked the call log the day after and saw that you guys had been on the phone for hours, the last of which you had both eventually fallen asleep on call until your phone battery died. Tentatively, you had called him during the afternoon and asked him if he had any recollection of yesterday night's events. His voice had been raspy and breathy, throat raw from drinking and moaning, and you can still remember every inflection in the tone of his voice when he asked if you had liked it. That had been the start of it all, of an almost full year of phone sex, sexting, and swapping pictures.

”I’m glad to hear that,” you say, trying to sound just as casual even though you can feel butterflies swirl through your stomach. ”I really can’t wait, Mingi. Can’t wait to fuck you and can’t wait to see you, I’ve missed you so much.”

”I’ve missed you too… Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow at the airport, just look for a handsome tall guy!”

You fall asleep with Mingis laugh ringing in your ears.

The next day, your plane lands at a far emptier airport than the one you’d set off from. It’s early in the day and the sun is high in the sky, occasionally passing behind weak and thin clouds. The air is so different out here than in the big city. The sounds are clearer, the people are kinder, and everything feels so much more simple here.

You sit on a hard airport bench and wait as your phone connects to the internet after having been turned off, seeing all your missed messages coming in. You’re just about to type up a response to Mingis ’You there?’ when a call from him pops up on the screen.

”Yeah, I’m here!” you chirp into the phone.

”’Here’ where? I’m just walking around and-”

”Mingi, you idiot, turn around!” you call out loud enough for him to hear it on the phone and in person, though he’s quite a distance away from you. You could recognize the back of his head anywhere, even though it’s short and bleached blond right now, it’s undeniably Mingi.

He spins around and spots you right away, making eye contact with you across the big, open space. Seeing Mingi in person for the first time in months washes away all nervosity, all the same as it stirs up a new sense of anticipation. You jump to your feet and you're both rushing towards each other, crashing together in a tight hug.

You find yourself closing your eyes, tucking your head into his chest, and inhaling his scent until it makes you lightheaded. He smells just like your Mingi, that same cologne he’s worn since he was 15, the same laundry detergent, and he smells faintly of sunscreen. It’s not the first time you’ve hugged him, not by a long shot, but it feels like the first time you’ve held him like this. Your arms around his middle, taking note of how big he feels in your hold, and you’re thinking about every little detail you’ve missed out on by being away from him. His warmth, his touch, his size, his voice.

”Hi there,” he murmurs, and his voice is so different up close. It’s deeper and darker, it reverberates through his chest. ”Was the flight okay?”

Something about the conversation he’s initiating makes you feel like now is the appropriate time to pull away, and that in turn has you questioning how appropriate that hug had been on your part. Mingi, however, feels cool as ice when he grabs hold of your bag and slings his arm around your shoulder to guide you out of the airport.

”Uh,” you begin, feeling a bit stumped. You continue, ”It was as good as you can expect, but the food sucked, I can’t wait to get home and eat my mom's cooking.”

”Tired of ramen and takeout?” he asks, chuckling.

”You could say that.”

You try to move on past your own weirdness. Mingi is normal and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be as well. Still, there’s a sort of buzz igniting under your skin from being in Mingi's presence again. You suppose it’s always like that, this initial excitement of seeing each other again and getting to update each other on all the things you’ve been up to while knowing you’ve got all the time in the world to hang out. But there’s this nagging voice at the back of your head that is frantically going through all the conversations you’ve had with Mingi on the phone. Late at night, underneath your covers, with Mingi moaning and speaking filth on the speaker. It doesn’t match up with the Mingi in front of you, the Mingi that has been your closest friend for years, and it makes you feel electric.

Mingi pops his trunk open and you load your bags into his car, then get inside and start the half-hour drive back to your hometown.

You only dare to steal little glances over at him. Watching him in the rearview mirror, seeing the sun set his brown eyes ablaze and paint his skin golden. His fingers strum along to the song on the radio on the steering wheel, he’s wearing a single ring on his right hand and his skin is already tanned even though summer has just begun. It’s almost like you’re meeting him all over again with the way you’re soaking in every inch of him, yet it’s forcefully clear to you that none of this is new. Perhaps that would have made it easier if he had just been a stranger where the slate was clean, but this is Mingi and there are things you’re both gonna need to navigate.

You’d foolishly expected that he’d lean in and steal at least a kiss but perhaps more right away, when you were still parked at the airport. More accurately, you had hoped so. It’s all you guys had been talking about for the past months, all the ways you’d want to ravage each other when you finally were face to face again. Apparently, Mingi thinks that can wait.

So you turn your head away, try not to look over at him or imagine his hand holding your thigh instead of the steering wheel. Instead, you focus your attention on the trees outside, and Talking Heads on the radio.

”Do you still like this song?” Mingi asks you. He takes a turn, and this is where the road gets lonesome and there’s more nature than buildings. The song playing is ’This Must be the Place’, and you know Mingi is asking because you’d been the one that bought him this CD for his birthday.

”I could never outgrow Talking Heads, you know that,” you smile at him. You’re starting to settle in now. The fields and the trees are so familiar, the air smells like your childhood, and Mingi is humming along to music you’ve listened to for years. You can do this, it’s not going to be weird, it’s still your best friend Mingi.

The ride back home starts to fill up with idle chatter. You’d think that you’d have run out of topics to talk about by now, seeing as you’d talk on the phone almost every day, but you still find new things to bring up. He parks his car in the driveway outside your house and helps you carry your luggage, all while giggling and joking with you.

It’s only been a year since you’ve been home, you hadn’t been able to come during Christmas, but that’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent away from this very house. Not much has changed, your parents have kept your room exactly like you had left it, but something just feels different. It feels smaller, or you feel bigger. You catch a glimpse of Mingi in your doorway as you start unpacking your bags and for a second your abdomen flutters when you notice just how much of the door opening he can shield with his body. He has filled out a lot, and this shouldn’t be a surprise because you’d noticed it plenty of times before when you came home to visit. You suppose it’s not a surprise, but it’s the first time you’ve felt appreciation for it.

Of course, you had fantasized about his body since you entered his whole thing, and he had sent a lot of pictures that had helped you out with that, but seeing it in person is an entirely new ordeal. You feel your face heat up as your mind flicks through memories of pictures he’s sent you of himself naked, knowing what he looks like underneath his clothes. You have to wonder if Mingis mind is running in the same circles, if he’s as hyperaware of your skin as you are of his, and how he’s able to contain himself as well as he does if that’s the case. You hardly can’t.

”So,” Mingi begins. Your stomach lurches and plunges every time he pauses between words, fearing what may come next. Maybe this is when he breaks your heart and tells you he can’t do what you’ve been speaking about, that it’s just not the same when you’re face to face. You try to seem unbothered by your racing thoughts and decide to hear him out first. He continues, ”Uh, what now? Do you need any more help?”

”No, I’m all good, Mingi,” You’re rifling through clothes and belongings, lining them up on your bed. You can physically feel him behind you in your room as if he’s radiating this electricity and warmth that has your skin tingling.

”Maybe I should get going then. You know, to let you settle in.” You can hear him shift his weight between his feet. It suddenly feels unbearably awkward and strained between you two, and you know that if you keep your back to him it will only get worse. You need to face this head-on, cut through the tension, or at least pretend like the heavy atmosphere isn’t weighing you down.

You don’t want to let Mingi leave like this, without either one of you addressing things. If he leaves like this, with things unspoken and forgotten, the next time you see him it will be like nothing has ever happened. He’ll be right next to you but somehow further away than ever.

You guess you shouldn’t have expected to jump each other's bones the second you saw each other. Maybe that was unrealistic, but it had just felt that way on the phone. You suppose this is more natural, maybe you just have to stick it out until you’re used to being in the same room.

This Mingi in front of you is an entire world different than the one you’d grown up with. Despite the fact that everything is the same, that he’s in your childhood room and the sun is shining through the window just the same. The beam of light illuminates him directly, making his tan skin radiate.

You’re admiring him when he steps forward and closes the distance between you. Only the birds are singing outside your window, but in the total silence of your room, you can hear Mingi suck in a shaky breath before he leans forward and kisses you.

Time stills, the earth feels like it’s tilting or tipping, as if the very makeup of the universe is now irreversibly changed. Mingis mouth is warm and gentle but he’s keeping a pressure that has your mind whirling, just the way he’s kissing you with so much intent. You’re both breathing heavily and the air escaping his nose is so sweet that you can’t stop yourself from inhaling as much as possible, dizzying yourself to consume every bit of him that you can.

He’s already close, but he shuffles even nearer without breaking apart from the kiss. You can now feel his body against yours and Mingi moves his hands up to hold each side of your head, keeping you in place as he kisses and licks into your mouth. For some reason you’re so very present inside your head, thinking about each little detail of the way he kisses, reminding yourself to remember this moment forever.

You can feel when he starts to pull away so you chase after him, deepening the kiss for another second before he parts from it entirely. He’s just as breathless as you are, and there’s something in Mingi's eyes that you’ve never seen before. He focuses on your lips and leans in for another kiss that ends a moment too quickly.

Mingis hand ruffles your hair up, and his voice is laced with a laugh when he says a drawn-out ’bye’ and leaves your room.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, can hear the blood pumping and wooshing from it all the way through your body, throughout each delicate vein in your ears. Your lips are tingling when you reach up to touch them, almost in disbelief at the fact that Mingi had just been kissing you right there. Your mouth is slick with his spit, and your finger moves cardinally to gather it up and plunge into your mouth so you can savor it.

You fall down on the bed, staring up at your ceiling, and close your eyes to relive the kiss as you imagine what it will be like the next time you see Mingi.

Almost a full week passes until you see him again. Your family practically swarms you for the first few days, your parents being overjoyed to have you back invite your grandparents to welcome you home and your favorite aunt comes to see you with your two young cousins. You get unpacked quickly enough, when you manage to find time between family visits and long drawn-out meals, and before you know it five days have passed. Mingi stays busy too though, he sends a few occasional texts about work and though he lives right across from you, you never even catch a glimpse of him.

Sometimes you lay in your bed at night and feel your heart race up at the thought that there is only a few yards of grass and asphalt road between the two of you. It’s a massive change from the last three years when you had been miles and miles apart. Now, it feels almost like you can sense him. Just across the street, breathing and shuffling in bed. You can picture him so well, long eyelashes resting against his cheekbone, his skin flushed from sleep, his long limbs tangled up in a thin blanket. Your hand slips inside your underwear with a hot fire fueled by embarrassment and insecurity burning in your stomach.

Your imagination moves between recollections of words he’s spoken and pictures he’s sent, to the image of him in his bed right now. He’s so very close, but so very unaware of how much that precise fact affects you. Each day away from him only tightens the strings in your body and you grow more frustrated that you haven’t actualized any of the promises you’d made on the phone. At the same time, you find yourself quietly thankful for the imposed distance. Mingi isn’t even here, but he still has such an impact on you that it has you rushedly getting yourself off with your face buried in your pillow to keep quiet.

You’re so deeply affected by all this, while Mingi is fine. You’re the one busy, but when Mingi comes home from work and has some downtime he doesn’t even text to see if you can spend time. Seemingly, he doesn’t care to find out when you can see each other again.

On day six you’re sitting in your garden with your mom and aunt. Your cousins are playing in the grass in front of you and calling for your attention. The sun is high and hot in the sky, and Mingis car has been home for a few hours. You’ve checked your phone multiple times to make sure it’s not on silent, or if you’ve somehow missed a text from him, but it’s been quiet all day.

Then, a car pulls up to Mingi's house. You recognize it in an instant, it’s Yunhos old Camaro that he had inherited from his dad when he got his license, the same car he’d posted a thousand pictures of on social media. He had even let you drive it for an entire block two summers ago. The paint job has sparkles of blue in it that glimmer in the sun, and you somehow feel like it’s taunting you. The front door of Mingis house opens and he emerges in a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt that he has cut the sleeves off of, and he’s got a pair of sunglasses sitting on his face. A feeling worse than rejection rushes through you when Yunho rolls down the window and waves to you, finally prompting Mingi to also notice you sitting there.

Mingi raises his hand to wave but the movement is cut shorter than Yunho's enthusiastic full-bodied gesture. Mingi gets in the car and the engine roars as Yunho drives away. The warm air feels bittersweet when it’s filled by the smell of exhaust fumes.

That night you’re lying in bed and you’re inching close to sleep when your room lights up for a second. In the haze of sleep, you assume it to be the headlights of a car, but it happens again until the stream of light persists entirely and you finally get up to look outside your window. It’s clear instantly where it’s coming from because Mingi is hanging halfway out his window with a flashlight in his hand.

Though he’s quite a distance away, you can see him well enough to tell that he’s shirtless and his hair is messy, but your focus is pulled from that to trying to decode what gesture he’s making with his hand. You shrug, and he disappears from his window for a few seconds before he pops back with his phone and starts pointing to it.

You search for your phone and open it to find 4 missed calls from Mingi. His contact picture pops up on your phone and you hurry to answer.

”What the fuck, Mingi?” you whisper into your phone.

”Were you sleeping?” he chuckles, and you can see his shoulders shake with laughter. Every little bit of this makes you want to hang up, or scream, or march right over to his house and have a go at him. How dare he go days without speaking to you, then call you up in the middle of the night and laugh as if you haven’t been in agony this past week? How dare he kiss you breathless in this very room and make no attempts at reliving it?

”No, I was just about to fall asleep!” you huff.

”Why are you whispering?” Mingi asks.

”Because my parents are asleep, dumbass.”

”Hm,” he ponders. ”So that would be a no if I asked you to sneak out and come over?”

You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch at the thought that he wants you to come over in the middle of the night.

”Of course, it’s a no! My mom is already peeved because of Yunho coming by earlier today. She hates how loud that car is. She’s gonna think you’re a bad influence, riding around in that and making me sneak out.”

”Imagine her reaction when she finds out you drove that car before you got your license, and I wasn’t even there. It was all Yunho,” Mingi jokes.

”Shut up! God, my mom has been warning me about him for years. She used to be convinced I was going to end up with him and it was her biggest nightmare,” you say. Your window is cracked to let in some air now that it’s cooler outside. The night is quiet, and all you can hear is Mingi breathing at the other end of the call. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can see that Mingis face is scrunched up.

”You and Yunho?” he scoffs. ”Why would she think that?”

”I don’t know, it’s not like she had any reason to. She’s just weird like that, you know how my mom is.”

It’s silent yet again, Mingi just sighing.

Your stomach does a somersault when a thought strikes you and you have to ask, ”You’re not jealous, are you?”

”Jealous? Of- of Yunho?” Mingi laughs breathlessly. You just hum, and you can’t take your eyes off of him where he’s sitting in his window. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and regains his voice, ”I have no reason to be jealous of him when I’m the one with your nudes in my phone.”

Something about that makes you curl up on yourself, suddenly feeling very shy that you’re only in your underwear and a thin old tank top. It brings up another thought that has plagued you. The pictures you’d sent were all meticulously posed and manipulated to be as appealing as possible. It had been your body, yes, but the most perfect version of it possible. Here, in your pajamas with your skin glistening from sweat, hunched over yourself, you hardly think Mingi can find any resemblance between the picture-perfect version and the one in front of his eyes.

”Oh yeah?” you murmur. You can’t let him see you falter, can’t let him call your bluff. You straighten your back and pretend to be more interested in something under your nails. ”You could have a lot more than just pictures, you know.”

Mingi lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a breath, just audible enough for his phone to pick it up.

”Fuck, look at me,” he says, and you do. You just do.

Mingi stands up, keeping his phone pressed to his ear with one hand while his free hand moves in a long, slow caressing motion down his upper body. It’s your turn to feel jealous now, stupidly jealous of Mingis own hands for getting to touch him. His fingers reach the waistband of his boxers and you nervously stop breathing as you imagine them dipping inside. His hand moves just a bit further down though, where Mingi wraps his entire palm around his dick.

”Can you see that?” he asks. He uses his hand to move his hard cock under the light material of his underwear, making sure to jut his hips out towards the moonlight so you can see every second of his show.

”I can see you, oh my god. Are you out of your mind? Mingi, what if-”

”No one’s around, no one’s gonna see except for you,” he assures you. You lick your lips, thinking back to what Mingis mouth had tasted like.

”You’re crazy,” you whisper to him.

”You make me crazy,” he says with a smirk. ”Would you lift your shirt up for me?”

Your fingers have dug into your thigh without you noticing until now that Mingi is directing attention to your body. There’s so much tension inside your body that your breathing feels labored as if there are coils fastened inside you and everything Mingi says and does tighten up every bit of your internal structure. He has you feeling lightheaded with words alone.

Sensing your hesitance, Mingi speaks again. ”You don’t have to, I just really want to see you.”

The last sentence has you moving without thinking, getting up on your knees on the seat under your window. You take a quick glance around the street and in the windows of nearby neighbors. The whole world is asleep, only you and Mingi are awake.

You use your free hand to pull your tank top as high as possible, exposing your stomach and chest to Mingi who has stopped touching himself and is keeping razor-sharp focus on you.

”You-… Thank you, you’re gorgeous, do I ever tell you that?” Mingi’s voice is low and hushed. Until now he has sounded loud and confident, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that Mingi has gotten shy. He probably didn’t expect you to follow through with his request.

You haven’t spoken in minutes and you’re not sure if you could make any noise without it coming out as a whine, but luckily Mingi speaks up once more.

”Can you get into bed? I’m gonna lay down, please join me, please, would you touch yourself with me?” Mingi pleas. He waits a second for the words to register, for you to spring into action before he does so himself. Part of you wants to stay and keep drinking in the sight of his body, but the expectations of what he’s going to have you doing has you obeying his words.

”I’m in bed now,” your voice is still hushed, and there’s a layer of excitement in it that brings on a wave of embarrassment.

”I am too, I’m gonna- I’m taking my underwear off. It’s been so long, I just need to…” Mingi trails off. His end of the call is muffled, and a little distorted, and you can hear him shuffling to get his boxers off.

”It’s been so long since what?” you ask to clarify.

”Since we last did this, since I last came…” he answers. Fuck.

”Have you not been cumming since we last had phone sex?”

Mingi quiets down for a second before he lets out a breathy laugh.

”Have you?” he asks with a tone in his voice you can’t make out, but it has your cheeks heating up and your entire body running ice cold.

You turn silent now, but it’s clear from how Mingi is laughing under his breath that he doesn’t need an answer from you to know the truth.

”Oh my god. Well, tell me then, how many times have you made yourself cum since our last call?” Mingi asks. He sounds so cocky, so full of himself that you don’t know whether to roll your eyes or shove your hand between your legs and revel in this stupidly hot version of Mingi.

”Maybe two or three times,” you mumble, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

”Let's just pretend I believe that. What have you been thinking about?”

You whine, feeling your entire body surge with shame and humiliation. Despite all of it, you’ve bunched up your blanket between your legs and without thinking about it you’ve started rutting against it slowly.

”Mingi, please…”

”Tell me.”

”I think about you. I always do. I’ve been thinking about that kiss, and-…” Your thought is interrupted by a sound on the other end of the line, along with Mingis soft hums. ”Mingi, are you jacking off to me telling you I fantasize about you?”

”I’m jacking off to your voice,” he says so matter of fact it knocks the air out of you. He continues, ”The fact that it’s about me only makes it better.”

”Oh my god,” you sigh, closing your eyes and letting your hand move where you need it most. Mingis voice is sweet and gentle as he moans with each stroke, and his phone is so close to his mouth you’re tricked into believing he’s right next to you, breathing and huffing.

”I wish you were here right now,” he says, sort of under his breath, a little quiet. It feels a little secretive when he says it, like when you were younger and he would have you turn your back to him as he did the same. With your backs pressed together, he would tell you all his deepest secrets, and when you’d turn around again you would both pretend like nothing had happened. It’s a memory you have replayed a lot more recently than ever before, just due to how similar it feels to this arrangement you have with Mingi. As long as you aren’t faced with each other, as long as your backs are turned you can do and say whatever you want.

Instead of sulking about it, you force yourself to play along.

”I do too, I need you so bad,” you whisper, and none of it is a lie.

”Need to see you cum for me, fuck, I need you to make me cum,” he moans. It echoes through your entire head, that moan and those words, and it has you rolling onto your back and pulling your underwear down your legs so you can touch yourself properly.

”You’ll make me cum just by saying that, Mingi,” you say, pathetically so. Something about Mingi has you reaching the edge faster than anything else.

”Fuck, me too. Just hearing you say my name is enough to make me cum right now. I’ve never felt this fucking good,” Mingi groans.

”Mingi,” you let out again, out of pure instinct. ”Mingi, please give me permission to cum, I need it, please!”

He does, in a string of words and breathless moans he allows you to cum with him. Your orgasm rolls through your entire body in a blinding flash, and by the time it’s over you can’t gauge if multiple minutes or just a few seconds have passed. Your phone is pressed so tight to your ear that pearls of sweat coat the screen.

”You there?” Mingis voice is raspy, all fucked out.

You come to, clearing your throat, ”I’m here, sorry. Holy shit.”

”What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. You don’t have time to feel overjoyed or even finish your train of thought (of oh, fuck, it’s finally happening) before Mingi continues, ”Yunho’s throwing this… thing, at his house. There’s gonna be a barbeque, we’re gonna get drinks, and he says it’s going to be chill but you know how he is. It’s gonna end up being a party by the end of the night.”

You’re staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Mingi helped you set up when you were 15, and the answer is so obvious you don’t have to think about it.

”Yeah, I’ll go with you,” you respond.

”Well… I’ll take you, but maybe we shouldn’t make it too obvious when we’re there. All of our friends will be there, maybe it’s best to lay low?”

You clench your eyes shut. It makes you want to scream so loud it’d pierce your wall and travel across the street and through to his bedroom. A week ago he had been so concerned about things turning weird between you two and you’d written it off as a worry about your friendship, about how things would change after all the words and naked pictures you had exchanged. You hadn’t considered for a second that Mingi would be concerned for his reputation.

”Yeah,” you mutter. ”No, yeah, you’re right.”

”Okay then,” he says, so cheerily that you feel shame wash over you. ”I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five then?”

You hum in response and swap goodbyes before he ends the call and the beeps ring through your ear.

Your sleep that night is weighed down by a worry you can't dispel even after you wake up. You hardly feel rested, and your parent's voices barely register when they speak to you at breakfast. A lot of thoughts linger in your head, unshakeable doubts about whether things with Mingi are really going to be as okay as you had thought when you were in school.

Things had felt so much simpler then, like this steadfast belief that it would be just as it had always been. You had returned every single summer and were able to pick back up your friendship with Mingi with no trouble, despite all the months you had spent apart.

At least you would get to see all your friends again. Summer being in full swing would mean that everyone would be at their happiest, most free, possibly stupid, and risky behavior.

The day passes by sluggishly, you're merely counting down the hours. You try to read a book while lying in the sun in your backyard, but find that the words just flow together. You check your phone and see the half-hour call in your log from yesterday night, you’re just staring at Mingi's name and contact picture. It's just letters and numbers on a screen, but it's also a journal of your entire relationship. You can go back and see every single one, remember where things had started and where things had escalated. It took you weeks to send the first suggestive pictures to each other and they had been modest back then. A picture of your dark silhouette in the mirror, and Mingi replying with a blurry picture of his thighs in the dark of his room.

It's just another reminder that what you've got with Mingi is all contained in this piece of technology you can fit in your hand. Nothing is real or tangible, except for a few minutes of kissing. That's all you've got that counts as something; Mingi kissing you in your childhood bedroom for a few very good minutes before departing and ignoring you for days.

The kiss lives vividly in your head as you shower and get dressed.

You're sitting on your windowsill and watching the clock tick closer to five when the front door of Mingis house opens and he walks outside. He's got a pair of sunglasses on that he lifts off of his nose to peek up at your window, and when he spots you he waves and motions for you to come down.

You float down the stairs and out your door. The air is light and breezy outside despite the way the sun has been beaming down all day. Mingi is dressed in yet another shirt that shows off his arms, the slight tan line from his work t-shirt that he tries to even out is obvious to you up close and you squeeze his arm to tease him for it.

Both of you sit down in his car. The windows are rolled down to let air flow through and Mingi sets the car stereo to a low volume so you can faintly hear Tears for Fears play in the background. The engine hums pleasantly in comparison to Yunhos Camaro when Mingi starts the car. You watch his hands, waiting for him to shift the stick into first gear, but it doesn't happen.

Instead, time moves in both directions, very slowly but all too quickly as he wraps his hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. Every single thought that has plagued you throughout the day vanishes the second his lips are on yours. It's replaced by the fact that these same lips had moaned your name less than 24 hours ago, that he had sounded so desperate when he told you he wished you were there.

Mingi deepens the kiss this time, letting it go on for longer than last time. When you have to part from it to take a breath Mingi trails his kisses from the corner of your mouth to under your ear. The kisses are chaste, barely there, but every single one leaves your skin tingling.

He doesn't return to your lips, he pulls back and regains his breath and his smile is so cocky when he reverses the car out of the driveway. You can't help but giggle then, and Mingi turns up the volume to let the music blare through the entire car. This is the Mingi you've missed, the one that drives through your neighborhood and ignores all the grouchy people who turn around and stare disgruntedly. He sings along too loudly, straining his voice to hit notes that sound awful even though you know that he's a great singer.

Everything feels as it always has when you pull up to Yunhos house and there are cars parked up and down the street. Mingi parks and as you're unbuckling your belt you see him look in the rearview mirror, grooming his hair and then wiping his mouth to remove your lip balm. It stings for a second but you don't let it persist. You just get out of his car and the two of you walk towards Yunhos backyard.

There is a voice in the back of your head that reminds you of the distance Mingi puts between you, this very conscious measurement that would leave no doubt for all your friends that you're strictly platonic. You push that away too, and make way towards all your old school friends instead. Seonghwa is the first to pull you into a hug, and it's all you need for the bubble to burst on all your worries.

Soon enough you're all laughing, the backyard is quickly filling with people and Yunho is having a hard time keeping up with all the people demanding a burger. The afternoon air smells just like high school, and the cheap alcohol mixed in the punch is just like the one you used to drink back then. The only difference is that everyone looks so much older, and the conversations have switched from homework, crushes, and drama to future plans and jobs.

"So what now?" Seonghwa asks you when a few hours have passed and the sun is setting. It's not getting dark, the sun is just changing from blue to lilac. You turn to him, feeling the way the alcohol has affected your vision, the way it's swimming a bit.

"What now?" you ask.

"I mean, are you back for good? Are you gonna settle down, get a job, do the whole small-town thing?" he jokes, but the question he poses is a valid one.

"Hm," you ponder for a second, looking up at the sky as if an answer is gonna rain down on you. "I guess I don't know. I need to get a job, but I'll give myself the summer to figure it out. It feels like the last one before things truly.. you know.."

"Change," Seonghwa interjects. "Before we truly grow up."

The conversation quiets for a moment before you both burst into laughter.

"Jesus, we always get so somber, don't we?" Seonghwa laughs.

"Remember prom? We went out for some air and you couldn't stop talking about the universe because you looked up at the stars for a second," you say.

"I don't remember that, I just remember Hongjoong going off on me because I teared up and ruined the makeup he spent an hour doing on me," Seonghwa recollects. You could remember that. You also remembered the eyeshadow Hongjoong had smeared across Mingis's eyelid, the messy dark brown he had lined his eyes with because Mingi refused to stay still for too long.

None of you had brought any dates that night, your entire friend group had decided to just go together and spend the night dancing with each other. When you had gotten a dance with Mingi towards the end of the night his makeup had started running and you had brushed your thumb under his eye. Nothing about that action or the dance, or the night as a whole, had been close to romantic. He had just been Mingi, the same Mingi as always, he walked you home that night with his arm around your shoulder just like he had every day after school.

It's only with the wisdom of hindsight you can identify little actions to speak otherwise. You can't recall what Sans eyes had looked like when you danced with him, but you remember in great detail how the lights had twinkled in Mingi's irises. All you remember from your dance with Wooyoung is that his hands had been too sweaty to hold, but you can go back in your memory to when Mingi had leaned his head on your shoulder and sang along softly to the song that was playing.

"What is it like when you talk to Mingi?" Seonghwa pulls you out of your thoughts. You don't know when your eyes close, but when you open them again the sky is starting to burn a vibrant pink.

"Well... I don't know. It's good. We talk about all sorts of things," you try to sound matter of fact, very casual. Reminding yourself of Mingis words, lay low.

"Yeah, you must," Seonghwa remarks, a chuckle sounding through his voice. It has you turning to him, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Meaning?" you question.

"Just that there must be substance to your conversations, seeing as Mingi excuses himself from every night out when you call," he says.

"Yeah," you attempt to brush it off as a meaningless piece of information, but it feels like a lot more. You didn't know Mingi would rush home to talk to you.

Seonghwa hums, and your eyes are pulled to the ground where you've been digging your heel into the grass.

"I guess you guys have always been closer than the rest of us. Living across from each other, being childhood friends, all that," he says. There's no hidden meaning or intention behind his words, you know Seonghwa well enough to deduct that, but it still feels like he's trying to catch you out.

"Yeah," you repeat, absent-mindedly. "Suppose so."

Seonghwas mouth twitches a little as if he wants to say something else, but he keeps it shut. You're thankful, because even if he can read between the lines of your and Mingi's strange relationship, the fact that he doesn't say it out loud serves as reassurance to you. It's the same thin veil that you and Mingi drape yourselves in. Unspoken meaning unchanged.

A friend comes over and offers to top off your and Seonghwas glasses, and you decide to get up on your feet and move on from the sudden gloom that took over.

The music is loud and the air gets chillier as the clouds twist amongst pink and orange. You’re talking to Yunho and telling him the story about your mom's disapproval of his car when he notices your shoulders quiver with the drop in temperature. He fetches one of his flannels for you, helping you thread your arms through and telling you that you need another drink to warm up. Yunho makes you something stronger than the diluted punch, and it goes to your head with haste.

It does warm you up, and it pulls you from reality a little. It’s easier to laugh along with Yunhos jokes this way, without thinking about the tension between you and Mingi. It feels good and safe to just be worriless, to feel the wind in your hair and be surrounded by the sound of your friend's voices mixing together.

Your legs are getting wobblier, but Yunho catches you before you fall and he lets you stay posted against him.

You’re just watching the conversation your friends are having without joining in when you feel two hands on your waist. You don’t have to look back to know that it’s Mingi. The smell of his cologne is familiar enough to alert you.

”I think I better get them home,” Mingis voice is warm and round behind your ear. For a second you feel a little bitter, you kind of want to shake his hands off of you and scoff at him because he’s intervening just when you’re truly starting to enjoy yourself without spending a single thought on him. Is that not what he wanted? You’re keeping the secret, you’re not drawing any eyes towards you two. He’s doing that all on his own.

Had it been three years ago, you think your friends had been protesting your leave. You’re all grown up now though, and everyone is understanding when Mingi wraps his arm around your waist, and you both wave goodbye.

Mingi helps you into his car. Tears for Fears is still playing when he turns the car on and starts driving, and you feel a sort of agitation that you can’t place. He doesn’t speak a single word for a minute or two, and the mood inside the car is unbearable.

”I don’t think anyone could tell,” you say. Mingis face is bare of emotion, and you find yourself with an urge to placate him. ”We did well, don’t you think? I didn’t make anything obvious.”

You don’t know what response you expect to get from Mingi, but there’s a palpable shock within you when he pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to you.

”What?” you ask. Mingis eyes soften when they flick over your entire body, to then end up at your face.

”Did you really.. worry about that?” Mingi wonders softly.

”Huh? I thought-… Yes, I worried about it, because you did. I mean, you told me we needed to lay low.” You’re starting to get thoroughly confused and frustrated.

”I know, but I didn’t think you’d drink so much and cuddle up to Yunho because of it,” Mingi says, his tone quickly working up to a sharpness you’ve never heard in him before.

”Drink so much?” you gasp. ”I was just having fun! It had nothing to do with you! Not everything is about you, Mingi, or about us. I don’t worry about it as much as you do. Believe it or not.”

”I don’t worry about it,” Mingi sounds accused.

”Clearly you do though. You take me to this party and give me instructions on how to behave, then spend the whole time ignoring me. Just like you did all of last week. Clearly, you have to feel ashamed, or- or…” you trail off, feeling your voice crack. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and leans closer, putting his hand on your knee.

”Please,” he urges, and there’s something in his voice that breaks your heart. ”Please, don’t think I could ever be ashamed of you.”

”Then what, Mingi?” you ask quietly, starting to feel yourself break now. Tears are starting to well up and cloud your vision. You continue, ”Do you just not want me? I get if it’s different when we’re face to face, I know it might not be what you expected, I understand if you don’t find me-”

”Stop it!” Mingi is almost shouting now, startling you. ”It’s nothing like that, you have to believe me. Stop saying these things.”

His hand lifts from your knee to hold your face where he wipes away a tear from your cheek. You don’t know what to say, even though there’s a part of you that wants to keep insisting. Mingi isn’t offering any kind of explanation or even an excuse, he’s not saying anything to quell your worries, and his hands on you are not enough.

”Kiss me. Please,” you whisper. There’s more you want to say, like prove it, prove that you want me. Kiss me and mean it.

”I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk and I’m sober,” Mingi says, offering up a solemn smile.

”I’m not though,” you argue. This entire conversation has been sobering. You’re still tipsy, your head feels a little heavy and your vision is still floating but you think you can blame it on your tears as much as you can blame it on alcohol.

”Well, you’re drunk enough that I don’t feel comfortable kissing you.” Mingis thumb strokes over your cheek to comfort you. It’s enough to calm you a little, because that you can take. You don’t think you’d want to kiss him either if the roles had been reversed.

”Okay,” you mutter. ”Are you sure it’s not because you don’t want me?”

Mingi sighs, ”We’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re not-”

”I’m not drunk, Mingi.”

”Okay, okay. But I still want to do this tomorrow, when we’re both thinking clearly. We’re just misunderstanding each other, and this isn’t how I wanted it to go,” he tells you. He leans forward and kisses the top of your head instead, just above your hairline. It must be calculated on his part, to kiss you where your skin can’t feel the warmth of his lips.

”Okay,” you say again. This time Mingi lets out a little laugh at your dissatisfaction.

He starts the car back up and takes off to go home, leaving his hand on your thigh throughout the drive. When he pulls up to his house and you get out of the car your legs feel like jelly, and you realize you’re probably not as sober as you’d like to believe.

”Mingi?” you ask. He rushes to your side to hold you up, though that’s not what you meant. ”Can I sleep here tonight? You know how my mom is, she’d flip if she saw me-”

”I wasn’t planning on letting you go home like this, don’t worry,” he laughs.

So, with his arm around your waist, Mingi guides you inside and up the stairs to his room. It’s dark and you have to remind yourself to be quiet to not wake Mingi's family. While he leaves the room to fetch another blanket you sit down on his bed and look around his room.

It’s been a while since you’ve been here but not much has changed. You know for a fact that Mingi is still just as entertained by his action figures now as he had been at 13. It makes you laugh to see them all lined up on his shelf, right next to a couple of books that you had gifted him. He had forced his way through a couple of them and called you to complain about every choice the main character made.

You’re comforted by how much of his room remains the same. This is a place where you can remember and picture Mingi. By his big stereo, switching CD’s. Cutting out pictures of his friends to add to his collage wall.

Mingi comes back to his room with a blanket and a pillow that he throws next to you on the bed.

You’re watching his every move. When his eyes land on you he lets out a sound you can only read as disgust.

”Of course he gave you that,” he complains, more to himself than to you.

You can’t help but follow his line of sight though, finding that he’s looking at Yunhos flannel shirt.

”What’s so bad about it?” you wonder. Being under Mingis gaze always fills you with a sort of insecurity that has you twisting and turning.

”It's like, his move. Lending out his shirt. And then letting you lean on him like that..” Mingi mutters.

”Why would Yunho ever pull a move on me?” you ask incredulously.

”For the same reason I would, I assume,” he says. ”You’re really hot.”

A heat rushes to your abdomen and you can’t meet Mingis eyes anymore. Today has left you feeling anything but desired by him, but you don’t think he’s lying right now. He wouldn’t lie about finding you hot just minutes after refusing to kiss you.

”It wouldn’t matter what Yunho thinks of me. Like you said last night, you’re the one who has my nudes. Right?” you say.

Mingi sits down next to you, looking at his hands in his lap instead of at you.

”What if he wanted more than just your nudes?” he asks. This, too, feels like he’s asking himself the question. And you don’t know what to answer.

You don’t think Yunho poses any threat whatsoever, he’s just friendly and flirty by nature. But you let yourself think about what Mingi is implying for a second. What if he - or anyone else - would want more of you than Mingi does? Someone who could offer you a relationship that wouldn’t require secrecy. Someone who would bring you around his friends and hold your hand for everyone to see. Someone who would properly date you and want a relationship, as opposed to dirty phone sex at odd hours of the night.

You realize you’d always pick Mingi above all that, no matter if you had to have him only partially. If he was never yours.

You open your mouth to respond but shut it again when you can’t find the right words.

Mingi looks over at you. He speaks, ”Can’t you take it off?”

”Take it off of me,” you whisper back.

His mouth twitches into a small smile.

”It’d be a lot sexier if I wasn’t taking Yunhos clothes off of you the first time I undress you,” he still sounds displeased, but his hands work the shirt off of you anyways. He discards it to the floor, as far away as it can come.

”These are all mine,” you say, meaning the clothes you have on. ”You can take those off.”

Mingi lets out a drawn-out breath, something to collect himself. His hands pause at the hem of your top even though you’ve already given consent, waiting for you to nod until he starts pulling it over your head.

Silence permeates in Mingis bedroom as he continues undressing you. It’s just the wind rustling his curtains that disrupts the quiet. He guides you to lie down so he can unbutton your shorts to take them off. His hands are so gentle and his touch is soft, when he has finished taking your socks off and all your clothes are on the floor except for your underwear he leans down and presses a sweet kiss right above your knee.

”Take yours off too, please,” you say softly. He’s not quite as delicate with himself, he doesn’t make a show of it. You can’t help but stare though, trying to really commit this to memory since it’s the very first time you’re seeing him strip for you, even if you know it won’t be followed up with all the things you’ve talked about on the phone.

Your eyes flick all over him, down his toned arms and up his torso as he pulls his shirt over his head, across his broad chest. You watch his fingers work the button on his shorts open, revealing his dark underwear. He’s not hard, at least not fully, and it’s strangely intimate to be so close to his dick for the first time but not in a sexual manner. Everything about it makes your heart feel heavy, you’re somehow aware of each pump of it, how it’s speeding up at the mere sight of Mingi.

Mingi, your Mingi, that hasn’t ever been yours. Not really, not properly, but still somehow.

You want him on top of you so bad, to finally feel him in the ways you’ve dreamt about for a full year. Instead, Mingi climbs in bed with you and pulls you close.

He is soft and warm in all the spots your bodies are connected and intertwined. You fall asleep to the sounds of his breath coming out slow and steady.

You wake to a breeze of air over your face. At first, all you can hear is the chirps of birds outside and the distant noise of cars driving around. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that it’s the middle of the day, the sun is bright in that midday way, bright enough that there isn’t a total blackness even when you screw your eyes shut further.

You just turn around and try to escape from it by burying your face into the pillow. The texture of the pillow feels strange and unfamiliar, and the more you come to you realize it also doesn’t smell like your bedding. It smells like Mingi, you realize, and shoot up in a startle.

You don’t have time to wonder why the bed is empty next to you, because you can hear steps on the stairs and seconds later the bedroom door creaks open. Through a squint you can see Mingi in the same state you remember him falling asleep. In just his underwear he walks up to the bed and sets down a glass of water and a plate, before petting his hand over your hair.

”Good morning,” he greets you, smiling big.

”Mm, yeah,” you hum back, still drowsy. It’s far more comfortable to let your eyes close again and just lean into Mingi's affection.

”You okay? Are you hungover?” Mingi asks.

”Yeah, but not from drinking,” you murmur. ”It’s from you yelling at me.”

”I wasn’t yelling!” There’s an undertone to his voice, an actual worry and fear that you’d be feeling a certain way today after last night's conversation.

”I know you weren’t, Mingi. I’m just messing with you, I remember every bit of that conversation,” you assure him. He lets out a sigh of relief, his thumb stroking over your temple.

”That was going to be my next question,” he tells you. ”So you remember the whole night then?”

You nod your head under his hand.

”Do you want to talk about it?” he asks you.

The question stabs at something inside your sternum. Of course, you want to talk, in reality, there are a thousand times you’ve held yourself back from saying to him and there would be nothing more freeing than telling Mingi all of it. There’s just never a time and place for it though and you’ve come to terms that there never will be. It would take astronomical changes to allow you to say what you want. Yes, Mingi, I’m in love with you and probably have been all my life. Mingi, it took us sexting to make me realize you’re the only one I could ever picture myself with.

You had of course let yourself fantasize a couple of times, but the details of any imaginary and hypothetical relationship between you two would quickly obscure, and Mingi was often a perpetrator in that. It would present itself on days when you lived in the afterglow of a nighttime call. You’d walk on clouds with the memories of Mingi moaning your name, then check social media and be greeted with photos of him with his arm around your lifelong friends and strangers you would get nauseous picturing Mingi talking to. Your name wouldn’t even come up in conversation, he’d appear single to them because after all, he was.

So you wouldn’t often entertain the idea of being something more. You’d just treat it as a passing thought, boil it down to what it was, a neuronal connection gone to grief.

You guess you had hoped to see something in Mingi to completely deny these thoughts. Like, a first kiss that you wouldn’t be able to break away from. Or the moment you finally have sex for the first time and it being this out-of-body experience that ends with both of you crying and confessing your love. Like a scene out of a movie.

You could even have survived the opposite. If the first kiss had gone sour and the spark died before it even ignited. At the very least, you would have an answer to all your questions. Instead of being tethered to this middle ground where there’s an undeniable passion and need for each other, but a considerable distance keeping you apart.

Though there were things you’d want to say, there are none you could verbalize.

”I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” you say, finally. To convince Mingi of this, you open your eyes and roll onto your back so you can look at him. He looks unconvinced, so you continue, ”I think I was just confused and upset. I don’t know why. Maybe because you’ve barely spoken to me since I came back home. I had just… expected more.”

You find yourself surprised that you’re telling the truth. It’s not what you had meant to say, but it’s true and innocent enough. Mingis hand rests on the side of your face, where his fingers fiddle with your hair, and for a second his eyes focus on that, before coming back to yours.

”I don’t have any excuse,” he says. ”I guess I could say that I kept seeing your relatives show up at your house and I thought it’d be rude to whisk you away from all that just to fuck you. But I think the more time passed, the harder it got to..”

”Yeah,” you agree. ”To fuck.”

He smiles at your choice of words and nods.

”Have you not happened to notice I haven’t initiated a single kiss between us, Mingi? I’m nervous too. It’s different in real life. It was much easier on the phone to just do things,” you say.

”Would it make it easier if I told you I’d really like to kiss right now?” Mingi asks.

There won’t ever come a time when the prospect of Mingi wanting to kiss you won’t send a jolt of electricity through each and every vein in your body. Nor will there ever be an instance where you won’t act on that will, especially since it seems that there will be a finite number of them. As you prop yourself up and lean in to kiss Mingi you realize that, along with this being the very first time that you initiate a kiss with him, you’re also one kiss closer to the last kiss you’ll ever have with him.

Because there will be a last time. If you keep going like this there is no other possible outcome, there will simply come a day when Mingis's eyes set on someone else and your arrangement is concluded. There’s not an if, it’s simply a when, and every kiss from now on is going to lead up to that last one. You can’t decide if you should hold out and stave off that last one for as long as you can or fit in as many as possible until then.

All these thoughts disperse when your mouth meets Mingis and he kisses you back. It’s hard to think of anything other than his warm lips or his tongue softly licking against yours. It’s more playful this time compared to the last two, today you’re both feeling each other out and learning what to do, what feels good.

You find yourself out of rhythm at times, the position you’re in is a little awkward, and you fumble through a few kisses to lean closer to Mingi. You feel your stomach swirl when you realize that none of this deters Mingi, that you can in fact feel him smile and breathe out something between a hum and a moan every time you come crashing against his mouth. His big hand comes up to your jaw, long fingers curling around the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

Things get heady so fast with Mingi, he works you up so incredibly quickly, and it’s obvious from the sounds he’s making that he’s just as affected. He doesn’t pull away for a second, his hand keeps your head in place and he continues to clumsily kiss you as he guides you down onto the bed.

The air in Mingi's room is hot from the summer sun shining through his window. It’s not until now you realize that the only thing separating you from Mingis body has been his thin blanket. He starts peeling it away, and it’s then you remember that Mingi had undressed you the night before. A jolt of panic shoots through you now that Mingi can see you, entirely nude except for your underwear, in the warm, bright light of his room. You find comfort in the fact that he’s undressed too, but with Mingis eyes taking you in it’s hard to feel relaxed.

Mingi leans in for a long, passionate kiss, and against your mouth he muffles, ”You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your head is swimming, Mingi keeps on kissing you, getting softer and more careful as he moves down your neck and continues to lavish you with compliments. So pretty, kiss, gorgeous, kiss, breathtaking, kiss. And if you had any doubts, he squashes every single one when he kisses from your collarbone, over your chest and down your stomach, all the way down to your hips.

He plants his hands on each of your thighs, not grabbing or putting any pressure, but you can still feel the weight of them.

”Is this okay?” he asks quietly. He kisses just above the waistband of your underwear, and at the same time, his hands nudge your legs apart. Your breath catches in your throat and you can only nod and let his hands move your legs to where he wants them.

”What about your family?” you ask him, suddenly realizing the reality of where you are.

”No one’s home. It’s just us,” he says. ”So don’t hold back on me please.”

His shoulders are big and broad between your legs. The sun illuminates him so prettily, his tan skin glows, and every little hair on his body is lit up by the sun. The heat has left a thin layer of sweat on his skin and it highlights his muscles in just the right way. He’s just glowing, near angelic, and you’re moved with the need to worship every part of him.

Mingi is still so tender with all his kisses, there’s no sense of rushing as he takes his time by really letting his lips linger. His mouth trails along your entire thigh, stopping now and then to lightly suck your skin into his mouth and have a taste of you. He only falters when he gets to the junction of your thigh, to where your skin is covered by the fabric of your underwear.

You’ve been short of breath for a while now, but when Mingis fingers dip into the waistline of your underwear you cease to breathe entirely. Your head is rushing, watching as Mingis hands pull your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely naked. You’ve sent him pictures before, he knows what every little inch of your body looks like, but Mingi looks at you as if it’s the very first time.

A thousand thoughts whirl through your head between the seconds your underwear hits the floor to when Mingi springs into action. A thousand worries now culminating, whether he’ll realize that it was better over the phone, if he’s disappointed by what he’s seeing, or if he’s repulsed by how aroused you already are.

”You’re,” Mingi begins, stopping to press a kiss at the seam of your thigh. He adds, ”Beautiful.”

His eyes aren’t even on yours, he’s single-mindedly focused on what’s right in front of him. His breath is fanning across your entire crotch, tickling your inner thighs, and as you feel it get closer and closer you instinctively close your eyes and let your head roll back when Mingi finally puts his mouth where you need it most.

He’s still so gentle, using his tongue and lips to tease you and explore what you like best. It feels like hours pass of Mingi lightly sucking and pressing wet kisses all over you, he’s really and truly taking his time and you have to believe it’s for his own sake because he’s only building up a frustration within you.

”Mingi,” you whine, reaching down to grab hold of his hair. It’s an objectively insane feeling, to have his hair in your hand and head between your legs, after all this time of dreaming of it. It’s enough to have you getting close, even though Mingi is still lapping carefully at you, and it's nowhere close enough to what you crave.

When you start bucking your hips against his mouth it’s like he releases all restrain and just goes for it. His hands wrap around your legs at first, pressing them towards his head, to then wedging underneath your ass so he can get all of you into his mouth.

Mingi moans out ”You taste so good” with a mouthful of you at the same time you tell him how good he is with his mouth, prompting him to smirk against your pelvis. It really doesn’t take long for him to learn what gets you closest to the edge, just where he should put his tongue and where to apply some pressure.

”So good, Mingi, you’re so good. Oh my god,” you sigh. You tug on his hair hard enough for your fingers to cramp, and Mingi only moans against you. Every sound you make seems to spur him on further, Mingi only getting more eager with the way he’s circling his tongue around you.

His tongue is getting you closer and closer, your stomach is splitting in two to hold onto the edge and trying not to cum. You’ve been waiting for this for so long that it feels a shame to cum just minutes after Mingis mouth is on you, but there’s no holding back. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush to his face, and the second you lift your head to look down at him between your legs you start orgasming in his mouth.

He understands what’s happening before you do, applying enough pressure to get you over the edge before letting up and licking you slower to help you come down. All while he keeps his eyes on yours, letting your fingers scratch his scalp. Mingi listens to every little noise you make and stops the second your heavy breathing turns into an overstimulated hiss.

”Mingi, Mingi,” you whine. His cheeks are flushed a deep pink and his lips are slick with his own spit and your cum, and you can’t stop admiring him. All you can do is pray that Mingi looks into your eyes and mistakes your all-consuming love as the afterglow of a great orgasm.

He pulls himself up enough to crawl on top of you, and though he’s just spent minutes between your legs, this feels a lot more daunting. He hesitates for a moment as if he’s unsure if he’s allowed to kiss you, so you wrap your hands around the back of his head and pull him towards you.

Mingi is breathing heavily from the effort he’s just put forth, and instead of letting him catch his breath you only grow more desperate. Your hands clammer onto his shoulders, pulling him against you, then down to his waist, and finally around his ass so you can pull him against your core. He’s got his underwear on, but you don’t let it stop you as you grind up against him. He’s hard and you’re still wet with spit and cum, it doesn’t take long before you’ve soaked his boxers and the barrier between you both is practically nonexistent. You can feel every bit of him against you.

”Mingi,” you moan into his mouth. ”Fuck me, please.”

He pulls away and sucks in a deep breath.

”Don’t you want me to… uh, prepare you?” He sounds small and insecure. You watch his brows burrow and his eyes flick across your face, and you’re struck by how much he looks like Mingi. Your best friend Mingi, who you’ve built up in your head as a confident sex god, even though you’ve always been aware that he’s more careful and vary than any other person you know.

You suppose you’d just assume that that version of him would disappear in the bedroom, that he’d be the same as he is over the phone when he’s telling you all the different ways he wants to fuck you.

”I’m- I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’m so worked up you could just slide inside me,” you tell him, and Mingi moans in response.

”Are you sure?” he asks. You pick up motion again, sliding yourself against the entire length of his dick.

”I’m not just sure, I’m begging,” you plea. You hook your fingers into his boxers, trying to tug them down even though you know the position you’re in won’t allow you to undress him. You just need him to act, now, you can’t wait any longer.

It happens fast, Mingi pulling his boxers off and getting back on top of you, to then lining up his dick to enter you.

”Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” you mumble. The sight of him in comparison to you, lined up against you, is enough to make you cum untouched.

This is what you’ve been dreaming about for a whole year, this very moment. For Mingi to push inside you, hook your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until you can’t see straight. Actually being here, with the tip of his dick against your hole, it feels much different. It’s not the actual sex you’re looking forward to, it’s the fact that he’s finally going to be inside you. It feels like you’re claiming him, that the moment is finally here and he’s going to be yours.

”Are you okay? Are you ready? Can I-?” Mingi asks, searching your eyes for uncertainty.

”Please,” you nod.

He starts pushing inside, watching his dick slide with ease until he’s got the entire tip in. The stretch feels amazing, you could take all of him in one go but the fact that he stops and leans down to kiss you as he slowly thrusts his entire cock inside is way better. And god, he kisses you as if he’s not currently buried inside you. His lips barely brush against yours, and the kisses are short and sweet. Finally, he pulls back to watch himself bottom out.

The sun is shining on the side of Mingis face, and this is just not at all how you had pictured it. In your fantasies, there had always been a dark bedroom and Mingis body had been on top of yours, only distinguishable by faint lights outside the window. It was quick, rushed, and dirty, maybe Mingis hand would be clamped over your mouth to keep you from making any sounds since it would have to happen at one of your homes. Sometimes you’d imagine it happening in his car, parked somewhere secluded at night, it would be bumpy and awkward and sweaty and the focus would just be on both of you cumming as soon as possible.

You hadn’t pictured it like this. Like, Mingi looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

His hair is messy from your hands grabbing it, and the sunlight lights it up like a halo. Time feels unmoving, you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to memorize every small detail.

He starts thrusting carefully and slowly. His back is upright, leaning away from you so he can watch his cock go in and out of you. You can’t stop watching him though. He’s so beautiful, his hair is a mess, and beads of sweat are starting to trickle down his chest. You reach your hands up, caressing his skin.

You wonder if you’re breaking some sort of unspoken rule. The two of you hadn’t discussed or set any boundaries, but when you slide your hands over Mingis chest and stomach, you wonder if you should have. This isn’t just fucking, you’re worshipping him and looking at him with intense adoration. He’s going so slow too, really taking his time. You’re not fucking, this is making love.

”I’ve never felt this good, you feel so good,” he moans under his breath. He curls his hands under your ass, picking you up so he can get better leverage to thrust as deep inside as possible. The new angle makes him groan, ”Fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you?”

It has you sobbing with pleasure. Mingis fingers are digging into your flesh, and he fucks you at this torturous pace for tens of minutes. You can truly feel the drag of his dick inside of you, when he bottoms out all the way inside to when the tip of his dick is at your entrance.

”You’re so good, oh my god! So good, you’re so handsome, Mingi,” you praise him, causing Mingi to pick up the speed.

You’re grabbing at his arms and shoulders, trying to pull him down, to get him closer. He lets you down on the bed and leans down, coming chest to chest with you, shoving his arm under your head instead. Your bodies are flush with each other now, Mingis pelvis rubbing against you and getting you close to cumming again stupidly quick.

His mouth is right by your ear, pressing a few sloppy kisses to your neck and temple. He is moaning your name and though his voice is hushed and strained you can still feel it reverberate through his chest, right against yours.

It’s precisely that which has you cumming, the sound of his voice calling your name over and over, telling you how good you feel. Your ears start to ring when your orgasm rolls through you and Mingi only picks up the pace to intensify it. You can faintly hear him, somewhere far away now, this otherwordly being showering you with so much affection it has tears forming in your eyes.

”You’re so perfect,” he’s telling you, fucking you faster. ”Just for me, all for me, you’re all mine.”

Somewhere through it, you realize he’s picked up the speed because he’s close too, but he wants to make it good for you before he pulls out. His eyes are on you, watching your breathing return to normal and feeling your hands unclench from his shoulders, and only when he’s certain that you’re coming down from the orgasm he leans back and pulls out. He only manages to get his hand around his cock before he cums all over your stomach, cumming so hard he shoots all the way up to your chest.

Mingis other hand is grabbing your waist and you can’t stop looking at the way he’s marked you up. There are red marks on you from the tips of his fingers, and little marks from his nails all over your hips, and you’re covered in his cum. Just seconds ago he’d told you that you’re all his, and in this moment you feel it.

”Fuck, that was…” Mingi is the first to speak. ”Shit, let me get you cleaned up.”

He scrambles for his underwear, starting to wipe his cum from your stomach.

You’ve managed to blink away the tears that welled up when you came, but there’s still a sob within your chest that you’re fighting to choke down. Everything about what just happened was about a thousand times more intense than you had ever dreamt of. Had he not pulled away you think you might have confessed to him right then and there.

”How are you feeling?” you ask him, clearing your throat and hoping Mingi reads it as just being fucked out.

”Very good,” he responds, without a hint of hesitance or a second of stalling. There’s a faint laugh in his voice, and he’s starting to smile. Nothing about him looks like you currently feel.

”Oh,” you say, struggling to find words. It’s not like you had expected him to just bare his heart and pour out confessions. You’d just expected something more to follow, after all of that. You had made love. There’s no other word for it.

Mingi leans down and kisses you once, so chaste you barely have time to kiss back.

He gets up and pulls out a pair of new boxers from his dresser, stepping in them.

”Fuck, I made you breakfast earlier and forgot all about it,” he tells you. You look over at the nightstand, where your breakfast sits forgotten.

”Oh,” you repeat. Your head drops back down on Mingis pillow. You speak again, ”I think I’d rather have a shower.”

It’s all so thoroughly strange. Mingi clasps his hand in yours and pulls you up from the bed, and you feel perturbed. You’ve seen Mingi greet Yunho with more affection than the way he helps you up on your feet. At least he joins you in the shower, but you feel weirdly disconnected from him. Even when he jokes and suds up his hair into silly hairstyles you can only manage halfhearted laughs.

Your body aches to have him closer, to feel him pressed against you and to have his lips back on yours again. The kisses he’s giving you now feel cheeky, as if he’s kissing you just because he can, and not because he truly wants to.

You suppose there’s reason to feel thankful, because at the very least Mingi hasn’t rejected you. His casualty is worth a lot more to you than the possibility that he could have pulled back and realized that everything about this was a mistake. He ruffles your hair after the shower, and it stings, but each second you continue to remind yourself that this is how things are supposed to be.

He lets you have one of his shirts after the shower, and he cooks you a very late lunch, then Mingi has to leave for work. Your legs are still unsteady when you make the walk back home to your house.

You prepare yourself to be ignored again. You busy yourself with cleaning your room, reading a book, cleaning out weeds in the garden, sending out job applications, anything you can to make the hours go by. You don’t want to check your phone, but your fingers itch to see if Mingi has texted you.

Nothing.

It’s not until late that night when you know Mingi's shift has ended that he calls you.

”Hey,” you answer, walking over to your window. Mingis car is in the driveway, but you can't see him in his room.

”Hi there,” he greets you. ”Busy day?”

”Oh you know, the usual,” you say. ”Mom wasn’t too happy with me spending the night but she was very relieved to hear it was with you.”

You’re still dressed in his t-shirt, and throughout the day you've been bringing the collar up to your nose to smell him on it. You find yourself doing it now too.

”Her head would explode if she knew what you were doing at my house this morning,” he teases you.

”Good thing no one will ever know then,” you joke, though it is the truth. It was always meant to be a secret.

”Right,” he says. ”So, do you think maybe you could come over tomorrow? My parents will be gone, I start working in the afternoon again, I was thinking maybe-”

”Yes,” you interrupt him.

Mingi laughs, ”Okay. Uh, do I sound desperate if I say that you can come over as soon as you wake up?”

”A little, but I like it,” you giggle.

”Good.”

”I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

You sleep so much better when you know that you’re seeing Mingi tomorrow. You wake up feeling completely rested, and you’re giddy as you sort out your bedhead and get dressed.

Mingis parents aren’t home, and there’s a spare key resting atop the frame of the front door that you use to let yourself into their home. It’s still early, early enough that you know that Mingi is probably fast asleep in his bed. You try to keep your steps light as you trudge up the stairs and into his room. The curtains are drawn, only letting in a stream of sunlight that lights up a sliver on his bed. The orange morning sun is casting a few inches of light on his thigh, so you let it lead you.

It’s where you first press a kiss. He smells of sleep and Mingi, you inhale the scent of his skin between kisses you trail all over his thigh and over the front of his underwear. Mingi sighs softly in his sleep, hips twitching when your lips kiss the tip of his dick through the fabric of his boxers. You’re looking up to watch his face, but when he’s still asleep as you mouth over his entire cock, you crawl up and kiss his lips.

Mingi huffs and puffs, twisting underneath you. You continue to kiss all over his sleepy, confused face. He cracks an eye open, transforming from a groggy confusion to a content smile.

”Morning,” he mumbles happily.

”Hey,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth. ”Can I suck you off?”

He lets out a drawn-out moan that tapers off into a sigh, nodding fervently. His hands are weak and his fingers fumble to find purchase in your hair when you pull his underwear down his legs and take him into your mouth right away.

He sounds so lovely, all raspy and deep from his sleep. Even though he’s just come to consciousness, Mingi makes sure to tell you how good you are making him feel. He moans your name, over and over, giving you so much praise it’s making your head swim.

It doesn’t take him long to get close, so you choke out permission for him to cum in your mouth, and Mingi listens eagerly. Even as he cums he’s vocal, talking you through it and reminding you to breathe all while he praises you for how well you take it. He’s so gentle it’s making you moan as you swallow, and when you pull off his dick you scramble to get his thigh between yours.

Mingis hands guide your hips over his thigh, setting the pace for you to hump him. He keeps the praise coming, and when he feels you getting close he pulls you down for a numbing kiss. You cum on his thigh while deep in a kiss, and Mingi holds you close to his chest as you come down from it.

Somewhere in the post-orgasm haze, you both fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet, Mingi lulls you to sleep with the sounds of his breath and his fingers drawing patterns on your back. When you wake up again it’s in a sweat. His little bedroom is swarming with heat, so you decide on a shower, where Mingi has your chest pressed against the white tiles while he fucks you until you’re cumming a second time, this time while full of his cock. He bites down on your shoulder to keep from cumming until he knows you’re fully satisfied, and only then does he pull out and let himself cum on your ass.

When you’re pulling his shirt over your head 10 minutes later while he cooks you lunch, you catch sight of marks on your shoulder. His teeth had dug hard enough to bloom bruises on your skin, and your mind reels at the fact that he has marked you up.

Mingi has you coming over the next morning too, after you’d spent the previous night sending him pictures of the bruises his teeth left on your skin. His responses had been sporadic as he focused on work, but it didn’t stop you from going into detail about all the things you want Mingi to do to you.

It’s like all the limits have finally vanished, neither of you are held back by the fears and worries of before. It’s just like it had been before you moved back, when you only had phone calls to rely on. Back then, the comfort had come from the fact that you didn’t have to actualize all the things you spoke about. You had time to feel each other out and discuss what you want, all without having to put yourself on the line for possible failure. Now, you’ve found reassurance in the fact that you do have a physical relationship.

You know each other in your bones. You can read all the queues his body gives you, and you know what every little expression on his face means. You can sense differences in his sighs and you know what his voice sounds like when it’s getting to be too much. There’s no room for doubt when Mingi is in front of you, you just intrinsically know what he needs.

The two of you fall into a routine. When morning comes, you skip over to Mingi's house and usually he’s still asleep, tired from his shift the day before. You wake him up with kisses or gentle touches, and if he’s hard by the time you get there, Mingi loves to wake up to you already taking care of him. Some mornings you simply lay beside him, tracing his face with your finger. His hair sticks to his forehead so you brush it back, giving soft kisses to the side of his temple. Your pointer finger follows the contour of his nose and lips, feeling the warmth of his breath exit his nose.

Even though he’s asleep and unaware of your worship, you can’t bring yourself to stop. It’s in these moments you can be fully truthful with your affections. Letting your hands linger on his chest for a moment longer, focusing on his heartbeat underneath your palm. You whisper things to him you’re too afraid to say when he can hear you, just to release yourself from the need. It satiates you enough, like this airing out of your system, enough to keep you going until the next morning when you once again get overwhelmed with the sight of his sleeping form blanketed by sunlight. There is only one thing you forbid yourself from saying, three words that you vow to never let yourself speak.

A full two weeks pass of this. Every day you explore something new, things you’ve spoken about on the phone over the last year. With Mingis parents working daytime, you have full freedom to be as loud as you want. Mingi also takes full advantage of a free house. One morning he bends you over the kitchen counter while breakfast is still cooking. His mouth is always right by your ear, moaning and telling you how bad he needs you, despite fucking you upstairs in his bedroom just an hour earlier. Another day he has you ride him on the couch right before he leaves for work. You love it most when Mingi randomly decides to go down on you, whether it’s in the shower or he makes you lie down on the kitchen table. When he’s got his mouth on you he’s possessive, making sure to mark up your thighs and hips. It happens so often that he sometimes ends up darkening the hickeys he left a few days earlier.

Then Mingis schedule changes, and he has to work in the mornings. It doesn’t stop you, but it puts a damper on things as you know them. You have to meet in the afternoons instead, and with Mingi's parents home you end up sitting through long dinners with his parents, reminiscing and talking. It makes sex a little difficult, and Mingi hates the fact that you have to be quiet. He picks you up in his car a few times, but quick head while parked at the edge of the woods is a harsh contrast to the hours of sex you’d been able to have a few weeks earlier.

You’re caught by surprise one day when your phone calls and you rush to pick up only to find Yunhos voice at the other end. You’re so surprised that you pull your phone away and check the name on the screen, and sure enough it’s Yunho's contact name.

”Hey,” you reply, trying to play off the shock.

”Not happy to hear from me?” he teases.

”Shut up, you know I am!” you joke back.

He laughs in return and makes some small talk, telling you how much fun it was to see you and asking you how you’ve been.

”But, hey, uh,” he interjects. ”You ended up leaving with my shirt, is there any chance I could get it back?”

”Shit,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment. ”You’re right, I totally forgot. Uh, do you want me to bring it by today?”

”That’d be perfect, thanks!”

When Yunho hangs up the phone, you chew nervously at your lip. Getting the shirt back to Yunho wouldn’t be an issue, it’s just that it’s in Mingi’s room somewhere, and asking him to locate it would probably lead to another weird moment where Mingi says something petty. You’re pacing around your room when your eyes land on his driveway and you remember that Mingi is at work. You’re just about to call Yunho and tell him today’s gonna be impossible, before the solution hits you.

Mingis mom opens the door to their home when you knock, and beams at the sight of you on their doorstep.

”Sweetheart! Hi there, Mingi is at work right now, I’m afraid,” she tells you while wrapping her arms around you for a hug. She always does this, even though you’ve been spending a lot of time over at their house recently, Mingis mother hugs you every time she sees you.

”I know, it’s just that I left something in Mingi's room that I need to get if that’s okay?”

So she lets you run up to his bedroom. You feel a little bad while rummaging through his room, but it doesn’t take you long to find Yunhos flannel shirt bunched up halfway underneath Mingis dresser. Mingis mom tries to convince you to stay for dinner, but you tell her you have to get going, and within moments you’re in your car on the way to Yunhos house.

It’s another picture-perfect day outside, the sky is a pristine blue and the wind is blowing just enough to bring some relief in this heat. Yunho is outside in his front yard, with the rear of his car jacked up.

”Hey, you!” you call, getting out of your car. ”Car trouble?”

You can tell by the fact that he has picked apart the entire wheelhouse that it’s not just something routine, but Yunho shrugs his shoulders.

”Not something I can’t fix,” he smiles. ”Dude, you’re quick. I called you, what, 30 minutes ago?”

You nod, sitting down on the tire Yunho has removed.

”Honestly, I was losing my mind at home. I’ve been doing jack shit for days now, I think I might die out of boredom,” you complain.

”Oh, so you’re saying you left the minute you got my call just because you had nothing better to do? It’s not just because you love me?” Yunho quirks an eyebrow, wiping grease from his forehead.

”Can’t it be both? And anyway, I had to go over to Mingis to get your shirt, so I didn’t leave ’the minute I got your call’,” you say, sticking out your tongue at him.

”It was at Mingi's house?” he asks.

Something comes over Yunhos face that you can’t pinpoint.

”Yeah.. I left with him during the party, and we went to his house afterward.” You hope he buys it as a reasonable enough explanation, it’s at the very least true. Just not the entire truth.

Yunho shrugs, and his eyes lose the edge they just had. He smiles, ”Leaving in one man's shirt to go to another dude's house, all in one night.. Impressive, I’ll give you that.”

”Fuck off!” you huff, kicking Yunhos shoe.

He laughs, slapping down a greasy hand on your knee to let you know that he’s just joking, even though you already know that.

”Although…” you trail off. ”Mingi did say that it’s your move.”

”Oh yeah, it is. I wasn’t expecting you to fall for it, though.” Yunhos's voice is still teasing, but not in the same way that Mingis usually is. You can tell that Yunho is just friendly, that there’s no flirting laced in his words or tone. It makes you miss Mingi.

”I don’t fall for things like that,” you retort, but quickly find your mind going to all the shirts Mingi has let you borrow these past weeks. You wear them all day, every day, even when you come back home after spending time with him. You even sleep in them, and you frequently bury your face in the collar to smell his laundry detergent. The few times he gives you a shirt he’s already worn you end up getting so worked up about it that you think you’d be getting yourself off while smelling it, if it wasn’t for the fact that Mingi now has you cumming at least twice a day.

So, perhaps you do fall for tricks like that. But only when it’s Mingi.

Yunho goes silent, and you can see that he’s chewing on the inside of his lip.

”What’s wrong?” you ask him.

His eyes flick over to yours for a second, then he looks at his hands. You’ve never seen Yunho this deep in thought outside an academic setting, and something about it is making you uneasy.

”You know,” he begins, but the words die as quickly as he says them.

”Yes?” you try again.

He pauses, looking up at you.

”You know that Mingi is my best friend,” he says. ”And I love him, I do, but sometimes he acts like an idiot. And I can’t- I just hate seeing it, you know?”

”Okay,” you mumble, only growing more confused with every word Yunho says.

”I don’t think it was right how he came here with you, then spent the whole night talking to everyone but you. But, he just gets so weird sometimes, right? And like I said, I love him, he’s my best friend, but- we just thought it would be different when you came back home. So, Wooyoung and I decided to see what would happen if I lent you my shirt, and-.. Yeah.”

”What… What are you saying?” Your voice is getting quieter. The cheery happiness from before has retired, and there’s something strange in the atmosphere now. You can’t understand what Yunho is getting at, but there’s a part of you that wonders and wishes. A part of you that can read between the lines of what Yunho is too afraid to say out loud.

”It’s not my place to say,” Yunho says, looking everywhere but your eyes.

”At least tell me what you intended to do with this shirt.” It’s still in your hands, his flannel, and your fingers are tightening around it.

”We just figured that maybe he needed a push,” he tells you, sounding so sheepish.

”You wanted him to get jealous?” you finally say it out loud. Yunho doesn’t meet your eyes, but it’s a clear enough answer. So you ask, ”What do you know about me and Mingi?”

”In all honesty? I don’t know anything. And it used to hurt me because Mingi is my best friend and I’ve known him since we were kids. But that’s what clued me in because I know for a fact that he would have told me if you were dating,” Yunho says. You’re holding your breath while listening to him. He continues, ”I, uh, I accidentally saw the preview of a text you sent him once. Something about.. well, that’s not important. But, I realized it then. We all thought it was just a matter of time, and that you’d make it official when you moved back home.”

You’re hearing every single thing Yunho is saying, but the words just won’t stick. You’re becoming more aware of the birds singing and the sound of the wind among the treetops.

”Mingi is in love with you,” Yunho says. At last. The rest of his words blur together. He has been, a long time, doesn’t know it. Yunhos mouth is moving, and you know what he’s saying, but the rational part of you that knows this can’t be true has stopped listening long ago.

Mingi is not in love with you. He’s just not, that can’t be true.

Yunho scrambles towards you, hands landing on each of your knees. He looks so concerned and his mouth is still moving.

”-you okay? What’s wrong?” You hear once your brain stops blocking your ears. You’re crying, tears falling from your cheeks down onto your hands.

”What did I say?” Yunho asks frantically.

And the confessions start rolling. You tell Yunho about everything, from that first night to everything that has happened since you returned back home. You tell him about the weird moment when Mingi drove you home after the party.

”Don’t you hear it though? He’s in love with you! My god, I think he always has been,” Yunho says.

You scoff, ”He ignored me for four whole months during my first semester away. He’s not in love with me, this is just.. out of comfort, it’s just easy.”

”You’re both in denial. You know what I’m hearing? That Mingi was so heartbroken when you moved away that he couldn’t even be a good friend. That didn’t just extend to you, by the way. He barely hung out with us during that time, and it only changed when you came home for Christmas,” Yunho tries to lay it out for you.

”You’re wrong. You’re wrong-”

”I can’t tell you what to believe,” Yunho says. His hand squeezes your knee, leaving dirty marks of grease on your skin. It’s a gesture of comfort, and you appreciate it for what it is. ”You need to talk to Mingi. Maybe disarm him by telling him that you’re in love with him first.”

The air feels different when you drive back home. It feels heavier, somehow. Yunhos words bear an incredible weight and no matter how many times you run them through your head they don’t get any easier to process. It would be different if it had come from Seonghwa or Hongjoong, who would say practically anything to comfort you. You don’t think Yunho would sweeten his words like they would, or even at all.

You sit through a quiet lunch with your mom, unable to get your thoughts in any other direction than the conversation you just had with Yunho. For some reason, you feel absolutely stuck there, and you can’t see a way for things to work. It feels as if time has been suspended in wait for your next move. The hours tick on though. You lay in your bed and watch the numbers on your alarm clock change. Seconds turn into minutes, and then hours, and your mind is still stuck in the same place as it has since you left Yunhos house.

You don’t realize when the clock indicates that Mingi is ending his shift. The numbers are just ticking, hypnotizing you. You startle when your phone calls and the pit in your stomach grows when you know that it’s probably Mingi.

Your fingers move on pure muscle memory as you pick up your phone and swipe to answer the call, then raise the phone to your ear. Through the phone, you can hear Mingis car running.

”Hello?” Mingi asks. ”You know, it’s usually the person who picks up the phone who speaks first.”

”Sorry,” you croak. You don’t even recognize the sound of your voice.

”Are you okay?” Mingi sounds so concerned it makes your stomach twist. It’s still the same Mingi you have known all your life, and he’s the same man you’ve been fucking the past weeks, but something feels as if it has fundamentally changed. You try to listen to his voice, read it for any hint of tenderness you’d have previously missed. You can’t make out any, it’s the same Mingi as always.

”It’s been a weird day,” you settle for.

”Then what do you say about changing into your swimsuit and we go to the lake? It’s so hot out, I can’t stand to be home. And maybe it can take your mind off of things?” he suggests.

”Yeah, sounds good.”

”I’ll pick you up in 5, better hurry!”

Mingi hangs up. Your head feels all fuzzy and distant, but you pull yourself out of bed and get changed. While putting your clothes over your swimsuit you realize you’re in one of Mingis t-shirts. Every single bit of this feels like a divine punishment. To be dressed in Mingis clothes and have marks in the shape of his mouth decorate your chest and the insides of your thighs, to be so thoroughly claimed by him but yet not be his, is agonizing.

You’re aware that Mingi would park in your driveway and come knocking at your door, wanting to impress and appease your parents at every turn. You just can’t deal with that today, so you hurriedly make your way down the stairs and out your door to wait for him outside. You’re just in time, because Mingi is making the turn up your street and it’s only half a minute before he’s pulling up to your house and you’re getting in his car.

”Hey, I missed you!” Mingi sounds cheerful, sporting a smile so big it’s splitting. You hate the way that time and space curl around Mingi each time you see him as if he presents to you in technicolor and slow motion. Your eyes pass over each feature, trying your best to handle what just seeing him does to your body.

Mingi keeps a pair of extra sunglasses in his car for you, and when you’re sat down he leans over to place them on your face. The gesture is enough to make your breath hitch, but he uses it as an opportunity to lean in for a swift kiss, and you feel as if you’re floating.

Today, Mingi has Fleetwood Mac playing softly throughout the car.

You’re just looking at Mingi with this pit in your stomach, this sense of impending doom sitting heavy in your abdomen. The world feels slow and strangely saturated. The seconds stretch on infinitely, allowing you plenty of time to watch the sunlight adorn Mingi's skin.

You’re aware that you can’t stop staring. When Mingi parks the car and you start making the short walk through the trees to get to the lake, your eyes are always set on him. From the towel slung over his shoulder to the sweat that has broken out and is trickling down the nape of his neck. You’re trying to make sense of the sight in front of you, the same Mingi you’ve made this walk with a hundred times, the only difference being that he’s had you in the most intimate and tender ways now. It forces you to rewrite history, the memories of your childhood innocence are permanently changed. If only you had known then, while sitting on the big rock and throwing pebbles out to break the still surface of the water if you had only known that the boy handing you rocks would end up being the man you fall in love with fifteen years later.

Your stupid, stupid heart. Sometimes you think the ribs, flesh, and muscle containing it won’t be enough to keep it in place. It beats so hard and fast it billows from your chest, through your arms, and out to the very tip of each finger. You have to flex them to stop that lovesick tingle from numbing you.

The water is beautiful. The lake looks just like you remember it, the wind is blowing slight ripples upon the surface and the trees are swinging lightly. Besides the gentle hum of nature, the place is completely undisturbed and it’s just you and Mingi here today.

You're placing your towels down and undressing in silence, barely glancing at each other. You sneak little glances at him in the corner of your eye, wondering what he’s thinking. Yunhos words are still echoing through your head, getting louder and more unbearable for every minute that passes.

Mingi is wading into the water before you know it, covered up to his knees, then thighs, then his waist, and eventually he points his arms and dives in entirely. He erupts back through the surface with a shriek that echoes over the lake, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing.

He rushes back up to where you’re laying on your towel, shoulders bunched up in reaction to the cold water. Mingi shakes his head above you to force droplets onto your bare skin, laughing loudly when you yell in protest. Things feel so extraordinarily regular, it’s as if you have transported back ten years in time. Even when Mingi gets down on his towel and leans over to kiss you, it still feels so normal. It just feels so right with Mingi, like this is what you’re meant to be doing.

Mingis's mouth is cold and wet from his dip in the water, and his hair continues to drip onto your face, but you find it hard to care when he wraps you up in a long, passionate kiss. He’s on his stomach on his towel now, as close to you as he can get. Your heart beats with a discernible nervosity at the fact that you are laid out in the open with Mingi making out with you. There would be quite a walk for anyone else to get here, and you would probably be able to hear branches breaking or even a car parking way before anyone could walk upon the scene and spot the two of you. The risk of getting caught here is low, but you still feel like you’re on display.

Mingis cold fingers wrap around your jaw where he keeps you firmly as his tongue enters your mouth. The kissing goes to your head very quickly, dulling all your senses as all your thoughts are replaced by what Mingi is doing with his mouth. He knows you so well that he pulls away seconds before you lose your breath, letting you regain it while he kisses the corner of your mouth softly. His hand trails over your chest and down your stomach carefully, feeling the way your ribcage heaves as your breaths get steadier.

Mingis eyes follow the path of his hand before he abruptly stops by your knee.

”What’s that?” he asks you. You have to crane your neck to see what he’s looking at. Not much remains of it, but there are still faint marks of dirt and grease on the top of your knees. Just on the outside of your leg, there’s an unmistakable fingerprint.

”Oh,” you mumble. Mingi detaches himself from you with a quickness that makes you lose your breath, and you scramble to get up too.

”I don’t- I feel like I don’t even need to ask who left that on you,” Mingi says.

”It was Yunho,” you rush out, wanting so badly to resolve this before Mingis thoughts spin and twist so bad that you can’t untangle them. It’s clear from the look on his face that your words and their haste only have the opposite effect.

”Yunho?” he questions, getting quieter.

”It’s not all what you think. He called me about that shirt he let me borrow a few weeks ago, remember? I went to his house to give it back and we got to talking. You know, just.. stuff, about life. I ended up getting emotional and he comforted me. I was crying and he put his hands on my knees, that’s all.” You read Mingis's face for any changes, but nothing happens. He only looks at you, taking in your half-truth excuse of an explanation.

”What is it that Yunho can comfort you about, but I can’t?” Mingi asks, his eyes staring into yours with so much intensity you feel like crying. You had expected everything but that. You’d rather Mingi accuse you of getting intimate with Yunho, that you’re lying and it’s a terrible cover story you’re spinning. You could defend yourself from all that, but not this.

”That’s not… Mingi, it’s not like that. I didn’t just choose to go there for comfort. It just happened, I just started crying, and that’s it,” you urge.

Mingis legs are drawn up to his chest and his arms are wrapped around them. He looks so small and vulnerable. His eyebrows are starting to furrow together, and you’re finding it hard to tell if it’s anger or sadness that is starting to show on his face. Both possibilities terrify you equally.

”Why?” he wonders, simply. ”Why did you cry?”

You can physically see the restraints he’s putting on himself to hear you out, to not race away with his worries. You wish it means what you want it to mean. That Mingis vulnerability was an act of love instead of self-preservation. He’s probably sat there worried at the threat of Yunho taking you away and replacing his role. That the fun you’ve had the past weeks, and the year before that, would be over, just like that. You wonder if he views it as a hindrance more than anything. Mingi has finally scored a way to have sex on the regular, without the commitment or worries of starting with someone new. What you have is a lot of comfort, and you suppose he doesn’t want to lose that.

Still, even this feels like a lot more than you deserve of him. If you can’t have Mingi in the ways that you want, you’ll have to do your best to preserve the arrangement you have now.

”It’s not important,” you mumble. You know it’s not a good enough answer.

Mingi lets the word hover in the air for a moment, pondering on whether he should let it go.

In the end, he decides to speak. ”There’s nothing you can tell me that would scare me off. You know that, right?”

”That’s not true,” you whisper, so quiet it’s almost a hiss. ”There is something I can’t ever tell you.”

Tears start to fall down your cheeks and it’s now a conscious effort to keep your sobs contained within your chest. The lake is still breathtaking, the wind is still and the sun is bright in the perfect blue sky. It’s a beautiful day to get your heart broken, at the very least.

Mingi stretches his fingers and you watch the tendons twitch and flex. You’re brought back to what you were doing earlier, shaking off your nerves.

”What if I say it first?” he says. You look up at his eyes.

”What?”

”That I love you,” he tells you. His eyes are big and dark, brimming with tears of his own. ”If I say it first, will you say it too?”

”Mingi-”

”I do love you,” he begins. ”It’s stupid, looking back, because I think I’ve loved you since before you left. I loved you that first night, I already knew it, and I felt so stupid when I woke up the morning after. Doing that with you when I was drunk out of my mind made me feel like shit. And then I felt even more like shit, because- because, it made me realize that it hadn’t been the way I wanted it to be. So I took comfort in the fact that it was over the phone, and I still had time to do it right. To start right, with you, I mean. I wanted our first time to be perfect. I knew I loved you when I kept thinking about it. But then, when you finally came back, it truly clicked. For a while, I had figured that I’d know how I felt about you when we had sex for the first time. But I was wrong because all it took was me seeing you to know that I’m in love with you.”

”Mingi,” you whisper, again, over and over. It’s all you can bring yourself to say, like a prayer, before you crawl over to him and press your lips to his. It doesn’t matter that it takes him a beat to respond, you don’t care at all anymore about how things get awkward or strange. You continue to kiss over his mouth until he’s ready to kiss you back, when time finally catches up to you and it dawns on you both that this is real.

You can’t stop kissing him, breathing out his name every time you part.

”I love you,” you mumble into his mouth. ”I’m so in love with you.”

Mingi smiles into the kiss. Your senses are overwhelmed with the taste of both your tears and the fact that you’re both now smiling and giggling, repeating ’I love you’s until the words merge.

He pulls you into his arms, tumbling over into the grass. He stops kissing you to just look at you, and you watch him too. Your Mingi, in the grass by the lake. Finally, your Mingi.

#mingi x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #mingi x y/n

194 notes · View notes

idyllcy · 9 months

Text

and on and on, i'll be by your side

word count: 11.9k

warnings: non-explicit sex, unstable family relationship (reader)

summary: senior year romance means everything from fluff to angst to teenage hormones

"I like you. let's date."

Jason chokes on his water, coughing as you hand him a napkin to wipe off the water.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Let's date?"

"before that."

"I like you." You blink at him, raising a brow. "What? Can't believe it?"

"No. I was not expecting to get confessed to on the first FUCKING DAY OF SENIOR YEAR." He hisses. "Why are you even asking me out? You had a crush on some other guy all the way until like before junior year ended."

"Yeah..." You tap your chin. "You see, I had a revelation over summer while we studied at the library together."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Well too bad!" You shrug, smile on your lips. "I thought, hey, I've kinda been on and off with my feelings with you for a while now, why not just get the closure I need?"

"So you asked me out without expecting me to accept your confession?" Jason hands you the second sandwich Alfred packed.

"Yeah!" You hum. "Thank you."

"And if I accept your confession?"

"Then we date." You shrug. "I have no L in this situation."

"What if I leave you hanging?"

"I have one L in this situation." You grimace. "You're not that mean, right?"

Three years. Jason Todd has been in love with you for three whole years — sitting through your hopeless rants about how attractive you found the most mediocre guys in the school, on the verge of going insane when he had practically turned into your ideal type only for you to pat him on the chest and tell him he'd definitely pull. Jason Todd had not expected you to casually drop the bomb that you had liked him on and off or the question of dating on the first day of senior year, the two of you sitting in your shared English teacher's classroom. He can feel his teacher's eyes on the back of his head as he stares at you incredulously.

"I'm not that mean," He shakes his head, heart racing in his head. "We..."

You look at him expectantly.

"Is it taking advantage of you if I agree to date you?" He winces.

"Nope! If anything, it could be me taking advantage of you." You beam. "Is that a yes?"

"Uh, yeah." Jason really hopes this doesn't come to bite him in the ass later. "Sure. Let's date."

You grin. "Should I call you babe?"

"Too fast." Jason deadpans. "If you don't finish that half of the sandwich I'm going to take it."

You gasp in fake offense. "I'm savoring it."

"Not with the lunch bell ringing in five minutes."

"I hate you." You grumble, going back to your sandwich. "What do people who date even do?"

"Well, they—"

"If you pull a single date idea from one of your classics I will throw this sandwich at your face."

"Alfred's hard work!" Jason raises a brow. "You dare disrespect that?"

"Either this or my backpack." You mumble, finishing the sandwich. "The backpack it is."

"I was going to say we could start with the park, but if you're going to smack me with your backpack, then I'd say we just break up." Jason jests.

"World's fastest breakup." You mumble. "We could break a world record with that."

"That's impossible. Someone out there has broken up faster than this. Also, I never said we'd break up." He mumbles. "I was threatening you."

You shrug, the bell going off.

"What's your next class?"

"I sent you my schedule like two weeks ago!" You gasp. "You didn't memorize it?"

"Alright," Jason sighs. "What's my next class?"

"Creative Writing. Bingo, loser."

"You can't do this to me." Jason grumbles.

"Oh, I can and I will." You grin.

"Have fun in your TA period." Jason walks in the other direction.

"You did memorize it?!" You yell at him in the hall as he walks off. "Liar!!!"

Jason ignores you, speeding up instead. The realization would settle in later, he thinks. The realization that after three years of pathetic pining on his end, you had asked him out on the first day of senior year with no will to continue living in Gotham. It was uncertain. Maybe you were just using him so you could say you had a boyfriend in high school. He would let himself get used, as long as it was you. In that case, he might as well put in the full effort to have you fall harder. Starting with... your ideal date, he supposes.

He sighs, looking through the list of books you had sent him earlier during summer that you completed, grimacing at how many questionable ones you had read. Though, that's not his problem. The two of you loved reading, even if they were totally different genres. Thankfully on his end, you had ranked them based on how much you liked them. He starts with the first book, a long night ahead of him.

"Red."

"Hm?" Jason holds down the thug with his foot. "What?"

"Are you listening to an audiobook on duty?"

"What of it?" Jason knocks the man out with the back of his gun.

"Why are you listening to smut while on duty?"

"Little wing, did you get a girlfriend?"

"What?"

"Why else would you be listening to romance while on the job? Obviously for research."

"He could also have a crush."

"I think it's his friend from school." Dick reasons. "He's had a crush on her since forever—"

"Oh my god, can you both shut up?"

"Get back to work." Bruce's voice rings on the line. "I don't care what he's listening to. As long as he's getting the job done."

Jason lingers in the city once patrol is over, scouting out an area to take you that wasn't the park. You hadn't looked that excited for the park when he joked about it. You did mention an arcade at some point early on in your friendship, and there was one in the area. Jason would have to take you by bike there. It'd be hard to park in the area. He pauses at the sight of the mall. You work there, huh?

"Where?"

"Mall. Are you deaf?"

"I have work this weekend." You blink at Jason. "Did you forget?"

"You dumbass. You work in the mall. I'll take you after work."

"I'm going to be all sweaty and gross!" You grimace.

"You sweat from a gift shop job?" He raises a brow.

"That was an excuse. I'm going to be dressed in a white tee and jeans. I'm barely going to look presentable." You frown.

"I'l give you my jacket. We can match."

"And have your chest out for the whole world to see? No." You deadpan. "Oh... maybe a compression shirt."

"What was it about not letting the world see my chest?"

"If you're going to wear something slutty I wanna match. You can wear your baseball jacket." You tap your chin. "Or we can both wear tees and jeans. I wanna wear a compression shirt too..."

Jason contemplates the idea of letting the world see your chest.

"No complaints?" You tilt your head.

"Wear what you want. I can fight." He smiles.

"Omg," You gasp. "Like a booktok boyfriend!"

"I'm defenestrating you."

"Jokes on you I'd be into it." You grin, eyes crinkling from how hard you were.

"Do you want me to bring you a change of clothes?"

"No. I'll just wear my tee and jeans." You hum. "And your jacket?"

"And my jacket." Jason takes it off, helping you into it. "There."

"You can wear a white tee and jeans." You smile. "And bring a sharpie. I want to draw on your shirt."

"Got it." He hums. "Anything else you want?"

"Can you bring me coffee?"

"Your usual?"

"Yes please."

"Alright."

The rest of your friend group tells you you seem to be happier these days. You joke that it's because you're ahead on your college apps. They don't pester you beyond that. You're glad they don't. You don't know what kind of madness your friend group would pull if they found out you were dating your best friend. They'd probably... you don't want to think about it.

"Hey," Jason hums, handing you your cup of coffee as you step out of the store, shift over.

"Hi," You hum, pressing the coffee to your lips. "Thank you."

Jason fishes out a Sharpie from his pocket next, handing it to you as you find a place to sit down, the smell of the pen filling the air as you scribble weird characters onto his back.

"What are you drawing?"

"The skrunkly." You mumble.

"The soots from Spirited Away?"

"Yes."

Jason waits for your to finish, handing you his phone to take a photo of your artwork. You click into his BeReal instead, taking a photo of his back and then of you, sharpie still in hand. You are picking violence today. Does this count as a hard launch? You don't know. All you know is that the baseball team is going to jump Jason for not telling them he has a girlfriend. You type out a caption, handing him his phone back as he stares at the drawings.

"You should apply as an art major."

"I don't have a portfolio." You deadpan. "Unless you count the shirt."

"Or the sketchbooks full of our classmates' faces."

"Or that." You close the sharpie, putting it in your pocket. "Where to?"

"I brought my car. You wanna go anywhere?"

"I wanna go... with you? To your home?" You pat his shoulder twice. "I'm kidding. Let's hit up the arcade."

"Sure." Jason hums. "Oh, did you get sharpie on my skin?"

"Want me to check?"

"Please."

You run your hand under his shirt, lifting it as you check for marks. You pause, admiring his back.

"You've got a lot of scars."

"You know what it's from."

"Your nighttime activities."

Jason can practically see you wriggling your brows at him.

"Yeah. Call it that."

"Can I be part of that?"

"Depends how you want to be part of it." Jason hums. "No marks?"

You let his shirt fall back down.

"None."

"Shall we go?"

"Let's." You hum, standing up with him, slipping your hand into his, the two of you head for the escalators.

Jason SUCKS at dance dance revolution.

You discover it after hitting the arcade, his weird skills in pulling out plushes from the crane machine and his eerily good aim at shooting games knocking the air out of you, but you find that no matter how fast he was on his feet as Red Hood, he sucks at dance games. Which brought you to this point.

Jason gawks at how high your score is.

You laugh, tickets spilling out from the machine, holding the bar as Jason stares at his score, offended a score that low could even exist.

"I kicked Dick's ass last time we played."

"Sure, totally believe you." You grin. "How many years ago was that? Four? Five?"

"I'm going to defenestrate you."

You snort. "I thought I told you I'm into that."

"From the top of Wayne Tower?"

"I'll call Dick for help." You hum. "He'll save me with that tight suit of his o—"

Jason slams a hand over your mouth, glaring at you.

"I'm kidding." You pull his hand away. "Why would I ask him for help when my boyfriend is right here? Oh, right. My boyfriend's the one defenestrating me. I should call Tim instead. He'd probably be in the building anyway."

"Sweetheart."

"Or maybe your dad. He'd probably be in the building too."

"Babe."

"Or I'll just fall to my death and force you to live with the guilt of—"

Jason grabs you by the face, glaring at you. "That's enough."

You jut out your lips, grinning. "Are we about to kiss?"

"Too fast." Jason sighs, letting go. "Are you happy with your plushies or do you want more?"

"How many more coins do you have?"

"Sixteen."

"Can I get three more?"

"Which ones do you want?"

You hold onto the bag of plushies as Jason wins you four more, the coins running out and a laugh spilling past his lips when you ask him for help. It was nice to not play at a rigged crane game, but Jason's ability to pull every single plush on the first try was baffling.

"Hey, how are we getting home? Didn't you take your bike?"

"I drove today." He deadpans. "Your memory game is still real strong, huh?"

You gasp, feigning shock. "I have GREAT memory."

"When's my birthday?"

You purse your lips. "Can you get my phone?"

"I'm hurt."

"August 16." You laugh. "I celebrate it with you every year. Did you actually think I didn't know?"

"You have terrible memory."

"I'm offended." You grumble. "We can split the children."

"Shared custody?"

"We're not... divorced?" You raise a brow at him. "Unless this is a breakup call—"

"Nope. Which ones do you want?"

"I want the franchised ones."

"So like, more than half of them."

"I'm kidding. I want the Nightwing one."

"Not the Red Hood one?"

"I didn't finish saying which other ones I wanted. I want all the Batman-themed ones." You mumble. "Especially the Red Hood one."

"Why the plush," Jason leans down, lips to your ear, blowing on it, "when I'm right here?"

"Are you saying you'll stay at my place forever?" You raise a brow at him, leaning back.

"I don't see why not."

"Absolutely not. My parents would have a heart attack if I brought a boy home." You grumble. "You've met them before."

"They've seen me. They've never met me." Jason shrugs. "Do they know you're on a date?"

"No." You hum. "I can tell them you dropped by and we were at the arcade."

"They're fine with us hanging out?"

"They just don't want me to date. Not when college app season is in swing, at least." You pause. "Where are you going?"

"Gotham, obviously."

"Ugh." You grumble. "Wish you'd leave the city with me."

"Can't."

"I know." You mumble. "You have to stay."

"And you have to go."

There's beauty in Gotham, you admit, but it's not the city you can see yourself living in the long term. Not even when your boyfriend would make sure you never die or get hurt. Not even if his entire family ran around keeping the city safe. You wouldn't be able to live in a city like this, even if you were used to the spontaneous kidnappings and death threats floating around the city. Even if you were used to the life in Gotham, you couldn't see yourself continuing down the road.

"What happens to us after high school?" You grimace.

"We'll figure it out." Jason hums. "Enjoy what we have for now."

The drive home is quiet, a silence that's comfortable for the two of you. It's a silence that rests in the air when the two of you are too tired to talk to each other, familiar to the two of you, a constant in your lives. You bring everything upstairs, falling asleep immediately, too tired to explain where the plushies came from and why you had been gone for so long.

Jason watches as you apply to the bigger schools, a thousand extracurriculars tucked behind your application, a hundred awards to cram into the five slots. You had more than he could imagine. He knew you had been an overachiever, but he hadn't known how hard you worked. It showed on your application, and it showed in December when you were accepted into your dream school with a full ride.

"You're leaving for good, then?" He rests his head on your shoulder, watching as you accept the offer.

"Yeah." You chew on the straw to your milk, puffing air into your cheeks.

"Will you miss me?"

"Babe, it's December." You remind.

"Yeah, but will you miss me?"

"I'll miss you more if you take me to Winter Formal."

"I already have a proposal in plan. Be patient." He grumbles, biting into his apple. "Are you going to ask me to Winter Formal?"

You smile. "Apple."

Jason sticks his tongue out, a piece of laminated paper on his tongue, glancing at the words.

"Yes. I'll go to Winter Formal with you. How'd you even get the paper in there?"

"Secret." You laugh. "I rolled it up and jammed it in there and then put edible paint on to cover the marks."

"Creative." He grins. "Love you."

The two of you stare at each other as you register Jason's words, and your lips part before closing again.

"You love me?" You crane your neck to look at him better.

"You don't?"

You laugh. "I love you too."

"Maybe I should apply there." He mumbles.

"You can't leave Gotham."

"It's not that I can't." He corrects. "it's just that I don't want to."

"Right, right." You nod. "But it's fine. Gotham needs you."

"Yeah." He mumbles. "That's not far, is it? I can still visit."

"Yeah." You hum. "No. It's four hours."

"Oops."

You laugh. "We'll figure something out."

Jason matches with you for Winter Formal, showing up with your favorite flowers, flowers matching the color of your dress and his corsage, your house empty for the night. Jason wonders some days why you never introduce him to your parents, but it's not his place to pry. He had terrible parents on his own. He doesn't even want to think about what could have happened had his birth mom gotten the chance to ruin his life like she wanted to. But it didn't matter, especially not when Winter Formal is crashed by a supervillain and he's forced to take action.

You laugh when he finishes, hand held out to help you from the ground. His siblings are scattered throughout, Dick and Bruce talking to Gordon, debriefing the whole situation. He lingers by you, checking your skin for any injuries of sort.

"Sorry Winter Formal got ruined." He mumbles through the helmet.

You pat his chest twice. "Can we get Batburgers?"

"With my helmet on?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever you want."

"Yeah, we can," He hands you his car keys, swinging onto a nearby roof to change out of his clothes, mask off. You open the door for him as he slides in, the two of you one of the last to leave. "You aren't mad Winter Formal got ruined?"

"No. I like seeing you in action." You smile. "Besides, your brother—"

"We have got to do something about your addiction to Nightwing." He grumbles, driving off. "Drive through or walk in?"

"Drive through." You observe the helmet. "Does this have any defense mechanisms?"

"If you try to pry it off my head, it cuts your finger. The needle has poison on it too."

"Damn." You mumble. "Anything else?"

"It's got a bomb built in."

"WHAT." You blink at him. "You can self-destruct?!"

"Mhm." He hums. "Your regular order?"

"Can I get ice cream?"

"Yeah."

You pull the bobby pins from your hair as he orders, staring at yourself in the vanity mirror. There are a couple of bloodstains on your dress that definitely don't belong to you, and you spot the same stains on Jason's dress shirt, tie loosened and unbuttoned to relax a little. You wonder why they targeted your school's dance. They could have gotten more money if they held the nearby private school hostage. You shrug as Jason pulls up to the window to pay.

"Here." He hands you your order as he pulls into a nearby parking lot, his own order on his lap.

"Why'd you think they targeted our school?"

"Because of me," Jason bites into his burger. "Billionaire's son."

"The private school has more rich kids." You reach for a napkin.

"Yeah, but my father's a billionaire. Those kids are all millionaires. Their net worth isn't even worth mine."

"True, huh."

"Are you sure Winter Formal wasn't ruined?"

"No. I got to see your tits bounce while you fought."

"Deadass?"

"No. Your chestplate kept it in tact." You chuckle. "I'd like to see you shirtless sometime."

"Why not now?"

"I am not fucking you in an empty parking lot at 2am."

"Really?"

"I am not letting that be my first time."

"Alright, fair enough." He mumbles. "Where should our first time be?"

"Forgot you're a virgin despite the body." You lick your fingers clean of the sauce. "Don't ask me."

"You wanna fuck in Bruce's room?"

"NO."

"Not a hotel."

"Definitely not a hotel."

"In the Batcave?"

"Jason, I love you, but we are NOT fucking somewhere where your dad can catch us on the cameras."

"Your house."

"No."

"Then where?" He picks up his soda, blinking. "College dorm."

"I'll let you fuck me at the hotel I'll be at before moving in for college." You shove the spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

"Bet." He grins. "I'm holding you to that."

Jason's ability to drive in Gotham surprises you some days. The two of you have been to every corner of the city, even to the places the two of you are definitely not allowed to visit. The abandoned factories, the galas that you never receive invitations to, everything from head to toe had been visited before. But every place is an adventure, even when the two of you are laying in the grass of Gotham's empty parks, naming the shapes in the sky, bloody red mixed with a sickly green. You find that it reminds you of Jason's eyes, pretty grass-colored irises reminding you of flower fields.

"What shape is that?"

"I don't know," You mumble, staring at his face. "I'm not looking anymore."

"What are you looking at?" He raises a brow at you.

"Your eyes." You blink at him, a stupid smile on your face. Jason looks at you with the same smile on his face. The smile of two idiots in love.

"Yeah? What about them?"

"They're pretty." Your fingers press to his chest for support as you lean in closer, staring right into them. "They look like the fields in the Alps. Like a cottage in the fields I wished I lived in, like the comfort of the morning dew that helps ground me."

"You like my eyes that much?"

"I like everything about you." You mumble.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Always."

Jason kisses you with fervor — passion you forget he has sometimes. He kisses you like you're the last person in the world, making your lashes flutter and head spin from the taste of his lips, your nails digging into his biceps, moan slipping past your lips as his fingers dig into your waist to pull you to sit up. You pull away with a hard inhale, Jason chasing after your lips immediately, hands flying to your face, tongue pressed to yours, barely breathing himself. You wonder if his lungpower came with the vigilante business. You certainly can't keep up, pushing him away at some point, panting.

"One more."

"No." You grumble. "Can't breathe. Head spin. I'm going to die."

"Most that'll happen is you'll pass out." He grins.

"No more." You point at him, eyes hard. "I'm not passing out at a park... or getting arrested for public indecency."

Jason laughs, pulling you close, resting his head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist snuggly. You frown, running your hands through his hair, closing your eyes to see if you can listen to his heartbeat with how close his chest was pressed to yours. You hum gently, letting the vibrations rumble between the two of you, the sun peeking past the clouds in Gotham for once. You wonder how many more times you would get to do this.

"Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to miss you." You mumble into his skin. "A lot."

"I'll drive up to you every weekend."

"That's four hours and a shit ton of tolled routes." You mumble.

"Daddy's got money to spare."

You laugh, leaning further into Jason's body, smile making way onto your face again. "Yeah? How about you fly over?"

"Wow, babe, I thought you cared about my carbon footprint."

"Then go by boat." You hum.

"Not a bad idea. You want a rich boyfriend who knows how to sail?"

"And get to brag to all those rich kids who can't date for shit about it? Yeah." You hum. "Plus, you'd look so hot sailing while shirtless in nothing but swim trunks."

"You think about me shirtless more than I can imagine." He rubs soothing circles on your waist. "What else do you think about?"

"Think about your tits."

"Pecs, baby."

"Think about biting them."

"In a—"

"In a completely normal way. Just. The urge to bite and squish?"

"In the neurodivergent way?"

"Yeah." You hum. "But I also think about you at night."

"Oh?"

"Worry about you. Who's going to patch you up when I'm gone?"

"Alfred."

"Yeah, but," You swallow. "I won't know if you're alive or awake the next day."

"I can text you."

"I should just take you with me." You sigh. "Pack you in my suitcase."

"You want me to go to college with you?"

"Yeah." You mumble blissfully. "In my perfect world."

Jason opens his mouth before you cut him off by pulling away from him.

"Jay," You mumble. "Do you think we're going to break up?"

"Do you?"

"I hope not." You mumble. "I wouldn't dare to."

"I don't think we're going to break up." He hums. "Not with the way I'm in love with you, at least."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He whispers back to you, pressing his forehead to yours, noses brushing. "Not at all."

"That's all I need to hear." You grin.

Jason takes you to prom, as all high schoolers do, arm around your waist as you press the lemon water to your lips. There's no punch out of a fear that people are going to drug it, even when everyone is searched. You wonder if you want to go to the afterparty as you dump the rest of the drink. It's nasty. You wish there was soda. At least you could work a mocktail with a Sprite and the fruit on the table. The prom location is awful too despite the pretty paintings. It smells like a high school boys' locker room.

"There's karaoke in the back," He mumbles into your skin, pressing a kiss to your neck. That too. Jason's been getting more and more frisky. He should really have some sense of shame. "Without too many people."

"There's karaoke?" You ignore the way he squeezes your waist.

"Far back. Behind all the paintings."

"Oh, fuck yes." You mumble, making a beeline for the back, bolting to the first seat by karaoke you find. Jason texts you the list of songs available and asks you if you want to sing a duet. He watches you laugh at his text and send him a song, reminding him to ask when the two of you were going. He stands behind you, hands running up and down your neck, fingers digging into your back.

"You giving me a massage?" You rest your hand on his as he pauses.

"How are your feet doing?"

"Much better now that I'm sitting down." You mumble.

"Need to swap shoes with me?"

"I'll be fine." You hum. "You ready to sing?"

"Two losers who never speak up in class singing? You bet." He laughs.

You toss your friend your phone to record the two of you.

Jason may suck at DDR, but he's a great singer. His voice rings through the room, and you're sure more than one of the students in the room has fallen for him just based on his voice, but you're having fun singing a duet with him. It's always nice to be reminded that Jason sounds like an angel despite the build. You'd have him sing with you when he drives you up for college, you think. Yet, you yell the lyrics to the Taylor Swift song with him anyway, screaming the high note and bursting into laughter afterward. Jason continues singing, holding his hand out for you to get up.

It's the highlight of your high school life, you think. The highlight isn't when you got into your dream college, the highlight is Jason Todd serenading you at prom to a Taylor Swift song. You continue singing along with him, ignoring the way your heels hurt like a bitch. Maybe you'd have him drive you to get another Batburger. Even better, you'd have him grapple you to get Batburgers. That would make the night better, you think. You'd love to fly with him.

Jason finishes, mocking a bow to the crowd, the students cheering at him.

He pulls on your hand to have you bow too. You oblige.

The two of you leave prom early. Jason pulls you away from the karaoke room immediately when you finish, the two of you bolting for his car. Your heels click against the cement of the parking lot, digging into your feet, and you spin, your phone in Jason's hand as he takes photos of you. You hope he's good. Maybe he's one of those boyfriends who manage to catch photos of you at your worse. Oh well. The idea of it makes you laugh, the high from too many students ringing in your head, the deindividuation getting to you. You smile at Jason loopily, and your camera clicks in his hand, the moment immortalized.

"For your information," Jason catches you by the waist, showing you the photo of yourself. "You look gorgeous."

"Should've had Tim take photos of us before we left." You mumble. "Can you carry me back to the car?"

"My pleasure." Jason sits you on the sidewalk, helping you out of your heels. He throws you over his shoulder, resting his hand on your ass as he takes your heels in the other hand. "This good?"

"I feel like a sack of potatoes." You laugh. "But this is fine."

"Wanna go anywhere after this?"

"Can we grapple to get Batburgers?"

"You want to grapple?" You can feel Jason raise his brow.

"Yeah." You mumble. "Can we?"

"You good with flying? Your dress is too slippery, babe." He pats your ass.

"Oh, come on."

"Silk is too slippery." He hums. "We can do it another day."

You grumble. "Can we still get Batburgers?"

"With ice cream?"

"Yes, please." You mumble as Jason opens the door to your side, settling you into the seat and putting your heels next to your feet.

"I have a change of shoes in the back of the car because Dick told me that heels make your feet hurt after a while." He kisses the corner of your eye. "I also have a change of clothes if you don't want to ruin your dress."

"Jay, I'm going to marry you," You moan in bliss. "I'll pop the ring."

Jason laughs. "I can pop the ring."

"Yeah?" You turn your head to look at him, loopy smile on your face.

"Absolutely." He laughs.

The two of you sit in the parking lot again, Jason's shirt pulled over your dress to avoid ruining the silk, biting into the burger.

"This is bliss."

"Babe." Jason hums. "Why'd you ask me out again? Not the reason you told me. I think you asked me out for another reason."

You blink at him, swallowing the bite in your mouth. "I asked you out because I actually had a pathetic crush on you."

"Deadass?"

"Yeah. I fell for you as soon as you showed up looking like my type last Halloween. I didn't know if you did it on purpose, but holy shit I had to use every last ounce of self control to stop myself from just pulling you by the collar and making out with you in the middle of the hallway. Jay, you're hot as fuck." You muffle a laugh. "Wanted you so bad that day."

"Not anymore?" He raises a brow at you.

"Still do." You bite back into the burger. Jason watches as you chew and swallow. "If anything, even more now."

"Why haven't you told me?"

"Every time you've made out with me," You sigh. "We've been in public."

"What's a little public indecency? That's definitely not the most illegal thing I've done." He taps your thigh, squeezing it.

"It would be the most illegal thing I'll do." You grumble. "Nothing illegal before college, please."

"Anything for you." He reaches for the ice cream. "Can I have a bite?"

"Finish the whole thing if you'd like." You finish the burger, reaching for a napkin. "Got a little greedy tonight."

Jason laughs.

"Right." You make sure your fingers are clean, pulling the shirt over your head. "Chose this dress because it's crazy easy to take off."

Jason raises a brow as you reach for the ribbon on your back, pulling as the whole dress comes loose on your body.

"Isn't public nudity also a crime?"

"Sure," You reach for the shirt again, pulling it over your head. "Hope you liked looking at my tits."

"Would rather be sucking on them."

"Wow, Freud would have a field day with you." You mumble. "Maybe when we're not both dying."

"Do you have a curfew?"

"Told my parents I'm going to the afterparty." You shrug. "Clearly not."

"What time are you supposed to be back?" He runs his hand up your thigh again.

"We are NOT fucking in a parking lot."

"Never said we had to." He grins. "B's got a billion safehouses around the city."

"You're going to fuck me in a safehouse?"

"And? There's no cameras there."

"You're doing all the work." You grumble.

"Wouldn't dream of having you do anything your first time."

Your back slams into the seat as he races off to a safehouse.

Jason makes quick with what you're wearing, tugging his shirt over your head, lips pressed to your skin, biting and sucking where you would let him, desperate to taste every single inch of you. You whimper multiple times, and at some point, you stop him, fingers pressed to his chest, lashes fluttering as you struggle to stay awake, apology spinning in the air as your back met the mattress again, mumbling about your exhaustion. Jason leaves you alone after it, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, pulling your makeup remover from your purse, wiping the makeup from your skin as you rest in his arms. It was domestic. He liked it.

The two of you fall asleep like that — half naked, too tired to shower off the nightmare called prom.

Jason doesn't like visiting your place while in gear. He's usually bloody with someone else's blood by the end of patrol, and he'd rather bleed out in the Batcave than your room, but he doesn't have much of a choice this time, gash too big. He calls for backup with a press of the button, letting himself rest on your balcony for a moment.

"Jesus fucking christ," You throw your window open, first aid kit in your hand. "Do I need to get used to this?"

"Nope."

"You're fucking lucky I chose sportsmed as my pathway in high school, you nerd." You grumble, sterilizing the needle and disinfecting his wound. "You need stitches."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and take it." You shove a cloth into his mouth. "That's clean. Bite if it hurts."

"I've taken worse befo— oW!" He bites into the cloth as you start stitching him up. Your fingers are fast, and in a couple of minutes, his wound is stitched up. You wrap the gauze and bandage around his waist, securing it. Jason notices you're frowning the whole time.

"Not the first time, huh?"

"I hope it's the last." You grumble. "Did you call for backup?"

"Night's coming."

You sigh, leaning back against the railing on your side. "What happened?"

"Some guy with a sharp ass knife."

You raise a brow at him.

"It was a henchman. Six to one."

"Fucking hell." You grimace. "You're not gonna die one of these days, right?"

"I've dodged death once. I can do it again."

"Don't say shit like that." You grumble.

"Little wing! Oh, hey," Nightwing smiles at you, and you nod.

"I stitched him up. Have Al check him at home too, please. He's got more experience than me."

"We will. Thanks for patching him up."

"I hope it's the last time." You grumble. "Are you going tomorrow?"

"Might stay home. Send me the notes?" You don't need to see Jason's face to see him wince.

"Sure."

You've visited the Wayne manor more than enough times to know how to get to Jason's room, showing Alfred the notes from school, a grin on your face. You apologize for intruding, only for Alfred to tell you you're welcome whenever. You wonder if his family knows the two of you are dating. You have a feeling Tim caught his BeReal from when the two of you first started going out. Oh, well. It wasn't as if you needed to hide it from his family. Your parents were the harder ones.

"Hey," You wave at Jason. "Brought your notes and homework."

"Thanks. Anything from Lit?"

"Nope. Still the end of year project. You gonna be there for AP testing?"

"Yeah." He mumbles. "You gonna sleep while testing again?"

"Yeah." You deadpan. "Hundred percent."

"C'mere," He grabs you by the waist, sitting you on his lap as he continues on his laptop.

"Whatcha up to?"

"Hacking the CIA's firewalls." He mumbles, fingers clicking on the keyboard.

"That's a Tim answer." You raise your brow. "Why are you doing it?"

"Wanted to see if I got rusty."

You watch as he does, blinking in surprise when he manages to get into the files, scrolling through the files.

"Are you deleting your file in the CIA database?"

"I do it to fuck with em." He smiles. "Wanna read my file?"

"Fuck, yeah." You mumble, scrolling through all the information they had on him. "They never got your blood sample?"

"Never. The goons who get my blood don't have the equipment for DNA matching, and they would definitely not work with the CIA."

"You're on a watchlist, then?"

"I run crime in Gotham."

"An antihero." You point at the line in the file. "You minimize crime by controlling it from within."

"It's good to have a leg in everything."

"That's a lot of legs." You count on your hand. "Way more than two."

"You know what I mean."

You grin. "Yeah. I do."

"Wanna go anywhere before grad?"

"Wanna drive to New York?"

"And blow daddy's money?"

"Your daddy's money," You tap his chest playfully.

"He won't even notice." He smiles. "Motor or car?"

"Car."

"Bet."

AP testing could be a lot better. You sleep through half of it, finishing your multiple choice and essay questions too fast, exhaustion all over your face when you finish, calling your friend your savior as she hands you your coffee order. You could leave early if you really wanted to, but you don't, for some weird reason, and you stick by the rest of your classes, physically exhausted from all of the APs. Your coffee does little to minimize the psychic damage you received while taking the exam.

Even when Jason takes you to get dinner together, you're half picking through your food, half actually eating.

"Tired?"

"I can't wait to graduate." You mumble. "At least we don't need to be here during finals week."

"You gonna travel?"

"Wanna fly to Bruce's place in Hawaii?"

"Too cliche," Jason mumbles. "How about his mansion in the Alps?"

You gasp. "Deadass?"

"I can ask. I doubt he'd say no." Jason reaches for a fry on your plate, his empty.

"Want the rest of them?"

"Not hungry?"

"Not really." You reach for the second half of the sandwich. "Burnt out, more."

"Wanna take two weeks of independent study to run for the Alps?" Jason blurts.

You blink at him incredulously. "My parents would kill me."

"Not if I have Bruce lie and say it's for a camp."

You tilt your head at him. "My dad hates your dad."

"He does?"

"Daddy issues. Inferiority complex." You chew on the sandwich. "Doesn't matter. Send me a ticket. I'll lie and say it was for a class project to try and figure out the probability of lotteries and by some weird stroke of luck I got it."

"Gotcha."

The lie works, and the two of you take two weeks of independent study for the Alps, something only three people know the real reason for. It's really only Jason's family. The two of you both have stellar grades — it doesn't matter if you take a break. You wander into the Wayne mansion, surprised at everything you see. It's kept in crazy good condition despite the lack of servants.

"You guys got a maid here or something?" You mumble at the lack of dust.

"Bruce had it cleaned a couple days ago because I said we'd be coming."

"Can we wear cute clothes and head to the farmer's market?"

"Of course."

You pause. "Are we still going to New York?"

"Do you not want to anymore?"

"No." You hum. "I'm down. I just figured since we're in the Alps..."

"We're still going unless you cancel."

"Not canceling." You cross your arms. "Definitely not cancelling."

You find out just how much money Jason gets in a month's allowance on the trip. You're not allowed to pay for anything, jaw dropping at the black card that you didn't know a teen could even own, and the sheer amount of cash that Jason had was just baffling. You felt bad at first, only for Jason to pull up his bank records and show you just how much money was in his account. You wish you were born as a billionaire's son. Maybe you should've stolen car tires to get adopted by Bruce Wayne — the thought makes you laugh.

"You feel better?"

"If dating you means self care trips, I'm going to get down on a knee and propose. If we break up, I'll haunt you to your death." You yawn, grabbing another handful of blueberries. "Kill myself, even."

"That's a little extreme. I have no plans to break up with you." Jason pushes his shades up, turning to look at you.

"How's Gotham? Aren't you supposed to be there to control crime n shit?"

"Burner phone." He waves the old device in his hand. "Henchmen."

"Loyal?"

"Enough." Jason hums. "Wanna go to the fields later?"

"Yeah. Let's bike." You grin.

The fields of grass remind you of Jason's eyes, a green that you only got to see during spring and the rare moments of peace in Gotham. Dare you say it, it reminds you of Ivy's plants sometimes. Or the look of that one time toxins spilled into the river. The green of his eyes is vibrant in all the best and worst ways, but it's still dazzling to you. Laying in the grass makes you remember your date in the park. This time, the fields are pretty much empty.

"Wanna pick up from the park?" Jason rests on his side, fingers tapping your chest.

"I thought I told you I'm not doing anything indecent in public."

"Making out is hardly indecent."

"Your teenage hormones and the way you've been staring at my tits in this dress? Indecent." You yawn, turning to face him. "Does Bruce have cameras in the mansion?"

"Not in the master bath."

"Deal."

"Don't fall asleep this time."

"Oi," You punch him lightly. "Rude. That was after prom. I was tired."

"Just saying."

You punch him again in retaliation.

Jason wastes no time in having you, fingers pressed to your skin again, harder this time, nipping and biting at your skin, ignoring the way you try to tell him not to leave visible marks. You could live with a couple hickeys for two weeks. He nips at your neck, sliding the sundress down your shoulders, tugging at the string hiding your tits from him, lips pressing to you again as your fingers thread through his hair.

Jason didn't think it would be possible to love someone to this extent. He watches as you breathe in his arms, head pressed to his chest, bare skin pressed onto his, chests meeting. His fingers brush your cheek, heart warm and alive, lashes fluttering as he continues staring, hickeys formed on your skin, something you'd probably smack him for later. But he's sure you enjoyed it. He made sure that you did. He holds his breath as you shift in his arms.

"G'mornin." You mumble.

"Mornin'." He smiles.

"'m sore." You grumble. "Bitch." You punch him weakly.

"Was it good, though?" Jason laughs at your frown.

"Yeah." You sigh. "I'll go make breakfast."

"I'll do it."

"You're going to burn the kitchen down. No." You grumble. "Carry me around... I'll cook?"

Jason lifts you in a chair as you tell him to move you around, laughing when he starts ignoring you on purpose, smile on his face when you call for him. He complies after the third time, helping you plate the food and adjusting your seat height so you were comfortable.

"You should cook for me forever."

"I think you should move into my college dorm with me." You deadpan. "Just join me there. Bruce can donate a building or something."

"That's illegal."

"And you're a white man. Pick a privilege."

"Should I go blonde for the full white man privilege?" Jason taps his chin. "Would I look good blonde?"

"You'd give your family a heart attack, that's for sure." You mumble. "We should photoshop you to make you blonde."

"Are you into blondes?"

"I'm into you." You smile, the two of you going quiet before a laugh breaks past your lips. "I've been waiting to use that."

"I can tell." Jason hums, lips pulled into a smile.

"If you go blonde..." You pause. "No. Don't go blonde. Blonde gym rats scare me."

"Excuse you, I am not a gym rat."

"You'll stick out like a sore thumb during patrol." You grimace. "It's all black and then your hair is glowing in the dark like you're a flashlight."

"That's just insulting." Jason covers his mouth. "I wear a helmet, babe."

"It's the truth."

"Bruce would have a heart attack." Jason hums. "Sounds tempting."

"We can bleach your hair while here." You offer. "Your whole head."

"And ruin my perfect hair? No thanks."

"Says the loser with white hair."

"Now that's insulting." He taps your nose, frowning. "You and I both know why I have white hair."

"Cuz you almost died?"

"Yeah."

The two of you settle with Photoshop instead, cutting and pasting some random guy's blonde hair on top of Jason's, making him bald in the process. You take a photo to send to Dick and Tim, putting blue eyes on top of Jason's too, turning him into the textbook white man. You fall over in with the chair from how hard you laugh, Jason left to deal with the result of you sending the family his white man portrait. Dick sends a portrait to get edited too, and you go through the whole family, giving them blonde hair and blue eyes. You send the family photo into the groupchat, changing all of their contact photos to the edited version of them in the process. Jason finds it pointless, but from how hard you're laughing, he lets it pass.

"So? Do I look good blonde?"

"You look good no matter what you look like." You hum, leaning into his chest as you delete any evidence of the images on the desktop. "But really, you should join me for college."

"Too much work."

"You're a valedictorian."

"So are you."

You sigh. "I'm going to be all aloneeeeee."

"I'll call you every day."

"You can't promise that."

"We can call while I'm on patrol."

"Babe, I'll be asleep by then."

"With your sleep schedule?"

You go quiet.

"That's what I thought."

"We should send each other photos every day."

"One of those cheesy phone apps?"

"Yeah." You grin. "Or make video diaries."

"I'm not making a video diary."

"I'll make you video diaries to show you what I do in a day." You grin.

"Will I get to see your tits?"

"When I change, sure."

The two of you fly back at the end of the week, the hickeys from Jason all faded and the scratches from you all healed. It was like it never happened — save for the teeth mark you left on Jason's chest before leaving. You just wanted a bite, nothing more.

Both you and Jason turn in all your work when you return, grades still intact, end of the school year at your fingertips, buying tickets for grad. Jason has to buy more tickets from the students because of how big his family is. You joke that Bruce is going to end up with 14 grandchildren. The way Jason grimaces makes you think that it isn't exactly impossible. You don't want to find out.

You help Jason pin his grad cap into his hair so he doesn't look bald.

"Where was this idea when I graduated?" Dick clicks his tongue as you pin Jason's hair down.

"Probably with the girls," You have Jason shake his head to check if the cap was secure. It is. "I saw your grad photos. It's the classic image everyone gets."

"You gonna pin my cap in for my grad too?" Tim hums.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No?" He raises a brow.

"Huh. Thought you did." You shrug. "I'll do it if you don't have any friends who figure it out."

The two of you head out, waving bye to the Wayns as Jason sits in his car.

"We're meeting in the gym, right?"

"Yeah. No bags." Jason hums.

"I'll just clip all of these," You clip them onto your gown.

Graduation is a blur as you take photos with your friends and with Jason, fireworks going off in the back, lips pressed to his in the darkness, pulling away when the two of you break into your own respective friend groups, photos taken with each other. You wonder if you should just introduce Jason to your parents officially at grad. You find that you don't have much of a choice when you spot Dick with your parents. You have no idea how he did it.

"Little wing!"

Jason groans at the nickname. "Hey, Dick."

"You're done!" Dick puts Jason into a headlock, and you take the flowers from your parents.

"Congrats." They smile at you.

You smile back. "Thank you. Ah, uh, this is Jason."

"We've met." Your mom smiles at Jason and he stands up, sighing.

"Dick, don't be rude."

"No, like," You pause, grimacing. Jason takes your hand, rubbing soothing circles, speaking up instead.

"We're dating."

"Oh." Your mom blinks, eyes wide.

"How long?" Your dad cuts in.

Jason looks at you as you swallow, squeezing his hand. "Since the first day of senior year."

Your dad is about to speak up when Dick spots Bruce and the rest of his siblings, waving for them at the spot. Your mom squeezes your arm, almost as if to tell you that you would talk later about it. Jason pulls you off to meet the rest of his family, Cass placing a lei around your neck, congratulating you for graduating. You smile at her thanking Bruce as he hands you a card. You don't want to think about what's inside of it. You slip that into the gift bag Tim hands you, thanking his family for the gifts, only to get pulled to the side by your other friends' families, more photos taken and leis thrown around your neck. You catch Jason end up pulled to the side by his friends, and you somehow end up in the mix.

By the end of the night, you're thoroughly spent, slouching in the back of your parents' car, exhaustion all over your face.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Your mother's voice is quiet.

"Didn't think you'd approve."

"Then why date him?" Your dad speaks up this time, voice hard. "If you knew we didn't want you dating that Wayne kid, why did you—"

"Cuz I like him." You sigh. "Love him a lot. Love him like the two of you love each other."

"You can't guarantee that. You're only in high school." Your mother reasons. "I'm sure there are—"

"Don't want another." You mumble, curling into the gift bag Tim handed you. "I know he's the one."

The car stops at the red light, and you glance to look at your dad's expression.

"Since when?"

"I told you, start of the school year—"

"No. When did you decide it was alright to keep secrets?" He raises his voice, and you wince.

"Honey, she's young, she'll—"

You blink, exhaustion in your body making it impossible for you to argue back with him, the arguing would have been futile anyway. You wonder if Jason is enjoying his graduation party. Maybe he's getting the night off from patrol since it was graduation. Maybe you'll text him later when you get home. You probably won't. You're too tired for it. Your dad's yelling is tuned out automatically, your body on autopilot when you bring everything to your room and drop it to the ground. You really hope Tim didn't bring you something that would break easily. You'll look tomorrow.

The knock at your window after you shower makes you pause.

"What are you doing here?"

"Wanna go grapple?" Jason smiles.

"My hair is wet. I don't wanna catch a cold."

"Put it in the helmet. It's waterproof." He pops it off his head, locking it around your neck. You glance at his domino mask.

"Do I need shoes?"

"I'll carry you the whole time." He hums. "Lock your door."

"Already did." You adjust the helmet on your head, wrapping your arms around his neck as he warps an arm around your waist. You hear the sound of the hook launch, and you stare through his helmet as he swings you into the air, the city of Gotham beneath you, warm wind of summer blowing against you, the cityscape rendering you breathless. The sound of screams and cars cancel each other out as Jason lands on a roof, adjusting his hold on you so you'd be more comfortable.

"So?" He raises a brow at you.

"It's gorgeous." You grin, turning to look at him. "Do you see this every night?"

"Only when I grapple. Usually I don't get to see because I'm grappling to catch a criminal."

"I love it." You hum.

"Want a batburger?"

"Fuck yeah."

The two of you swing down to the place as Jason puts you down in a booth to order. You fold your legs up, grinning at Jason as he hands you an ice cream.

"How'd you know I didn't want a burger?" You raise a brow.

"Too late for burgers." He hums. "You said you only liked ice cream after two."

"Thank you." You beam, watching Jason stare at you. "Something happen?"

"Your dad looked like he was going to hit you." Jason mumbles. "Did he hit you later?"

"No. He just got mad I kept it from him..." You pause. "And that I'm dating you. They think you're going to break up with me."

"Hope they have fun at the wedding, then." Jason hums. "You're alright?"

"I tuned them out on the car ride home." You smile.

"Alright. Dick was worried too. He said your dad looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel when I pulled you to my family." Jason hums. "Should I have dinner with them sometime?"

"No. They aren't going with me to move for college, so it doesn't matter." You mumble.

"You need help packing? I can send Cass."

"It's fine." You tap his hand. "I promise."

"Are you cutting ties with them?"

Your breath catches in your throat. "I... don't know."

"If you do, Bruce says he'd be more than willing to fund your education." Jason whispers.

"Woah, I'm already part of your family?" You gasp.

"Yeah." He nods. "So if you cut ties with your family, you have mine."

"I'll be fine." You mumble, staring at his hand. "I promise."

Your parents don't catch you. As mad as they could get, they didn't really care about what you did in your free time. Not even when you snuck out. You don't know why they're so mad about the whole dating situation, but given Bruce and Dick's public images, you aren't surprised they'd think Jason would do the same — even given the fact that you had been friends with him since you started high school.

When you get ready for work the next day, you barely notice the way your parents are sitting on the couch like you owe them a conversation.

"Young lady, where are you going?"

"Work." You turn to look at them.

"Or on a date?"

"This is what I wear to work." You repeat yourself.

Your dad raises a brow at you but doesn't speak further when you leave.

You're really contemplating running away from home. You don't have an actual reason to, so you stay home for the most part, ignoring the knocks on your door and hopping out your window when you wanted to go somewhere. Jason resorts to calling you when he isn't jumping in your window to talk with you for a bit. You can do with the distance, but it isn't ideal. The exhaustion from your lack of mobility is catching up to you.

"What do you think could change their minds?"

You frown, finishing first in Mario Kart. "Nothing."

"Not even a dinner?"

You frown. "They don't like the rich."

"They know I'm adopted, right?"

"They won't like that you're an orphan either."

"They're picky."

"Really picky." You grumble. "Last time I brought a boy home, they scared him off."

"They won't be able to scare me off, you know?"

"Yeah." You pause. "Maybe you should eat with them sometime."

"Dinner?"

You frown. "They're hosting a barbecue next week. I'll invite you."

"You're going to force me into the guest list?"

"It's better with more people." You mumble. "The fact that you were wearing a valedictorian gown might also help."

"When is it?"

"Next Saturday at 5pm." You mumble. "You know how to barbecue?"

"Would it surprise you if I say yes?"

"Yeah." You hum. "You know any of my friends' families?"

"Two. Good terms too."

"Alright. Don't be late."

"Should I bring meat?"

You seriously contemplate asking him if he wants to bring Wagyu, but you decide against it. "Bring beer."

"Ey, we can't drink yet."

"I'll rush to help you. My dad's probably going to get me to buy beer anyway."

"The expensive kind?"

"I'll send you a couple of brands." You pause. "Invite Dick too."

"To charm your mom?"

"Yeah." You grin. "To charm my mom and her friends."

You know your parents better than Jason realizes. When you help him bring the beer into your house, your father's expression softens, asking Jason if he wanted a bottle. Jason turns it down, mentioning that he still has to drive home later, also that he wasn't technically at the legal drinking age — not that it stopped people. You let out a breath you were holding when your dad pats him on the back and walked off to talk to the other people.

"So?"

"Went well." You mumble. "How good are you at barbecuing?"

"I'm on barbecue duty when we do it at our place."

"You're practically a barbecue dad." You gasp. "Woah."

"Yeah?"

"You have the build too. You're only missing a hawaiian shirt now." You pat his back. "You can go figure out how to help at the grill, I have to go check on my mom."

"Hope Dick hasn't stolen her from your dad."

"I sure hope not." You wince.

It ends well, the barbecue. You don't get yelled at for inviting Jason, and your mother tells you all about how Dick was such a charmer, a real ladies' guy. Your dad doesn't mention it, but from the way he kept eating, you can guess he liked Jason's grill skills. You should text him about it. Maybe you'd go for their summer barbecues sometime. You don't know.

Your dad pulls you to the side the next day.

"I'm sorry for lashing out." He pauses. "I was. It's stressful, knowing you're dating the second son of a family of players."

"I get it." You swallow. Not really. Your goal is just to make sure he likes Jason now.

"He's... he's good for you." Your dad smiles at you weakly.

You wonder if he's only saying this because Jason wouldn't leave your side earlier. Or maybe it was because your mother had told him that Jason looks at you like you're his whole world. You don't know why. But you suppose his acceptance is enough. At least you're allowed outside of the house now. You tighten the straps of your swimwear around your neck before leaving the house.

"He was good with you leaving?" Jason hands you a helmet for the bike.

"Yeah. Trusts you." You mumble. "Think Dick did a lot of work. Did you thank him?"

"Yeah." Jason hums. "Hope you're not tired of barbecue."

"Am I going to yours for it?"

"You can taste Alfred's cooking, and you can get a little more of mine." He hums. "Arms around the waist, babe."

"I'm excited." You mumble, lips quirking up as you wrap your arms around his waist. "Ooh, rock hard."

"I'm going to leave you here."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Love you too much for it."

The Wayne Manor is a mansion. Well, that much has been established, you suppose. You are, however, surprised to see a giant ass backyard with a huge ass pool. You've never been to the backyard, now that you think of it. Jason's never taken you.

"Did you bring swimwear?"

"Under the clothes," You pull your shirt over your head, ditching the shorts. "Tadaa!"

Jason laughs. "Put the shirt back on. Your tits are for me to see only, babe."

You frown. "Why not your shirt?"

Jason pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it at you. "That good enough?"

"Sure." You pull your arms through, placing your stuff to the side, jumping into the water to join his siblings.

You like the manor. Despite the constant bickering, the place felt warm, and that wasn't something you got often. The house is warm. It's warm as the Gotham sun burns into your back when you sit in the water by the ledge, head resting in your arms, it's warm when the charcoal in the grill burns, and it's warm when Cass pulls you out of the water to dry off before dinner. You could smell the food from where you were in the pool — you might just move here for the food.

Jason fills your plate for you, grabbing a little bit of everything, cutting your steak for you in advance as his family watches in awe.

"Little wing is capable of this?!"

"Steph, you owe me twenty."

"Bruce, you owe me 20k." Cass pokes at their dad as he stares at Jason.

"They bet on you?"

"Heard I got a girlfriend a while ago, and suddenly they started fighting each other over what kind of a boyfriend I would be." He switches plates with you, shrimp peeled and steak cut. "Oyster's clean, by the way."

"I'm gonna marry you."

"We've established this, I know."

You shrug, stabbing the shrimp. "Just reminding you."

"Don't beat me to the proposal, by the way." He points his knife at you.

"Master Jason." Alfred clears his throat, and Jason puts his knife down.

"Sorry, Alfred."

You hold a shrimp to his lips. "C'mon. As a thank you."

"Oh, at least you care." He bites down, chewing. "Don't beat me."

"I hope you get me a red diamond just to empty your pockets." You mumble.

"You want a ring with a gem worth a million dollars?"

"Yeah." You grin, holding a piece of steak to his lips. "You don't wanna give it to me?"

"I'll steal it."

"Oh, how romantic." You quiet down as you start eating the steak.

"You really want a red diamond?"

You glance at him, lips pulled into the fakest smile you can manage. "Yeah."

"Want it before you leave?" Jason raises a brow, the skin on his own shrimp finally peeled.

"You telling me you're gonna propose to me right out of high school? That's a recipe for disaster."

"Babe, we've been a disaster." He hums. "From you not telling your parents to me sneaking you to Switzerland to skip school, we have not been normal at all."

"Don't forget about New York."

"When is that again?"

You pretend to be offended. "I'm breaking up with you."

"I don't know what just happened, but I'm on her side." Dick cuts in.

"Me too."

"Me three."

"Guys." Jason groans.

"It's fine. We never set a date. How about in two weeks?" You hum.

"Yeah." He mumbles. "Wanna leave in the morning?"

"Sure. There's less cars then, huh?"

"We can stay at Bruce's penthouse."

"Does he have a house everywhere? New trivia game, where does Bruce Wayne NOT have a house?" You mumble.

"I don't have a place in Finland." Bruce calls from the end of the table.

You hold a hand over your mouth. "You got a place in Dubai?"

"A whole building."

"Woah..." You mumble. "How 'bout China?"

"Got a penthouse."

You blink in surprise. "Singapore?"

"Own a mansion there."

"You're not even a crazy rich asian." You mumble. "That should be a trivia game."

"For family game night?" Jason raises a brow at you, plate now empty.

"Yeah." You switch plates with him. "Which place does Bruce Wayne not own property."

"You're full?"

"Mhm." You nod. "You can have the rest."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You mumble.

Jason's driving does not scare you. You feel like it should, considering he drives pretty rough, but it does not scare you. If anything, you're worried about getting ticketed. Well, not like he was driving past the speed limit. At least you have the aux.

"How'd you convince your parents to let you go?"

"Told em it was a girls' trip." You yawn. "Lied straight through my teeth."

"You're awful."

"You're the influence."

"Makes both of us awful I guess." Jason hums. "We're staying at a hotel instead of Bruce's."

"Why's that?"

"Wanna have you without his security cameras."

You laugh. "Your horny little teenage brain."

"Both of us."

"Nuh-uh," You shake your head. "I don't think about jumping you. I think about biting you nonsexually."

"Yeah?"

You go quiet. "And marking you up. No visible marks this time." You deadpan. "New York is a hot mess and I still need to try clothes on."

"You gonna go shopping on fifth avenue?"

"Will you let me?"

"Go blow my money."

"Then I won't go easy."

Jason leans on the wall as you show him different clothes, doing a little spin for him when he asked. You try a bunch of stuff on only to buy three articles of clothing. You still feel bad for spending his money. Besides, he was paying for the hotel. You really wonder if you should buy him coffee as a thank you or something. Though, as Jason rips the tag directly off one of the dresses you try on, the thought disappears.

"We'll take this one." He hands the tag to the cashier. "Keep it on. You look good."

"Thank you." You grin, taking the bags from Jason as he pulls out his card. You blink as he swipes it without thinking. You wonder if you'd get to live a life like that.

"Thinking?" He takes the bags from your hand again, card in his wallet.

"I wanna be a rich kid..." You mumble. "I'd love to be rich."

"You have me."

"Yeah, but it's still different from being rich yourself." You hum. "Let's head back for the day."

"Tired?"

You frown. "I don't want you swiping your card any more."

"Why not?" He moves his bags onto one hand, lacing his fingers with yours. "It's for you. Bruce is fine with it."

"Yeah, but." Your face drops. "too much."

"Alright. But this much," Jason holds the bags up. "That isn't really considered much if you consider—"

"I'm not one of them, Jay." You squeeze his hand. "I'm fine with what you've got me already. Wanna go to the ice cream museum tomorrow?"

"Sure." He smiles. "Make the reservations."

"Got it." You grin.

Because no matter how willing Jason is when it comes to swiping his card for you, he still respects your words. Even when you're telling him it's too much, he knows when you truly draw the line, in the way your eyes harden and your voice drops. Jason would spill his entire fortune for you, anything for you, just for your happiness. That was all that mattered to him — the little sparkle in your eye when you were happy, the small upward tug of your lips when you were content, the way your body relaxed when you were truly at peace. You. As long as you were happy, he was happy. Hand on your cheek and lips pressed to yours, he was happy.

"You gonna miss me in college?" He squeezes your cheek as you stare at the NYU banner.

"Definitely." You hum. "You should go here."

"Why's that?"

"It's where all the rich kids go." You grin.

"Daddy's money could get me into your school too." He smiles, leaning down to press his forehead to yours teasingly.

"Then why not use it?"

"Cause Bruce actually values honesty." He pulls away, glancing at the banner.

"And you?" You tilt your head.

"I don't care." He grins. "Want me to get in with Daddy's money?"

"Want you to join me next year with just your grades."

"Want me to leave the city behind for you?"

"Yeah."

"Just to join you?"

"Yeah."

"One year, babe."

"Bet."

You take a photo with him at your school when you move, scribbling 1 year in pencil on the picture.

A year later, Jason's your dormmate, a new photo pinned on the mini bulletin board in the room.

Jason presses his lips to your forehead as you shift in the morning sun, smile on his lips as he greets you. You mumble a greeting back, falling asleep again. His lips pull into a gentle smile, closing his own eyes. His breathing syncs with yours, hearts beating together, the rays of the morning sun warming his skin as he shields you from the light. You never liked waking up because the curtains were too sheer.

For him, even getting you a star in the sky seemed like a menial task.

After all, if you were happy, so was he.

And as he feels your body relax into the mattress, he's sure you'd say the same for him.

#jason todd x reader #jason x reader #hate basic ass names #todd x reader #jason todd imagine #dc x reader #☾.fics

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dizzyemi · 5 months

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Hi! How are you?? I hope you are okay! Are you still taking requests? If you are, I have a request: What if s/o is Oda Sakunosuke's little sister/brother and s/o REALLY looks like Odasaku(Oda Sakunosuke) Their hair colour, eye colour is the same as his And s/o joins to Agency. What would ADA would do? If you aren't taking requests, you can ignore this! But if you are taking requests and if you do this, it would make my day! Thank you!!

I'm on the floor I loved this! I hope you don't mind I did a small drabble for the whole agency as one at the start but only went into details with characters that knew Oda and added Ango. I didn't know what s/o was till half way so this could be seen as platonic or romantic. I hope you liked it and feel free to tell me if there's anything I'm missing

Familiar Faces 𓇢𓆸

Includes: Fukazawa (platonic), Ranpo, Ango, Dazai x Oda's younger sibling

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Notes: Dark Era and season four spoilers!!! Slight Beast! mention but no spoilers (Fukazawa), Probably oc, not proofread, bad grammar, gn reader, reader is unaware that Oda was in the mafia, reader is implied to be over 18

Format: Headcannons/ Drabbles

Summary: Being Oda's younger sibling

The Agency

You suprisingly grew up a very normal life thanks to your older brother. You knew he had a dangerous job and admired him greatly, after all who wouldn't? He took in orphans and visited them daily, bringing you along too. It became your whole life.

The day everything changed left an indescribable ache in your chest, like a piece of your world vanishing, leaving behind a void filled with quiet memories. You had just finished up school that year but your whole life was gone, everything you had was gone and you didn't even know why. It took you a few years till you decided to use your abilities for good and find out what happened.

You ended up joining a detective agency filled with ability users who are all very helpful and kind. It felt so welcoming that you genuinely enjoyed working here..but however, you couldn't help but notice three who looked at you with a certain, almost sad familiarity—as if they knew you. You hadn't met them before but they knew you- or at least some part of you that you didn't know how, they knew him. It's unnerving because how do they know?

Fukazawa Yukichi

He'd recognise you immediately

Well at least who you're related too

He only met Oda once as a teenager

I don't think he met him again so I doubt he knows what happened (tell me if I'm wrong)

Might've heard that he wasn't an active assassin anymore

Definitely on guard when he meet you

Like a relative of a former assassin willing applying to be a detective?

But you were different

He could see it in your eyes that were full of emotions,loss and compassion

Unlike those eyes he saw years ago

You have never killed

It was a bit unsettling though

He needed to know of your intentions

He glanced at you and then back at the application form. He knew he recognised that name, he knew that tinge of red hair and those empty brown eyes that mirrored the features of that boy—an exact replica. To him it made sense to have this interview in the cafe instead of his office.

But the eyes he was looking into were different this time; instead of being void of any emotion it glinted with loss and nervousness. This was an interview, of course you were nervous as the older man continued to keep silent, you felt like he was judging your very soul but in reality he was wondering something else.

Finally he puts the sheets down and clears his throat "What motivated you to apply for this job?". He was curious, you were undoubtedly related to the assassin so why are you applying to be a detective? What were your intentions?

Trying to calm your nerves, you took a deep breath. "I want to do good. I want to help people, like my brother."

He didn't react, but it was evident he was waiting for further explanation, especially regarding the mention of your brother. The silence hung in the air, prompting you to delve into the details.

Hearing your explanation of Oda surprised him

He didn't know any of this (I think)

To know that kid changed into a caring young man and raised his sibling and the orphans

Those eyes that were once lifeless, with no care for his life or anything, had changed

Said he must've been a good man

I think Fukazawa would've tooken Oda in like Ranpo back then :( maybe that's what happened in beast

He gave his his condolences when he found out he died

The waitress in the café came and asked if you two were ordering

Fukazawa ordered something small

You ordered a curry, spicy specifically you said

Fukazawa officially hired you when you passed your entrance exam

He knew you were a good person

I'd like to think later on he might tell you that he met Oda when he was a teen

Edogawa Ranpo

He met Oda twice

First as teens

And last in passing as adults

He tried to stop him :(

When he first met you he instantly knew you were related

He also knew that you were trying to find out how everything happened

I don't think he'd tell you at first for your sake

But as you get closer as friends maybe he would

Somewhat guiding you into figuring it out yourself

Ranpo doesn't act like it but I think he cares

You're having a bad day and about to snap?

You find a sweet you don't remember putting in your pocket

It's very small acts but it comforts you

Alone at your desk, with everyone gone home , and you asked if you could stay over a little to longer to finish something you'd been working on for months– finding out what happened that day.

Coming home from school, you headed to the curry place where you and your older brother always ate, where the orphans were cared for. Instead, you found chaos – police, bystanders, and a devastating revelation from an officer.

Devastated, you waited in grief for your brother, only to discover he was gone too. Everything you knew and loved vanished, leaving you desperate for answers.

You've been building up this personal case for months, you weren't that suprised to find out Oda was a mafiaso and former assassin but god still not knowing why everything happened still gnaws at you, Your world was taken, and the lack of understanding weighs heavily on your chest.

You groan and slump against the desk, the frustration of not knowing amplifying the ache in your chest. You felt like you were getting nowhere.

You felt a tug on your shirt and you lift your head up startled to see Ranpo leaning behind you. He doesn't bother asking why you're still here because he already knows but when you're about to ask him the same question he shushes you with his finger and pulls out a bag of sweets "I left these behind". That's a lie- unless he really wanted these specific sweets that he so happened to leave behind.

He pulls up a chair beside you, the wheels squeaking from only slight movement and plopping himself down.

Silently he offers the bag of sweets, you presume he wants you to open it and you do, going back to your papers after but he offers you the now open bag again, a silent invitation to take one.

You mutter a quiet thank you and take a sweet. It's silent as you both eat the sweets but it's a comfortable silence.

Osamu Dazai

Oh my god

I can't

You knew Dazai back when Oda was alive

When he came to the house or orphans

I'd say you got along

Oda definitely told Dazai to refrain from mentioning the mafia to you

And he kept to that no matter how many times you asked Dazai about how he knew your brother or what his job was

You were probably somewhat friends :(

Didn't see each other for four years until you joined the agency

At first you didn't recognise him

He's wearing less bandages

But he certainly recognised you

An exact image of your brother

I feel like there's two ways this could go

1. He completely ignores, distancing himself from you

2. He's completely all over, absolutely protective of you and making sure your okay at all times

I think it be both

You found that everyone was quite welcoming at the agency and you got along with everyone... although there was one who always avoided you no matter what.

And that was Osamu Dazai.

The moment you stepped into the office his heart dropped as if he seen a ghost, his facade halting only for a moment before he picked up his usual demeanor again. Quietly slipping away before you see him

He'd be stupid to think you wouldn't recognise him but he ignored you anyways. Oh you're coming back from a case? Where did Dazai go? He suddenly vanished (sarcasm). You try to approach him? He is sprinting the other way.

He cannot look at you at all without thinking about Oda, he will not let you close to him again because everything he never wants to lose is always lost and he doesn't want to lose you too.

He is trying to distant himself from you, he doesn't want you to get hurt, he wants you to be safe, he wants you to live the normal life that Oda tried to give you, he wants you- your gaze, your words, your touch-and it scares him, everything worth wanting is lost the moment he obtains it, that is the life of Osamu Dazai.

Though he ignores you directly, he watches over you through other means, making sure in any plans your safety is first, that your teamed up with someone dependable and your getting home safe after work.

But Dazai can't run away from ghost's forever, not when that ghost is at arms length. He always manages to slip away when you try to even speak to him but not this time- you got him cornered, he has no choice but to see his past once again.

I don't know how to write confrontation so just wheater you argued or broke down crying

He will realise he can't keep you away

Perhaps he'll let you close again

But not too close

He knows very well that you see his facade

Being with you he doesn't have to keep his bubbly mask on

You'd both sit silently together by Oda's grave

The silence is not deafening with you, it's calm, a silent mutual understanding between you

He would definitely have nightmares of losing you too

Too the point I don't think he'd leave your side

Constantly hovering around you, partnering up with you everytime so he knows your safe, knocking at your dorm in the dead of night because of a nightmare

It's silly he thinks but still it worries him deep down, after all he is human

Ango Sakaguchi

I know he's not part of the agency

But I think he helped you get into it

I think Ango would've taken care of you:(

Not directly but from afar

He'd feel too guilty

Finding out that you were looking for a job involving where you could get hurt he immediately directed you to the Agency

Partially because of Dazai

He knew he would watch over you no matter what

And you'd have each other :(

#bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader #ango x reader #fukazawa x reader #osamu dazai #edogawa ranpo #ranpo edogawa #dazai osamu #oda sakunosuke #bsd x you #dazai x you #ranpo x you

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dancingdonatello · 3 months

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Hello hello! May i request(if they're still open, if not feel free to just delete this!) Uhh Donnie with a reader who fucking loves turtles? Like quite literally knows everything about a few select kinds? I love turtles with my whole heart i could tell you everything about alligator snapping turtles AND spiny softshells like actually.

Anyway, thank you very much, and i hope you have a great day <33

rottmnt donatello x gn reader

Usually when people spoke to Donnie, they felt like they were under the microscope. It felt like Donnie was dissecting them as they talked.

But with you, it felt as though the tables had turned.

You examined his claws, his snout, his eyes, and even his scales as you listed off fun facts about his species.

By the time you finally took a deep breath after finishing, he was… flabbergasted. You knew more about him than he did. And also, you brushed your fingers along the spines of his back. He definitely shouldn’t have offered to take his battle shell off.

Oh, you weren’t done.

“Did you know you can stay under water for seven months?”

That didn’t seem right, but when he opened his mouth to challenge you, your fingers pet over his shell again. He clamped his mouth shut, speechless.

You were back to his hands again, comparing hand sizes. His were much larger, scaled and non-human, but you still curled your fingers around him. You grimaced a little at the uncomfortable feeling of your fingers being squeezed between his three but you kept it there.

You smiled at him. His hold tightened on your hand.

“You know, I know a lot about alligator snapping turtles too.” Your gaze traveled to the lab door.

He imagined you leaving him to go find Raph. You’d tell him all about his own species while touching him, just like you did to Donnie.

When your fingers loosened on his, he tightened his hold even further.

He fumbled for a reason for you to stay when you looked back at him surprise.

“Don’t you want to observe more of me?”

“You already took off your battle shell, though?” You tilted your head at him cutely. He didn’t say anything, letting you come to your own conclusions. When your face lit up, he knew that you had figured it out. “Donnie… do you have a tail?!”

It would be so embarrassing, but as long as you stayed longer, he’d do anything.

#rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #donatello x reader #rise donatello x reader #rise donnie x reader #donatello hamato x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader

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likedovesinthewindd · 11 months

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this is a sort of continuation of this request for @xoxobabe. wc: ±1310

That night you went home unsated, thoughts of your interaction with the cool stranger plaguing your mind. You were a bit upset you didn't even get his name, so you had no way of finding him.

You just couldn't get over how cool he was, effortlessly so too. He walked around with unmissable confidence and suave, like he knew everyone was in awe of him. You'd give everything to have another conversation with him, preferably one where you didn't make a complete fool of yourself.

A few days later it seemed as though your prayers had been answered when your friend had payed you a visit. "I went to visit my friend, it was a small gathering, just a few people, and some guy there asked for you," she said as the two of you sat on your small couch.

Your breath hitched a bit at the possibility that it could be him, and your brows rose in intrigue. "Who was it?" you asked and she shrugged. "He didn't give me a name. Just asked where you were and asked me to give you this," she fished in her pants pockets until she pulled out a small paper and handed it to you. On it was a number scribbled in almost unreadable handwriting.

"What did he look like?" you asked, inspecting the small paper. "Really tall, lots of piercings and crazy clothes, had wicks?" she said and you tried not to look too elated. It was him, and he had asked for you. Maybe you hadn't made a complete fool of yourself.

That night you had planned to called him. But you didn't.

Three weeks; you had kept the little piece of paper by your nightstand for three weeks and not once did you call him. You'd come close, already pressing the numbers in but every time you tried to press "call", you'd drop everything, once again placing the paper on your nightstand.

You didn't know why were so hesitant. A small part of your brain kept telling you that you'd royally fuck up once you started talking again. You didn't even know what you'd talk about too. What if once you called him you'd freeze up like an idiot, or say something so stupid and weird that he'd have no choice but you hang up.

It bothered you as well. He must've thought you didn't want to talk to him, but you did. You so badly did, but you just didn't know where to start. Ironic seeing that you had all the facilities, just not the willpower to do anything with them.

♪.˳⁺⁎˚

Your friend had asked you to join her to go and see some band perform, and you had gladly agreed. Anything to take your mind of the little paper burning a hole in both your nightstand and your mind. You had dressed in your best, spent hours on your hair and makeup, the whole shebang. You needed a night out more than anything.

The venue was fairly small but quite full, but you and your friend fortunately found place quite close to the actual stage. She kept your place while you went to the little bar to get the two of you drinks. By the time you carefully made your way back to her, squeezing through the crowd trying not to spill anything, you heard the static of the mic and the band getting introduced. You tried to get a look while you moved but it was so packed all around you.

When you made it to your friend and finally got a chance to see the performers—just as they began—you couldn't believe your eyes.

Right there in front of you on stage, he stood, playing guitar like he was getting payed to do it (which he probably was). It was definitely a sight for sore eyes, and you felt like burying your head into the ground like an ostrich. If he saw you, you'd probably combust on the spot just from the embarrassment alone. How your friend forget to add this detail when telling you about tonight, you didn't know.

The band itself was amazing too. You enjoyed the music, it might not have have been what you'd listen to normally but still good music. Once they finished their performance the crowd erupted in applause and cheer. As everyone cheered you moved back into the crowd, telling your friend you needed another drink. Lord knows you truly did.

You made your way back to the small bar, politely ordering and watching intently as the bartender stared working on your drink. The sudden call of your name prompted you to turn around and once you did you wished you hadn't. It was him, of course it was.

"How've you been stranger?" he asked and you wanted to crawl in on yourself. Run away if you could. "I've been good," you smiled awkwardly as he joined you on the adjacent bar stool. "How about you?" you added.

He pursed his lips before replying. "Not too well, considering you never called," he said, "didn't your friend give you my number?" Maybe it wasn't too late to start running.

"No she did," you said quietly, "and I was planning on calling. It's just that I didn't really know how to start the conversation over the phone, if that makes sense." He only nodded, moving his body so that his body was now entirely facing you.

"Well, I'm here now, so how would you begin the conversation face-to-face?" he asked and you smiled. "I'd start by asking what the hell your name was," you said and he laughed. He extended his hand, mimicking your initial introduction. "Hobie," was all he said, although it sounded a lot more like 'Obie through his thick accent. You placed your hand in his and shook it gladly. "It's nice to meet you," you smiled.

"Your band, you guys did great, by the way," you said, thanking the bartender once he handed you your drink. "Yeah? You liked it?" he asked and you nodded excitedly. "Loved it," you said and he smiled. The sight nearly had you in shambles. "I'll have to attend every performance from now on. Just my duty as your new number one fan," you added, taking a gulp sip from your drink, your nerves not yet gone.

"Well then I can guarantee I'll be playing ten times better with you front row," he said with a smirk and you had to stop yourself from choking on your drink. "Don't inflate my ego," you said, yet you hated how small your voice sounded. "'M not," he tried, "jus' stating the facts." You found yourself giggling like a school girl.

The conversation continued for what felt like hours, the two of you sitting by the small bar, contently caught up in your own little bubble. It wasn't until one of his bandmates had called for him, telling him that they needed to pack up and get going, that he had to say goodbye.

"I hate to cut this night short love, but I have to get going," he said, standing up. You tried not to show how the nickname made your stomach flip. "It's alright, it's getting late anyway," you said, also standing up, suddenly remembering about your friend that you had deserted. "You'll call me this time, yeah?" he asked and you nodded with a small laugh.

"Good. I'll see you around, love. Take care, yeah?" and then he dissappeared into the crowd once again. You drank the last if the drink and tried to find your friend.

When you did, you apologized at your disappearance. "It's alright," she said, "I saw you were too busy with mister rockstar." You rolled your eyes at her words and the two of you made your way home. That night you planned to call him, and luckily you did.

★ part 3

#hobie brown x you #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #hobie brown x reader #likedovesinthewindd

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goldsbitch · 4 months

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That second flight

part 4 to That one Christmas flight

summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.

warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.

Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.

The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.

He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.

Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.

"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.

"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."

He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.

"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"

"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."

"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"

From now on, there was no way back.

The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.

It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.

"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.

"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."

"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."

Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.

"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.

"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."

Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.

"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.

Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."

"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"

Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.

"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."

"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."

Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."

She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.

He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.

Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.

She walked and sat opposite to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.

"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."

"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."

Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.

"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.

"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."

"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."

It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.

"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"

They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.

"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.

Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.

"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?

"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."

"Creep."

"You love it."

And she did.

He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.

"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.

"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.

"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.

"Hello, you must be Dario?"

This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.

He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.

When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."

They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.

"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.

"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"

"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."

"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.

Once Darion brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.

"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."

"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.

Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."

They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."

"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."

"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."

"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."

"Jesus, why!"

"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."

There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.

They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euro for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.

part 5

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1 @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother

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indigosunsetao3 · 2 months

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Sick Day

It's inevitable, we all get sick. How do the COD men help you through it?

Gender neutral reader perspective 18+ Fluff

Warning: Illness, vomiting (in Alex's only)

Alex - TW vomiting

You've been on the bathroom floor for who knew how long. Your knees are screaming in pain to get up but you know the moment you try to go to bed you'll get sick again. It had been like this since you woke up around 2am feeling that telltale sign in your stomach and the watering in your mouth. It must have been something you ate you think as you gasp and lean back against the tub, trying not to think of dinner the night before.

"Hey, it's me," comes a gentle voice from the other side of the door and you crack open an eye. You had asked Alex to pick up a few things from the store, you needed to try and get some electrolytes down. He had been texting you all morning to check in asking if there was anything he could do and you finally caved after finding nothing useful in the fridge.

"You can just leave it outside the door," you answer quietly, your voice a little ragged from getting sick so often. Your throat is sore and your abs hurt from just the exertion. "It's a disaster in here," you joke before your stomach heaves. Fuck. You scramble quickly for the toilet, amazed that there was anything left.

The door swings open and you gasp out for him to get out. You definitely do not want him to see you like this, a sweaty flushed mess as you gag. You groan and rest your head on the seat as a bag rustles and you feel him press a bottle of Gatorade in your hand as he pushes some hair off your sweaty neck. "Drink," he says simply, a soft order but an order nonetheless. He's already broken the seal for you and you smile a bit as you take the cap off.

"Really you don't have to be in here," you say as you sit up and take a sip of the blue liquid. "It's really gross in here and I don't want you to get sick if it's a bug," you try as you press the cool bottle to your forehead almost groaning at how nice it feels.

He's at the sink running water before he crouches down the moves to sit behind you. It's a tight fit, his legs too long to be comfortable but he adjusts making it work.

"I don't have to do anything," he replies as he gently places a cool rag on your neck. It's cold enough to send a shiver down your spine but it feels nice. "But I want to," he finishes before gently pulling you toward him.

You go without much resistance, not having the strength to really fight. He pulls you up against his chest and gently leans your head back onto his shoulder, placing another cool towel on your forehead. He really is much more comfortable than leaning against the tub and you sigh contently.

"Keep drinking," he says gently nudging your hand. "I'll stay with you until you feel well enough to go back to bed." He adjusts a bit, the bathroom cabinet creaking behind him before he softly rubs your arms and kisses the back of your sticky neck. "I've got nowhere else to be," he adds sensing you're going to protest.

Sometime later you wake up in bed with the vague memory of Alex helping you up off the bathroom floor, out of your dirty clothes and into his clean shirt. The worst of the sickness seems to have passed, and now it was just exhaustion wearing on you. There's a fresh bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand along with some bright yellow flowers. You can faintly smell cleaner where Alex has sanitized the whole bathroom for you.

Gaz

"You're sick too," you protest as Gaz sniffs from his side of the bed. You had visited his family and his youngest niece had a cold, when did she not have a cold being a toddler, and she seemed to have shared it with both of you.

"I can go to the store," he reasons before sneezing three times then leaning his head back against the headboard with an annoyed groan.

"Oh yes, because people are going to be delighted to have you sneezing and coughing all over the produce," you tease before coughing yourself and covering your mouth with the hem of your shirt.

"I'll wear a mask," he shoots back before coughing and rubbing at his temples. Each cough seemed like daggers to his head and he had been burrowed under the pillows because even the sunlight hurt his eyes. He would never admit that he was weak because it was his job to take care of you, damn it.

"We can just order take away," you fight back as you grab at him to drag him back to lay with you. "We can do that ramen place you like," you try as a lure. You don't want him to go to the store because you'd feel guilty just sitting there. But most of all you don't want him to leave the bed. Despite being miserable because you were both sick you had secretly been enjoying all the extra cuddle time with him.

"Ramen and I want boba," he mutters as you tug on the sleeve of his shoulder. He falls willingly to the side toward you, flopping over on your pillows as he stares pitifully up at you. His eyes are a bit red from all the sneezing and he sniffs again as he rubs at one of them.

"Ramen and boba," you agree before leaning down to kiss his forehead before snuggling up against him. "But you have to order," you mutter into his chest as you nuzzle in his shirt. "You're too picky," you tease as you feel him reach toward the nightstand for his phone.

"I'm not picky, I just know what I like," he answers as he gently rubs at your back with one hand, the other already scrolling through the delivery menu.

"I want..." you started but he turns the phone toward you to see he's already put in your favorite. He always remembered what you liked, even if it was only mentioned a single time or in passing. You asked him about it once but he just says part of his job is to observe and remember. So why would he not remember what you liked?

"I'm also adding a stop at the shops to get ice cream," he tacks on as he twists the phone away to scroll and add to the order. "You can't properly recover from a sore throat without that," he grins.

"Oh?" You ask, sliding your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach. His delightfully warm and you can feel him involuntarily flinch from your cold fingers. "You sure it's just not your sweet tooth? That doesn't sound like real medicine," you tease.

"It is," he scoffs, "always works for me. You'll see," he slides the phone onto the end table before rolling to curl up around you, your hand sliding to his back. "Kisses are also part of the regiment," Gaz tacks on stealing a quick one from you. "Lots," he adds peppering your lips as you giggle.

Ghost

"You should have told Price you were sick before we left," Ghost admonishes as you try to hide yet another coughing fit. You were out in the field with Ghost on a recon mission and had been drinking water and eating small throat lozenges all day to try and get rid of the tickle in your throat.

"I thought it was allergies," you answer back as you adjust on your stomach and peer down the binoculars again. That is the truth, it was spring after all. But after laying out in the sun for hours now the cough was worsening and the headache was starting to set in.

You stifle another cough as you hear Ghost shift next to you before he taps your arm. You lower the binoculars a bit to glance over and see his hand holding out a jolly rancher. He's not looking at you as he holds it out, his eyes fixed down his sniper scope. You don't ask why he had one, or if he possibly had more, before you take it and pop it in your mouth. It was cherry and you grin since that's your favorite before you go back to peering at your quarry.

"Movement headed our way," Ghost says a few minutes later as he points to a convey of beat up pickup trucks. They are heading right at you. Shuffling quickly you tuck your binoculars in your ghillie suit and look around for a place to hide better. Ghost leads the way in a small crouch, his hand reaching behind him to drag you along as you curse and stuff your fist into your mouth to stifle the cough.

Dragging you into some dense bushes Ghost pulls you between his legs as he crouches. He presses your face tight into his chest, one hand behind your head the other holding a pistol resting against your back. Your body shakes as it tries to cough again and he forcefully pushes your head further into him, his kit digging into your face.

The trucks have stopped and you hear people talking as they get out and slam doors. They are searching the area and Ghost curses as you shake with another cough, your whole body vibrating with it. He shifts a bit and you dare to look up at him. His eyes are locked on the enemy that is getting closer but he darts his eyes down to you for just a second. That is definitely worry etched in his face.

Your hands scrabble around him to hold on, to try and dig even further into his warmth. You just need to keep it together for a few minutes. Surely you can not cough for that long right? Ghost shifts just a bit so you can burrow into the softness of skin between his chest and shoulder where his vest isn't. You breathe in the scent of his deodorant and laundry detergent as he continues to hold the back of your head pushing you so hard you may suffocate. If you passed out from lack of oxygen you wouldn't be coughing at least.

They're close now you hear the quiet click of Ghost flipping the safety off, his hand fisting your hair under the hood of your suit. He jumps a bit as you bite down to fight anther cough, your teeth sinking into his shirt and flesh to stifle it. His fingers flex for a moment before he loosens the grip and imperceptibly rubs your scalp with his thumb gently; a reassurance.

A call over the radio was your savoir. The men were a breath away from the bushes and you felt Ghost tense ready to shoot when the call on their radio came in. The men disburse going back to their trucks and taking off. You both stay still for a moment before Ghost finally lets you go and you lean back to look up at him.

"That's going to leave a mark," he mutters as he looks a the spot where you bit him.

"Sorry," you answer a bit embarrassed as you cough into the back of your hand. He fishes out another sweet and unwraps it and pops it in your mouth before you realize exactly what he was doing. His fingers are quick as he pushes it between your lips, his eyes locked on his movements, before he swallows and retracts his hands. It’s green apple this time, a short zip of sour hits your tongue to pull you from the confused daze he just left you in.

"I didn't say I minded," he answers flatly before pushing his hands on his knees to help himself stand up and scan the whole area. "Come on," he extends a hand to help you up, "we've still got work to do and I only have so many sweets left in my stash."

You swear you see him smirk behind his mask as you walk to a new area to settle in for surveillance.

Price

Three days of a fever. You had been holed up in bed trying anything and everything to get it to break. The old wives tale of sweating it out made you nauseated and raised your temperature too high. Then trying to freeze it out only made you shiver and made you more miserable. Sleep had been fitful, fever induced nightmares and just being uncomfortable made it hard to get decent rest.

But when John comes to check on you for the umpteenth time that day, he finds you curled up in a ball under the blankets. He pulls the covers back and finds you are soaked, your hair plastered to your forehead and t-shirt stuck to your skin.

"Sweetheart?" Price asks quietly, his hand moving to push your hair off your face where a few tendrils are stuck. "I think your fever finally broke," he says feeling at your forehead and cheek not caring about the sweat. "You aren't burning up anymore."

"What?" You grumbled trying to burrow away, still half asleep. You could care less about what he was saying, you just wanted to sleep.

"You've sweated through your clothes," he says simply and pulls the blankets back more. "You'll be much more comfortable if we get you cleaned up," he reasons as you attempt to slide away.

"I'll clean up later," you answer. Though now that you've woken up a bit you find the sweat has cooled on your body and now you're cold. And your shirt was stuck and twisted at odd angles constricting you. "I'm too tired," you tack on as you fitfully trying to right the shirt to no avail.

"I'll help you," he ventures before standing up and disappearing. You can hear him turn on the shower and you huff sitting up, the room spinning for a moment. While your fever may have broke the headache and fatigue were certainly still weighing down on you.

"Come on," John says appearing at your side and gently pulls you out of the bed. He's shirtless and you blink at him a bit as he guides you into the bathroom. The light is bright which makes you wince and he quickly flips the switch before helping you out of the shirt, his shirt, you were wearing.

"I'm not going to be able to," you start but he's already there stepping out of his pants to be fully naked next to you before pulling back the curtain.

He helps you step in before following behind and you stand under the lukewarm water for a moment savoring it before he turns you around and gently massages your scalp. It feels wonderful as he washes away the sweat and gently shampoos your hair then rinses it. While the conditioner sits he does his own, pulling you to lean against his chest for support as you stand with your eyes closed.

He's tender with the washcloth, knowing you had body aches from the flu, but makes sure to fully clean you. Lifting your legs gently in turn and spinning you to wash down your chest and stomach. When he's done he cuts the water and wraps you in a large towel and escorts you to the bedroom to sit on the small bench at the foot of the bed while he strips it down and puts on fresh new sheets.

He leaves you to your slumber while he goes back to paperwork, checking on you a few times as you finally catch up on some rest.

Soap

"When was the last time you took medicine?" Soap asks as you cough into the blanket. You've been on the couch for hours, sliding in and out of sleep as Soap puttered around the house doing chores and keeping himself occupied. He tried to coax you to go upstairs and lay in the bed properly but you refused. He was only home for a few days and you weren't going to waste your time together sleeping. Even though you were sleeping on the couch.

"Mmm, I don't remember. Around lunch?" You answer looking at your phone for the time. You were well past due.

"I'll get it," he answers as you move to sit up. "I'm going to make you what my mother always gave us as children," he adds as he disappears into the kitchen.

You continue to lay on the couch flipping channels as you hear him messing about in the kitchen. The kettle whistles and you hear more clattering before he appears with your medicine in one hand. He's already torn it out of the packaging because you can never get it open. The other hand holds a steaming mug of tea and as he hands it to you after you sit up you sniff.

"Is that...is there whiskey in this?" You ask turning your nose up a bit. Whiskey was not your drink by a long shot.

"Aye," Soap answers as he flops down on the couch next to you. "Hot toddy," he explains as you take a small sip. There is honey and lemon mixed in and you can taste cinnamon. It burns, not just from the hot water but from the alcohol, as it goes down your throat. "Ma always made it for us when we were sick. Helped with the cough and to get us to sleep."

"Weren’t you kids?" You ask raising an eyebrow at him which causes him to laugh.

"Just a wee bit of whiskey for us then," he winks before gesturing for you to continue to drink. "Warms you up from the inside out. Don't know how it works really, but it does." He slides his arm behind you on the couch so you can lean in on him.

You curl your feet up under you and lean against his chest. Once the drink cools enough you pop the medicine in your mouth, trying not to linger on the thought of taking it with alcohol, and down it. He wasn't wrong about the drink warming you from the inside out, you feel a bit flushed as you get to the bottom dregs. He takes the mug from you as you snuggle into him more.

"Haven't coughed in a bit," he observes after about thirty minutes of silence into the movie he had picked. He looks down to see you dozing off and he laughs to himself as he gently tugs you to lay your head in his lap. He gently plays with your hair as he settles in for the long haul.

You fall into a deep, restful, sleep in Soap's lap as he continues to gently tend to you. Long after the movie is over he still sits silently, enjoying the quiet moment with you.

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grandmother-goblin · 4 months

Text

The Best Kind of Gift

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: When Gale's preparations for an end of the year party fall behind schedule, he expects a mad rush of cooking once he gets home in order to have everything done on time. His wife has other plans.

(The smutty Gale holiday fic! The world was against me getting this done in time lol)

Relationships: Gale x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for smut.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Smut, oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, breeding kink, light dom/sub, she calls him 'Sir', hypothetical talk of pregnancy.

Four hours ago.

Gale was supposed to have been home four hours ago.

The sun had long since set by the time he unsequestered himself from his office at Blackstaff Academy. He was only supposed to have been on campus for an hour or two. Just long enough so he could finish enchanting Sarana’s present and wrap it in secrecy. It was the first year they got to spend the winter holidays together as a married couple, and he had wanted to do something to make it special for her.

While he was glad that he finished the present, the enchantment took much longer than he expected. He simply lost track of time. Most days, that would not have been a problem. But most days, Gale had not made a promise to his esteemed colleagues to provide several main dishes for their end of the year gathering.

Gale brushed a snowflake off the tip of his nose with the back of his gloved hand as he walked beneath the orange glow of a street lamp. Snow-slicked sidewalks meant he couldn’t rush himself, and he had exhausted his magical energy creating Sarana’s gift so creating a portal was an impossibility as well.

Gods, he was so screwed. The gift was definitely worth it, but he was definitely screwed.

Clasping at the collar of his thick, gray overcoat, he pulled it a little tighter, wishing he had remembered to bring the scarf Sarana had knitted for him. Sarana did so much for him. Everything from the Netherese orb, the whole ordeal with Mystra, to dealing with the Absolute… She even moved to Waterdeep for him. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

For him.

If she had asked, he would have gladly done the same for her.

There wasn’t another soul out there who loved him the way she did. She always told him that he was enough, just the way he was. That he didn’t need to do anything or get her anything to prove his love for her. Although giving his lover a gift had gone catastrophically wrong in the past, he still wanted to get Sarana something.

Unfortunately, the gift-giving would have to wait. There was so much that needed to be done before the party. So much food needed to be cooked, he had to factor in time to make himself presentable and not to mention travel time.

As he made his way down the road toward the home he shared with Sarana, he mentally ran through the list of things that needed to be done.

The honey glaze ham would take the longest. Even if he started the oven the exact moment he arrived home, he’d still be at least an hour late by the time the ham was ready. Then there were the bacon-wrapped dates, the savory hand pies, and Morena Dekarios’s signature seafood stew. Not to mention at least three types of cookies; chocolate chip, cinnamon sugar, butter cookies…. The list seemed endless.

Once again, his own ambition was his worst enemy.

Thankfully, he had done the majority of the prep work the night before. Sarana had offered to help out in whatever way she could, but he hadn’t wanted to trouble her. Still, she insisted on at least doing the dishes. Although, all that work mattered very little anymore. It would take a bloody miracle for him to get everything done in time.

With a defeated sigh, Gale pulled his keys from his coat pocket as he arrived at his front doorstep. Though his fingers were numb despite his gloves, he managed to unlock the door to his house with little trouble.

Maybe, he thought as he pushed the door open, he could just pick something up from a restaurant on their way to the party. It wouldn’t be nearly as impressive as a home-cooked meal, but he promised to provide food.

Showing up empty handed simply wasn’t an option.

The wall of warm air that greeted him the moment he stepped into his house felt like heaven after trudging two miles in the snow. It was a relief to take a breath of air that didn’t send an icy chill straight to the back of his throat and his lungs. Gale removed his overcoat and gloves, hanging both on the coat rack by the front door, before sitting down on a nearby bench to unlace his winter boots.

It was as he worked on unlacing his boots, his body gradually recovering from the cold, that he noticed it. The sound of music from his enchanted piano, Sarana humming a cheerful tune, and a mouthwatering melange of aromas that make his heartbeat quicken.

Gale could smell the salty-sweetness of roasting, honey-glazed ham. There was the scent of garlic and melted butter and spices. Of chocolate and cinnamon and sugar. He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips even as anxiety tugged at his stomach.

Gale knew Sarana was perfectly capable of cooking and following instructions, but she didn’t do it very often, saying that she preferred his cooking to her own. But when she did decide to make a meal for them, it was always something simple. Delicious, but simple.

Though Gale had told Sarana what he planned on making for the party, he hadn’t provided her with the recipes. Not because they were secret or anything like that, but simply because he thought he would be home to make things himself. While most of the recipes themselves were straightforward, the way they were written were not. Several of them were family recipes that just had a list of ingredients and instructions like ‘measure with your heart’. Most definitely not very friendly to a cook going in blind.

“Sarana?” he called across the house, not sure if she would be able to hear him over the sound of the piano. He toed off his boots, leaving him in just his thick socks, dark slacks, and a deep burgundy sweater Sarana had knitted for him and started toward the kitchen.

He didn’t make it two steps before Tara landed at his feet.

“Mr. Dekarios!” she greeted, staring up at him in a disappointed yet affectionate manner that only cats could manage. “Heavens, you’re late. You must see what your lovely wife has done in the kitchen in your absence. You’ll be so happy.”

Gale narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

Tara’s side brushed against Gale’s calf as she passed by. “I would never,” she said and hopped up onto the bottom step of the stairs that led to his wizard tower. Without offering any further elaboration, she bid him farewell with a flick of her fluffy tail.

Though everything smelled wonderful, Tara’s words gave him cause for concern. On one hand, she didn’t particularly enjoy it when things went wrong for Gale. On the other hand, she did enjoy seeing him sweat on some occasions. Kept him humble, so she claimed.

Brow furrowed with a mix of concern and curiosity, Gale started toward the kitchen.

Lantern lights above the counters and fire cracking in the fireplace from the adjacent living room illuminated the kitchen in a soft orange glow. The kitchen table was filled with trays upon trays of hand pies with a golden, buttery crust. Steam from a large metal pot on the stove swirled and disappeared into the air, carrying the delectable scent of exotic spices throughout the entire room. Then there were the cookies.

So many cookies.

Gale’s mouth fell open as he stood in the entryway, taking in the sight with an equal sense of wonder and disbelief. When he had smelled the food cooking, at most, he had thought Sarana might have gotten things started. Not that she would almost be finished with everything.

Sarana had her back turned to him as she removed yet another tray of cookies from one of the two ovens in his kitchen. A little smile tugged at his lips when he realized that she was wearing his apron, which was far too large on her, but it did a decent job of covering up her pale pink sweater and dark brown leggings. She had her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, highlighting the sharp beauty of her Gith features; her tiny nose, the adorable spots on her cheeks, her delicately serrated ears, her plush pink lips that deserved at least a million kisses.

Gale gathered himself before he got lost staring at his wife again, which happened more often than he cared to admit. “Good heavens, Sarana,” he said as he stepped into the kitchen, looking to see that yes, she even made the bacon-wrapped dates.

Pretty much everything he had planned was done, and from the looks of it, it was down quite well. Exceptionally well, as a matter of fact.

“Gale!” Sarana greeted with a big, sharp-toothed smile that always brought a flutter to his stomach. “Sorry I got started without you because I know how much you enjoy this. But look—” she tilted the cookie sheet toward him ever so slightly so he could clearly see what was on it “— I made little wizard cookies.”

Lined up on the tray were the most perfect gingerbread cookies Gale had ever seen. They looked soft and chewy, the edges of them were clean and sharp, making the silhouettes of wizards in pointy hats and robes. Rounded feet and hands gave them a cute, whimsical quality. She bit her lower lip as a smile still rounded her cheeks, looking adorably proud of herself as her bright blue eyes gazed up at him. “I was gonna give them all little peppermint sticks for staffs.”

If there wasn’t a hot tray of cookies between them, Gale would have kissed her right then.

He ran his hand through his hair as he took in the kitchen once more, a small breath of laughter passing his lips. “This is incredible,” he said and approached the counter, completely taken away but the sheer amount of effort she must have gone through. “I can’t believe you did all of this. I can’t begin to thank you enough.”

Sarana set the tray of gingerbread cookies on the counter and removed her oven mitts. “It was no trouble at all,” she said with a bright smile and untied the apron. “Once I realized you were running late, I figured I’d get started. Tara was kind enough to show me where you keep your recipes and Us helped out a bit as well.”

“We stirred,” Us said directly into Gale’s mind with that cute, yet creepy, voice of theirs. Although he couldn’t see where the little intellect devourer was, the creature never strayed far from Sarana.

Well, except when Us had to hunt. Given its diet, that was probably for the best. Though Tara had mentioned that ever since the creature moved in there had been an uptick in pigeons flying into windows. But Us made Sarana happy. Gale supposed he didn’t mind that Us was likely singularly responsible for lowering the collective IQ of the pigeon population so long as it kept its promise not to hunt more intelligent creatures.

“You truly did not have to do this for me,” Gale said and placed his hands on Sarana’s hips, spinning her around so they were face to face. “I feel absolutely awful. Grateful, but awful knowing that you went through all this trouble due to my careless—”

With a swiftness that took him by surprise, Sarana playfully pushed a warm cookie against his lips. “Gale, it wasn’t any trouble,” she said with a smile as he accepted the cookie.

Cinnamon sugar dusted the soft, golden brown cookie. When he bit into it he was met with buttery richness that practically melted in his mouth. It wasn’t his recipe, he noted, but he was definitely going to add it to the Dekarios family cookbook.

With sugar surely still on his lips, he pulled Sarana in for a kiss, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of gratitude for the woman he had married. He could feel her smiling against his lips. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

“You know, not everyone can pull off something like this,” he said, gesturing to the entirety of the kitchen.

“Well, I was raised by halflings,” she replied with a twinge of pride in her voice. “Big family dinners and food with friends is kind of a thing for us. If I didn’t know how to make a full meal with a couple of potatoes and whatever I could find in the pantry, my mother might have considered sending me back to the crèche.”

“I think our mothers would get along well.”

“Oh! Speaking of your mother, I want you to try the stew before we add the fish,” Sarana said and guided him to the pot simmering on the stove. “I saw that it was your moms recipe, so I really didn’t want to mess it up.”

When Gale tasted the broth off of the wooden spoon Sarana offered to him, it immediately brought him back to his childhood. The spices, the tomatoes, the hint of lemon juice; it was all spot on.

The sense of love and warmth that washed over him in that moment was almost indescribable. There was just something about Sarana learning his mother’s recipe that just felt so unbelievably special. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that bright, wonderful feeling building in his chest.

Quietly, he reached for a dial on the stove and turned down the temperature of the burner below the pot just a bit. “How much longer does the ham have in the oven?”

A cute little wrinkle in Sarana’s brow formed. “A little more than an hour. Why? Wait. Do you like the stew?”

“I love the stew,” he replied and placed his hand on the subtle curve of her waist. “But I love you more. And I feel like if I don’t kiss you now, I might explode.”

With a giggle, Sarana stood on her toes and looped her arms around his neck. “Well we certainly can’t have that.”

Gale brought one hand to her jaw, his thumb brushing over the little black spots that decorated her golden cheeks. Tilting her head up, he lowered his mouth to hers in a slow and tender caress. He could taste the faintest hint of something sweet as his tongue coaxed her lips apart, deepening the kiss.

Her fingers sank into his hair as her lithe frame melted into his. Without breaking the kiss, he wrapped his arms around her, suddenly feeling like he was not able to hold her close enough or tight enough.

A small flick of her silky tongue against his ignited a fire somewhere deep in his chest. Every brush of her lips made that fire grow brighter, burn hotter. There were no thoughts in his mind except getting closer to her, wanting nothing more than to share the flame that she had sparked within him.

His cock strained against his trousers, prodding Sarana’s stomach far too eagerly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sarana certainly didn’t seem to mind either, judging by the way she rubbed herself against him. Gale groaned when her hand slipped between their bodies and she cupped him through his trousers, giving him a gentle squeeze.

He pressed himself into her touch shamelessly as his hands trailed down her sides. Then with one strong movement, bent his knees and linked his arms just under the curve of her backside. She gave a little squeak of surprise when he lifted her off her feet with ease.

“I think we have time for a little break, don’t you?” he asked as he began to walk her towards the living room.

Between Mystra curing him of the orb and Sarana’s insistence of having a work-out partner, Gale had gotten into probably the best shape of his life. It wasn’t but a few months ago that he wouldn’t have dared to try such a thing for fear of pulling a muscle. But now? Gods, he loved being able to pick her up whenever he wanted. She certainly seemed to enjoy it as well.

Soft hands cupped his face as she stared down at him, Sarana’s eyes were filled with so much love it almost hurt. “If we don’t, we’ll make time.”

He took her lips in another brief, silky, caress. “Good.”

Another giggle burst from her lips when he deposited her on the couch. He wasted no time caging her beneath him, cradled between her legs as he captured her mouth with his again. Those little laughs of her quickly dissolved into the sweetest moans as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him as if she could breathe him in.

His hips moved between her legs in subtle, instinctual movements as his mouth trailed down to her neck. When he reached the collar of her sweater, he pulled the material aside and nipped at her collarbone, marking her skin and drawing out a pleasured gasp.

Blunt fingernails lightly dragged across his scalp as Sarana tangled her fingers in his hair. “Gale,” she breathed as her hips tilted up, grinding herself against the hardened ridge in his trousers. “I want you.”

Gods, he wanted her too. Muttering an incantation under his breath, he ran his hands slowly down her body as if he were memorizing them for the first time. Her soft, cashmere sweater shimmered and vanished under his touch, sent away to the nearby armchair. Gale cupped her rounded breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples as the lacy material disappeared with another glimmer of magic.

He drew one rosy-pink nipple into his mouth, sucking and lapping at the sensitive peak as his hands ventured down further. The rest of her clothing faded away with just the touch of his fingertips, leaving her completely bare to him.

There was something about her being naked while he was still fully clothed that made him feel powerful. Trusted, but still in control. Like she believed with her whole heart that he would take care of her. And he would damn well prove her right. Every single time.

Part of him still didn’t believe that she was his. That she wanted him, chose him, made the decision to be with him every single day. He didn’t want her to regret that choice for even a single heartbeat.

Gale kissed his way down her body, over her breasts and taut abdomen down to the soft mound between her legs. He pushed her thighs apart and she lifted her hips, baring her slick, soaking pussy to him. The scent of her arousal was strong; a feminine musk that went straight to his cock. Impatient for a taste, he dragged his tongue through her folds with a rapacious moan.

“Fuck, Gale,” she gasped, arching almost off the couch as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

Using his forearm, he pinned her hips down as he covered her with his mouth. His tongue circled her clit, teasing her with practiced licks as her fingers tightened in his hair. When Gale closed his lips around the stiff bud and sucked, she cried out as she writhed beneath him.

Sliding his hand up her thigh, he sought her center and found her completely soaked. Her back arched when he plunged two fingers deep into her core. With his mouth still on her clit, he curled his fingers inside her, massaging her walls as they tightened around the intrusion.

Her thighs began to tremble, her legs pressing into his back as if she was trying to push him closer. Sharp, panting breaths puff from her lips as the trembling turned to full on shaking.

“Gale, I’m going to—” Her whole body went taut as an orgasm tore through her. Her walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to lap and suck at her clit, wanting to draw her pleasure out as long as he could.

As her breathing evened out, Gale withdrew his fingers and began kissing her inner thighs, nibbling the tender flesh, once just hard enough to mark her again.

He wasn’t sure what it was about Sarana that made him want to claim her in such a way. To mark up her skin so anyone could see that she was taken. Even if no one but him would see the insides of her legs, he still wanted to leave a little love bite. Just for the two of them.

His cock was so hard it was almost painful as he sat up, her legs still thrown over his shoulders and giving him the most gorgeous view. The way her golden skin turned slightly pink in the aftermath of her orgasm, the hard, pointed peaks of her breasts, her slick and swollen pussy.

Fuck. When he brought her to the couch, he mostly only had her pleasure on his mind. Not his own. But seeing her like that beneath him, her eyes dark and glassy with lust as she gazed back at him…

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said and pressed his lips to one of the adorable black spots that dotted her calf. “You make me want to do all manner of things to you, none of which are very gentlemanly.”

A sultry smile spread across Sarana’s lips. “You can do anything you want with me, Sir.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. When she called him ‘Sir’ it was like another part of his mind took over. A part of his mind that was very much not a gentleman at all.

Sarana’s gaze followed the movement of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and pulled at the ties of his trousers. Her breath hitched when he freed his aching cock, her eyes locked on his engorged length as a bead of precome leaked from the tip. When her tongue darted out past her lips, Gale could barely stifle a groan. As much as he loved seeing her lips wrapped around his cock, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

Not only that, he was desperate to fill her up. He wanted to claim her inside and out. Oh, he might feel a little embarrassed later, but at that moment the idea of Sarana attending that party absolutely filled with his come drove him wild.

He notched the head of his cock at her entrance, mesmerized by where their bodies connected. “Do you want to see what I see, Sarana?” he asked and pushed himself just barely inside of her. “Do you want to see how gorgeous you look right now?”

Sarana nodded frantically. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then close your eyes,” he said and projected his vision directly into her mind. It was a simple spell, just a minor variation of a basic illusion cantrip, but he had certainly never used it like that before.

Her pussy clamped around the head of his cock as her face flushed red, her eyes clamped shut but seeing through his eyes. Watching as he did as he sank into her. Inch by devastating inch.

Sarana’s mouth fell open as she stretched around him. “Look at you,” he said as he watched his cock disappear into her deliciously tight core. “Look at how well you take me.”

An erotic, high pitched whine passed her lips as she bucked her hips with the limited movement she had, bouncing on his thick length. “Please,” she whimpered, her body practically vibrating with need.

“Don’t open your eyes until I tell you too.” He wanted her to see what he saw. To see how badly she wanted him, how beautiful she was, how she came apart on his cock. He wanted her to see how he could absolutely fill her to the brim with his come.

Gale withdrew himself almost completely before he slammed into her again. “Harder, Sir,” she pleaded even as her fingertips dug into the couch cushions.

And who was he to refuse her?

The couch scraped against the floor with the force of his next thrust. “Oh, gods yes!” Sarana squirmed beneath him, her hips rocking to meet every brutal movement. Obediently, she kept her eyes shut, so Gale knew that she could see how sweetly she took his cock, the sinful view of her pussy wrapped around him as she took him to the hilt. He knew she could see the way her breasts bounced as he pounded into her and the way her face contorted with pleasure.

Gods, he really wasn’t going to last much longer.

Leaning forward slightly, he practically folded her in half as he rocked into her, putting pressure on her clit with his every movement. With the new angle, his every thrust was met with sweet yelps that she tried to stifle with her fist.

At some point, he lost his concentration on the illusion spell. The moment claimed him completely. It was just him and her, the feel of her body joined with his, her skin against his.

Her walls fluttered around him, like she was trying to hold him tighter and pull him deeper. Then with a choked cry, her body seized up, her legs trembling on his shoulders as another orgasm tore through her.

That look of complete ecstasy was all it took. Gale felt his balls begin to tighten, threatening release. He gripped her legs hard as he impaled her on his cock, the sounds of their bodies slapping together filling the room.

Fire licked up his spine as his thrusts lost any sense of rhythm, doing what felt right without any thought behind it. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, stilling as he unloaded deep inside of her. The intensity of his release sent sparks across his skin, his whole body trembling in the aftermath.

Sarana’s hands cupped his face and pulled his mouth to hers in a slow, luxurious kiss until both of their bodies relaxed. Her legs fell from his shoulders and wrapped themselves around him, still holding him inside of her. Her walls continued to flutter around his softening length as if trying to squeeze out every last drop.

Gale rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I got you a present,” he murmured and swiped his thumb across the curve of her cheekbone. He could feel her smile under the movement. “I was going to wait until after the party to give it to you, but….”

He pulled out, feeling some primitive satisfaction as he watched his come leak out of her. Without really thinking, he scooped it in his fingers and pushed it back inside.

Sarana squeezed around his fingers with a small laugh. “If your present is another orgasm, I won’t want to go to the party at all.”

With a chuckle, Gale pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned off his fingers. “Well, then the next one will have to wait until after the party, won’t it?” he joked and reached into his other pocket and found the gift he had crafted for her.

It was something he knew she wanted, they had talked about it on multiple occasions but it always seemed like an impossibility. But now? Gods, now he was a little nervous to present it to her. What if the only reasons she seemed enthusiastic about the idea was because it was something that seemed so far out of reach?

His throat felt dry as he held out a dainty, golden chain necklace with tiny pink diamonds set between every couple of links. It was a piece of jewelry that he knew Sarana would love, but it was the enchantment imbued within that was the true gift.

For both of them.

“I spoke with a Githzerai researcher outside of Candlekeep,” he began as Sarana took the delicate chain from his hand, smiling at the gleaming gold and sparkling jewels. “I can tell you all the details later, but if you wear this…” Gale swallowed and traced his hands down her sides. “We might be able to conceive.”

Bright, ocean blue eyes blinked up at him as Sarana took in his words. She held the necklace to her chest. “You mean….”

Gale inclined his head, his heart attempting to beat straight out of his chest. “We could have a baby.”

“I thought Lae’zel said it was an asexual process.”

“With all due respect for Lae’zel, she has been wrong about many things regarding her own people. This—” Gale tapped the necklace “—will allow us to at least try.”

Sarana blinked again as moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes, a wobbly smile on her lips. “We can have little Gales,” she said and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“We can have little Gales,” he confirmed as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight as she snuggled into the crook of his neck.

Pressure built behind his eyes, tears threatening to fall over his lashes even as a smile pulled at his lips. Provided that there were no issues on his end, Sarana could make it so she could conceive as soon as she put on the necklace. And Gale was more than happy to help out with the rest.

“Help me put it on?” she asked.

“Let’s get dressed first,” he replied and returned Sarana’s clothes to her with a simple hand gesture and a thought. He buttoned up his trousers and righted his clothes before he took the necklace from her hands. Back turned toward him, Sarana swept her hair over her shoulder, giving him access to the back of her neck.

He had barely finished clasping the necklace before she was throwing her arms around him again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Sarana pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I want seven.”

Gale straightened. “Seven what? Necklaces? Or — if you want seven little Gales I know a great variety of duplication spells that —”

A clatter of utensils and cutlery sounded from the kitchen, and they both whipped their heads toward the source of the sound. His mind immediately went to Tara as his heart dropped to his stomach. Tara had been on her way up to the tower when he last saw her, if she had come back to the kitchen… gods he would never have been able to look the tressym in the eye again.

Not only that, Tara could be a horrible gossip and he did not want his mother to know about his and Sarana’s baby-making plans quite yet.

Us stood on the counter, a wooden spoon wrapped in one of its tendrils, ladles and spatulas strewn at its feet. “We stirred!”

Thank the gods. As creepy as Us was, it did not care in the slightest what he and Sarana did in its presence.

Sarana gave Gale a quick peck on the cheek before hopping off the couch. “Come on.” She held out her hand, her new necklace glinting in the firelight. “We’ve got little wizard cookies to decorate.”

And little wizards to make, he thought to himself as he took her hand and followed her into the kitchen.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x female tav #gale fanfic #gale smut #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

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