#> my (mental) notes on how he speaks is like. big arm gesture. says his majesty a lot. sassy + smug

[waloeders]

i need to replay sleipnirs scenes + fight sooo bad i cant get his cadence down 😭

[starillusion13]

Our Girl

request: "can you do san wooyoung and y/n in a poly they have nsfw and and they love each other but they dont know it until one of them say they like the other two"

Pairing: San x reader x Wooyoung

Genre: Fluff, Friends to lovers, Smut

Warnings: they are caring bestfriends to you😫, mention of insult in public by your toxic crush, lots of kissing, fingering, big San, big Woo, crying, thigh slapping, breast play, praising, comfort, aftercare.

W.C: 4.1k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. This fic is so and so for me Ik😔.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE POST🔞

🫶

"What happened, y/n?" San asked you from across the room as soon as he saw you entering the house from the front door. You had a grumpy look on your face visible and almost kicked your shoes aside before placing the bag on a chair and plopped on the chair couch.

He had called you earlier on your way back home and you didn't reply like usual and you were eager to cut the call. And it's very usual for your best friends to ask you about the thing that was torturing you and making you so  dull.

You leaned back and rested your head, closing your eyes as you sighed deeply.

A hand entangled in your head started caressing your scalp and you smiled and hummed to the touch. The hand movements made it clear of the owner of the sweet gestures.

A small smile resting on your face and the man behind you patted your cheeks, urging you to speak.

"I don't want to talk." You said angrily.

"Where were you?"  Wooyoung detached his hands from your scalp and stood in front of you.

"Look at me, y/n." He crossed his arms and stared at you. You refused to look at him and shook your head.

San chuckled and stood up from his place and stood beside his bestfriend. They knew very well that you were exhausted and grumpy with something. After all, both of them being your best friends since college life and also roommates since then made you three closer with each other.

You always felt glad to get them as your bestfriend because they treated you like their own family and of course you tried to do a lot in return as well. Today they have returned early from their workplace.

It's very much clear that they don't let anything happen to you or let anything to slide if that something is causing you problem and now when you are exhausted and snapping at them. They wouldn’t leave the spot unless you are confessing everything.

San crouched down in front of you and caressed your hand, "y/n..." his voice was a scale lower than usual and it was demanding but still you were choosing to close your eyes and ignore them. After all, you wanted some rest after having the worst day of your life. "Wooyoung is asking you something."

"And I said I don't want to talk. Please keep quiet. My head hurts so bad right now."

To your blind vision, San nodded towards the standing boy and the other was quick to go back into the kitchen. San patted your hand and smiled, "it's okay. You don't have to talk with us. But please go and get fresh. I'll prepare a bath for you."

You felt hurt when you heard his soft and caring voice towards you. They didn't do anything then why were you ignoring them. They were just trying to help you out with your situation and trying to lift up your mood. You mentally scolded yourself that if there were some other people then they would have left you long back for your behavior during your down times.

Your eyes flutter open and quickly you noticed how he was still on the floor but his gaze was on you. The look was very endearing but there was something he was hiding. Your mind and eyes are really playing with you today.

"I'm sorry. But Thank you, San."

He shook his head and stood up, "come on. Don't say sorry. You are disturbed with something and it's okay to be like this with us. I don't mind. But come fast upstairs, I'm preparing the bath for you." He patted your cheeks and with hurried steps, he disappeared towards the stairs.

Craning your neck, you saw a familiar back of a figure in a black tshirt and trouser busy in the kitchen. You pressed your lips and went into the direction to find him placing some boxes on the countertop.

He looked up and smiled, "y/n?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But are you okay? Where were you though?" He asked you before placing the last item in the corner and leaned on the counter.

"Oh...don't ask about that. It's a nightmare to be in today's situation. Please Woo, don't ask me this again."

He shook his head and stared at you," no y/n. If you don't share with us then how come we'll sort out the problem. You know very clearly how I hate seeing you like this."

Taking a grape from the bowl, he swat your palm before taking it away. "Go wash your hands."

Rolling your eyes, you took the water bottle, "I'm just going to freshen up. Eating a grape wouldn't have matter much." After a small gulp of water, your throat felt like to cool it down.

His eyes followed your every movements until your eyes met his, "what are you looking at? I know I probably look like a shit right now."

"You look beautiful...always." He whispered the words but loud enough to make it audible for

you. You smirked and as soon as you were going to reply him, San called your name from upstairs.

"Gotta go." You laughed when he shook his head at your dramatic exit. But you could hear him say loudly, "come down fast or I won't be keeping any food left for you."

"Oh you will! You know how much I love your cooking."

Your hurried steps could be heard by both of them and the moment you entered your room, you could see San standing with folded hands and staring darkly at you.

"Why were you running? I told you so many times not to run in stairs, it's risky."

You took off your jacket and placed it on the bed and put your phone on the table after plugging it to charge. You smiled, "don't scold me as if I'm a baby."

"Yes you are. You are my baby."

"What?"

"Now come on go inside. The food will be getting cold if you don't hurry up. And that doesn't mean to run down the stairs. Take the bath quickly."

You shoved him out of your room when he was sticked to his spot and scolding you and telling you so many things at once . You had it enough of him and you didn't want to hear a single word more from him.

.

.

.

You were humming a song when coming down the stairs and your gaze fell on Wooyoung and San sitting together on the sofa. They were having some conversations between them and so you tip toed over to the place and stood behind them.

"Boo!"

"Oh gosh!" "Who?!"

You laughed out loud when you saw their surprised faces and you leaned to the sofa for support while laughing. They watched you in disbelief but soon little smiles spread across their faces.

"Y/n."

"So you are scared of ghosts."

San shook his head and nudged the other to follow him while he replied you, " no we are not scared of ghost. It's called getting shocked with sudden surprise."

"Huh! Deny deny. I have seen the look on your faces."

They were arranging the plates on the table and you helped them with bringing the foods over there from the countertop. The smell was already making your stomach growl. They saw your excitement when you noticed they have made your favorite foods.

"Is this because I was snapping at you both earlier?" You asked them and quickly took a bite of the meat. Your eyes lit up.

San nodded and Wooyoung proudly walked to your side and pinched your nose, "yes. I know that only food can make you happy."

"Oh you know me too well. Thank you so much."

"The mixed rice is made by San. He was learning to make it last since Wednesday and finally he made it happen." San smacked his head when he revealed his attempts.

"Thanks. You both are blessings in my life. I don't know what I would have done without you two." Wooyoung sat beside you and San across from you. They both noticed your sigh in the end of the sentence and they exchanged looks.

"Y/n." San called your name in a low tone. You quickly looked up but your hands and mouth was still working on to feed yourself. "Where did you go? Why are you so down?"

Wooyoung quickly added to his sentence "Please tell us what happened."

You chewed the food and gulped a bit of water from the glass, " that guy I mentioned to you yesterday asked me to meet today over dinner after working hours."

They nodded and urged you to continue and so you did while looking down at your plate, "he didn't ask me to spend time with him but for his worst intention. He called over some of my university students and insulted me in front of them. he made fun of me of how once I have proposed him." you brushed back your hairs and sighed again, "it was long ago but still he had to mention it."

San grabbed the spoon tightly in his hold, clenching his jaw with the thought of how to commit a murder. when his eyes locked with the other boy in the room, he noticed he had a similar look on his face like him.

Wooyoung turned towards you and his heart ached when he saw tears falling down from your eyes and San was watching you from across the table. you wiped off the tears and smiled at them before putting a piece of meat inside your mouth, "I should've known before that he is an asshole. it would've been better if I had proposed one of you."

the words randomly came out of your mouth that you didn't notice that the two boys who were keenly listening to you had their ears perked up. proposed to them? the sudden awkward and silent atmosphere got interrupted by your unusual laugh. Wooyoung had an amused expression at your poor attempt to hide your shyness and San urged both of you to eat.

he was waiting for the dinner to end.

No one said anything regarding the last words came out of your mouth but you could feel the tension in the atmosphere when laying down on the couch in the living room after the dinner and both of them sitting near you. San was sitting on the space at the very end of the couch near your feet and Wooyoung was sitting on a chair. both of them staring at you.

you were laying comfortably but when you feel two pairs of eyes---of your bestfriends on you, you rolled your eyes before raising your brows at them, "now, what's up with you two?"

"what do you mean by proposing one of us?" San was the first one to raise the topic. you chuckled and paused the video on your phone and replied, "oh that's nothing. forget about it."

"Y/n...did you see what happened to you when you didn't listen to us about that guy? whenever you ignored us, you got yourself in a new problem." he stated and rested his palm over your ankles. that was a common gestures and you were used to their often skin-ship but today his sudden touch made your body shivered.

you switched off the screen and sighed, "I know and I'm sorry."

"Look y/n. you don't have to be sorry for that but atleast let us know what is bothering you."

Afterall, he is right. they do so much for you and in return, you cant even tell them your problems.

you glanced at both of them and closed your eyes, "It might sound weird but I...have feelings for my best friends. please I know or maybe don't know if you both have girlfriends or boyfriends or anyone but it's just i had to tell you to take off this feelings away from my heart."

you bit your lips and cursed yourself again. is this going to end your friendship between you three. No, right? oh gosh. what have you done? you inhaled sharply and pulled your legs to get off the couch but you got halted.

Someone grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs straight. your eyes fluttered open and you looked at him confused but the look on his face was so unpredictable. it was dark yet somewhere a caring and protectiveness was surrounding him. you looked towards your side to find Wooyoung standing with crossed hands over his chest.

"It's not weird to have feelings for someone so obvious." Wooyoung stated and stared at you darkly.

you blinked, "what do you mean?"

"Y/n...if i say the feelings are mutual." he said and glanced at the boy sitting beside your feet. you looked over to him as well to find him nodding at his words.

"Are you serious? really?"

Wooyoung laughed at your wide eyed look and crouched down beside you to flick your nose, "yes baby. so what do you say? shall we?"

"shall we what?" you tried to get up but Wooyoung pushed you down by pushing down your shoulders against the leather. "what?"

San chuckled and shook his head, "Woo... not now."

are you thinking right? they are wanting the same thing like yours right? come on...its been so long you have get off yourself and you have never been laid off. but what if they want something else and you are just depicting the situation in a wrong way.

"Please...it's now. I want it now." you whispered the words to them. they both stared at you after hearing it.

"Do you know what you are asking for?" San's grip tightened with the words from his mouth. Your anticipating eyes and the way you licked your lips when slowly nodding towards them made him lose his mind.

Wooyoung chuckled and you looked at him, "you are asking for something which can change every dynamic of this relationship." You again nodded at his words.

You grabbed his wrist and squeezed it, "I know...please."

The way you looked at him, as if you lured him towards you and he was quick to attach his lips onto yours. A lot of thoughts were storming inside your mind but the top of everything was that your best friend was kissing you. You agreed to kiss—to do everything with your best friend.

He had immersed himself into the moment but you were staring at him, your palms resting on his cheeks, entangling with his hairs and smoothing over the neck and then when you felt a separate set of hands fondling your thighs. You were gasping for the lack of air but the one kissing you had no intention of leaving you at anytime soon.

You pulled him away from you and you breathed heavily, "I would have died of lack of air, Woo."

His laugh echoed inside the wide room and he kissed your cheek. San leaned forward to hovered on top of you. The movements caused your top to ride up a little exposing little part of your stomach. San smiled at the sight and kissed on the exposed flesh making you giggle and he soon pressed his lips on yours. His kiss was sort of hungry than the other one. He was alternating between kissing your jaw, your throat and cheek. His palm over your breast squeezed it lightly, earning low moans out of your mouth.

"Y/n...if you continue making those sounds then I might have you in such a ways that you can't even think of." San whispered into your ears while resting on top of yours.

"Then have me like that." You said and smirked at him.

He chuckled and pecked the tip of your nose, "you are so bad, baby."

You smiled and felt him pulled you upwards with him to let Wooyoung sit behind you. He hugged you from behind and snuggled in your shoulders and murmured sweet praises in your ears. You patted his head with one hand and San kissed your other one which was intertwined with his.

"Is it your first time?" San asked you before slowly pulling down your short and caressed your thighs. You nervously bit your lips and shyly nodded.

A nervousness appeared on your face and they both noticed your sudden change in behavior. And Wooyoung kissed your ears, "what happened? Do you want me to stop? Just say it, y/n."

"No!" You quickly denied. "It's just I don't know if I can handle this or any."

San cupped your cheeks and smiled, "it's okay. We won't cross the limits. Just two for us okay?"

"Hm..."

Wooyoung's hand disappeared under your top when he unclipped your bra to feel your breasts got loose in his hold. He bit your neck and kissed away the pain. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't notice San had put aside your panty to insert a finger when you gasped.

"It's okay, y/n. You are okay." Both of them praised you. San groaned when he felt you clenching around his finger. When he felt your sensitive skin filling up his fingers with slick, he smirked and added one more fingers and started pumping at a higher speed.

"Oh gosh! Just look at her face, San. She is already done with just fingers. How will she last with us inside her?" His laugh echoed in your ears.

"Stop it!" You whined and San chuckled, "do you want me to stop?"

"No! I mean I can take you both. It's just...feels too good."

"Really?" He increased his pace and Wooyoung pinched your nipples and massaged your breasts. Your chest heaving up and down. San noticed your attempt to close the legs around his hand but he held them apart, "don't or I will stop."

"No no please more...please more..I.. I"

"Are you close?" He asked you and you nodded. He slapped your thigh, "use your words."

"Yes yes...please..."

He detached his hands from your core and pulled down his own pants to reveal his hard member and red tip poking at your vision. You gulped at the sight of the size and he noticed your eyes focused on it and ruffled your hairs.

"Can you take it?"

"I think so..."

He pecked you before slowly entering you. You cried out in pain for the sudden stretch. San first had a concern etched on his face but quickly pulled out.

"Are you okay?" He brushed your hairs and cupped your face to look at your teary eyes.

You nodded, "yes...please San."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded and first he entered just the tip. Your breath hitched and you whimpered. Wooyoung cooed at you and grabbed your chin to pull you in a kiss to distract you from the pain. Your palms tightly clutched San's shoulders and he hissed when your nails digging in his skin because of his sleeveless tshirt.

San moved your attention on him and increased his pace when your previous orgasm returned again. You couldn't take him properly but he didn't mind, he was just concentrating on you. He wanted you safe.

Soon, when he felt you clenching, he was sure you were near to come and groaned before pulling you in a kiss. He was both hungry and desperate for you. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit and you whined.

The look on your face when the orgasm hit you was enjoyed by both of them. San groaned at the sight of your blissed out expression.

"You look so hot like this. I can't stop myself."he said and leaned back. “I love you baby.”

“San.” You shyly called his name and he moved your chin up to look at him, “say it pretty.”

“I love you too.”

Wooyoung turned you around when the other one pulled himself out after riding out the high.

You were still in a daze because of the previous activity and he rested your head on his shoulder, stroking your hairs, "it's okay. Take breaths." His other hand pulling down his pants down and soon you felt his tip poking your entrance.

His gestures were always sweet and he was taking time to let yourself relax before he could have you. You hummed in silence and sighed.

He soon felt your breaths were normal against his skin and he used his two fingers to scissor you and painted the walls with your slick. You moaned to his touch and he pecked your nose.

"You are so cute..."

You kissed his shoulder then his neck before facing him in front and pecked his lips. He smirked at you, “it’s seems like you are enjoying this too much.”

“Please…woo…please.”

He caressed your cheek and you snaked your hands around his neck when he slowly entered his tip inside you. When he saw a green sign, then inserted his whole length, stretching you out. He kissed your eyes and pressed his lips onto yours.

“Is it okay? Hurting somewhere?” He murmured softly and caressed your back. Again, his hand went under your top to put his attention on your breasts and you moaned.

He didn’t move and made you still with the right grip on your waist. Tears welled up in your eyes for the unbearable pain but you were constantly nodding to give him the sign to proceed.

But he didn’t. He was enjoying your impatience.

Another pair of hands patted your head and when you looked at the direction, you found San kneeling beside you both and encouraging you to adjust to the length.

You shifted in your place and Wooyoung groaned loudly. As soon as you whined, he grabbed your neck and breast and started moving in a slow pace.

It was building up the euphoric feeling once again, the pain turning into pleasure and your body shaking with every little torture on your nipples. The sensitive skin over your throat and neck was getting bruised by him. Not only him but San was enjoying your skin against his lips as well.

“You are so tight and clenching around me as if you don’t want me to stop tonight. Is it right, baby?” He moaned out loudly.

San chuckled in your ears, “isn’t she so perfectly tight? Like perfect for us.”

His pace increased and you were literally bouncing on his lap. You didn’t have to do anything much because he was guiding you through.

“I..I want to come…please.”

“Do you?” He smirked mischievously and rubbed slow circles over your clit. You nodded aggressively but he grabbed your neck to pull you close and pressed a small kiss, “words baby.”

“Yes yes please.”

“Here you go.” He thrusted deeper until you both come undone. Both of your chests heaving up and down against each other. He didn’t pull out but rested your head against his shoulder and San stroked your hairs.

“Shh…slow down. Are you okay?”

You hummed in reply, earning a kiss from both of them on your head.

“So?… did you just do it to take off my mind from the incident happened earlier?”

San asked you, “did it take off your mind from it?”

You nodded, “but there’s something else.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked you and raised your head to cup your cheeks. He smiled at you and you returned a little kiss.

“Does this sound selfish that I don’t want to choose one of you? But both.” You asked and whined when he pulled out.

“Yes.” San said and glanced at the other one before cracking into a smile, “it will sound selfish if you choose one….as we are not planning to leave you to only one.”

“And no one else other than from us. I love you…I fucking love you so much. My wish came true to have you as my girlfriend.” Wooyoung cheered in the end of the sentence.

“I love you too, Woo.”

You again rested your head on him and closed your eyes, “I’m so tired…but again I need to wash up.”

“It’s okay. You rest here. We will clean you up and we will sleep together.” San said and stood up.

Your eyes opened, “really?”

“Anything for our girl.”

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 16]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

"Haneul, why are you so happy?" You asked, noticing how giggly the girl was as she drew with her crayons on the floor. You sat in front of her, making her look up.

"Wooyoung oppa is coming!" She grinned.

"Do you really like Wooyoung oppa so much?" You chuckled, reaching out to tuck the stray hairs behind her ears. She nodded her head with a big smile. Now, you didn't know how to tell her that Wooyoung might not come with Hongjoong.

To be fair, you did try to tell her that someone else was coming. But she obviously assumed that any 'oppa' that was visiting the house was Wooyoung.

"Let's have dinner first, baby. We can continue drawing later." You told her.

"No, I want to finish my drawing before Wooyoung oppa comes." She frowned and turned back to the paper in front of her.

"Baby, I promise you can come back to it later. You need food and energy to draw, don't you?" You tilted your head. She seemed to process your words and contemplate it for a while.

"I can draw after?" She asked.

"Promise." You pinky promised her. After that, you sat her down at the table and placed her bowl in front of her.

"Unnie, can I have a jelly after? ...Please?" She added the magic word a little later, remembering how you taught her. When she asked so nicely and with her cute face, you really found it hard to say no to her.

"Okay. Just one." You laughed. You took a jelly cup out from the bag and showed her how you placed it aside for her. She kicked her feet excitedly. Haneul wasn't a picky eater, she always ate what you gave her, which you were very grateful for. You sat beside her and ate your meal with her.

"You eat so well~" You complimented while stroking her hair. Only at the end, you helped her get the remaining pieces onto her spoon.

"Can I have more soup?" She requested.

"Of course. More rice?" You asked. She shook her head. You got the bowl and stood up, going to get her more soup. You made a mental note, Haneul now likes beef and radish soup.

"Here you go."

"Thank you." She said when you placed the bowl back down. You smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

DING DONG

"Oh, early." You stood up and wore your mask before you went to answer the door. When you opened the door, you saw Hongjoong and Wooyoung standing there with bags in their hands.

"Woah, what's with all this?" You asked, stepping aside to let them into the house.

"I was out and got some gifts for Haneul and you. I thought she might like some toys and clothes. Also, I was going to come alone but Wooyoung insisted on coming. I couldn't stop him." Hongjoong said, making Wooyoung glare at him.

"Yah, Hongjoong ah. Why are you acting so formal?" You scoffed, punching his arm, gesturing to all the gift bags on the floor.

"You're the first person I know who hits people for giving them gifts. And most of them are for Haneul anyway." Hongjoong stuck his tongue out at you.

"Of course I will come. I'm not gonna let you visit my princess alone. Speaking of, where is... My princess!" Wooyoung ran over to where Haneul was eating and picked her up to hug her.

"Luckily he's here. She already assumed he was coming, I wouldn't know how to break it to her if he didn't come." You laughed.

"Wooyoung, let her finish her meal first, please." You instructed. Wooyoung put Haneul bag down in her seat.

"Eat up, my princess." Wooyoung patted her head.

"I already ate but I cooked extra for you guys. Eat before we start working." You waved to both Hongjoong and Wooyoung to sit down. As Hongjoong took his seat, Haneul sent him a wary look. Hongjoong gulped, suddenly feeling nervous with the child's stare of scrutiny on him. You placed the dishes down.

"H-Hi, I'm Hongjoong. I saw you yesterday on the phone." Hongjoong gave a small wave.

"I'm Haneul." The girl mumbled in reply. Wooyoung stifled a laugh as he stood up to help you get rice for himself and the captain. You handed out the cutlery and sat down beside Hongjoong.

"Haneul, this is Wooyoung oppa's... brother!" You explained to her. Haneul looked at Hongjoong up and down before looking at Wooyoung.

"You don't look like brothers." She stated.

"Actually, people say your unnie and I are similar so we're like brother and sister. I used to have blue hair like her." Hongjoong corrected.

"That's impossible. I'm unnie's only sister. She doesn't have a brother." Haneul reasoned. You nodded, Haneul did have a point. You and Wooyoung laughed at Hongjoong's fallen expression.

"Doesn't mean you have sparkles like unnie on your ears mean you're unnie's brother." She added. By 'sparkles', she meant the multiple piercings you both had.

"But Hongjoong is still unnie's friend. And he's a really nice oppa." You reached out to ruffled her hair. Haneul just nodded her head, not really saying anything much to that. The two boys just dug into the small meal that you prepared.

"The soup is good. Like the one my omma used to make me." Hongjoong complimented.

"I like the spicy pork." Wooyoung said. That was the extra dish you made, afraid that there won't be enough food for them. Haneul didn't eat that since she wasn't a fan of spicy food.

"Oh, also I brought some white kimchi. I told my mum you have your little sister with you and she sent some over." Wooyoung informed.

"Wow, thank you so much. Haneul just started eating white kimchi and she absolutely loves it. Help me thank your mom, please." You bowed your head.

"They put a lot of sugar in the store bought ones. My omma sweetens hers with fruit so it's better." He said.

"Perfect." You laughed. Haneul finished eating first so you cleared her eating area and gave her the promised jelly cup. Knowing that the two were watching her, you did the dishes that were in the sink.

"We'll do the dishes later." Hongjoong said.

"I can't possibly have you guys do the dishes in my house." You scoffed."

"Weren't you the one who said that we don't need to be so formal? Come on, we're not strange guests. You already did the cooking so we'll do the dishes and just leave them on the rack." Wooyoung insisted. You knew you wouldn't be able to beat the two of them so you gave in despite feeling unsure about it.

"Unnie, shall we give Wooyoung oppa a jelly too?" Haneul tugged on your sweater. She tried to whisper to keep it a secret. You nodded and followed her to the fridge.

"Baby, it would be nice to give something to Hongjoong too. He likes yoghurt a lot." You said softly.

"Really? He likes yoghurt too?"

"Mhmm. Just like you." You tapped her cheek. She thought about it before nodding and reaching out for a yoghurt tube. You took a jelly cup out of the bag and handed it to her.

"Yoghurt for Hongjoong oppa and jelly for Wooyoung oppa." She peaked over the dining table, slipping the two items beside the boys' bowls.

"Really? Thank you, Haneul ah." Wooyoung said with exaggerated awe. Haneul had a shy smile on.

"You're so kind. Do you know I love yoghurt?" Hongjoong asked. Haneul nodded her head, running to you to bury her face into your thigh shyly.

"Why are you acting shy?" You laughed, stroking the back of her head. While Wooyoung and Hongjoong finished their dinner and did the dishes, you sat with Haneul, accompanying her as she finished her drawing from earlier.

"I need to make one for Hongjoong oppa now. Or else he will be sad that he doesn't have one." Haneul told you, setting aside the one she drew for Wooyoung and taking a new sheet of paper.

"That'll a great idea, baby. I think he will really like that." You pinched her cheek.

"Unnie, what's all that?" Haneul suddenly pointed to the stack of paper bags by the front door.

"Those are from Wooyoung and Hongjoong." You explained.

"Done." The two finished the dishes and came to sit with you and Haneul. They brought over the paper bags to show Haneul what they bought her. There were toys, shoes and clothes.

"You guys! Why did you buy so much?!" You scolded. Haneul didn't mind, she was over the moon as all the pretty clothes and new toys she had to play with.

"You must always spoil daughters. Right, princess?" Wooyoung grinned, tapping Haneul's cheek.

"But she's not your daughter. I swear, you met her a few hours ago and you're already wrapped around her finger." You scoffed at how lovestruck Hongjoong looked. He leaned back on his hands, watching her prance around in one of the dresses he bought her. Both Wooyoung and Hongjoong just ignored you.

"They bought you so many presents, baby. What do you say?" You prompted. Haneul giggled and ran over to hug them, giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

"Ugh, she's so cute." Hongjoong held his heart and fell back, making Haneul laugh.

"I was like that when I first met her too." Wooyoung completely understood what the captain was feeling.

"Let's start working or we'll never get anything done tonight. I'll come put Haneul to bed when it's time for her sleep." You said after checking the time.

"Have fun." Wooyoung waved. Hongjoong pouted, unhappy that Wooyoung got to play with Haneul, as you grabbed his jacket and dragged him to the room to work.

"I didn't know you like kids so much." You raised an eyebrow as you closed the door.

"I'm not crazy over them like Wooyoung and San are. But she's super cute and I think I have a soft spot for daughters, seeing her in the dress I bought just melted my heart." Hongjoong said.

"Your future daughter will have you on your knees then." You chuckled and Hongjoong nodded his head with a laugh of agreement. He took his laptop out from his bag and sat in the spare chair beside you at the desk.

"This is what I've been working on for the track, I added some piano overlay using the MIDI." He played for you the edits. You bobbed your head, listening to it.

"I like that." You nodded.

"And these are the lyrics I wrote for the chorus. Mingi is still working on the rap portion and the bridge." He said.

"How is Mingi? I haven't spoken to him in a while, being busy with Haneul and all that." You asked, trying to remain nonchalant. Honestly, you missed Mingi quite a bit and you missed talking to him.

"You haven't spoken to him at all?" Hongjoong tilted his head. He meant it as a genuine curiosity.

"No... But I'm sure he's just busy." You rubbed the back of his neck.

"Hmm... Well, he's been working on his lyrics a lot. And some of his own producing in his own studio." Hongjoong recalled. You nodded your head.

"Back to this, let me listen to what you have recorded so far?" You changed the subject back, thankful your mask could hide your face now. Why did it hurt to remember that every member has reached out to you except Mingi? The last time you spoke to him was when you first had Haneul over and he called you.

But like you always do, you pushed your feelings aside and focused on the work in front of you. You and Hongjoong were even able to do some recording and experiemental adlibs.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come in." You and Hongjoong paused the music. Haneul ran in with Wooyoung behind her.

"Hey, baby." You greeted. She ran past you, boldly climbing into Hongjoong's lap. Hongjoong was quick to hold his arms out to steady her and catch her if she fell.

"I drew something for you!" She told him excitedly, handing over the piece of paper.

"Wow! For me? It's beautiful, Haneulie." He said as he looked at the drawing. It was a picture of him, judging by the figure with the blonde hair

"You like it?" She asked.

"I love it. Thank you." Hongjoong hugged her. She wrapped her arms around his neck while giggling. Wooyoung got his phone out, taking a picture of Haneul animatedly talking to Hongjoong about her drawing while she sat in his lap with his arms around her waist.

"That's so cute. Send it to me?" You looked over at the screen. Wooyoung gave you a thumbs up. After letting them talk for a bit, you decided it was time for Haneul to sleep.

"No... But I want to stay with Hongjoong oppa and Wooyoung oppa." Haneul pouted as she whined.

"They'll come play another day, hmm?" You bent down in front of her.

"No... I don't want that." Tears welled up in her eyes. Haneul rubbed her eyes but you grasped her wrist gently to stop her.

"Don't cry, baby." You said, wiping her fallen tears with a tissue instead. Haneul was still a kid and you knew that you couldn't give into her staying up any later.

"What about Wooyoung oppa put you to bed? I'll read you a bed time story." Wooyoung coaxed.

"How about that?" You were fine with Wooyoung doing that. As long as it got her to sleep. Haneul nodded her head, albeit unwillingly. Hongjoong hugged her and kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight, sleep tight. I'll come and play with you again soon." He patted her head. You momentarily left the studio to get Wooyoung a set of Haneul's pajamas and showed him where her toothbrush was. He knew what to do since he helped his mother with his younger brother before.

"I'll come when I'm done with work, baby. Goodnight." You gave a hug before she held Wooyoung's hand again. You mouthed a 'thanks' to him as they left the room.

"I'm not good at dealing with the meltdowns and tantrums yet." You sighed as you sat back down.

"It's not easy... It'll take time, Indigo. You're doing great things for her and raising her well enough." Hongjoong patted your shoulder.

"Thanks for saying that. Now, where were we?" You turned back to the computer. There was a lot of guilt that you felt when it came to raising Haneul. But you weren't going to get into that now.

When you and Hongjoong finally decided to call it a night, you realised that it was nearing 3am.

"Wooyoung, let's go-"

"Shhh." You shushed him. After shutting the systems down, you and Hongjoong came out from the studio to find Wooyoung laying on the couch, fast asleep, with Haneul on his chest.

"That's adorable." You took a picture of them. You carefully stepped over and took the fallen book that was near Wooyoung's hand to put it aside. Haneul would always get fussy if she was woken up so you didn't know how to move her.

"How should I...?" You tilted your head.

"I can come back for him in the morning." Hongjoong shrugged, completely fine with just leaving Wooyoung there like he was some puppy or pet.

"No, that's bad for his back. I don't want him getting hurt especially since he has so many dance schedules." You said.

"Do you want me to carry her?" Hongjoong offered.

"It's okay. I'll move her to the room quickly." You took a deep breath. Luckily, Haneul didn't seem too disturbed as you picked her up and brought her to the room. She did whine as you laid her down.

"Shhh... It's okay." You whispered, rubbing her back to coax her back to sleep. You put her bunny in her arms.

"Thanks again for coming. And for looking after Haneul, Wooyoung." You said to the half asleep Wooyoung and Hongjoong. Wooyoung shook his head.

"My pleasure... Anytime..." He yawned.

"Be safe on your way back." You walked the two to the door as Hongjoong steadied the sleepy Wooyoung, who almost fell over when wearing his shoes. As they left, you poked your head out to watch them until they disappeared into the lift. You let out a tired sigh and closed the door.

"That was a good session." You smiled to yourself. With that, you turned off the lights outside and changed into your own pajamas. You washed up and crawled into bed with Haneul.

"I love you." You whispered.

"Ugh." Mingi fell back onto the couch with a sigh. He had been trying to bury himself in his work for the past few hours but it wasn't working out.

Honestly, he would never admit it but he missed you. He hadn't seen you in so long and the only thing/ person in his head was you.

'Hey, Indigo. How have you bee|'

That was the message that remained in the text bar for the past week. Although Mingi wanted to know how you were, he felt nervous about starting a conversation with you.

"Yah, Mingi ah. Go home. It's late, you've been here for hours." His hyung poked his head in.

"But-"

"Just go." His hyung didn't even let his protest before chasing him out of the studio space. Mingi sighed, adjusting his bag over his shoulder before calling his manager to come pick him up. His hyung probably knew he wasn't even being productive anymore.

"Hey, hyung. Thanks for getting me so late." Mingi greeted as he climbed into the van. He sunk into the seat immediately, taking his cap off and ruffling his hair.

"No worries." The manager said. Just then 'It's Been A While' by Loco feat. Zion.T started playing on the radio.

'오랜만이야 웃음만 나와 거울 같아 너를 보면 어린 시절 내가 떠올라 오랜만이야 오랜만이야 손가락을 접어 이게 얼마 만이야 언제 봐도 넌 어제 본 것 같아'

Mingi shook his head as he let out a soft scoff of disbelief. How apt that this song is playing? Still, Mingi softly rapped along, knowing the lyrics by heart.

"You can tell that she was raised by Indigo. Or rather, is being raised by Indigo."

"Right? I told you she was cute. Luckily I went along to take care of her, seeing as to how you guys ended up producing for hours." Mingi heard Wooyoung and Hongjoong's voices as he entered the dorm. What were they still doing awake at this hour? And Mingi was sure he heard Hongjoong mention you.

"That is why Indigo is stressed... She wants to be there for her but her work takes a lot of time away. I understand that though, it's not easy as a producer." Hongjoong sighed.

"But she's already doing a great job." Wooyoung said softly.

"That's what we think, it doesn't matter as long as Indigo thinks differently." Hongjoong replied.

"Should we suggest her to move closer to us? I'm sure we can ask KQ to get a smaller apartment or something. That way, we can help her and she can build a bigger home studio." Wooyoung suggested.

"We can't just ask her to pack up and move right after she invites us into her home. Also, her current situation is only temporary, remember? And she's not officially a KQ employee. I don't want to put her in a tough spot."

"Well, let me know when you're going over again, I'll tag along if I can and help out." Wooyoung said.

"I will. I'm sure she would appreciate you helping while she's working." Hongjoong agreed. Mingi decided to make himself known. He saw them still in their outside clothes, which means they just came home.

"Oh, Mingi ah. Just came back from the studio?" Hongjoong asked. Mingi nodded his head.

"You guys went out?" Mingi asked back, trying to sound like he had just entered the house and wasn't eavesdropping.

"Schedule." Wooyoung replied.

~

Series Masterlist

[hegoeshardasfuck]

whatever it takes

wordcount: 1.2K

tags: free use, stuck in a wall, voyeur hinata, the sex itself is non-explicit but he is fucked beyond belief, body marking

synopsis: Naruto didn't expect that he'd have to degrade himself so far to get respect from the village even after all he's done

authors note: whoring him out is my favorite hobby these days, hope ya'll enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59579065

Did you know that sharpie starts to sting after enough of it's ink has been laid onto your skin? After the pitch black markings cross over with fresh, skin deep wounds- it stings.

He learns that with another day of this god awful display of humiliation. He willingly put himself up to it of course, the public held displeasure that he became Hokage. So the next best thing to appease them would be to prove he could handle anything even if he had already proven himself plenty.

It's not his fault the votes where in favor of one Naruto Uzumaki becoming the town cum dump for a weeks time. He took on the challenge with a grin, said he'd be fine by the end of it. Completely unaffected both physically and mentally, even in spite of that fact it would be seven days of overstimulation.

Three days have passed and doubts are starting to settle in.

He's allowed to return home at night if he so desires, so he can eat and sleep and apologize to his wife. He spat a big fat fuck you at everyone who said it'd be wise if he did so the first night. Fuck 'em. He said he'd take it and by god he's gonna take it all, every last drop

and every last marking and every single filthy degradation he endures.

Of course, he can't say no when it's Hinata whose walking in. She holds a cup of ramen in her hands because they definitely weren't making sure he doesn't starve out there.

He perks up at the sound of footsteps and smiles best he can when he sees his wife, "Hi, Hinata." He laughs weakly, his entire body shakes. He's thankful they gave him a bench to use as support for his arms.

"Are you going to come home tonight?"

Hinata asked.

"Nope!" There's a sharp intonation in his voice and a flicker of red in his eyes.

"Should I leave?" Hinata asked.

"I mean, if you wanna watch your husband get plowed from behind feel free to take a seat in the cuck chair," Naruto offered. He shakily raised an arm to gesture to a fold-up chair as he spoke in spite of the breathiness to his tone. "I don't actually know why they put that in here."

"Sometimes people like to watch," Hinata said simply as she placed down the ramen on Naruto's bench before pulling up the chair, "Do you want to wait until after he's done fucking you, or will you not choke if I feed you while he's doing it?"

Naruto paused, "It's a she, I think-" This weird almost growly sound stumbles out past his lips as he grips the bench.

"You can tell?"

"It's really cold, glass i think."

Hinata gave a small hum, "Then she won't leave for a bit?"

Naruto yelped, and then yipped, and finally yowled.

Hinata doesn't speak.

A brief shudder of relief courses through him, she can only recognize it due to the way his entire torso heaves, followed by a sigh, "Can I have some ramen?"

"Of course."

-/-/-/-

Two more days pass and Sasuke comes in for a visit up front, there's even more marks on Naruto.

"Hey, Sasuke," Naruto started with sloppily, his claws bore into the bench, his fangs were pronounced quite a bit. He's having a hard time keeping up his grin with how sore his face is from being fucked and slapped and somewhat written on. He looks wrecked.

It renders Sasuke near speechless.

"Here for a turn?" Naruto asked, "Come on, facefuck me. Do it."

"I came here for a turn but holy fuck, Naruto."

"Wait till day seven, I'll be a real mess when we get there."

"You can't get much messier than this."

He means it.

There's so many markings on his skin it's unreal, he doesn't even want to see what's on the other side of the wall. Sharpie, claws, bites, sore red marks, all of it is accounted for on Naruto's flesh. The bench is damp with drool and sweat alike. It smells of nothing but sex even outside the door, the scent having seeped through an insane amount. It was a rich, pheromone heavy scent that Sasuke was very familiar with.

"Oh ho ho, you'd be shocked," Naruto laughed as he lightened his grip on the bench. He folds his hand under his chin, "Anyways, what can I do ya for? I usually have a dick in my mouth by now."

"Do you even know whose been here?"

"Sort of, most of them they left a signature though, check it out!" He raises up a shaky arm, "Shikimaru keeps dropping in for sloppy sevenths with Ino."

Sasuke takes Naruto's hand and reads all the names, insignias, and logos on both arms.

Just about everyone noteworthy in the entire village has hit him up. Some probably didn't even leave a signature at that. It's both horrifying and impressive to imagine that one of the strongest most influential figures in the shinobi world has whored himself out so thoroughly in the course of five days. Just five days and his hair is matted with cum and sweat and his face is marked up with sharpie, cum, and tears alike. Only five days out of seven.

"You really think you can make it through?" Sasuke asked.

Naruto scoffed, "After enough time you don't really feel it as much, it's pretty tingly for the most part. I will say that nobody fucking cleans up after themselves- my thighs are so sticky right now it's insane. Walking home after this is gonna be horrible."

"As soon as you get out of this me and my wife are taking care of you." It almost sounds like a threat.

Naruto smiles lazily at Sasuke, "Really?"

"A promise, we'll get off all the sharpie."

"Will Hinata be there?"

"If she wants."

"Alright-! Fuck!"

Claws rip into the cushions once again, heavy panting, and Sasuke can hear the sound of a hand hitting skin.

"Looks like Sakura's back." Naruto laughed before whimpering.

"How can you tell?" Sasuke demanded.

"Hunch- go give her a hand, get in your fucks while you still can legally," Naruto taunted. He moans again and fuck that's a rich sound, absolutely delicious. He missed it quite a lot when it fell out of his best friends mouth, be it in the sheets or a fight.

But Sasuke doesn't budge.

"It'll be infidelity in two days..." Naruto drawled in an almost melodic rhythm.

That gets Sasuke moving.

And in a brief moment Naruto can feel a second set of hands on his body.

-/-/-/-

Just like Sasuke said, three sets of hands are on him.

They hold him gently, scrubbing the ink off of his flesh as he soaks in a lavender scented bath. Suds rest atop the water in a thick layer that he wants to sink into entirely. They won't let him though, holding up one sore leg and then the other to try and get off as much sharpie as they can.

He's almost worried that some of it has sinked so far into his skin it won't come out again. Sakura assures him it'll wash out eventually, even if not entirely right now.

"If it doesn't all come out now could we do this again next week?" Naruto asked, raising himself out of the water just enough that his speech wouldn't be distorted.

Sakura nodded, "Of course we can."

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter fifty-two // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 7.3k warnings for this chapter: exhibitionism, public sex, a little dubcon?

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Two:

I wake with a start. I know I’m in the living room, but I’m not sure how I got here. My head aches and it hurts when I open my eyes. They adjust to the dark, taking in the light streaming in from the kitchen.

I only notice Thomus when he moves his arm. He’s sitting in the armchair, one leg perched over the other. The glow from the kitchen casts shadows on his face, the ridge of his brow and glasses hiding his eyes. There’s something about the set of his shoulders that radiates tension and it puts me on edge.

I’m just gonna ignore my unease for now and push up onto my elbows. “Hey,” I say, my voice relays how dry my throat is.

He doesn’t respond to me. This is weird. Is he angry? What for?

“Oh… kay,” I murmur and shove myself into a sitting position up against the armrest, my legs curled under me. There’s a blanket laid over me, I clutch it closer to my chest. “What is it?”

He still stays quiet. Yeah, he’s gotta be angry with me. My heart thuds with nerves while I mentally trace my steps as to how I got here. I remember listening to music, baking, crying… dancing, and then… nothing.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that. “My head is killing me, which probably means I drank too much and didn’t hydrate.” I press my fingers against my brow, pushing in to relieve some of the tension.

“I’m glad we both agree you over indulged.”

“And… your point?” I ask. “Are you scolding me?”

“No,” he answers smoothly.

“Then why’re you being so…” my hand makes an unintelligible gesture as I search for the word “I don’t know it just feels like you’re mad at me.”

He shifts in his seat, re-crossing his legs and looking away. “I am angry,” he says, “but I’m not angry at you.”

I let that sink in for a moment. “So I didn’t do anything to embarrass myself?”

He lets out a chuckle that surprises me, his entire demeanor shifting. “I never said that.”

“Right,” I huff, letting out a laugh. “So what did I do? Vomit all over myself?”

“Loads. It was disgusting,” he deadpans.

I look down at myself and then into the kitchen, a horrified look morphing onto my face. Everything’s all cleaned up now, so he’d have to have taken care of me while I was piss drunk.

Thomus laughs again, and when he speaks his voice is soothing. “No, you were far from vomiting, which is impressive considering how much you drank.”

I shrug. “I’m a big girl. I can handle my liquor.”

“Not to mention how much I spun you around,” he says as stands. He reaches down for the blanket tucked on me, and I realize it’s his cloak. When he takes it back I feel chilly and exposed, noting the loss of his scent.

His words confuse me, but then, “Oh, right, dancing.”

Thomus drapes his cloak over his arm and walks closer to the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, his head tilting adorably as he speaks. “How much do you actually remember?”

I bite my lip. “I’m afraid it stops there.”

Thomus looks back at the stairs. “Interesting.” He heads up them, two at a time, then pauses. “Edinburgh on Friday.”

I don’t know what’s worse – going to Edinburgh or the gap in my drunken memory.

~*~

As I wait around for Friday, not being able to remember what happened after we danced really starts to bother me. Thomus doesn’t bring it up again, and besides outright asking about it, I can’t think of a way to naturally bring it up in conversation. I’ve never been so drunk that I couldn’t remember what happened before.

Friday afternoon I spy him outside at the border of the property, walking along the stone wall. I watch him from the living room window as he recites incantations from a book he’s holding. An iridescent mist pours from the tip of his wand, it shimmers and clouds over the property line as it creates a wall that just goes up and up past my line of sight. As he walks away from it, continuing, the wall disappears.

I have a feeling that this new ward is going to keep out more than just our mysterious intruder. It’s going to keep out everyone else too. I’ll have to leave another note across the creek for Caelan or Kyle to find once Thomus is done.

While Thomus is outside, I practice my magic. Three days seems to be the magic number right now. Literally. Within a few minutes of concentration on that same lightbulb, it’s glowing in my hand. I wonder how long I’ll be able to keep this a secret. Especially since just me zoning out makes him suspicious.

~*~

Since I’ll have my magic for Edinburgh tonight, I don’t second guess the dress I chose. It’s getting chillier at night, but with the warming charm, I should be okay wearing a shorter dress with merely straps for sleeves. Granted, the shape of the dress isn’t all that different from ones I’ve worn in the past, but I’ve really only got a few options when it comes to styles that flatter my body shape.

The color is a few shades paler than my hair and I’m busy layering on a darker shade of pink onto my eyelids when Thomus moseys into the bathroom from his side. He comes up behind me to grab his comb off the vanity, his hand briefly touching my hip to keep me still. I step to the side anyhow to give him room, because having him directly behind me like that while I’m bent over the sink put the dirtiest images in my head.

I do my best to ignore him while I continue doing my makeup, but every so often I glance up, my eyes involuntarily drawn to the movement of him combing his hair out of his face. I freeze when he leans forward to turn on the tap and wet the comb before returning it to his hair.

You’d think I’d be used to his closeness by now. We’ve literally slept together, so how is it that he can still make me blush? I internally roll my eyes, because I need to get over my stupid crush on the man. He’s a Death Eater. It’s not like he’s ever going to feel the same. He’s not going to want the same things I do. Fuck, I’m still not over the fact that I want those things in the first place. Guess we always want things we can’t have.

I’m so focused on my makeup and my thoughts that I don’t notice Thomus has paused combing his hair. He’s leaning against the doorway to my room, fingers running up and down the teeth of the comb. My eyes flicker back and forth, uneasy that he’s just watching me. I almost believe he’s just looking at my ass, given how I’m leaned over the sink, but no, he’s… watching me do my makeup. I want to groan. He’s probably got a problem with my outfit.

“What?” I ask.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. Then his eyebrows raise and his gaze travels along my body. Ugh, I can’t decide if it makes my skin crawl or tingle.

“Nothing,” he says, but he’s clearly lying.

“What?” I snap again, irritated. “Something wrong with my dress?”

He hesitates and doesn’t return my irritated tone. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Yes,” I bite, finishing my mascara. I angrily toss it into the makeup bag before grabbing my toothbrush, squeezing the minty paste onto the bristles. “What’s wrong with it?”

I start brushing my teeth as I wait for his answer. He hesitates again, so I start spewing the worst I can think of. “Is it too much pink? Do I look…” I was gonna say fat, but of course I look fat, that’s a fucking given. “Bad?”

“Not at all,” he says quickly, then much slower, “I just wondered if you were going to be cold.”

I spit out some of the toothpaste/saliva mixture and snort. “Why? Planning on fucking me outside again?”

“No… not outside.”

My skin immediately prickles across my chest and my face burns. My eyes widen for a moment before I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how my heart thumping madly in my chest. When I look at him, he’s already looking at me, waiting for my reaction. Mostly I’m just remembering last time… and the several times I’ve fantasized about it since.

There are several witty responses I could say, but what actually comes out is a garbled, “Really?”

He doesn’t respond, instead turning and disappearing into my room. He returns a moment later to put the comb back.

“Once you’ve changed, I’ll be downstairs,” he says.

I resist the urge to sigh. Whatever it is, I’ll bet I have to redo my makeup.

~*~

The dress he wants me to wear is the one I wore to the Lot fights. I only adorn it with a belt, and leave the neckline as it should be, simply buttoned up to my chest. No tights this time, and he’s lucky I didn’t have to redo my makeup. I added wings on top of the pink eye shadow, so I wouldn’t look entirely like a clown.

He’s waiting for me by the front door and I have to pass him to step into my flats. Then I straighten and turn to him, expectantly waiting for the collar.

Thomus turns to me with his hand in his pocket, and I assume it’s to pull out the collar, but instead he asks, “Are you wearing panties?”

The question takes me by so much surprise that I’m momentarily speechless. When I do find my voice, it’s a jumbled mess of words. “I – um – mm – yes?” I say. “Why?”

He holds his hand out and says with all seriousness, “Hand them over.”

“Why?” I demand again, stepping back. My back hits the front door.

“You won’t be needing them,” he replies.

I snort. “Yes, I do need them. They’re my underwear.”

“Give them to me or I will take them off myself,” he warns.

I swallow hard and grit my teeth, glaring at him. There’s no humor in his expression, just calm expectation.

“Ugh, whatever,” I grumble. I stare pointedly around the room as I lift the sides of the dress, my hands finding purchase at my hips. I quickly slide them down, step out of them, and ball it up into one tight grip before chucking them onto the couch.

“Good,” he says, satisfied. He pulls out the collar and I turn around, already hating feeling exposed underneath my dress. “They’d just get in the way.”

I am both aggravated and intrigued. He said we weren’t fucking outside, so logically that means inside… somewhere. One of the private booths? A dark corner?

And then I’m just… confused. He’d said when he returned from Italy that he didn’t want me to kiss him. I’d assumed that meant he wanted things to go back to the way they were before. He’d said that night was a ‘terrible lack of judgement’.

Okay, maybe – maybe – I can understand. Thomus has to be in denial. He’s got a thing for fat chicks and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Plus, I’m not a pureblood, so let’s throw that into the mix, too. What’s so special about me? I’m everything that he hates, aren’t I?

Though I hardly doubt that me, some American witch who’s gotten herself mixed up in all of this, some girl who’s never had a boyfriend or a lover, could cause such turmoil in Thomus’ life. We’d interacted, what, twice before he just straight up bought me?

Why did he buy me?

I’m torn out of my thoughts when he reaches around me to twist the door handle and pull it open. He’s put the collar on me, and his cloak around his shoulders. We step into the night and I shiver when I feel a breeze ruffle the skirt, drifting up my thighs. I silently cast a warming charm.

He scoops up the leash and leads me down the path. At the barrier, he pulls out his wand, waving it slowly back and forth.

“Aperio Saltus,” he says. The iridescent cloudy shimmer I’d seen earlier today reappears, but fades to nothing where the wooden gate is. I pull up my sleeve and hold my arm out for him to take. He glances down to make sure his fingers touch the tattoo before pulling me through the barrier. He holds onto me when he turns back to the house. “Cludo Saltus.”

The protection spell reforms where we’d passed through and I only realize now that I can’t even see the cottage. It’s disappeared into the dark woods with no defining markers that a cottage exists here at all.  

~*~

“Nice one, Alder,” Will says as I sink a striped ball into a corner hole.

“You’ll tell me if we’re winning, right?” I mutter, resuming my stance next to him. This game has been long and I’m not exactly having fun. Will and I are partners, facing Astor and Thomus. There’s only a couple balls left on the table, the 8-ball, the white one, and two plain ones.

“Yes, you’re winning,” Thomus grumbles as he leans over the table, lining up his cue.

“Is that why you’re so grumpy?” I say aloud, crossing my arms, and giving him a pointed look.

He narrows his eyes and gives me a sour look. “Hush – I’m trying to concentrate.”

Just as he turns his gaze away, I stick my tongue out at him. He pulls the stick back, aiming the white ball at one of the plain ones. He light taps the white ball and it shoots forward, bouncing off one of the felted walls to knock against one of the plain balls. It narrowly scoots its way into a hole.

Thomus makes a triumphant gesture and holds the cue stick out for Astor, who’s busy flirting with a lot sitting a drink before him at the small round standing table. Thomus has to poke Astor with the end of his stick before getting him to move. It’s their team’s turn again since they sunk the ball.

Thomus comes to stand next to me while Astor lines up their last shot. “I can think of a few other places for that tongue to go since you’re so willing to have it out.”

I don’t even look at him, but my heart skips and my ears get hot. My eyes flicker over to the sea of couches and chairs where I know we’re going at some point tonight. The whole time we’ve been playing I’ve been overly self-conscious of the way the dress slides between my ass cheeks, almost like it’s doing it on purpose, every time I have to lean over the table. I always hope no one notices, but the way Thomus looks at me… he definitely notices.

Astor sinks their last ball and looks to me and Will. “Better say your prayers now.”

“I know a way to make our game more interesting,” Will says, a mischievous glint to his smirk. “Losing team has to admit the craziest place they’ve ever had sex.”

My eyes widen. Maybe it’s the location, Edinburgh being the current sex capitol of the Death Eaters. Maybe sex is just on the brain for everyone here. It’s definitely on mine.

“You’re on,” Astor says immediately, a dumb goofy grin on his face. Seems like he’s eager to boast about his sex-capades.

Thomus sighs, shooting a glare at Will. “Take your turn so we can get this over with. I’d like to actually have sex rather than talk about it.”

“Touche,” Will chuckles, unbothered by Thomus’ mood. He takes the cue stick I hold out to him and leans over the table. He misses his shot because it was just a bad angle.

Thomus leaves my side, taking the cue from Astor and attempts to save the set up Will had left. He somehow manages to get the white ball lined up just perfectly for the next player… which happens to be me. Will has a big grin on his face because he already knows they lost.

Will passes me the cue stick and without fuss, I easily sink the 8-ball.

“Fantastic!” he beams at me, holding his hand up for a high-five. I give him a small smile and return his celebratory high-five. He turns to the other team. “Well?”

Astor is finishing chugging his drink, but he answers Will with a handsome grin. “Flying carriage, mid-flight.”

The Lot still standing by the small table gasps at his answer and he turns to her, murmuring something into her ear. I wonder where Isobel O’Quinn is tonight.

“Well?” Will asks Thomus, who’s busy setting up the next game.

Thomus hesitates, glancing up at me and then back down again. “Azkaban.”

I know I look shocked, and I peek at Will to make sure I’m not the only one.

“How?” Will asks.

Thomus gives him an exasperated look. “Do I need to explain to you how sex works?’

Will scoffs. “No. I only meant isn’t that place supposed to be full of dementors and like despair?”

“Yes, it is,” Thomus replies smoothly, without hesitation this time. “Astor, are you playing another round? I’d like to win this time.”

Thomus pulls the triangle rack off the set balls, the 8-ball in the middle. He places the white ball in between it and the edge of the table. I walk over to him and line up my shot to break the set.

“Don’t beat me this time or I’ll have to prove my masculinity in other ways,” he says. My quick glance around ensure only I heard that. Will is standing too far away and Astor is still wrapped up in conversation with the Lot.

I snort. “Mustn’t have been all that strong in the first place,” I tease. I push him back gently with my elbow. “Now get out of my way.”

He smirks and steps back. It feels so nice to just simply flirt with him. It makes this round pass a lot quicker than the last, and I wish we’d been doing it a lot sooner.

A few turns go by, and my eyes wander the room like they did before. Before this round, the Lounge had been kind of empty with everyone still gathered in the Main Hall. Now there are more people, more Death Eaters coupled with their Lots scattered around the room.

A couple stands behind us and I accidentally back into the Lot. While I make my apologies and put distance between us, I just so happen to look down and see a tiny scroll, no longer than an inch, on the floor. It’s where the couple had just been standing. They’d adjusted as well, stepping to the side.

When I look up at them, the Lot is looking at the scroll on the floor, too. Her face has paled and she tries to mask her sudden anxiety, but I see it before she does. Her eyes jump up to mine and we both look down at the paper before meeting eyes again.

Silently, I step to the scroll, putting my foot over it.

Relief washes her face, and her eyes start to frantically dart around the room. I look too, trying to see who she’s looking for.

Eventually her eyes land and stay on Charlotte, who’s making her way towards us with a tray full of drinks.

Okay, so I need to get the scroll into my hand and then somehow into Charlotte’s. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that this is some kind of note being passed around the Lots.

My eyes are darting around, trying to come up with a plan. Charlotte’s stopped by someone, she’s still a distance away.

Thomus is focused on the game, as is Will. He’d just taken the cue stick before his turn, so I have time. No one else seems to be paying me any attention either. Except for the girl who’d dropped the scroll, but that’s a given.

Trying to be as casual as possible, I crouch down, pretending to adjust the strap of my flats. I lift my foot enough to grab flattened scroll and tuck it into the palm of my hand. When I straighten, no one’s overtly staring, thank god. Not that they would. Me dropping to adjust an article of clothing isn’t weird human behavior. I’m just paranoid.

Next time I lay eyes on Charlotte, she’s about to make her way past me. Astor’s waving her down, needing another drink. The only plan that pops into my head is a stupid one, but I’m gonna have to give it a go.

As she passes, I pop my foot out in her path. Not to make her fall, just to make her stumble.

My hands jump out to the tray, holding it as she gets her bearings. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were walking by!”

She blinks at me, an uneasy expression on her pretty face. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done.”

“Oh good,” I say, my hands slide to hers still gripping the tray. I quickly slip the tiny paper into a gap between her palm and the edge of the metal.

The subtlest of realizations crosses her face and she simply smiles at me. “Would you like a drink?”

“Not if I’m already being clumsy,” I smile sheepishly.

She nods and continues to Astor. Thomus appears at my side not two seconds later.

“Save the day?” he questions, an eyebrow raised.

I haven’t even had time to quell the adrenaline rush that whole fucking thing just gave me. My hearts racing with joy at my success.

“From disaster? Yes.”

~*~

What feels like forever a time later, after Will and I had beaten them again, Thomus is finally dragging me over to a section of couches. There are a few couples scattered about, their attentions solely focused on each other. It gives me minimal relief knowing that we won’t have an attentive audience, but I’m still practically shaking with nerves. Last time I got carried away by the moment and focused on Thomus. Hopefully I can do that this time too.

Thomus picks a couch, a spot with plenty of room for my legs to spread on either side of him. He sits, his eyes dropping to follow my hands as they lift the hem of my dress so I’m not crawling on it as I straddle him. His thighs feel so strong underneath me as I settle in, a hand on the back of the couch to keeps me steady as I gently lower my weight onto them. As always, I test for his reaction, terrified that it’s too much for him.

He’s not looking at me, though. Well, not at my face. His gaze roams my torso like his hands roam my thighs and hips. The thin fabric of my dress snags on his hands and it feels extra enticing over the areas normally secured by my undies. His fingers slowly trace the curve of my ass and hip and it’s almost as if I were actually naked. They even trail up to the rolls on my waist, an area he’d gotten to know the night we were here last. When his hands explored and worshipped my body as they do now.

That’s how it feels, at least.

Thomus is bent forward, I feel his breath on my chest as his lips kiss around the forgotten leash. His hands move forward, caressing my stomach, moving up to palm my breasts. I shudder when I feel his tongue and teeth lick and nip at the base of my throat. I ache from his attention already, and my hips shift, searching for the right pressure, my bare core spread across his lap. The cool fabric of his pants brushes against my skin.

Some men across the room laugh, and I’m reminded we’re not alone whatsoever. The momentary clear in my aroused haze makes me realize his hands have left my breasts and are now slowly undoing the buttons on the front of my dress.

“Thomus,” I protest, my cheek pressing against his soft curls to speak in his ear. My hands push at his shoulders and he relents, sighing as he sits back against the cushions. My fingers and eyes immediately go to the buttons, assessing the damage.

His hand grabs mine, stalling the rebuttoning. “Don’t touch those.” His voice is husky and I’m surprised to see his pupils are blown out as he looks at me. It’s probably the dim lighting. “I won’t threaten your modesty any further.”

“It’s not modesty,” I correct, shaking my head as if that were ridiculous. Which it is. “I just don’t want to be on display for dozens of men who’re literally strangers.” My body isn’t something that all men want to see and I don’t want their harsh judgement.

“I don’t want you on display for them,” he scoffs. He moves his hands back to my thighs, restarting their journey up my sides. “I want you on display for me.”

“If that’s the case, then why don’t we do this from the privacy of our own home?”

He takes the time to drag his eyes up to meet mine. “Because I enjoy publicly staking claim on what belongs to me.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Okay, so the tattoo, the leash and collar, and the fact you fucked me in front of a crowd last time wasn’t enough for you?”

As if reminded of their existence, he grabs said leash and pulls on it tightly, yanking me forward so I’m leaning against him. My hands support my weight against the back of the couch, but the new angle adds the precise pressure to my clit that I’d been searching for. I somehow manage to keep the pleasure from being written all over my face. His lips brush my cheek as his free hand presses against the valley between my breasts, pillows against the shape of it.

“I’m insatiable,” Thomus murmurs, his mouth quickly resuming its work against my skin.

Boy oh boy, my monkey brain is quickly winning the battle against my sanity. I release a sigh that borders on a moan as my body embraces being pressed on him. My hips move, rocking and pressing my core against what’s clearly his erection wedged between my thighs. He quickly picks up on my movements, his hands move to my hips, gripping them tightly, encouraging their grinding.

“Does that poor little clit ache to be touched?” His deep voice sends shivers down my body and as if it heard his words, my clit starts to throb. He flexes his hips and I release a quiet little whimper, nodding my head.

“Then touch it for me,” he says and my breath catches in my throat, my body freezing. “I want you to rub that pretty pussy for me.” He pushes back at my hips and I reluctantly leave the safety of his embrace.

My brain scrambles for a reason to object. I know this is the general nature of what we’re here to do, but that? In his lap? Never mind all these people here. My eyes immediately jump to the crowd, looking for faces turned in our direction, gazes providing me with their unwanted attention.

“Remember you’re here for me,” he says darkly, a possessiveness in his eyes. “Not anyone else. You’re going to touch yourself because I want you to.”

“But why?” I ask, my expression full of vulnerability and disbelief.

“Because I want to watch you.” He grabs one of my hands and pushes it against the soft curve of my fupa.

God I wish I could use my Occlumency right now. But if I do, he’ll obviously notice from this close proximity. So I take a few deep controlled breaths to keep myself from freaking out. How did I ever do what I did the first time we came here? I hardly even knew him then.

As I begin to adjust my body – sliding back on his thighs, tilting my hips up, positioning the dress so it won’t be in my way – I run my mouth.

“So exhibitionism, voyeurism, bondage, spanking – what else are you into?” I attempt to make my voice nonchalant, as if what I’m doing isn’t as dirty as I think it is.

He ignores my question, his eyes zeroed in on my hand disappearing beneath the green fabric between my legs. The position is awkward, I feel I need to lean back more, so my hand can have full access, but I don’t want to lose my balance and fall. Talk about calling attention to myself.

I grab one of his hands and put it on the outside of my thigh, near the crook of my knee, and I put the other on the juncture of my hip and waist. He’s already looking at my face when I look at his.

“Don’t let me fall,” I plead, and his grip immediately tightens where I’d placed his hands.

“Never,” he says. His voice is so serious and somehow so reassuring.

I tilt my hips again and lean one hand back on his knee. My dominant hand disappears beneath the dress again. I don’t know what he wants to watch. It’s not like he can see down there.

“You never answered my question,” I state. My fingers find my slit, quickly delving between my lips – holy fuck I’m really wet. I move my arousal up to my clit, rubbing and circling it directly with the lubrication. My scent wafts up into the air between us.

“What question?” he asks, and I wonder if he’s this easily distracted all the time.

I sigh, but I’m not sure if it’s out of pleasure or trying patience. “What’re you into? Like sexually.”

He glances up at me briefly. “You’re asking this now?”

“Seems the perfect time.”

He swallows and his eyes absently drift up as he considers.

“I already know you have a fat fetish, so you don’t have to bring that one up.”

His eyes snap back to me. “A what?”

“Fat fetish,” I enunciate slowly. “Or maybe it’s a kink – I’m not really sure the difference.”

“I don’t have a –“

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t? What the hell am I then? You telling me that you have a history of being attracted to plus size ladies like myself that I don’t know about?”

I expect him to rebuff me again, but he surprises me with honesty. At least his tone makes it seem like he’s being honest.

“No,” he admits. “It’s a, um, recent development.”

“How recent?” I ask because I’m nosey as shit.

“Are you even touching yourself? You seem awfully distracted.”

It’s true, I am distracted, but I know my body’s subtle reaction to what my hand is administering. My thighs and ass have clenched, my hips slightly rock with every pleasurable jolt my clit sends throughout my body. I tilt my head and lick my lips.

“Yeah, I’m touching myself,” I breathe quietly. “I’m really wet.”

His hips flex beneath me and he lets out a heavy huff through his nose. “Yeah?”

My horny monkey brain is taking the lead on this one. “You wanna taste?”

He lets out the quietest whimper, like he was trying to suppress it. His lips are already parted when he nods.

I sink two fingers inside my core and make sure I give an appropriate gasp as I press them against my g-spot before pulling them out. Thomus’ gaze is full of hunger and want, eager for the middle and ring finger I slip into his mouth. His eyes close as his lips seal around them and his tongue laps at my juices. I let my fingers linger in his mouth, enjoying the hot wet suction.

When I pull them out, my hand goes to the back of his neck and I pull him forward to kiss him. Our lips smash together, tongue and teeth clashing in the fight for dominance. My hand slips down to his belt, quickly freeing him of the confines of his pants. He gasps when I start to stroke him against my palm.

The hand that had been behind my knee easily slips under the dress, his fingers prodding between my legs. I feel his chest shudder and his mouth becomes distracted when he feels just how wet I am. My hips jerk when he presses in on my clit, a little too hard, and I bite his bottom lip. This doesn’t deter him because he sinks two long fingers inside me. It’s my turn to gasp as his thumb presses against my clit and his fingers curl onto my g-spot.

“How’s that feel, my darling?” he murmurs against my lips. I rock my hips and the added pressure of my weight onto his hand makes me crazy.

I grip the base of his cock and drag my hand up it, twisting my palm against his head, smearing a bead of pre-cum. My lips leave his as I kiss my way to his ear. “How’d that feel?”

A light breathy laugh escapes him. “Trying to distract me won’t prevent me from taking an orgasm from you.”

I repeat the strokes of his cock, my tone light and curious. “I thought one is supposed to give someone orgasms. Not take them.”

“You give them to me and I take them from you,” he murmurs. As if to prove his point, his hand pulses, fingers flexing against me. “It’s not complicated – come on, darling.”

His hand on my hip encourages the enticing rocking they’re already starting to do. My cunt is throbbing with need and pleasure begs to be released. I whimper and give into his movements. I don’t go as wild as my instincts are telling me to, but I move just enough to push my orgasm higher and higher until it’s threatening to spill like water over the edge of a tub.

My body stiffens and by some miracle I’m able to orgasm in silence. His hand is rubbing my back as I come down from this high, trying to keep my panting to a minimum.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs into my ear.

Once recovered enough, I push myself away from him, sitting in his lap. He’s got the most irritating, smug grin on his face, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Without realizing it, I glare at him, and his response is to flex his fingers that’re still inside me.

I gasp and quickly grapple for his wrist, lifting my hips to pull his hand away. His hand is practically dripping with me and I put it the best place I can think of. I steer his hand down to his still-stiff cock, wrapping his fingers around it. My hand encloses over his as he shamelessly strokes himself, his breathing hard and his eyes on me. Soon my hand replaces his and I lean forward to kiss him again.  

“I need – inside you,” he breathes heavily between kisses. I quickly nod my head, hazy with anticipation. “Rise up for me a little bit?” he asks and I comply while he shimmies further down in his seat. I crawl forward a little bit more, and when I feel him pushing my thigh down, I lower myself until I feel his cock sliding up and down my cunt.

The tip of his head finds my entrance and I slowly start to sink down. When I’m fully seated, his cock stretching me out and pushing deeper than he ever has before, he lets out a long breath.

“Fuck,” he groans. He’s farther away from me now. He’s not lying down, but he might as well be. If I lean forward, I know he’s going to slip out.

I test how much I can move. This is a new position for me, one I’m definitely not comfortable with if I really think about it. My thighs burn when I lift myself up and sink back down on him. I circle my hips, focusing on how he feels moving in me. It feels amazing, but unless I have a finger on my clit, I don’t I could finish. And I already have, which makes the small noises coming from him all the more interesting.

His hands are on me, one behind my knee again, and the other sliding up and down my waist. His hand takes in my body just as his eyes are. I circle my hips again and he looks ready to combust.

I have one hand on the back of the couch to stabilize me, and I bring the other one to his jaw, cupping it. His lust-filled eyes go to my face.

“I got some questions for you,” I say, my voice sounding just as breathless as I feel. “And you’re gonna answer them.”

His jaw locks and he frowns. “Or what?”

“Or…” I lift my hips until only the very head of him is in. “I stop this ride.”

“That’s what you think,” he smirks. His hands are suddenly at my hips, pulling down on them while he pushes his hips up. He sinks all the way back into me and maybe even further, gyrating his hips, and I barely stop myself from crying out. This won’t fucking do.

“No,” I pant. I clamp my legs around him and really let my weight settle on his lap. He lets out a strangled gasp, and I try to tell myself I’m not hurting him, even as the negative thought takes root. “No,” I say again, my voice firmer. “I want answers.”

“What could you possibly want to know?” he grinds out, clearly irritated at being cock-blocked.

I lean forward, as close as I can be to his face. I keep my voice low. “Did you take a potion to do this?”

His eyes, which had fallen to the cleavage bursting out of the dress at this angle, snap to my face. He opens his mouth to speak and I just ignore him. “Or is it like what you said before? This place just makes you horny.”

He closes his mouth, long silent moments passing. I sit back up and grind down on him, squeezing him with those internal muscles. He groans and his hips flex beneath me.

“Answer me,” I breathe. “I’m tired of the back and forth. I just want the truth. I –“

“Yes,” he groans. “Of course it was a bloody lie.” He pushes his hips up again, thighs jostling me. “What does this fucking feel like to you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I hiss. To regain control, I rise and then lower myself a few times, watching his strained, annoyed face. “It feels like you’ve got a big hard cock for me.”

His hand smartly (and rather loudly) smacks me on my ass. “Ten points for Thunderbird.”

“What does that even mean?”

I circle my hips again and he hisses. “I’ll explain it later.”

“Why lie in the first place?” I demand. “Why say all of those awful fucking things to me right after we –“

“Because I’m not supposed to –“

“Right, you’re not supposed to find me attractive, but you do, right?” I grind down on him again on impulse.

“If that wasn’t fucking obvious,” he groans.

“But if that’s the case then – then why – do you – do you hate me?” I ask. I know our words won’t be overheard because of how softly we’re speaking, but my hearts pounding with nerves. I shouldn’t be having this conversation here. I shouldn’t be having it at all. My words aren’t indicative of the type of relationship we’re supposed to have. Master and servant, master and slave, Death Eater and sex slave. I speak as if we’re already equals.

Narcissa said to ignore what he says, and if I do that, then his actions imply that he… that he doesn’t hate me.

And I really want him to not hate me.

I’m lost in my thoughts, my eyes focused on his chest and not his face. I’m too terrified of what I’ll see there.

“Lift up,” he simply says, and I finally look at him. His expression is concentrated, intense focus. I raise my hips, pulling off of him, and he shoves himself back up in his seat. He doesn’t settle though, instead he pushes at me so forcefully, I’m lying on my back along the couch.

I don’t have time to see if anyone’s watching because he’s on me in the next instant. He settles between my legs, pushing my dress up enough for him to slide into me again. He plants a head next to my head and the other on the edge, keeping me trapped.

Thomus lowers his head and lips are on mine in the next second, taking taking taking. Taking the air from my lungs, the soul from my body, any sense I’d had left. He pumps his hips against me, his cock rolling deep and sure inside me. I moan into his kiss.

He finally pulls his mouth away, his lips finding my ear. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps. He slams into me again, this time so hard my whole body jolts. It feels so fucking good.

“This fucking body – I wanna sink my teeth into every glorious inch,” he’s starting to sound like a man possessed as he whispers in my ear, but my god I’m not gonna fucking stop him. He rocks into me, his pelvis angled just right – how the fuck does he get it right every time? “And your hair. This bloody beautiful color that makes your eyes so fucking green. Did you know I found strands of it wrapped around my cock in Italy? Couldn’t even escape you there.”

His breath is hot and fast against my neck as his pace starts to pick up. He’s close to losing it and so am I. This is a wild, feral version of Thomus that I haven’t seen before. Experiencing him like this is beyond what I’d hoped for.

Because my brain likes to remind me of things at the most inconvenient times, my eyes open to double check we’re not being watched, and the air in my lungs freezes when I see fucking Rodolphus sitting in an armchair a few feet away. Our eyes meet and he smirks, raising an eyebrow.

My hands – they’d been clutching at Thomus’ side and arm – release their grip and pat him to get his attention.

“Thomus,” I gasp when he doesn’t acknowledge me.

He only fucks me harder. “Say it again, darling.”

“Thomus,” I moan, my eyes closing. The orgasm that had been rising suddenly crests, the pleasure crashing over my body in a quick flush. Like I’d been dumped with hot bath water.

Thomus’ teeth sink into my shoulder as he finishes. I open my eyes and Rodolphus is gone. Thankfully, Thomus’ brain returns and he pulls out. He quickly sits up, pulling my dress over my legs. He takes my hand and pulls me up, too.

Then his hands are cupping my face and he’s kissing me. It’s tender, gentle, unlike the absolute wild fucking I just received. But that’s okay. I’m okay with both.

Thank you for reading and sticking a long with me this far! A reblog and comment will go along way, thank you 💕

[barclaysangel]

The Wheelers' Reunion (Chucky season 2 rewrite fic, drabble 4/4)

Here is the fourth drabble! This is one of my favorites because I've kept it a big secret how Jake and Junior's reunion would go down. I'd prefer it if you read them in the order they are posted. PLEASE leave notes and comment what you think because comments help fuel our motivation since @streets-in-paradise and I worked on this AU together and one day, the fic will finally be written!

Thank you and enjoy! :)

Word count: 1.7K

Junior adjusted the tie around his neck for the tenth time, wanting desperately to rip that shit off. He always hated how it felt, like it was choking him. The last time he had worn a tie was at his mother’s— 

No. Don’t think about that. Stay focused, you idiot. He told himself while taking a deep breath and regained his composure, letting go of his tie and kept walking forward. 

Junior’s eyes kept wandering, trying to catch a glimpse of a three foot ginger doll. He was armed to the teeth, a gun in the hidden pocket of his blazer along with a dagger and a butcher knife, but he needed to be aware of everything. He wouldn’t be caught off guard, even though he wasn’t alone in the hallway. 

He made a mental note of everything and everyone surrounding home to the point where it was tedious. Nun, student, portrait, another student, another nun, Jake, another portrait, yet another nun—

Wait a minute…

He quickly looked back over and his eyes met Jake’s eyes across the hallway. Junior halted in his steps, neither of them moving and they both just stared. 

Jake looked taller, maybe by an inch or two. His curls were shorter too, he must’ve cut his hair over the last year. Speaking of cuts, there were a few on his face, possibly from the fucker that ruined their lives. But all in all, he still looked like his cousin that he grew up with. 

Well, until Junior burned that bridge when they were kids. But he still saw him nearly everyday after that. They were always in each other’s lives, whether they liked it or not. 

God, there were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to apologize for, but he didn’t have the time for that. 

A part of Junior wondered if Jake even recognized him. It had been almost a year and he was now sporting a more ‘wilderness-like’ hairstyle that Lexy called it, but judging from how his cousin’s eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets and how pale he turned, he figured that Jake still recognized his asshole cousin. 

Finally, after a full thirty seconds of staring, Junior nudged his head to the side slightly to gesture for Jake to follow him and then entered into the room beside him. It was a library, filled with books but he assumed that most of them were bibles. 

Fun. 

He didn’t turn around to see if his cousin was behind him but after a few moments, he recognized his footsteps and turned to fully face him. 

“Hi Jake.” Junior said, trying to sound as casual as he could to not concern Jake. 

That didn’t work, because Jake looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “This-this isn’t real, this isn’t fucking real…” 

Oh boy…this might be more difficult than he thought. 

“This is very real, Jake, just take a breather and calm down…” 

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!” Jake snapped, taking a step away from him and then a step forward. “Who the fuck are you, huh? Is that you, Chucky? Possessing my dead cousin?!” 

“Wait, can Chucky possess a corpse?” Junior mused out loud before quickly shaking his head. “No, not the time—listen, Jake, I’m not Chucky. I’m me. This is me. I’m not dead, possessed, or a ghost. I’m real. I’m Junior.” 

Jake still didn’t look like he believed, and instead looked like he was five seconds away from throwing a bible at him. “Oh my god, first a priest that looks like my father and uncle, now a someone that looks like my cousin and pretending to be him…” 

“Oh yeah, I heard about that and fuck, I really do not want to meet him.” Junior once again spoke aloud at the mention of the priest that looked like their fathers, sending a shiver down his spine. But seeing that this wasn’t calming down Jake in the slightest, he had to quickly start thinking before an idea came to him. 

“When we were kids, we used to steal food from my kitchen!” Junior blurted out quickly. “You-you used to be the lookout because you sucked at being stealthy,” he chuckled fondly at the memory he hadn’t thought of in so long, “and I would shove as much food as I could under my shirt and we would both run. Run all the way back to my room. Our moms always knew what we did but they never did anything to stop us. They just let us pretend we were ninjas.” 

As he spoke, he could see Jake slowly becoming aware, recognition and then melancholy shining in his eyes. 

“I…I never told anyone about what we used to do,” Junior began speaking slowly, “not even Devon. No one on this earth would know about our ‘missions’. No one. And especially not Chucky.” He met his cousin’s eyes again, even taking a step forward. “I’m alive, Jake.” 

Jake blinked a few times as it slowly began to dawn on him that he was telling the truth. “Oh my god…” 

“Yeah, oh my god…” 

“Oh. My. God.” 

“Okay, we need to figure out how to get you the hell out of here, we don’t have time for this.” Junior spoke, about to turn away to leave the library but his cousin’s intense stare made him stay. 

“This whole time…you’ve been alive?” He spoke slowly, his voice barely staying even through contained rage. “This…whole…time?” 

Junior paused briefly. “Look, Jake, I know you have a lot of questions right now and I promise I’ll answer them, but we really need—!” 

“You’ve been alive for a year and you never told anyone?” Jake practically snarled out his next sentence. 

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds before smiling sheepishly. “…yes?” He said as cautiously as he could. 

For a long moment, no one said or did anything. His cousin just continued to stare daggers deep into his soul, making him shift uncomfortably from one foot onto the other. 

Suddenly, before he could blink, Jake’s fist connected with Junior’s nose. 

“OH FUCK!” He yelled out loud and stumbled backward, nearly hitting a bookshelf with both of his hands clasped over his nose. Junior could feel warm blood starting to leak out of his nostrils and his eyes watering from the impact. 

“You son of a bi—!” Junior started angrily before pausing so he didn’t murder his cousin and taking a deep breath, “…okay, I had that coming. I deserved that. I won’t punch you back because I did punch you first at my mom’s wake a year ago. So…are we even now?” 

Jake was still glaring at him but the glare had softened by now, one hand clutching onto his fist before he finally nodded. “Yeah…yeah, we’re even.” 

“Good.” He nodded then groaned, tilting his head upward to try and stop the bleeding. 

“No, don’t do that, you’re supposed to tilt your head forward, not back.”

“Well, thank you for your wonderful advice, Muhammad Ali!” Junior sneered as sarcastically as he could but listened to his cousin, moving his head forward and watched a couple drops of blood stain his white shirt. 

He could feel Jake staring at him. “Even after a year, you’re still being an asshole?” He asked almost rhetorically. 

“You punched me in the face, you’re not going to see my nice side right now!” Junior snapped back, looking up to narrow his eyes at Jake. “If you broke my nose, I’ll break your leg, fucker!” 

“I didn’t break your nose.” Jake said with a straight face, seemingly unfazed by his cousin’s threat. “Pinch your nostrils shut for a few minutes, that should stop the bleeding.” 

He was still scowling but once again listened to Jake, using two fingers to pinch his nostrils shut and huffed under his breath. 

Neither of the cousins said anything for a solid minute, just staring intensely at one another until Jake broke the silence. “I’m sorry for punching you,” he apologized, “but you have to understand that I thought everyone in my family was dead for a year. Even after everything between us, I still didn’t want you to be dead. But then I find out you’ve been alive this whole time and never told us. So you can’t blame me for getting upset.” 

“I can understand that, but you also have to understand why I didn’t let any of you guys know I was alive,” Junior started, his voice almost nasally from pinching his nostrils shut, “I did…horrible things. To everyone. Especially you. So I just…I convinced myself that you all were better off believing that I was six feet under and would live the rest of your lives in peace.” 

“You thought it was better to believe you were dead?!” Jake exclaimed and moved his arm back, making Junior immediately take several steps back and hold a hand out. 

“No no no no no no no! Don’t you dare hit me again! If you hit me again, our truce is off and we can have a full blown brawl right here in a fucking library!” He shouted, glaring at Jake until the latter finally put his arm back down. 

Junior sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, his other hand still on his nose. “My god. Look, I get you guys having very strong and aggressive reactions to me being alive, but at least Lexy and Devon didn’t physically assault me!” 

“Wait, Lexy and Devon? You’ve seen them?” Jake asked in surprise. 

“Yeah, how do you think we got here? Did you really think we decided to come to a catholic boarding school for fun?” Junior asked in sarcasm. 

“We?” 

“Me and Andy.” 

“Andy Barclay?! He’s alive too?!” Jake almost shouted, looking even more shocked than before. 

“Is there another Andy you know that would want to help kill a redhead doll?” He questioned with a slight attitude, which earned a glare from his cousin and sighed. “Look, I know I have so much I need to explain and apologize for. I swear I will do it, but right now, we need to make a plan to kill Chucky and get you out of here. I know I’m asking you for a lot…but can you trust me? Just this once?” 

Jake didn’t say anything, staring at his cousin to see if he was genuine before finally nodding. “Okay. I trust you.” 

Junior smiled slightly in relief. “Good, let’s go.”

[squirrelkiln-art]

Unearthed Revision - Chapter 2 Notes

If you haven’t read Chapter 2 of the Unearthed Revision, read it here! This post is gonna have some behind the scenes details and minor spoilers for the chapter it’s about.

Chapter 2 is similar to the first in the way that I’ve reread and modified it so many times it makes me want to scream looking at it again. If you look at something enough times as a creator you get that... Oh well. I still like chapter 2 as it fleshes out the plot a bit more and further introduces the characters.

Minor spoilers ahead!

Ben purposely didn't turn his locator off when he flew from Plumber HQ. Once he landed at the library, he considered doing it, but decided against it. It's one of many cries for help Ben displays throughout this story. In the Revision, Rook mentally acknowledges this as a possibility instead of it slipping Ben’s mind.

"The Plumber’s hand hesitated on the handle. ‘I know how to calm him.’"

Rook's hesitance is more than just being worried for Ben--it’s him showing doubt both in himself and what Max told him to say (telling Ben the issue will be quickly handled). Since Rook isn’t the main character I don't put as much emphasis on it, but it's pretty obvious that most of this doubt about himself is because of/towards Ben. Ben isn’t very textbook as a person so it’s more for Rook to figure out.

The library mentioned in this chapter was initially something I mentioned/used in a roleplay with my friend Rin.

It's not important to the story, but I always figured the fight that introduced Ben to this library to have been with Fistina.

Mr. Browl almost wasn't an Arachnichimp. I almost made him a Florauna (Wildvine), Gourmand (Upchuck), or even an Incursean (Bullfrag) but landed on Arachnichimp (Spidermonkey) because I thought the idea of four-eyed glasses to be amusing. Also, his mentioned accent is implied to be because of his native tongue, but as I only speak English and not Arachnichimp-ish, I pictured him as having a Bosnian accent like my grandpa.

I won’t say now, for spoiler’s sake, but the forged note has something pretty important about it that’ll be called back to later. (Once I get to that chapter, I’ll say what’s up in its respective note post.)

Ben's spelling/shorthand in his notes is maintained on purpose. I almost considered writing all the notes physically myself for some extra pizzazz but never did. I also like showing Ben's eidetic memory (though contrasted with his ADHD involved memory struggles) by having him remember the Transylian species by name but struggle with the spelling itself.

"...his nails digging into the exposed skin of his arms, the reddening marks at home with the long healed scars scattered on his skin."

The scars are both implied to be from this same gesture and because of past battles.

The Rewrite has some big changes to Rook, including emphasizing how despite being a bit of a foil to Ben, he’s learning things the same time Ben is. I headcanon them to be either the same age or have a short age gap of maybe a year after all. So, alongside Rook learning both the language and culture of the place he's working, he's also learning about people overall outside of his native culture. Ben's the easiest for him to understand since they spend so much time together but he's still struggling despite it. After all, everything is in a constant state of change, especially people.

That’s it for this note page! I hope you enjoyed reading if you got this far and continue to enjoy both the Revised Uneathed and the note pages that come after. (This little segment reminds me of AMC’s “The Walking Dead”’s talkshow after, “The Talking Dead.” Probably because my mom’s rewatching the former at the moment so I hear a lot about it. Anyway, see you in the next one!

[renoxvated]

Roy could appreciate that the other man said what he wanted to say, point blank, no nonsense. Roy was often full of nonsense and bullshit, but he liked it when other folks just got to the point. Made things easier to understand, didn’t have to uncover any ulterior motives. That was a big difference about people in New Vegas, everyone had a hand they didn’t want to show, including The Courier on many occasions. He wonders if most people in the Commonwealth were like this, somehow he doubts it. 

So far he hadn’t met too many folks out this way, did meet a couple of Ghouls but…they didn’t particularly have much brains left that weren't thinking about Roy as a meal. He also met a pack of mongrels, also tried to eat him– though he promptly ate some Mutt Chops instead. Met a big clawed sorta creature too, out near a lake, wasn’t a lakelurk though like back home– still didn’t know what it was but it was the meanest sonofabitch he’d ever met.  Then he ended up in this area, fighting Raiders, which so far seemed to be a running theme on this side of the states. Everything here had wanted to kill The Courier so far, except for Jamie, well, now that they’d spoken anyway. He wonders if that could change, he shoves that thought away. Roy nodded along, catching the tone at the end, mental note don’t piss off or test Jamie, second mental note–if you WANT to piss him off here’s a good way! Roy just liked to keep little reminders, just in case.

“Well that just means ya’ll ain’t overextending either, so it’s probably better that way. Keeps the people closer to home safe.” Roy muses back out loud, he saw what happened to groups that overextended themselves first hand, made the NCR weaker for it, and hell it was the downfall of The Legion, Six had seen to that. Roy wasn’t a tactician for large scale operations by any means of course but he’d listened to House enough and had his own experiences to give more insight than he looked. “Lots of big groups end up losin’ ground, losin’ people cause they’re all over the wastes, far as I can tell…been around a lot, seen alot but,” He shrugs, licking his lips and cracking the metal fingers on his left hand idly. 

“Yeah, used to have enough back home for the whole place to keel over from them, big operation, actually organized, multiple heads that worked together. (had to cut them all off, he thinks) That’s what you gotta watch out for– the smart ones, not just the idiots trying to survive but the ones at the top who aren’t anymore. Shame to hear ya’ll got such an assload of them out here. Well, a few less now-” Roy chuckles, kicking at the ground. “Glad I could help, at a minute's notice.” The Courier jokes, continuing. 

“I don’t want to get my ass shot, been shot in the head before, wouldn’t recommend it fuckin’ sucked– anyway I’ll keep out of the way, I know how. I’ll watch ya’ll see how things play out, where I can fit in, bash some heads in, ya’ know the whole shebang.” Roy taps his head at the ‘getting shot in the head’ mention, making an over exaggerated grimace sort of death face. He was gonna see this thing through though, whatever that meant to fight alongside these Minutemen. He’d traveled with companions before, brothers in arms so to speak but…never this many and two of them were an Eyebot and a Dog so he didn’t know if that counted for having to work with anyone. To be fair both Ed-E and Rex had minds of their own (and were probably smarter). “Well, if it ain't a pleasure to meet you Jamie, now that there ain't no guns pointed at me and a vague sense of I'm about to get shot hangin' over me." Roy moves his bag to his metal arm, slinging it over that shoulder, offering his actual hand out to gesture a handshake, blood stained fingertips and all.

Roy listens, something that’s usually pretty hard for him to do when he’s in one of his moods like he is now, the kind of mood that’s a mixture of adrenaline, anger, annoyance but mostly just curiosity now, well, that AND a whole lot of sass. He tilts his head to the side, not unlike a dog as the other man speaks. Had to have faced some pretty big monsters indeed to command so many men, the only thing Roy commanded seemed to be robots these days– which had always suited him just fine, considering he hadn’t really ever wanted to be some leader to begin with. Laughable now, to think the man who walked across the Mojave as its protector didn’t think of himself as a leader. Roy was a follower to a degree, just one who struggled with being so unlikeable, that most anyone with some sense wouldn’t want him following them anywhere; or at least that’s what he figured. It’s a wonder that House still kept him around, he idly wonders if that’s why he was on some fool's errand right now. He tries not to let that bother him, but he misses Ed-E, misses Rex, shoulda brought them with him, he thinks, didn’t know how long this whole traveling to Boston would take though and with him gone he figured he’d leave them to keep an eye(bot) out on things. He hadn’t felt this alone since he got shot in the head, ain’t that a real kick. “Yeah I get it, I won’t try and rattle your cage…” much, Roy thinks and there’s a bit of another smirk halfway on his face, it slips away just as quickly as he’d gotten it. 

Then the other man stops him, confirming what Roy was saying– well, well, well, looks like ol’ sunshine here had a few tricks up his sleeve, withholding that was a pretty interesting play. If Roy was a smarter man he might have been impressed, as it stands he just rolls his eyes. “Figures,” He mumbles, not dumb enough however to not practically still feel the suspicion on him, the eyes watching him as weapons lowered. Roy lets out a sigh he didn’t know he had in him, he hated when guns pointed at him, kinda triggered his fight or flight and he almost never took to the latter.

“Commonwealth Minutemen eh?” Seeming like a better group than the few thorns in his side back home, he wonders just what men like these believed and even more so he wonders what made a man like the one before him lead them. “Can’t say I’ve ever come across any Minutemen, but if the lot of ya’ are out here keeping the peace then I guess that’s all I need to know.” That was really all there was to it with The Courier, Roy himself was a man for the people. ‘Colonel Lawson’ Roy repeats to himself internally, making a note of the name. 

“Then it’s settled then,” Six motions to get up dusting himself off and looking around for wherever his bag fell off. It didn’t have much in it, but it had enough– including something he didn’t want to lose, it probably just looked thrown about like everything else around right now. “I know you don’t know me, but killin’ people just livin’ ain’t my vibe, ya’ dig? My dog just couldn’t live with a man like that.” He adds the last bit with a dumb sort of childish laugh, though he does give a rather stone cold serious look when he looks towards Colonel Lawson. Deadly serious.

“I don’t like people who fuck over the little guys.” It’s a different tone than he’d used before, different in the way a dog is to a wolf. Then Roy smiles, it’s a wide sharp toothed grin, “Let’s get goin’ then Sunshine. Hey, by the way you got a name or am I gonna have to keep callin’ you that, definitely not calling you Colonel.” Roy snorts, finally noticing his bag under a raider corpse, damn that blood isn’t gonna wash out this time is it? Roy takes a moment, breath held as he checks it– everything is there..he breathes. “I’m Roy.” Nothing more, nothing less; here he wasn’t The Courier, or even Six, he looks down into his bag, his ranger helmet staring back at him, he closes it.

[s0dium]

DOUCHE BAG

Frat boy! Uzui Tengen x Reader

A/n: Hey everyone! Im back from my mental health break (*≧ω≦*) thank you everyone for your support and patience I cant tell you how much it means to me, anyways I hope you guys enjoy!

Synopsis: Uzui Tengen was a man of many things. It would be hard to find anyone on campus who hadn't heard of his name before, whether that be through his many sex-capdes or his infamously wild parties. Some describe him as eccentric, others (mostly girls) describe as irresistible. You? Well you on the other hand would describe him as nothing else then an utter, complete, douchebag.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, teasing, dub-con, manipulation, fingering, squirting, use of pet names, belly bulge, cervix fucking, breeding kink, virgin!reader, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

Word count: 5.6k

~

You rolled your eyes as you passed by another poor crying girl near the Alpha beta frat house. This had to be the 4th girl you've seen like that this week, and you didnt have to guess to know the reason behind her tears.

"God I hate him." You seethed, clenching your teeth after the last syllable.

"Who, Tengen?" Responded Mitsuri who was walking hand in hand with her boy friend Obani. They where the picture perfect couple on campus who were also one of your closest friends. Those two and the three that followed next to you: Kyojuro, Sanemi and Shinobu.

"Aw come on y/n he's a good guy at heart! He's just a bit... flamboyant!" Kyojuro says followed by a boisterous laugh.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Your only saying that cause your his room mate and best friend Kyo, the same goes for all of you, I dont understand how you guys can like him!"

"Well he's not that different from Sanemi when it comes to girls and you’re still best friends with Sanemi." Pointed out Shinobu, gesturing to Sanemi on her left, electing a reaction.

"OI! THAT IS NOT TRUE, I LEAVE THEM ALL ON A GOOD NOTE UNLIKE MR.FLAMBOYENT!"

"Yeah and its not just how shitty he treats girls" You glance back to the sobbing girl you passed. "Its that whole 'holier than thou' act he has going on, like he's a fucking god that we should worship the group he walks on. Makes me wanna sock him in the face."  You make a fist with your hand and left hook the air.

"Sock who in the face?"

Oh god you knew that stupidly deep voice anywhere. You whipped around to find your self face to face with the very white haired man you were talking about; a shit eating grin spread across his infuriatingly handsome face.

"You couldnt be talking about me, could you?" Tengen voice dripped faux shock and you rolled your eyes.

"Well you know what they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear." You spat

"That must be why you love using that pretty mouth of yours to talk about me so much." Tengen lowered himself to close the provoking height difference between the the two of you, until your noses were inches away from touching. "Cause ya love having me around doncha"

In that moment you have to conjure up every ounce of self restraint to not spit in his face there and then, and luckily your friends get a hint at where this could possibly lead to and intervene before you could do anyway.

"Hey man, what's up?" Kyojuro holds out his hand to dap Uzui in which Sanemi and Obani follow up doing the same to greet their fellow frat mate.

"Well, as those three know, I'm holding a party tonight. Mad big, a couple other schools are gonna be coming over. Just wanted to confirm ya'll ladies would be there?"

"Yeah of course, If Obani and my friends are going I'll be there!" Mitsuri chirps, leaning into Obani's shoulder making him blush.

"Sure why not." Answers Shinobu, making you click your tongue on the roof of your mouth.

"You y/n?" Uzui says with a raised eyebrow and you cross your arms.

"And why would you want me to go?"

"Because you're like me sweetheart except wherever you go, guys follow you instead of girls. And the more people the better. Plus all your friends will be there"

You scoff in response, making Uzui chuckle.

"Great, I'll take that as a yes then, ill text you guys the details." He turns around to walk back to the Alpha beta frat house. "See you guys there!"

There was a silence as you all watched Tengen walk away before Mitsuri turns to look at you. “So are you going to go y/n? Come on it will be so much fun!”

“Yeah no way in hell."

~

You were a liar.

Though you swore to your self that there was no way in hell you were going to one of Tengen's stupid parties, here you were, dressed up in a white crop top and short pink skirt holding a red solo cup filled with god knows what concoction of alcohol, while ear blasting dub step played through out the house. It was absolutely packed, you dont think you've seen this many people all in one frat house before and you've been to your fair share of parties. You languidly looked around in a futile attempt to find your friends only to be met with the sight of two freshmen aggressively drying humping it on a couch and a group of football players and cheerleaders playing beer pong on the pool table.

"Might I also say you look beautiful tonight."

Oh right, for the past three minutes some dude from another school had been trying to get in your pants to which you had completely forgotten about. Uzui was right about this before, guys usually tend to follow you wherever you go. Except what set you apart from him was that you didn't abuse this, and most certainly not whore around.

You simply press your lips in a thin line, giving the 'white guy' smile, and nod at the creepy guy's compliment. You hadn't even been giving him any verbal answers to his rambling and he still couldn't take the hint.

Another minute passed of his incessant talking when your patience finally snapped and you open your mouth to go off on the guy before you cut off when you feel someone wrap their arm around you; the familiar strong scent of pine cologne and alcohol wafting through your nose.

"Hey you ok babe?"

Oh god

You glance to your side to see Uzui, wearing his signature zipper up purple fraternity sweater over a black t-shirt that outlined his muscles. His white hair was let down but you could faintly see the diamond earnings that dangled from his ears. The hand that rested on your shoulder was adorned in a multitude of different color rings and his fingernails were painted in neon colors.

Flashy as ever.

You clicked your tongue at the sound of the pet name and gritted your teeth, knowing that if you wanted to get out of this you’d have to play along.

“Oh hey, babe.” You punctuated the last word with your lips, making sure to soak it in as much faux affection as you could causing Tengen chuckle. “Yeah we were just finishing up talking. Isn’t that right uh, sorry what was your name again?” Your words dripped sweet innocence like honey, and to seal the deal you made sure to bat your eyelashes a couple times.

“Oh uh,” the guy stuttered, face now flushed red. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll just uh, see you around.”

You watched as he turned around and left, making sure he was out of sight until you rested your features into your signature bitch face and turned the look at the man next to you.

“Thanks for that but you can stop touching me now.” You attempt to wiggle out of his arms hold but it remains heavy on your shoulder.

“And why should I? I like being like this, I especially enjoyed your little show.” A grin spread on Uzuis face showing off his white teeth and the toothpick that dangled from them.

“Ever heard of consent? Also I can feel one of your girls giving me the death stare and I really  don’t feel like being sacrificed for your little cult today.”

“Alright, fair.”

You let out a small sigh of relief when you feel the weight release from your shoulder. God how much could one arm weigh?

You start to walk off when Uzui grabs your wrists and pulls you back.

“Where do you think your going?”

You immediately retract your arm from his hold and shoot a venomous glare.

“Out of here, that’s where. Why? Want me to stay?”

Uzui nods. “Yup.”

“And why should I and don’t give me that same crap before.”

He shrugs, removing the tooth pick between his lips to speak. “Maybe I just like having you around.”

The two of you stare at each other for a couple second before the realization hits you and you break out laughing.

“OH MY GOD, don’t tell me-” you cut your self off with a giggle “your actually trying to get in my pants!”

Uzui grins. “And what’s so funny about that? Maybe I am. And what would be so bad about sleeping with me?”

His response makes your laughter die and every reason why you hate the man in front of you comes barreling in all at once. You take a few steps toward him till the gap was closed and both of your faces are inches apart.

"Why? Because,” you speak lowly, making sure to punctuate every word with venom. “Im not gonna be one of your fuck girls tengen and I’m defiantly not something you can just conquer." You spat.

A hand clad with rings raises to your face but before you could pull away he grabs your chin, running a thumb over the skin while amused eyes stare down back at you.

"See this is what I like about you y/n." Tengens voice is soft, tones of fascination seeping into his words. "No one would say what you just said to me, no one. Only you."

You eventually pull away from his grasp and before you could go off on the man, you hear a familiar voice call your name from behind.

"HEY Y/N, TENGEN!" You turn around to see Mitsuri making her way through the crowd to you. "We've been looking for you guys, come-on we are playing a game upstairs."

Once again your unable to get a word in because you're already being dragged through the crowd, Mitsuri's unusually strong grip wrapped around your hand while tengen followed behind.

~

Once you got to one of the frat house bedrooms up stairs, you were immediately greeted with the sight of your friends and a few people from the neighboring school all sitting in a circle, chatting and drinking.

One of the students from the other school, Kizuki college, whose name you remembered to be Douma, was relentlessly trying to start a conversation with an unassuming Shinobu to no avail. Next to them Kyojuro was busy having an arm wrestle with the guy known as Akaza and Sanemi seemed to be having a good time talking to one of the kids who transferred from your school to Kizuki named Kaigaku.

You spotted an empty seat on the floor between Obani and a guy who seemed uninterested in the activity going on and plopped down next to him. Mitsuri sat next to you in Obani's lap and Tengen situated himself across, his red violet eyes remaining on you.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the piercing gaze set upon you, you turned to the guy next to you who was sipping from a can of beer.

"Hey, your from Kizuki college right? My name is y/n by the way, what's yours?"

It took a second for the guy to realize that you were talking to him, but when he did he quickly turned around and widened his eyes, like he was surprised you were even looking at him.

"Oh uh" his voice was raspy and you got a better look at him now that he was facing you.

Damn, he's cute.

"I'm Gyutaro, I'm a junior at Kizuki, yeah."

You nodded. "You dont seem like this is the place you wanna be in most right now am I right?"

Gyutaro scoffed. "Yeah is it that obvious?"

"No I completely feel you, ive tried to escape like five times and my friends keep dragging me back." You reached for a un opened beer can on the floor and held it up to Gyutaro. "Here's to not wanting to be here but not having a choice I guess."

This elected a quirky smile from the man in front of you and Gyutaro clinked his beer can with yours.

"Yeah, to what ever the fuck you just said."

You both laugh and take a swig of the beer but a booming voice makes you choke on the liquid and throw you into a coughing fit.

"ALRIGHTY THEN, LET'S GET STARTED." Kyojuro stood up and clapped his hands together, drawing everyones attention. "What better way to liven up the party then a game of truth or dare am I right?"

"I can think of a million other things." Whispered Gyutaro into your ear making you stiffle a giggle. You look up to avert your attention back to Kyojuro but you catch the eyes of Tengen as you do so. Big mistake. His gaze was piercing, red-violet eyes burrowed into you accompanied by an unreadable face. Was he... mad at something?

"Now you have the right to decline the dare or truth, but for that you'll have to chug for 7 seconds this bottle of fire ball." Sanemi adds on, holding up a bottle of orange whisky.

A/n: Please dont do this, and if you do, fire ball is an awful choice, choose Pink Whitney instead. If your going to drink irresponsibly at least drink good stuff.

You sigh.

Oh god what have I gotten myself into

"Whose gonna go first?" Mitsuri chirps.

"Me." Douma raises his hand and turns to Shinobu who immediately rolls her eyes. "Truth or dare m'lady."

Shinobu thinks for a bit before responding. "Dare."

"I dare you to go on a date with me after this."

Doumas words elicit a slew of 'oooohs' from everyone and a couple howls of laughter.

Shinobu stares at douma for a few seconds before throwing her hands up in defeat. "For fucks sake, FINE. Only because I have a test tomorrow and I cant have a hang over ."

It goes on like this for a couple minutes, only sanemi and akaza taking swigs of the fire ball, until it's finally Tengens turn.

"Well then," Tengen slightly turns to face you, the amused smile on his face telling you what's about to happens. "Y/n." At the sound of your name you immediately roll your eyes. "Truth or dare."

You think for a second, before concluding that truth would be the safest bet to avoid Tengens antics.

"Truth."

"Are you a virgin?"

You blink a few times, letting the question settle in. How could he know? Only your closest friends, Shinobu and Mitsuri could know and they wouldn't tell anyone. You could lie but then he would ask who you slept with. There was also the option of telling him the truth and giving him the gratification and perhaps a new way to make fun of you. Yeah, no way. It seemed like the only option was to drink the fire ball, but that was basically saying that you were a virgin. But it was your only option without actually admitting it.

You scowl at Tengen and hold out your hand to Sanemi, who handed you the drink. When you put the bottle rim to your lips you were immediately reminded just how much you hated the spicy cinnamon taste to the alcohol but nevertheless proceeded to let the liquid pass your lips.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7!" The room chanted as you took the tinnest gulps possible. When the time was up, you felt your throat burn from the cinnamon whisky and a warmth settle in your stomach.

"Ok, my turn." You seethed, wiping off the remains of liquid from your lips. "Tengen, Truth of dare."

"Hmmm, I'll go with dare."

You smiled sweetly. "Text at least two of the girls you've made cry that your sorry."

Instead of a look of shock and embarrassment, he simply grinned and grabbed the whisky. Once he was done, he licked his lips and set down the bottle. "Looks like its me again, truth or dare y/n"

"Dare."

"I dare you to admit i'm actually great and you love me."

You snatched the bottle and immediately down the liquid, the room this time remaining quiet as you did so. At this point, the burn in your throat was starting to feel good, adding fuel to the fire.

"Truth or dare Tengen"

"Dare"

"Bad choice I would've gone with truth. Write a post that your dick is actually small."

Tengen shrugs and takes a large gulp from the bottle. "Truth or dare."

You dont think about your answer, the buzzing in your head from the alcohol doesn't let you.

"Dare."

"Kiss me."

You dont know what makes you begin to crawl over to Tengen, most likely the substantial amount of alcohol coursing through your veins. Maybe it was also because you weren't going to wimp out of a challenge and for some reason you thought this was the best way to get back at him. But the next thing you know your in his lap, grabbing his stupidly beautiful face in your hands and bringing it to you till your lips matched with each other.

His first taste of you is hungry, lips relentlessly engulfing each other and tongues clashing, fighting for dominance that Tengen eventually wins. Spit smears on either side of your lips from the messiness and a large hand tangles itself in your hair to bring you closer, so he can taste more of you. The kiss broke with a sinful sound, a wet pop from between your lips and Tengens is grinning while your left dazed,  breaths heavy and chests rising and falling after it.

"Well, that was unexpected." Shinobi says.

Her voice snaps you out of your Tengen/alcohol induced daze and you immediately become flushed red. Sure you've had make out sessions before but never front of all of your friends and people you didn't know. But before you can crawl out of his lap, Tengen is picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder with ease like a sack of flour.

"Sorry every one but," Tengen lands his hand on your ass, surprising you with a yelp. "This little lady and I have business to attend to. Enjoy the party."

"Wha- No! What do you think you're doing!" You protest and try to wriggle out of his hold only to be met with a harsh slap on your ass, immediately shutting you up and he carries you out.

"Go get it I guess bestie!" Mitsuri yells to you, making your face go red.

Wait was he.... were you two gonna....?

Your questions are answered when Tengen opens the door to his room, throwing you on the bed and crawling on top of you. Before you can get a word in, he's once again engulfing your lips with his and pulling  you into a feverish kiss in which the two of you couldn't seem to get enough of each other. The moment one pulls away to breath, the other is immediately searching for their lips again; intertwining tongues and teeth clashing together recklessly.

Your hot, everything is hot, your body is burning up by the second and there's a sickly sweet feeling in your stomach that keeps on expanding as time passes.

You whine into his mouth when you feel a hand slip under your pink skirt and lightly trace the outline of your slit with his index finger. Your painfully wet;   your arousal had made a large spot on your underwear translucent.

"Want me to make you feel good baby?" Tengen speaks slowly, breath on your neck and voice in your ear making you shiver. You bite your lip and nod, like any words that came from you would ruin it.

"Good. I'm not gonna lie, I want to see you beg for it but ill be nice since its your first time, and there's always next time."

He's using his thumb to move your frilly white underwear to the side now, moving up and down your pussy to collect your juices and coat his fingers with the sticky lube,

"W-who say t-theres going t-to be a next time?" Your voice comes out more shaky than you expect, making Tengen chuckle.

"Oh trust me darling," He leans in so his mouth is right against your ear, making you pussy squeeze around nothing "There's always going to be a next time."

Its then he suddenly bullies a thick finger in you down to the knuckle, making you moan loudly and clamp down on the sudden intrusion. Your hands immediately fly up to find purchase into his muscular forearms and dig crescent shape nail marks into the skin.

"Shit your fucking tight." Tengen groaned under his breath, knowing full well that the squeeze around his cock would feel euphoric. The first curl of his finger up to hit your gpsot completely knocks the wind out of you. It was a type of pleasure you've never felt before, something that couldnt be achieved with your own fingers or a dildo, the type the only came from another hot blooded human being.

More. I need more.

You begin to grind on his hand to chase after the feeling, further encouraging the relentless prodding of his fingers. Tengen on the other hand was mesmerized, his eyes glued on the way your cunt sucked him in; how his digits glided out of you only to be pulled right back in and massage circles on your gspot. His eyes glimmer when a brilliant idea pops into his head, and he dives down to your heat to latch his lips onto your clit.

You immediately jolt from the sensation of Tengens warm mouth on your pearl, and the added curling and uncurling of his fingers inside of you made your thighs shake.

"Ten! Ahhhh..! I..I can't handle this.." You sobbed while you grabbed his head, unconsciously pushing his mouth deeper to your heat - in which he obediently complied and sucked on the budding clit.

The pleasure was starting to get intense, too intense. There was a pressure in you that exponentially built with every second, a new type of sensation and you didnt know what was at the end of it.

"Ten I dont-" You babble, all words now lost too you since there seemed to be nothing to describe what you where feeling.

"S-stop m'feels weird" Your thighs where starting to shake as tendrils of pleasure shot up your body too your core in thousands of flesh arrows. You try to focus on something other then the coil of heavenly heat pooling in your stomach, something other then the white haired man between your legs but it was impossible.

You dont even realize another finger had slipped into you until he is on the third digit. The incredible sickening burn of the stretch makes your eyes widen and just when your about to say something his fingers sharply curl to your belly button. Seizing up as if you’d been electrocuted, your body went stiff as a board and you went into lock jaw, tongue lolling out onto your cheek. Your entire frame shook with the immense pleasure he was inflicting on your defenseless cunt, weakening you so much that Tengen had to secure a strong hand on your hip to keep you from squirming so much.

“O-o-o-oh g-g-god right t-thereee m’right thereee” Your words come out as slurs and suddenly you cant think anymore. You have never wanted to cum so bad in your life, your desperate for release like a man searching for water in a desert.

“Shit I fucking own you dont I,”  Tengen mumbles. And as if on command, all feelings come to a heighten cresendo; explosions of euphoria clouding your brain causing your toes to curl from pleasure and body to shake like a leaf.

It takes a couple seconds after you calmed down to realize you squirted all over Tengens face and all blood rushes to your face turning you a bright red.

“Oh my god in so sorry I didn’t-”

Your voice dies out as you watch Tengen pull off his black shirt, revealing his extremely built body and toned muscles, to wipe the liquid off his face.

If you weren’t embarrassed before you were practically a tomato now.

“What? Like what you see?” Tengen speaks through a grin. You want so badly to tell him otherwise, to preserve your wavering ego but if you did it would all be lies. Instead you opt to get him even and proceed to take off your pink sweater, unbuckling your bra and letting your plush breasts fall out.

“What like what yo- oh~” you moan out. Tengen doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. You don’t even notice that he’s pulling down his pants until he pulls away from your abused skin and your met with the sight of his length.

You unconsciously buck your hips up at the sight of it, practically humping the air, and Tengen has to secure your hips down to the bed to prevent you from hurting you self. You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

“Please jus-”

Your cut off by the feeling of his length spreading your so helplessly wide and his tip smushing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. You squeeze around him, you body trying to push out the foreign intrusion but at the same time bring him in further, if that was ever possible. Your skin jumped with sentivity, even the air against you made you shiver, and you let out a long whine when a large hand settles over the large bump in your stomach and starts to rub soothing circles.

“Shhhhh, ya too tight baby, gotta relax.”

It was a soothing gesture in spite of everything going around you, one that made your heart swell and eyes water. And he was right, you did need to relax, your chest was rising and falling faster then it should be and you pussy held him in a vice grip that made it impossible for him to move. A couple second flew by as you calmed your self and did your best to relax, and then a couple more. Until one though flooded your brain.

Move.

You needed him to move, you needed the friction against your walls, his tip press against that special spot in you again in again. But why wasn’t he moving?

“Ten?” You whimper, causing him to grin and lower him self down.

“Want me to move dont you?” He slides his thumb along your bottom lip, dipping in your mouth to press on your tongue. “Then be my girl friend.”

Your eyes go wide at the suggestion and he licks his teeth.

“Wha-” You cut your self off with a scream when he teasingly thrusts into you, and god, it feels amazing. Tears dot your water line and trickle pass the side of your eyes.

“You know we’d be so good together, come one just say yes.”

Tengens words drip sweetness like honey, and it’s making your brain turn to mush. You desperately try to move your hips for any kind of friction but he holds you still, preventing you from chasing your pleasure.

“I won’t be with anyone else other then you and I’ll make you feel like this every day sweet heart, and if you don’t love me now I’ll teach you I promise baby.”

The promise of pleasure and affection makes your mind fold and throw all ego aside, and you cave; utterly and completely.

“YES! YES JUST PLEASE FUCK ME TEN PLEASE.” You wail, tears now streaming down your face, bottom lip trembling and eyes filled with complete submission.

“Atta girl.” He says through a smile.

You practically faint when he first thrusts into you with earnest. It euphoric; the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls everytime he backed his hips up. His cock pulsed inside of your silky walls, stretching you to the fullest capacity as he bottomed out again and again. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Tengen coaxing you to relax as his tongue flattened against your left nipple, his hand occupying the one left untouched.

His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he's using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Tengens eyes caught how good you take him - the fat of his head have a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He groans at how hot you feel inside, god his fist felt nothing like the real thing.

"Huuuh.... s'good..." Your words string out on your lips, boarder line incoherent from how good your being fucked. The sounds that echoed throuhout the room where down right sinful; the quick wet pap, pap, pap, of his hips against yours drowning out both of your moans.

Like there was nothing else to do in the moment, you clamor onto him, wrapping your shaking arms around his back and bringing him close.

"W-wanna be close." You mumble, bring your face to the crook of his neck and breathing his scent in, because it was the type of scent that you could bury your nose into again and again.

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he groans at your words. He can’t even keep up the same flirty attitude he’s had this entire time as he stutters a “s-sweetheart.”

The heat in your stomach is coming to a crescendo, you cant take it anymore, its overtaking you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it, hardly give him a warning. Your pussy tightens so hard around Tengens cock that he almost has to stop his thrusts, and you open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, creaming with his cock buried into you.

Tengen didn’t stop, kept fucking you through your orgasm and that telling you there was more to come. You whined, keened, twisted on the bed as you received no room to breathe. That was hard - breathing. It felt like your body was a massive furnace that only offered whimpers and moans which took up all your oxygen. It was all too much for your dumb little mind to handle, too overwhelming to bear. It was even tougher to keep them at bay when all of a sudden Tenegn grabs the plump underside of either thigh and lifts them up, pressing them to your chest and effectively folding you in half.

"O-oh god!" You squeal. The new position not only has every part of you exposed to Tengens piercing gaze but also allowed his cock to hit even deeper inside of you.

"Come on baby, I know you can come again for me, right? Come on." He encourages, voice low. The sheer collision of his dick hitting your cervix is enough to make your brain go numb from the pleasure, and as if he words where magic, you feel your self falling toward the edge faster then you can put a stop to it. Your cunt flutters and you feel your self being sent to a euphoric grave, and god does it feel good, its like your brain in floating in pure ecstasy; every nerve in your body exploding and imploding all at once with pleasure.

"Gonna cum in you baby, oh god-" Tengens thrusts became sloppy, his hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flush against you. "Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny.

"Wa-wait! N-not ins-si-" You squeal but cut your self off when you feel something deliciously warm enter your battered pussy. You babbled and squirmed as it built and built and built, like there was a dam of his seed spurting into you. You unintentionally, probably instinctually, squeezed around him, drawing more out and he whined and murmured his praise. "Good girl, get as much as you can." He petted circles over your stomach, over the bulge of where his cock and cum lay. "Such a pretty tummy...." You threw your face into your arms and shook.

The two of you stayed like that for a while--Tengen keeping you plugged with his cock while you both watched your breaths; listening to the party die down on the outside and occasionally leaning in for a messy kiss.

"So...." You say, deciding to break the silence. "Relationship huh?"

Your awkwardness causes him to chuckle, and he moves to push a stray piece of hair behind your ear; causing you to lean into his touch.

"Thats right baby."

"God im never gonna hear the end of it from mitsuri."

[glitterslag]

Ink

Synopsis: Chrissy gets a tattoo. Set in the summer of '86, before Chrissy goes off to college and before she and Eddie have figured out what they are to each other.

Warnings: implied abuse (may be triggering for some!!!!!), sexual references

Author's Note: Something for my heatwave girlies!!!!!! Hope everyone's been staying nice and cool! This is the last pre-college blurb I'll be doing for a while! After this I wanna write a lot of established relationship!eddissy, so look out for that! I also wanna give any smut I write for them the time and attention it needs, so apologies for being a c*ck tease in this but don't worry... it's coming later!!!

You can read the rest of the stuff I've written for this universe here.

“Did they hurt?” Chrissy wonders, tracing the outlines of the tattoos on his bare arms.

It’s the middle of summer. They're laying on a stained old mattress on the grass outside of his trailer, Eddie shirtless and smoking, Chrissy sucking on an ice pole. Eddie’s dog-eared copy of The Silmarillion lays abandoned on the ground beside them. It’s too hot for him to concentrate on anything but the steady drip drip drip of blue raspberry syrup, melting off of the ice pop to form a rivulet down the middle of Chrissy’s golden chest. She’s wearing a halter top.

Eddie shivers beneath her touch. Her fingers are icy cold.

“Not really,” he contemplates, twisting his arms around to get a look at each tattoo. “The ones on my chest hurt a little, but the arms were no big deal.” 

“What do they all mean?” She asks, eyes glazed over and a little dreamy, preoccupied with freckles and hairs and muscles and sinew, and the tan line on his wrist where his watch would usually sit. 

This is only the second or third time she’s seen him shirtless. She’s still getting used to how he looks - arms surprisingly toned once the baggy band t-shirts come off. He doesn’t have a six pack or anything, but his chest and stomach are a pleasant amount of hairy.

Eddie shrugs.

“They don't mean anything.”

“Come on.” Chrissy prompts him, eager for something - anything - to give her a glimpse inside Eddie’s mind.

“They don't.” He insists.

“I like bats. I like spiders and barbed wire.” He gestures to the black widow on his chest, the barbed wire bracelet inked around the top of his bicep. 

“This one's a Metallica reference,” he concedes, pointing at the one on his forearm.

"Master of puppets," Chrissy recalls, remembering him playing it to her once, forever ago.

Eddie grins, pleased she remembers the name of his favourite song.

"Yeah."

She notices two little scars on his right arm, each one faintly visible beneath a black bat. They're circular and textured, almost like chickenpox marks. She’s never noticed them before.

"What's that from?"  Chrissy wonders, running her finger over the dents.

He looks down at his arm for a second.

"Um, those are cigarette burns.” 

He says it very matter-of-factly, and she’s confused.

"Did you drop one on yourself?"

It takes Eddie a little while to answer.

"Uh, no.” He says, finally. “Not me."

His dad.

He doesn’t have to say it for Chrissy to know that’s what he means.

She knows Eddie didn't see his parents anymore, and she’s noticed that Wayne refuses to speak about Eddie’s dad. She knows there’s bad blood there, though Eddie has never really talked about the extent of it. He's said a few things about the guy in passing, though, that have allowed her to form a mental picture.

"I'm sorry." She offers, placing two cold, sticky kisses on his freckled arm. One for each scar. 

She knows there’s nothing more to say. If Eddie wants to open up about this stuff, he will. Otherwise, she doesn’t push her luck. You have to let him come to you.

"S'okay." Eddie murmurs, proving her point as he wraps an arm round her, pulling her into his side. He taps her on the shoulder a couple times in reassurance. "Happened a long time ago."

He licks the ice pop residue off his arm and hums appreciatively, and she shoots him a small smile.

"Why do they need to have a meaning, anyway?" Eddie says suddenly, quick to change the subject. “Fuck that.”

“‘Cause they're on your body forever?”

“So?” He challenges.

She makes a face at him, but lets it drop.

“Where'd ya get 'em?” She pipes up again a few minutes later.

“There's a girl here at the trailer park who does it for me.” Eddie explains.

“A girl?!”

“Yeah, a girl.” He laughs.

Every now and again, Eddie’s noticed, cheerleader Chrissy slips out. She’s much more tolerant now, more open minded, but her mom's and Jason’s views are still in there somewhere, in the back of her mind. Like a D&D monster Eddie needs to defeat.

“Can I meet her?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten Chrissy so fixated on this all of a sudden, but curiosity gets the better of him, so he agrees.

“Sure.” 

----------

“Amy, this is Chrissy,” he says as he steps over the threshold, propelling Chrissy along with him with the hand that’s on her back. 

"She's my…" he trails off, and it’s awkward for a second. He blinks at Chrissy, who just stares back, unsure.

"She's a friend." Eddie says finally, quickly switching his expression out for a kind smile. He pats her on the shoulder as he gently pushes her inside.

"Hey," Chrissy says weakly, shooting a smile at the taller girl, who’s standing behind the door.

She looks very different to any of Chrissy's friends.

Her hair is dyed a deep red and teased out at all sides. Her thin eyebrows are drawn on to match, and her eyeliner is heavy and black. Studded bracelets and chains are stacked all the way up to her elbows. Her shirt is ripped, her skirt short, and on her long legs are fishnet stockings. Chrissy swallows.

"Hey." Amy says, eyeing Chrissy up and down with the ghost of a smirk.

"Didn't think you were into the cheerleader types, Munson." She quips, a grin curling its way across her painted lips.

“Hey watch it, Amy,” Eddie warns. “Chrissy's cool."

Eddie’s tone isn’t mean. The cheerleader comment stings, but as Chrissy observes the two of them interacting, she realises that Amy’s wasn’t, either. She’s surprised at the sight of Chrissy, maybe, and yeah she’s a little blunt, but there isn’t any malice there. It stings all the same. Chrissy is a cheerleader type, but she doesn't like it when people point out how different her and Eddie are from each other.

“So, what brings you two by?” Amy inquires.

"Eddie told me you do tattoos." 

Chrissy squeaks it more than says it, and Amy laughs, loud and bright.

"Why, you want one?"

"Oh, no," she says quickly, shaking her head. "I don't want one or anything. But can I see your drawings?" 

Amy smiles at her, and she has to admit it feels kind. 

“Sure.”

----------

"Let's see," Amy clicks her tongue, flipping through her big, leather-bound book until she lands on the page she's looking for. "I got roses... hearts... dolphins?" 

She slides the book across the table. 

Chrissy’s bare thighs are sticking to the chair beneath her. Eddie’s disappeared somewhere through the back, taking a look at the busted AC unit per Amy’s request. If it’s hot outside, it’s sweltering in Amy’s trailer.

“Probably just needs a new filter…” he’d been muttering to himself as he wandered off, messing around with a screwdriver. Leaving the two of them alone.

Chrissy isn't dumb. She knows Amy’s showing her the "girly" designs, probably because she's made an assumption that that's what Chrissy would like. And it’s true, for the most part. She does like flowers and hearts and dolphins. But she wants to know what else is out there, too. She finds herself wanting to know what a girl like Amy would get.

“Which ones do you have?” She asks shyly.

Amy bends over on her chair, pulling down her tight, black denim skirt to reveal her lower back. Chrissy’s eyes widen. There's a scorpion drawn there, poised to strike, sitting on one side of her tail bone. She also shows Chrissy a butterfly on the back of her neck, an anchor on her upper arm and a skull on the inside of her ankle. 

“Wow,” Chrissy whispers.

They’re definitely not her style, but she doesn’t hate how they look on Amy.

"So," Amy starts as she rearranges her skirt, tucking her tattoos away again. “What’s the deal with you and Eddie?” 

She’s trying to sound casual, but Chrissy can tell there's something else there, underneath. 

"Have you and him ever... Y’know?"

Chrissy's cheeks burn.

"No." She answers honestly.

 Chrissy doesn’t even know whether they’re officially dating. 

It feels like more than just hanging out. Friends don’t make out with each other or sleep in each other’s beds, after all, and they probably don’t stay up on the phone for hours every night, either. And friends definitely don’t switch to walkie-talkies stolen from Henderson after Wayne or Laura kick them off the phone at midnight, and fall asleep to the sounds of each others’ voices. 

But of course, Chrissy and Eddie have never had that conversation. The thought of them actually having sex is enough to send Chrissy into a tailspin.

A look comes over Amy’s face then - and Chrissy knows in that moment that Amy and Eddie, on the other hand, have slept together. She’s overcome with a hot pang of jealousy and it's like nothing she's ever felt before, or thought she could feel - not with Eddie. It's new. It's bad. 

Chrissy knows she shouldn’t hate that Eddie has a world that she isn’t part of. That he has things in his life besides school. She knows she shouldn’t hate that for all these months, his head hasn’t been solely occupied with basketball and cheer, with homecoming and prom and spirit week and her. 

Sometimes, though, she kind of does. Even though school is over, and Chrissy’s long since lost her grip on the top rung of the Hawkins High social ladder, she can’t say it doesn’t bother her to realise that there was a time when she wasn’t the only girl on Eddie’s mind. 

Amy’s a lot more like Eddie than she is. She's got dyed hair and eyeliner and tattoos. She's tall and she wears clothes that show off her chest and stomach. She's metal.

Most of all, Chrissy thinks, they've known each other for a long time. Amy’s an old friend, Eddie had said earlier, when he’d been leading her down the road to Amy’s trailer. They’ve got a past together. One that Chrissy wasn’t there for. She finds herself wondering whether Amy knows about the scars.

Amy must notice Chrissy's face falling, because she reaches out across the table and touches her hand. She clears her throat.

"I was sixteen when I got my first tattoo," she begins, putting her big combat boots up on the kitchen table. There’s a wistful look in her eye as she strokes at the skin on her ankle, fingers ghosting over the small black skull.

"I remember how good it felt. After." She adds. "Hurt like a bitch while I was getting it done."

Chrissy laughs politely. 

"I just remember having this feeling of like... Shit. This is MY body. Y'know? Like. I'm the one in control. I decide what I do with my body. Not mom. Not dad. Not school."

 She waves her hands around half heartedly, eyes rolling toward the nicotine stained ceiling.

"Me." She says finally, looking up at Chrissy, who’s leaning forward intently.

"Feels pretty good." 

Chrissy’s a little stunned. She’s never thought about tattoos - or any act of so-called ‘rebellion’, really - in that way before. As a way to take back autonomy. A way to take control. It’s a pretty compelling thought.

"You should think about it." Amy says, a tiny smile creeping its way across her face as she realises she’s planted a seed.

And Chrissy does. 

She goes home that night and she thinks over and over about what Amy said. About it being her body. Not Laura’s. Not Phillip’s. Not… Jason’s, she thinks with a shudder. She’d never been his, she reminds herself. Not even when they were together.

Chrissy thinks Eddie might be the first person who’s ever treated her like her own body belongs to her. And it’s not just because he hasn’t been pestering her to take things further than just touching over the clothes - it’s everything. Eddie’s never once told her what she should and shouldn’t eat. Never tried to tell her what she can’t wear. Can’t drink. Can’t smoke. Never told her who she can and can’t be friends with. And she knows he never would.

A few weeks later she makes an appointment with the parlor in town. Rather ridiculously, she calls from a payphone a few blocks from her house, terrified that Laura could somehow be tracing her calls.

She does think about going back to Amy, but in the end, she decides that it’s better if she doesn’t tell anyone what she’s doing. Chrissy wants this to be something that’s all her own.

She's shaking when she goes inside. The waiting room is mostly filled with older biker guys, and their jaws drop when she walks in dressed in pink shorts and clean white sneakers.

"You got ID?" The guy behind the counter grunts.

She pulls out her learner's permit for him to inspect. He whistles through his teeth. 

"Eighteen."

She chooses a little star design from the wall full of drawings. Nothing big or flashy, but she thinks it’s beautiful. It'll go on her hip, small enough for it to always be covered up, even if she’s wearing a swimsuit. Chrissy might be independent, but she’s not quite in college yet. If her mom sees it this summer she’s dead.

"You getting this for your boyfriend or something?" The tattoo artist’s asking twenty minutes later, loud over the buzz of the machine. She’s laying on the plastic-covered couch, hands balled into fists and her eyes squeezed tight shut. Amy hadn’t been wrong. Hurts like hell. 

"No." She manages through gritted teeth. "I'm getting it for me."

----------

She doesn’t tell Eddie anything about the tattoo. Not outright, anyway. He finds it himself a week or so later when they're kissing on his bed, his hands sliding up her back and her t-shirt bunching up to reveal a sliver of skin. It’s peeking out from the waistband of her jeans.

He feels a little like he’s discovered the Holy Grail.

"Is that-" he starts, a flush creeping up the back of his neck as he tugs at her jeans slightly, rubbing at the design on her hip. "Chris, is that real?"

"Yeah," she whispers, lips grazing his shoulder. 

It’s felt like a game, waiting for Eddie to find it. She’s been a little nervous to see how he’ll react, but it’s not long before she realises that there was no need to be. 

"Fuuuck.." Eddie breathes, big hands rubbing up and down her exposed sides as he gazes at the tattoo in what she thinks is awe.

"When did you get that?!"

She shrugs, acting nonchalant, but there’s a smile growing at the corner of her mouth. She stays hidden in his shoulder, body buzzing underneath him.

"About a week ago."

"What?!"

Chrissy just nods, a smug grin now easing its way onto her face. 

“That’s so fucking hot, Chris.”

She feels hot. Physically. 

She knows how Eddie looks at her, how he’s been looking at her for a long time, but he’s never been this frank about his desire before. She doesn’t mind it. It heats her up inside and thrums through her like an electric current.

“What made you wanna do that?” 

Eddie’s thinking back to their conversation the other week. Wondering if maybe he was the one who lit the match.

As if reading his mind, Chrissy smiles and says, “actually, it was Amy.”

Eddie can’t stop looking at it, touching it, grinning to himself as he props himself up over her, a curtain of long hair tickling her face. He’s hard, too, she realises, pressing against her stomach through his sweatpants. 

“You can’t tell anyone, by the way,” Chrissy murmurs, and he gives an exasperated laugh. She feels it across her face, warm and breathy.

As if they weren’t way past that now, Eddie thinks. He’s kept every secret she’s ever told him, but she still feels the need to stipulate it every damn time.

“I dunno Chris,” he starts, fingers creeping up her exposed stomach. “I mean, what if i accidentally let it slip during one of my weekly gossiping sessions with your mom-” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“You know what I mean.”

She catches Eddie’s hand and he grins wickedly at her, leaning down until his lips are inches from hers. Chrissy shifts under him so that her legs rest on either side of his hips, pushing his hair back out of his face as she often does when he’s on top of her. He takes the hand he’s now holding and pins it above her head, lacing his fingers through hers. 

Being this close to Eddie used to make her so nervous, but not anymore. He dips his head into her neck, placing a soft, barely-there kiss just below her ear. She thinks she could probably lay here and do this forever.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Eddie whispers in her ear, sending a string of goosebumps threading down her spine. She can hear the mischief in his voice. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

[bi-disaster-yn]

The Dustin Henderson Defence League

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!fem!Reader; brother!Dustin Henderson x sister!Reader

Summary: Reader joins forces with her ex, Steve to put a stop to her brother, Dustin being bullied. If they work so well together as a team - then why did they break up?

Warnings: Steve getting punched (shouldn’t really be a warning if you’ve watched the show).

A/N: Thank you so much for the 500 followers! That’s insane and I never expected this. Thought I’d spice things up and add Stranger Things fics to my Masterlist. This fic (and all future Steve fics) is dedicated to my best friend who adores Steve. She always lets me rant and rave about my favourite fictional characters and is the only person I trust in real life to know I write fics! This one is for you, chika. You know who you are!

Fuelled by incandescent anger, you barged into the mall and stormed your way to Scoops Ahoy. You were a soldier marching into battle as the adrenaline surged through your veins. Armed with evidence in the form of a note that was crumpled and digging into the palm of your hand, you were ready to make your case.

Once you reached your destination, you gave Robin a slight nod as you charged towards the staffroom door. Robin smirked and didn’t stand in your way; secretly hoping that you were here to berate Steve for something and spice up her boring Wednesday afternoon. However, you weren’t here for Steve. You had come for Dustin.

Dustin sat playing with his hands in the backroom of Scoops on the table, his legs swinging off the edge of it as he nervously detailed his account of events to Steve. When you barged in through the door, it drew both of their attention to your furiously trembling form.

“Oh shit.” Dustin muttered, suddenly regretting his course of action in confiding in Steve.

“Dustin Henderson! We promised we would tell each other everything! Now I have to find out you’re being bullied by a note?” You basically shrieked and slammed the note down on the table next to him that had inscribed on it all sorts of threats from his bullies.

“And to make things worse,” you continued, oblivious to how Dustin had looked at you in wide eyed terror. “You came to Steve fucking Harrington before me!” You gestured to Steve – your first acknowledgement of your ex-boyfriend since you’d arrived – who stood awkwardly, folding his arms over his Scoops uniform as though he was embarrassed that you’d seen him in it.

“Hey, look, Y/N, I get you’re upset but-“ Steve started but you cut him off.

“Shut it, Harrington!” You snapped and directed your attention to Dustin. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“First of all, don’t speak to Steve like that. Second of all, how did you even get that note?” Dustin challenged, sitting up straighter and feigning confidence with all his might.

“I was helping mom out by doing the laundry and found it in the pocket of your jeans!” You responded quickly and gave Steve an apology in the form of a pursed lip nod, accepting that you had been too sharp with him. Your rapid response dragged Dustin’s confidence from him and his shoulders slumped again, feeling ashamed that you had found out about the terror that awaited him at school every day.

Steve picked up on Dustin’s hesitation and decided that whether you liked it or not, he had to step in.

“You’re right, Y/N, he is being bullied. If it makes you feel any better, he tried to make it out like it wasn’t a big deal to me either when clearly it is,” he took the opportunity to look at the note and then gave Dustin a stern side eye. “I think he just didn’t want to worry you since you’re going off to college soon.”

The comment did not in fact, make you feel any better. It made you feel worse. It was already preying on your mind that in a mere month’s time you’d be on your way to college, leaving your mom and Dusty behind. The concept terrified you already but knowing that Dustin was beginning to substitute you with Steve as a way to mentally prepare for your departure was heart-breaking.

You had to take action.

“Dustin, who did this?” You asked. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”

“The same kids as before.” Dustin sighed, realising it was futile to continue hiding things from you at this point.

“Right. I’m gonna finish this once and for all.” You stated plainly and made your way out of the staffroom, outfitted with a new purpose. You were going to prove to Dustin that it should be you that he came to with anything that bothered him. Not your ex.

You knew the kids he was talking about; they were the same ones that hung around outside the arcade and terrorised Dustin and his friends when all they wanted to do was play video games. They were a couple of years older and were all brawn, no brain. Dustin, Lucas, Will and Mike never stood a chance against them.

The thoughts in your brain ran wild as the list of possibilities of how you could handle this circulated round in it. Just the thought of laying eyes on one of those little shits was making your blood boil and your feet drove further and further into the ground as you charged towards the arcade.

It wasn’t long before you were interrupted by a hand grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. In amongst your internalised rage, you hadn’t even registered that Steve had followed after you. He had pulled your wrist and spun you round so that you had come face to face with him.

Annoyingly, his eyes staring back at yours still made you feel vulnerable and somewhat soft. If you didn’t have a mission to attend to then you might have caught yourself staring into them for longer.

“Leave me alone, Steve.” You murmured through gritted teeth and pulled your arm back.

“I want to help! I don’t want you to do this alone.” He offered with a half-smile.

“You’ve done enough.” You retaliated with a huff. There was no way you were going to let Steve swoop in like a white knight and earn all of Dustin’s admiration and respect for what was supposed to be your job. He was your brother and Steve had to accept that.

Steve sighed and put his hands on his hips dejectedly, looking down at the ground as an awkward silence created a discernible tension between you. Whilst it was painful, neither of you felt the need to pull away but instead remained shackled in your respective positions.

“I know you may not like it, but Dustin is my friend and I wanna look out for him. I don’t want to give that up just because we’re not together anymore.” Steve eventually confessed, having taken off his Scoops hat and playing with it in his hands. He was still unable to look up at you. Perhaps if he did face you, he wouldn’t have been able to voice how he was feeling. However, you weren’t feeling quite so sympathetic yet.

“Yes, Steve but he’s my brother! And he thinks the sun shines out of your ass! Do you know how hard it is when I do everything for him and Mom and all he can talk about is you?!” You spat back at Steve, folding your arms and sighing deeply. A lump formed in your throat and frustrated tears sprung to your eyelids. It was downright infuriating to say the least. In the absence of your father, you had basically helped your mom raise Dusty and had always considered you and him to have a close relationship.

That was until Steve Harrington sauntered in with enthusiastic but empty promises of love before leaving you and taking Dustin with him. It stung not being enough for Steve but to be second best for Dustin, that was a killer.

“Hey, I know it’s tough on you guys without your dad, trust me,” Steve gave you a knowing look as he recalled the number of nights you had spent lamenting to him about your horrific excuse of a father. “But you can’t deal with this shit on your own. It’s too much for one person to have to handle all by themselves. Dustin knows that, that’s why he doesn’t want to worry you or upset you. The kid thinks you’re incredible… you are incredible.”

Admittedly, Steve’s words had what was probably their desired effect. It made you pause and digest what he was saying. You physically cringed but you had to agree with him that you couldn’t do this all on your own. You couldn’t gatekeep Dusty either. He had been deprived of a father and whilst you wished he’d picked someone else to be a male figure for him to look up to; Steve was just going to have to do.

“Alright. I guess you can help.” You said softly, without needing to say anymore as Steve accepted your offering of a truce. He might have preferred to hear you’re right, Steve but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. Not today anyway.

“Okay, great.” Steve smiled warmly at you. “So, what’s the plan?”

At that moment you realised you had not actually formulated a plan. You had just been charging towards the kids like a raging bull with no strategy in sight.

“I didn’t actually have one?” You bit your lip and involuntarily let out a giggle at your own rashness. A wide smile stretched across Steve’s face as he chuckled with you.

“Okay, I love the enthusiasm, but we cannot just go in guns blazing on a group of kids. We need to be smart about this.” Steve smirked as he churned over his own ideas before eventually looking up at you with such extreme animation that one would expect to see a lightbulb hovering above his head. “Why don’t you punch me in front of them? A little preview of what could happen if they come near Dustin again? Which they won’t because this is gonna work!”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in disbelief. It would be a lie to say you weren’t at least a little tempted to punch your ex but the very fact he suggested it still came as a surprise. Afterall, didn’t he need that face to win over the girls that came into Scoops for their daily ice cream fix?

“You want me to punch you?” You asked with uncertainty.

“Well, I mean, don’t like knock me out or anything. Just punch me hard enough to scare them.” Steve explained eagerly. As much as you hated agreeing to his idea, you didn’t have a back-up plan to offer.

“Fine.” You sighed. “I’ll try not to hit you too hard.”

“That’s the spirit.” Steve grinned. “Lead the way, Henderson.”

United over a common purpose, you made your way to the arcade together. It was like the old days when you would make the kind of grand entrance into school together that commanded respect and demonstrated authority. Harrington & Henderson: untouchable. Except now when you looked down, your hands weren’t linked nor were your fingers intertwined. All that remained was distance.

Instinctively, you almost reached out to hold his hand but stopped yourself. The earlier vulnerability returned and you decided to fold your arms so that you wouldn’t be tempted to try and reach for him again.

Steve did the same by putting his hands in the pockets of the sailor shorts.

The kids hung around at their usual spot outside the arcade. They fixated on the door menacingly, hoping to trip up any younger kids before going in so that they might steal their arcade money. Little shits.

“Hey!” You yelled as you approached them, gathering their attention. “Do you know a Dustin Henderson?”

“Yeah,” the one who you had concluded was the leader retorted. “What’s it to you and sailor boy?”

Steve’s cheeks turned pink as he smoothed down the top of his uniform with the palms of his hands, suddenly being made to feel self-conscious by a 15 year old. He looked down in embarrassment which was only going to be made worse as you balled your fist and swung a punch at his face.

The punch was much harder than you intended and Steve’s face swung dramatically to the side as he shrieked out a profanity. He held his tender cheek delicately and looked up at you in a horrified but impressed way. You flexed your fist out after its assault and turned back to the group of youths who now stood with their jaws at their feet.

“You go near him, or any of his friends again, and you’ll get the same treatment. Got that?!” You shouted and they all nodded dumbly back at you. “Good. And move away from here. You look like a bunch of creeps sitting outside the arcade!”

They all scurried away from you like pigeons flying from a hungry cat. You couldn’t help but stand a little bit taller with pride as you watched them run away.

“Owww.” Steve wailed behind you, interrupting the internal pat on the back you were giving yourself. “That really hurt!”

“Sorry!” You giggled and turned round to him, thoughtlessly cupping his face in your hands to assess the damage you had done. “You did tell me to punch you.”

“That was before I realised what a mean right hook you had.” He responded with a chuckle before you both locked eyes and realised the intimacy of the way you were holding his face.

You stared at each other in silence. There was so much to say but at the same time, nothing to say at all. You had gotten so used to not touching Steve that the feeling of his cheeks in your palms made your breath hitch uncomfortably.

At the same time, you jumped away from each other awkwardly. There must have been something particularly interesting on the ground as you both dipped your heads to stare at it; careful not to cross the line with eye contact again.

“That was a nice thing you did for Dusty today.” You mumbled as a way to combat the silence, giving credit where it was undoubtedly due.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t just do it for him.” Steve confessed, kicking his heels off the ground.

“Steve, don’t.” You warned, already not liking where this was going. He had looked up at you with forlorn eyes and a helpless expression. This was dangerous territory you were both now entering, especially when you had already promised yourself that you wouldn’t risk getting your feelings hurt again.

“What happened to us?” He asked simply and you were ready to punch him again.

“You dumped me! You said you didn’t feel the same way anymore!”

“Yeah, well I was an asshole.”

“I’ll say.” You scoffed and folded your arms again as though this could barricade you away from Steve. As if this could stop him from getting close and taking a hold of your feelings.

Steve took a few steps forward and put his hands on your arms to hold you in place. When you refused to look up at him, he put his thumb to your chin to tilt your head up to look at him. You swallowed thickly, being forced to stare into his eyes again.

“Yeah, I was an asshole but I’ve grown up a bit. And we make a good team, don’t we? Too good a team to be apart.” Steve pleaded, staring into your eyes for some sort of hint that you were able to meet him halfway. It was a sweet torture having him this close to you again without him being yours.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you. Or maybe it was the way he had allowed you to humiliate him in front of a bunch of kids so that you could defend your brother. Perhaps, it was the way that he looked after Dustin like he was his own brother. It could even have been the way that he’d still tried to make his hair look cool even while wearing that ridiculous Scoops uniform.

Either way, you had lost all resolve at this point and you grabbed his face in your hands to kiss him. Steve’s eyes widened at first then slowly shut as he melted into the kiss, his hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you closer. Your own hands trailed through his signature hair where they belonged.

Pulling back from the kiss, you had to stifle a laugh at the shiner you had left on Steve’s face starting to form. Steve noticed the corners of your mouth stretching into a wide smile and immediately clasped his hands to his face again, fighting the blush that was rising to his cheeks.

“I told you that you had a mean right hook!” He laughed, still feeling a little embarrassed.

“Come on, Harrington,” You held your hand out for him. “Let’s get some ice on that and you can tell Dustin all about how brave and cool you were.”

“Emphasising the brave and cool part.” He agreed, taking your hand. “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” You admitted. “I missed you too.”

[letarasstuff]

Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don��t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

[huenjin]

the study of relationships.

summary — college team's volleyball captain and your roommate-cum-best friend, hwang hyunjin argues with you over guys being better than girls in relationships to help you out of one. or in which hyunjin is in love with you for years now and he finally decides that maybe he doesn't want that best friend tag anymore.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. minho

genre — fluff, angst | volleyball!au, f2l!au, roommates!au

rating — nc-17

word count — 15k words

note — kinda excited to post this very long plotted fic on here because first long fic for skz !!! this fic is brought to you by hq, hyunjin's long blond hair and b me mv that we never got. please please do send me constructive criticism so that i can improve on my writing for this community. happy reading!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Your best friend, Hwang Hyunjin yells at the top of his voice, pitch lower in precision as you open the door and slam it shut forcefully, the sound loud enough to bounce to him clearly. Your feet storm hard against the wooden flooring of your apartment, sound bouncing off from that again and Hyunjin pauses his video game to look at you.

It's a familiar sight. Hyunjin sighs.

"Hey," he tries catching your attention but he fails. You storm into your room, hair flailing behind you in your anger, eyes blurry with the angst you feel that wraps slowly around your heart. You walk into the room and slam the door shut, so loud that a chip of wood breaks from the top of the door and falls down.

"Jesus Christ! Y/N—" Hyunjin yells to no one in particular. However, he drops his controller to the side of the couch and jumps to his feet only after pausing his game. He takes big strides to your room and in high contrast to his rash movements, his knocking on your door is very gentle.

"Can I come in?" He asks, scratching the door absentmindedly. He presses his ear and head against the door to hear a response but all he hears are your soft cries and it makes him sad.

"Y/N—"

"Go away, Hyunjin!"

"Y/N, let me in," he stresses, his leg kicking the air slightly, dangling before that. "I—"

"You're going to make fun of me."

"Will not." Hyunjin knows where this stems from and he won't deny. However, at this minute, he just wants to be there for you. Teasing could wait for an hour or so after you've calmed down. "So please?"

You hum and Hyunjin waits for a sign of protest. When he hears none, he takes it as an approval to open the door and the sight before him hurts him ever so slightly.

You are wrapped in a cocoon of your white blanket and your head is buried in the sheets outside, not ready to look up at your best friend. He frowns as he walks towards you, letting himself to sit by your side. He stretches his arm out and stops when you declare,

"I'm a world class dumpee."

"You are," he shrugs, voice tainted with a slight tease and you look up at him, glaring with your red, puffy eyes. You try shoving him but the cocoon you are wrapped in slightly falls forward too in impact. Hyunjin laughs and stretches both his arms forward to prevent you from falling forwards.

You pout, mumbling with a voice that is strained and is your proof of the urge to cry, "You promised you wouldn't."

"I'm your best friend," he shrugs and pushes your body wrapped in the thick blankets backwards, your head hitting against the pillow. A soft whine leaves your lips, followed by an oomph. "You knew I was going to tease you at the very first opportunity."

And then Hyunjin pounces on you, tickling your sides over the covers and your tickle sensitive being rushes in sensation as you laugh your heart out, chest heavy and mind focussing only on your best friend that you forget about the boy who broke up with you an hour back.

"Stop," you laugh. "Hyunjin," you whine. "Stop, you idiot," you laugh again. "I'm going to kill you—"

Hyunjin's laughter fills the air along with yours. In your perspective through your watery eyes, you see a boy with no worries and all smiles and you want to be like that. You desperately want to be like that. You push your wrapped body upwards to shove Hyunjin to the side and it works. He laughs, slowly receding with yours and he lets out a loud relieved sigh as he looks at your face with less creases and tears that now fall due to laughter.

"Hey," Hyunjin says and you turn your head to face him. His face is rigid, the childish gleam that he had just a while back long gone.

"Yeah?"

He sits up, running a hand through his hair and folding his arms soon after. "The guy was a jerk," he tells, helping you up. His hand finds the end of the blanket and unwraps it slowly from your being. "He was a mighty jerk, okay?"

"He is your teammate, Lee Minho," you stare, dead into his eyes and he shrugs.

"I know," he sighs before shrugging, giving you a nonchalant look. "What was it this time? Let me guess, he broke up with you for no reason again."

You hit the blankets that cover your thigh hard and send imaginary daggers in Hyunjin's way, "Yeah! I just don't understand why he'd break up with me."

"Uh, possibly because—"

"Is it because I'm on like close friend terms with everyone in the college volleyball team? I mean, Lee Minho always said dating—"

"Dating you would be hard, Y/N," Hyunjin continues, mocking your ex-boyfriend's voice. "You hang out with so many guys and all your best friends are dudes that it makes me jealous," Hyunjin pauses, placing his hands flat on the bed from behind as he leans back. "Ah, Lee Minho, that bastard. He always did say that to you."

You look down, fidgeting with your fingers and you roar out in anger. Hyunjin looks at you amused until you say, "Why can't guys be more like girls?"

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin's eyebrow is raised and he laughs mockingly. He lifts his arms from behind, stretches his back before sitting up straight. He kicks his legs and raises it upwards to sit cross legged, looking straight at you and laughs again. "You are totally kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not, Hyunjin," your eyebrows furrow. "The reason behind most, if not all, break-ups is the guy."

Hyunjin agrees with you deep down. Okay, maybe not completely but at least a ninety percent and that's a good one. However, he knows how competitive you are and if there's something that can get your head out of this post break up blues, it's this.

A competition. And so just to entice you a little, he sneers, "If anything, girls should be more like guys."

"Bitch, no," you laugh, head falling back at the sheer stupidity that rolls out from your best friend's mouth. "Men are so conceited that they had to make a whole word for treating women equal."

"Not all men simp. Plus, it's an AAVE and that people should not use it. In my defense, I've treated you like a guy my whole life," he shrugs. Lies. Lies. Lies he spews out endlessly because at one point, without him even knowing, things did change and he's seen you as a woman; as a woman he now has feelings for.

Hyunjin, to prove his point, hits you on his back like you've seen him do with all his teammates and your torso bends forward from your hips on impact. "See!" He stretches his arms, tattoos on display in the loose half sleeved black top he wears and you wince, stretching your hand back to rub only for Hyunjin to stop laughing quickly and rub your back, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Hyunjin," you shrug, mumbling, trying to guide your best friend. "Don't ever use the not all men tag, please."

He slaps a hand over his mouth, realising his error, again apologising and you stretch your hand forward quickly to protest, "No, no," you tell, "You don't have to apologise. I just hope you know how it sounds."

"I do," he falls back, lying down against your mattress. "I do and I hate that I accidentally said it."

You follow suit, and fall on the bed, hair splaying around, some falling on Hyunjin's face. He groans, moving the hair away and whining, "It got into my mouth, ew." You laugh.

Hyunjin speaks out, staring at the ceiling, "Whose fault is it that a relationship goes astray?"

"Still going to say the men," you look at the same spot he stares at. "They're—"

"It's a war."

"See!" You exclaim. "This is the issue with men. They cut us off all the time."

Hyunjin laughs, hand stretching out to hold your wrist to soothe you down and mumbling another apology, he continues, "This is a battle, Y/N; a battle that's aged long and has never come to a conclusion. The battle—"

"Get to the point."

"Look who cut me off now."

"Touché."

"Anyhow," he continues. "The battle between men and women."

"You definitely sounded like a prepubescent boy there," you look at Hyunjin. His skin is so clear, you notice, making a mental note to steal his skin care products later. He turns a second later to face you and he nods, "Don't care. Definitely going to win this."

"You wish," you let out a condescending laugh. "I'm going to beat your ass, Hyunjin."

"Kinky," he smiles that stupid, toothy grin of his, "I likey."

"You gross pubescent boy," you shove at his arms only for him to quickly hold your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours in the midst of the squabble. You let him, still laughing lightly, lungs light and mind free from all the sad thoughts.

"I see that I've got an upgrade."

"You did."

You're about to thank Hyunjin for this small gesture that probably seems to be nothing when his phone rings from the other room. The scary unexpected track to Tokyo Ghoul's opening – Unravel – that you can't help but accept that you've grown to like, plays.

He lets go of your hand and jolts upwards, jumping off the bed. A small whine leaves your lips unexpectedly and Hyunjin smiles at that. He pulls up the blankets over your body that he shifted, mumbling, "You should sleep early. You had a tough day."

"No," you whine yet again, "Let's talk more—" His phone rings louder, the scream part of the ringtone jolting you up and your hand falls on your chest in shock. "Hate when your phone does."

"And yet you sing along to it," he sings, humming the tune.

"Pfft," you scoff, holding onto the blanket, scrunching it in your grip. "Go. It's probably about the practise match against Yonsei University."

He hums in agreement, folding the blanket again carefully, right below your neck, his cold hands brushing against your clavicle and the temperature difference runs a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin switches off the light as he walks out, gently closing the door shut and you watch your best friend throwing a small smile at you before leaving. Did you really deserve all this care? Perhaps not.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, dashes out to get the phone before the caller cuts the call in frustration. He's definitely not spending the money to call back whoever it is. That shit is expensive. He jumps a couple of steps and grabs his phone, accepting the call before looking at the name of the caller.

"Hyunjin…" It's Lee Minho. "Can you come over?"

"I really want to throw a punch at you, you bastard."

And Hyunjin does. Virtually, of course. Over the game they are playing. He couldn't afford to injure a fellow teammate when the preliminaries are right around the corner.

"Bro," Minho sighs. "Can you go easy on me?"

His game character hits Minho's again, the energy bar of the other drastically going down on the screen. Hyunjin can't stop. The frustration that he has pent up over the last hour after seeing you cry and crumble over being dumped by his other friend drives him to the edge and he delivers another punch. Minho's character dramatically collapses as soon as the energy bar is empty and he drops the console by his side, pressing his back against the sofa, arms wrapped against his chest, pouting.

"I—"

"Go on," Hyunjin glares at him. "You better have a good explanation."

Minho runs a hand through his hair and sitting up straight, turning his torso to face Hyunjin, he tells, "I don't."

"You're lucky that we have a match soon, else you'd be six feet underground," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his hands over his head and folding it behind. "I can't believe you did that to Y/N."

"I fell out of love with her," Minho says. He doesn't dare to look at Hyunjin because he fears if the glares would actually result in him six feet underground. "Can't that be the only reason?"

Hyunjin chuckles, moreso at himself than at his friend, mumbling under his breath so low that Minho thinks it's just him humming, "Is it possible to fall out of love with her?"

He wishes Lee Minho could tell him how.

Hyunjin stands up, patting his denim jeans and looking at Minho, he warns, eyebrows furrowing, "I'll help her out with this. Just don't be a jerk and start dating in like two days."

"I—" Hyunjin glares at him. "Fine."

"Practice at seven," he adds and grabs the key of his motorcycle from the table before him. "Don't be late and act normal around Y/N."

"Fine, sir," Minho rolls his eyes. He won't admit it ever but the man warning him could be the reason for his breakup. That and his insecurity and fear of you cheating on him. But it's mostly Hwang Hyunjin. He knows how he feels even if you didn't.

Hyunjin walks out of Minho's house, closing the door on his way out and getting on his motorcycle, he rides back home to you. Just as he had promised you.

He opens the door to your room as soon as he enters his house, removing his shoes and placing it to the side, only to find his ears listening to the soft snores that let free from your lips. Carefully he walks towards you, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin lightly and tilting your head upwards to help you breathe properly.

He pauses for a minute just to watch you. Your eyebrows that you dislike so much just because according to you, it's not thick enough. He loves it however, even though you would never listen to him. Your eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on your high cheekbones and he gasps because you're so beautiful. You're so near to him and yet so far.

He bends forward, pushes your fringes to the side and places a soft kiss against your forehead, mumbling the words he wishes he could tell you straight up. Even if he did, you'd probably laugh and scoff at him.

"Beautiful girl," his lips graze the skin by your forehead, "You are a fighter. You have always been a fighter. You are stronger than you think. You are braver than you believe. Every challenge that life has thrown at you, you've conquered every obstacle that has been placed in front of you. You've overcome every single one of them. You are unstoppable and unbreakable and right now, you are filled with more faith than you have ever been."

Hyunjin pulls away, softly caressing the hair by the side of your face, "So please believe in yourself. You're worth so much love. So much of it, Y/N."

"The jerseys came!"

Bang Chan screams, a huge grin on his face as he opens the door for you. He runs to Felix and holds onto his shoulders before jumping up and down in joy. He is so delighted. "It looks so good, dude."

Hyunjin smiles, running towards you and helping you with the cardboard box. "It's alright," you mumble. "I'm the manager. It's my job."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "And I'm your best friend. It's my job." He picks the huge box that covers your entire upper half, easily and places it down before the coach and the team.

Jisung rushes to your side, nudging you with his elbow, "We've got a pretty good manager." He bends down and rips open the box, taking his jersey in his hand, "Number 13, bitches. Nothing shows what an amazing libero I am like the number most feared." You laugh.

"Number 10 isn't that bad, I guess." You hear Minho's voice break through the cluster of voices and your movements still. You turn your head to look at the brown haired boy who towers over you, wearing a smile so pretty that your heart still skips a beat.

"Hey, Y/N," he smiles. "Thanks for bringing this over."

"Uh," you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze everywhere else besides at Minho. "I guess. It's my job, yeah."

Hyunjin notices. He always does. The boy runs towards you with his jersey. Number 1 printed in big behind. The setter brings the jersey so close to your face that it's buried in the fresh opened shirt. "Number 1, of course," he laughs, scrunching the shirt in his hand as he raises both his arms above.

"Oh, shut up, Jinnie," you laugh.

"Yeah, shut up, Jinnie," Jisung echoes. The middle blocker, though not the tallest in stature, is excellent at his position and has the biggest love-hate relationship with your best friend. He folds his arms and mocks Hyunjin.

Hyunjin places his right hand down on Jisung's head, ruffling his hair after pressing down on it. He scolds the older boy, "Don't call me Jinnie. Y/N's the only one who gets to call me that."

"Stop gathering around people," The captain claps his hands together to gather all of your attention. You quickly rush to his side and he smiles at you warmly, before looking at his team and glaring at each of them as they gather around him. "Yonsei University was kind enough to arrange a practice match with us thanks to—"

"Y/N," Jisung shouts, pivoting his arms by their sockets before lifting them both high above his head, cheering for you.

"Don't cut me off, Han," the coach shoots daggers at him, frowning visibly at the disobedience. "One more time and you're running around the gymnasium twenty times."

Jisung groans, only after winking at you. You chuckle under your breath, covering your face with the notepad in your hand. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, nudging Jisung to 'keep it in his pants' in the scariest voice ever. You could feel the dark clouds around Hyunjin, the aura darkening for a split minute before he breaks out into a huge smile as he looks at you.

The coach instructs out commands; strategies to help the team win against Yonsei. Moves that he's studied after watching their matches. You know this because you watched Hyunjin do the same at home. He does it at odd timings though.

You would wake up at three in the morning to grab a glass of water and you'd find your best friend squatting in front of the television as he watches every single one of Yonsei's matches. He wouldn't listen to you telling him to go to sleep because, "Being the captain is hard, Y/N. The whole team's banking on me to set the ball perfectly at the right time. I can't..."

And you understand. You understand the worries that go around in his head, the anxiety of being the best because he's no genius. He got to the top, made a name for him all thanks to his hard work and if he needs to keep it — he won't have it any other way — he swears to god that he would practise and study till he drops dead. Hwang Hyunjin loves volleyball that much.

So, you do what any friend would do.

You would make two cups of coffee, one for him and one for yourself. You sit next to him and watch the match with him. Your head lays back against the soft material of the sofa, just watching Hyunjin's eyes fixed on the screen, studying each movement of every player, gasping occasionally at how the setter of Yonsei's team leans his head back to decoy the opposite team only to dump the ball.

You don't remember much from that night because you fall asleep way too quick in the silence and in the presence of a focussed Hyunjin, your cup of coffee half empty. You don't remember anything from that night besides the fact that you woke up in your bed the next morning, or more like, Hyunjin waking you up the next morning because you overslept. Either ways, you were back in your bed and for that, you were grateful.

And as soon as the coach is done with the instructions, the team members scramble before splitting themselves into two groups, first to do serves and then perfect shots and finally, have a practice match.

You sit next to the coach, watching each and every member. That's what the previous manager told you to do. To observe. That's what the manager must do. To observe so well that you know each member well enough to know how their mind works, how their personalities are and who they truly want to be.

This is exactly why you can't seem to ever hate Lee Minho. Because you've seen him on the court, at his very best.

He's the best darn middle blocker you've ever seen. He doesn't tower that much over people with his height but when he jumps, lifting off his feet, he is as good as a wall cemented and strong before the opponent. He has only got better with every practice match and you realise that he wants to be better. And that's how he truly is. The constant urge to do better than the person he was before and perhaps, to Minho, you are someone he wants to leave behind in the past.

There's no one to blame here and you realise that it's a lot better if you accept the truth before it hurts you more than it should.

But then, in a second, Hyunjin takes your attention away whole heartedly. The boy arches his body so beautifully as he sets the ball for Jisung who slams the ball over the net with such force that leaves you gaping, notebook slamming your thigh. The coach stands up, his heels slamming the ground first before his toes do and he is as stunned as you are, eyes wide.

Funnily, Jisung's surprised too.

"We did it!" He says slowly, his words gradually making sense to him and when it does, he rushes to him, holding his shoulders and jumping ecstatically, "Hwang Hyunjin, we fucking did it!"

"When did you guys practice that?" The coach cuts the commotion short with his question. Hyunjin turns to face him along with Jisung, scratching the back of his head. Jisung is so overjoyed that he rushes to the coach, "Today morning! It sounded delusional but we pulled it off, coach."

You look at Hyunjin, who turns his attention back to you as soon as the coach is scrambling off to tell more instructions to Jisung on how he should time it a little bit earlier to hit it with even more impact. You smile, giving him a thumbs up and Hyunjin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you guys finally dating now that Minho's out of the picture?" Chan nudges Hyunjin. The man stumbles a step forward on impact only to quickly look at the older with eyes so wide that he wonders if it were possible.

"What?" He splutters the words out, voice haphazard after the cough.

"Everyone in the team thinks you guys should," Chan shrugs and Hyunjin's face morphs into that of seriousness almost instantly and shoots the other male with, "Did Minho hear of this?"

"Perhaps," Chan catches the ball Felix throws at him. The coach claps his hands to bring the attention back to him, barking out orders to resume the game. Chan pats Hyunjin's shoulders, "You know what we always tell, Hyunjin, in this sport—"

"Take the shot when you see the opportunity."

"Exactly."

"Or someone's going to block again," Chan sniggers and looks at Minho, who was trying his very best to avoid your gaze, "This time round, it could be someone better than our middle blocker."

You're picking up the volleyballs lying around when the guys go to shower and change, dribbling them slightly and smiling to yourself. A figure towers over you as they drop a ball into the huge bucket. You turn around to look up at Minho.

"Can we speak?"

"Do we have more to say?"

"I guess," he shrugs.

"We can still be friends, Minho," you sigh, eyes closed. "I also won't be those annoying types to tell Hyunjin to stay away from you because you broke up with me. You should know better."

"I didn't mean that," Minho looks offended. "I wanted to apologise. I should have tried harder perhaps."

"You should have."

"I know," Minho sucks in his lower lip. "I really should have but you know—"

"Lee Minho," your voice is firm. "I've told you a gazillion times that Hyunjin and I are just friends, Minho. Somehow you made up this sort of weird thing in your head so don't drag me into this mess. This is yours."

Minho scoffs, "You're going to eat your words soon," and picks up another ball. You remember the task you had forgotten in the heat of the moment, rushing to pick up a ball to put it back. The rest of the team is slowly making their way outside.

"I doubt," you sigh, throwing the last ball into the bucket and dusting your hands together. Jisung's darting towards you, hands in the air. Minho moves to the side, gliding against the floor, making way for the shorter man to reach you, bubbling with such enthusiasm you wonder what the cause of it is.

"Felix is treating us!"

Ah, so that's the reason. You smile at Jisung, nodding your approval. You push the bucket to the side of the gymnasium with Minho's help and switch the lights off as the team exits the gymnasium.

"Lee Minho!" You hear a feminine voice through the air, your eyebrows quirking upwards automatically. Hyunjin walks to your side, sighing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket, mumbling so softly that you barely catch it, "I warned that asshole, God damn him."

Minho's face lights up in a way you haven't seen in a while and your heart is heavy. The woman, Irene — you hear Chan shout her name and wave at her — locks her arm with Minho's and walks with him, the man doing nothing to push her away. It shouldn't affect you. Not anymore now that the two of you have broken up and yet it hurts.

Hyunjin quickly pulls you away, preventing your eyes from lingering further even a minute more. His hand holds yours and he drags you to his motorcycle. You look down, biting the insides of your cheeks, alternating between the right and left every time you taste the copper of the blood.

"Your hand is so small," Hyunjin says. "Like look at how it fits into mine," he laughs, lifting your hand upwards as he clasps it tightly. He mumbles, "So small."

You break into a smile, watching Hyunjin tease you, momentarily drifting from the thought that upsets you and it leaves you wondering how Hyunjin does it all the time. He lets go of your hand, ruffling your hair as he bends lightly, "You've got this."

He quickly turns on the heels of his feet, pulling out the keys to his bike and igniting it. You hear Jisung scream from behind, "I thought you were taking me with you!"

Hyunjin screams back, "Carpool with the rest. I'm taking Y/N."

He lifts his leg, straddling the bike as he holds onto the handles, kicking the support free. He turns towards you and tells you to hop on and you do as he says. Your fingers hold his jacket, making sure you're not hugging him from behind. Minho's words run in your head and Hyunjin notices this small gesture of yours but he pays no heed. After all, it's been a while since he realised that what he has with you is better when it's platonic. He is too afraid to lose you.

"Jinnie," you tell him as he starts the motorbike, accelerating behind Jin who leads the way. You hear your best friend scream, "Yeah," through the loud winds that hit you.

You lean forward and speak closer into his ears, your jaw hitting his helmet, "Remember how I said the guys are to be blamed in a relationship."

"Yeah," he hints at you to proceed.

"Here's my first point. Minho back there," you point out. "It was that easy for a guy to move on. That easy," you stress your word. "While I'm here repenting if there was any way to get things back to where it was. However, there's no use in me trying because there's Minho with Irene like our relationship was a thing in the past."

"That doesn't mean he didn't care about you during the relationship. That's how guys are. They give it their everything when they're in the relationship," Hyunjin reasons and you laugh sardonically.

"You're kidding me, right? The girl definitely cares more. It almost seems so easy for the guys to break up and move on. Remember the time when you broke up with Lisa," you speak, raising your tone a little more so that Hyunjin can hear you. The motorcycle moving against the wind causes your hair to touch your mouth and you're spitting hair out facing the side. Hyunjin laughs, his grip on the accelerator tightening as he speeds up just a little bit, causing you to hold onto his jacket pockets a little tighter.

"Bro," Hyunjin mutters when you bring up Lisa. "I cried enough when she broke up with me, okay?"

"You did, for a day or two," you state. "The girl cried her heart out for a whole week. You went partying that Friday with Jisung!"

"Are we now using quantitative measurements to determine how deep our care and love is?" Hyunjin gasps, sounding very offended. "This reminds me why most relationships don't work. Because girls are shallow as fuck."

Hyunjin accelerates, missing sight of the speed breaker in front of him. It hurls you onto his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep you safe. A soft scream leaves your lips as the side of your face buries into his broad back.

"Sorry," Hyunjin apologises quickly. "Didn't see that!" Hyunjin prays that you don't move your arms away but you do and he sighs, face falling. He is glad that you can't see him. Your hand is back to gripping his jacket and head back in this battle of words you're currently having with your best friend.

"It's okay," you tell him. "What's not okay is how you think women are shallow."

"They are!" He takes a turn to the left. Your thigh muscles tighten as it straddles the seat, fingers digging into his side for support. "I mean, let's be real, sweetheart. You take an hour or more to get ready for college."

"Because I want to look presentable!" You hit his broad back and he chuckles.

"Lies! You're shallow!"

"Says the person who walks around shirtless at home and stares at the mirror, lightly touching your abs and saying perfect," you tease and Hyunjin turns to look at you for a minute with his eyes wide before he turns his attention back on the road.

"You saw that?"

"Of course. I see that every day."

"But you're watching the television, how?"

"Reflections," you state.

He's gasping. The motorcycle slows down as it reaches Pizza Alvolo. The pizzeria is adjacent to a pretty park and you can hear the birds chirp lowly right before the sun is ready to set. You jump off the motorcycle, dusting the denims covering your thighs and Hyunjin removes his helmet, hooking it to the handle securely.

The rest of the team are seated in the pizzeria already waiting for the two of you, waving at you as soon as you enter the place. You rush and sit next to Jisung who has been aggravatingly patting the seat next to him. Hyunjin sits opposite to you, next to Chan. He snatches the menu from him and the elder male whines at the behaviour.

You look around and notice that Minho hasn't reached the place yet. Not that it mattered to you. You will slowly learn to stop caring so much for a man and you will soon be able to look at him and think of only the fond memories and nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The minute you see Minho walk into the pizzeria, although not with Irene, you feel the ground slip underneath you. Jisung is nice enough — albeit not knowing of the whole pickle you are in — to hold your wrist and turn your attention towards the stack of pizza boxes that come your way as he gleams, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

You look away from Minho and toward the direction Jisung points before turning to look at Hyunjin who lets out a loud sigh. You know that he's clutching at his thick thighs, nails digging into it at the sight of your uncomfortability. Hyunjin knows it will take you days to get over this break up, maybe weeks and that as a good best friend, he should wait. He should understand.

But it frustrates him so much. The sight of you being in pain, in hurt because of another man — his other best friend at that — pisses him off way more than he thought it should at first.

Hyunjin quickly takes his phone out and you narrow your eyes at him, mouthing, "Rude. Put it back into your pocket." In a second, your phone dings and you take yours out. Minho sits by Jisung's side in that second, a seat away from you and your heartbeat accelerates. You unlock your phone to see a message from Hyunjin and you lift up your head, raising an eyebrow at him and he eyes at you to open the message.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

Your eyes widen and your lips part slightly. You don't respond immediately, locking the phone and shoving it back into your pocket. You smile at Hyunjin, trying to signal that you were alright so far. Jisung opens the cardboard boxes of the pizza and squeals. Chan looks at the situation, analysing if it'd be bad for the team on a bigger approach. Hyunjin might be the captain but had it not been for Chan's guidance, the volleyball team would not have lasted a day more with the differences.

Felix announces, "Eat to your heart's merry! I might never treat again." He takes the first bite for courtesy's sake before telling everyone to join in.

The team laughs and Minho smiles, the skin by his eyes wrinkling and your heart stops to remember all the reasons you were so madly in love with this man. It is at this minute you realise it'll take you maybe a little longer than you thought, a little longer than a casual fling and a little lesser than a long term relationship. You should have known this is bound to happen the minute you allowed yourself to let your petty emotions take over.

And maybe, just maybe, it is the fact that you have to pretend to be alright with having Minho around you that makes this heartbreak pain ten times worse.

Surprisingly, Hyunjin already seems to know because he doesn't stop glancing at you after every bite of the slice he has in his hand.

You stretch your arm out to take a slice of the pepperoni pizza on the table at the same time Minho stretches his arms out to take one. Your fingers brush against his and you jolt your hand backwards, mumbling, "Sorry."

Jisung laughs without knowing and teases, "Why would you apologise for brushing your boyfriend's hand?" He takes a bite of his pizza and as soon as he finishes chewing, he continues, "I mean, you guys do nastier stuff and suddenly, you all are prim and proper, Y/N. Love the contrast you exhibit. It's beautiful. You guys could be at it every time I catch you in the gymnasium alone. Also, you're his longest relationship. You should pride yourself—"

Jisung is speaking and you won't look up. Hyunjin has dropped the knife slightly just to try and get him to stop, though in vain and Minho's looking at you. His eyes won't leave your frame and you just want to leave. It is too early for you to be alright with this. Way too early.

"Stop, Jisung," Chan tells him, reading the situation in the room.

"Why?" Jisung's laughing. Felix understands by now, seeing your face hung down and so does the rest of the team besides the man himself. You can't even come to be angry at Jisung because he seems so innocent, unaware of it all.

You spill the beans for your own heart's safety, "Minho broke up with me."

Minho doesn't shift his eyes at anyone else and Hyunjin holds the knife again, a little too tight this time. Jisung's smile turns instantly into a frown and he turns his head to glare at your now ex-boyfriend.

He doesn't bother to filter his words. "Why the fuck did you do that, you arsehole?" Minho turns to look at Jisung for a split second before his eyes are back at yours. You lift your head to lock gaze with him and you feel your chest tighten, eyes water and it hurts.

Everything seems so much more painful.

Chan says once again, his voice firm, ready to not listen to one more word of the conversation, "Stop it, Jisung. Read the room."

You stretch your arm out to have another bite of the pizza and everyone eats in silence. The room is pregnant with the most awkward silence you had been in your whole life. You take your phone out, unlocking it and finally replying to the message.

Jisung puts another slice of pizza onto your plate and you smile at him. Felix tries breaking the uneasy tension by talking about this dude he met in his neighborhood that was kind of cute. After sitting for another two minutes, you push your chair back to Jisung's surprise and stand up. Hyunjin stands up instinctively, his calves pushing his chair back and everyone at the table looks at the two of you.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

"I just realised I have to do some grocery shopping," you laugh nervously. "There's absolutely nothing back at home. Not that Hyunjin would buy anything and keep, right?"

Hyunjin chuckles and everyone in the room knows quite obviously that you are trying to escape the scene. They are kind enough to let you. Felix asks, spilling the oregano seasonings on top of his pizza slice, "Is Hyunjin going with you?"

"Ye—"

"No," you cut your best friend before he can give his approval. "I'll go alone." You stretch your arm out, palm facing upwards, "Keys, please?"

"Don't hurt my baby," Hyunjin's sincerity is voiced and you laugh genuinely. Little did you know he meant both you and his motorbike. He drops the key to his motorbike onto your hand and you do a little cheer. Jisung mumbles, "Cute," before stuffing his face with pizzas.

"Have a good time, guys," you wish them and grab your bag, hanging on the chair. Jisung waves enthusiastically. Felix, Chan and the rest of the team waves too. You smile fondly at your team and walk towards the door only to find Hyunjin following you.

"What do you think you are doing right now, mister?"

"Can't I walk you out at the very least, woman?" Hyunjin gapes in dismay. He pulls open the glass door and you laugh.

"Sure thing," you say and walk towards his motorbike. Hyunjin leaves the door after stepping out, the glass door swinging back to shut itself. You swing your legs over his bike, straddling the automobile and dropping your chest slightly to balance the heavy vehicle.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Don't you trust your teaching? You taught me how to ride this thing. Don't worry."

You look over Hyunjin's shoulder to see Minho still looking at you, worry smeared all over his face and you feel your throat constricting again as you do your best to tear your eyes away from him.

Hyunjin takes a step closer, making sure everything's alright with the vehicle so that it doesn't endanger you. He places his hand over your wrist and you look at him in confusion, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will," you laugh. "What are you? My daddy?"

Hyunjin stiffens for a minute before he lets go of all the inappropriate thoughts that fill him for a minute there before teasing you, "Do you want me to be your daddy?"

"Nah," you throw your head back. "You aren't that rich enough." You place the helmet over your head and look at him. Hyunjin taps your helmet and hugs you slightly.

"I'll see you at home."

You start the bike on ignition and look over Hyunjin's shoulder one last time to look at Minho, locking gazes with him before you pull yours away from him towards Hyunjin.

You look ahead, the clear road in front of you and turn the accelerator only after telling Hyunjin, giggling slightly,

"Sure thing, Daddy."

Hyunjin, on the other hand, is too caught up in his worry, eyes lingering behind the trailing presence of yours that finally disappears from his sight into a speck that fades away. In any other circumstances, he would have found your petite figure driving the huge motorcycle and you even calling him daddy, although in a teasing tone, insanely hot.

Right now, however, he just hopes you are safe. He wishes he could be by your side at every second.

Gaho's Stay Here blasts on the bluetooth speaker. Hyunjin pulls open the door only to find you lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with the most emotionless face he has ever seen you with. His eyes dart towards the empty bottles of soju on the small table in the hall.

"Y/N?"

You sit up, looking at your best friend and your lip pucker out quickly pouting at the sight of him and you stretch your arms out wide, squealing, "Hyunjinnie. You are home."

Hyunjin walks towards you, plopping on the couch and sitting next to you. He quickly lifts his arm up, hand darting back and forth at the air to steer the smell away as he frowns at you, "You reek of liquor, dude."

You quickly hug him, wrapping your arms around his frame from the side and snuggling your face into his shoulder. Hyunjin stiffens under your grip and he looks down at your being with eyes closed and he realises that you might after all just be a small being in need of some loving. He wishes to be the person to do that. Hwang Hyunjin utterly and truly wants to be your person.

Hyunjin takes your phone to stop playing the music — Stay Here that's been currently playing on repeat for the twentieth time straight — and you whine against his skin, tickles running down Hyunjin's spine.

"Don't stop the music," you mumble and Hyunjin looks at you and your figure that hugs him securely, head snuggled by his neck, chin digging into the skin by his collarbone and all Hyunjin can focus on is his heart that is beating furiously against his chest.

"Y/N," Hyunjin's voice seems like an anchor to your woozy mind and you hug him tighter, gripping stronger on to his white shirt. You hum in response and Hyunjin continues, "Gaho's music doesn't seem very fitting for the minute."

You pull apart, your face morphing and changing into that of offense as you glare at him, mumbling, "Gaho is the only one that understands me." You play the music again, the bluetooth speakers blasting with the sad slow tune in the air and you feel the want to cry all over again.

You stretch your arm out to take a soju bottle from the table to down it all out when Hyunjin stretches out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. He locks his eyes with yours and in the softest, most caring voice you've ever heard from him, he says, "Don't, Y/N. It hurts me too."

"Can I hold you?"

In a split moment, the room is filled with just the soft beats of Gaho's Start Over playing, your raspy breaths and Hyunjin's lost stare. His grip on your wrist tightens and your mind is far too intoxicated to think if this friendship could be ruined. Your heart is heavy, chest tight and you want someone to free you. Anyone. You are clawing at the imaginary wall all by yourself and anyone could be a help. Anyone that is not Lee Minho.

"Yes," and you fall on Hyunjin at the exact same moment he pulls your hand closer towards him. The timing seems to have lapsed on to each other. Your chest on Hyunjin's, eyes looking up at him as your arms snake slowly over his torso. You snuggle forward, rubbing against his body slightly and Hyunjin sighs.

To Hyunjin, the scene is a lot dramatic just because of the soft music playing and because you are drunk off your head according to him, barely able to make decisions. He just doesn't want to do anything that will make either of your friendships but right now, in this minute with you almost on top of him, locking your eyes in his, your arms around his torso, close enough to feel every part of your being, he wants to be drunk too.

Hyunjin wants to be drunk so that he can make a mistake. Hyunjin wants to be so drunk that he can't think just because he is a coward.

"Do you feel better?" He asks and you snuggle into his chest, burying your face into it as you hold him. Your lonely heart being comforted by just his presence and in the back of your drunk head, you know you feel a little bit more that causes your heart to flutter when Hyunjin cares.

You and Hyunjin are both cowards — two small people in this big world with big emotions unwilling to risk one status for another, over the fear of losing each other.

But Hyunjin wants to risk it tonight. After years of pining, he wants to risk this golden friendship he has shared with you for years now. You are the trigger, however. You lift your face away from his chest and crawl slightly towards him, pushing yourself against him. You look at him, lips pressed together and you stretch your right arm upwards to hold his face in your hand.

"Jinnie," your voice lets out his name in such an airy tone that it seems to disappear away even before it reaches his ear. His eyes are glassy and his heart is in his throat, eager in nothing but anticipation that is risen from all his hoping.

It happens as he has imagined. You lean forward so slowly that he pictures every second vividly and in an instant, your lips are on his. Hyunjin knows it should have felt wrong but God, save him — nothing felt more right than this.

You kiss him and his whole world falls away. It lingers, like a memory that stays behind. Your lips are slow and soft against him, comforting yourself and him in ways that words would never be. Hyunjin's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss. Something so small and insignificant to seemingly anyone else yet it means the whole world to Hyunjin. It is the whole world to Hyunjin because this is all that is needed to let him astray, hinge released of the stupid restrictions he has made up in his head over you.

Your small kiss is all Hyunjin needs to hold on to because in the next minute, he is pulling you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your coral ones. You let out a small gasp and run your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute.

Hyunjin's lips are slammed against yours, nearly knocking all wind from your lungs and you don't know if it is your feelings or Hyunjin himself. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth. Hyunjin kisses you like he thinks it is the last time he will ever be able to have his lips against yours.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. In an instant, you pull away and arch up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against your own, before you draw back into his lips. Hyunjin can feel the burn of hard soju in his mouth, thanks to you, and it rolls off your tongue into his, seeping down  his throat and he can't hate it. There is a thrill in its own that Hyunjin knows stems from you.

If it was possible, Hyunjin would slow down time.

You pull back eventually only to hug him, humming against his neck, lips pressed against the soft expanse of his skin. Hyunjin's hand is pressed against your back as he pats you in a steady rhythm, instinctively humming to a tune that could calm you.

"Jinnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," and he feels your weight fall on to his shoulder as you snuggle closer into his neck, your warm breath fanning against him, sending shivers down his spine. "For everything."

Hyunjin holds you for a while, silence and nothing but your breathing that is soft music to his ears, till he hears your soft snores buzzing against his eardrums and he knows you have fallen asleep in his arms, against his chest.

The next morning, you find yourself magically in your bed, comforter on top of you covering every inch of you, head aching thanks to your reckless drinking last night with no memory of whatsoever that happened. Lightheaded you should have known better.

Hyunjin chooses to be a coward, the morning after.

The greens that cover the campus is the only other thing that keeps you sane in this university. The first being, the volleyball team. However, you don't know anymore if it is still, in the present.

You sit on the same bench before a beautiful fountain with a tiger head right in the centre, watching the vast basketball court. A place that holds way more memories to you now than it did a year before.

You shake your legs, feet pointing forward as you listen to music with about half an hour in your hand to waste before you head down towards the gymnasium to meet with the volleyball team. Besides few people that walk down towards their classes, the campus looks pretty stranded as you watch every single person stay happy in their sphere.

"Y/N," you hear your name being called out through yet another one of Gaho's songs and you lift your head up, to look at the person by your side, standing and providing you the shade they probably didn't intend to.

It's the man himself, the one who broke your heart for an explanation that made no sense to you. Lee Minho.

He stands tall, towering over you and your neck aches from looking up at him that you decide to stand up, removing the earbuds and placing it on the wooden bench, next to your phone.

"You're here." You gulp. "Aren't you supposed to be headed to the gym for practice?"

The fountain is everything you associate Minho with — moreover, it is perhaps the relationship with him that you associated the beautiful water fountain with. To see the very same man before you right now is needless to say surprising.

"I could ask you the same thing," Minho chuckles. He takes out a small cone of butterscotch ice cream and extends his arm, offering it to you. You smile softly, thanking him, sitting down back on the bench. "Can I sit here?" He asks and you nod, unwrapping the wrapping paper around the ice cream.

"Yeah," you tap on the seat by your side. You take a bite of your ice cream and Minho visibly flinches, mumbling, "Still the same."

"You broke up with me like two days back. What did you expect? A nirvana attained me?" You scoff. You take another bite of the ice cream, the sensitivity hitting your teeth and you hiss.

"Brutal," Minho chuckles darkly. You scoff, turning your head away and taking another bite of your ice cream. Minho opens his ice cream and you raise an eyebrow at him, mumbling, "You don't eat ice cream though."

"Thought you might want another one," he smiles and the thought of a second ice cream lights you up. "There you go smiling like a dork as always at the thought of it." Minho laughs and you bend forward to take it, your left arm stretching forward. Minho tugs it backwards and your body moves a little more to grab at it until it's too far for you, bringing you to your present position.

Your hand is on Minho's chest, his eyes locked in yours and you are surprised. This is not in your to do list and yet with Minho's grip on your wrist, you drop your ice cream as soon as he edges closer. His face is so close that you can see the perfect plump lips pout slightly, his face glistening in the bright sun and you gasp softly. It has been a while since he has been this close and he still makes your heart go livid within you, beating crazy.

He drops his ice cream in a second, his hands pressing forward to cup your face and pull you into him to kiss the living hell out of you. Your eyes widen, arms falling limp on either side as you stiffen.

"Can I try something?" He hesitates, iron grip on you.

"Try?" You look worried and the next minute, Minho is kissing you, his plump lips on yours for a while before he moves them against yours, taking hold of your lower lip.

It is an instinct. You choose to blame it rather on instincts. Your hand moves to grab the linen draping his arm as you hold it and kiss Minho back. It is as bitter as coffee thanks to all the memories that go along with it and yet — you find yourself drowning. You find yourself wanting more. You find yourself hoping if Minho could stay, if Minho could just pretend to love you, if not.

And it breaks your heart.

All over again.

A lone tear leaves your eyes and then another, till you are crying as you kiss him. A wet messy affair at its finest. Minho pulls back in surprise feeling the wetness against his skin. He cups your face and holds you, looking at you to check for damage — little does he know of the emotional one. Or maybe he does and he chooses to ignore. Typical Lee Minho.

"Did I hurt you?"

Your emotions take over, sanity pushed to the back. You are pulling yourself from Minho as he tries to hold you to calm you down. Your fist plummets down onto his hard chest once and then, for the second time till you are hitting him over and over again till you completely break down in front of him. Minho quickly pulls you into a hug, holding you close till you completely soak his white shirt with your tears.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—" It's a repeated chant. Over and over again till you don't remember how many times you told Minho the same thing. Your mind goes insane with the overdrive of emotions. Did you like Minho still? You don't know. You don't know whether it's the familiarity of his hugs or his kisses or his whole presence that you crave or if it's his love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and you accept because it's the first time an apology from Lee Minho sounded this sincere. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart." He snuggles into the crook of your neck, swallowed by guilt. Perhaps this is why one should never date their friends; because you lose something much greater.

"I hate you more now for kissing me here," you manage to say, throat rasp from the crying. "How could you stain this memory too? How dare you stain the memory of the location of our first kiss? It was supposed to be a bittersweet memory when I sit here and think." Minho is still hugging you.

"I'm sorry."

It is still bittersweet in a new way, you realise — the fact that Lee Minho kisses you for the last time, you swear to God, in the very same place he kissed you for the first time. The weather changed, the people around changed and the emotions changed. Even after all that, the fountain stays proud and mighty and bears witness to more new relationships and new heartbreaks. Nothing changes besides you. Nothing changes besides what we want.

You pull away from him. Sitting straight, facing the vast basketball court and the juniors playing the game, you make a decision, firm and determined. The soft pink petals fall down from the cherry blossom trees over the two of you and Minho looks at you, and then at the spilled ice cream. To see the boughs that were so bereft in the snow become so beautifully adorned should lift your spirits infinitely and it does slightly. Their scents diffuse in the warming breeze and you hold your head high to savour it.

"Let's stay away from each other for a while."

Minho's eyes shoot up, head lifting up to face you. He does not refute. After all, he knows he has to take a step behind after breaking your heart. What he does not understand is how the two of you could stay away from each other when your friend circles overlap to a large extent.

"How?" He finally asks. "How do I help you with that?"

"By doing just that. Give me space and time to get over you. I'll come back asking for your hand in friendship again," you smile. Your tear stained visage and the difficult smile you put forth is a funny combination but you manage to pull it off well, you'd say. "You don't have to take the first step this time. Let me do this on my own, Minho."

You stand up on your own, grabbing your earphones and your phone. Minho stands up, following suit and asks, "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," you turn only to look at him as you walk backwards. "And you have to head for practice. So get going. I won't have you mess up your performance by all means." You turn back and move ahead. From everything.

"You know I wouldn't," Minho screams back and the last syllable ends with a laugh. You lift your hand to wave and you leave, far, far away from him.

You now have an open wound to stitch back and you know you have to do it on your own.

Hyunjin's phone rings right when he decides to serve the ball. He drops the ball in surprise, the sphere rolling all the way to where his phone is placed. Chan groans, stopping his pace at the sound of the phone ringing, and yells, "Yah! Hyunjin, how many times should I tell you to switch off your phone?"

Felix walks in exactly at that minute, laughing, "Anyone from outside would totally think Chan's the captain!"

Hyunjin runs to his phone, his blond hair strands falling forward, ponytail swinging left and right. Felix laughs at the sight, walking towards the ball and picking it up before throwing it at Chan who catches it swiftly. Hyunjin sees your name on the phone, eyes lighting up instantly and a smile prominent only for Chan to announce, "It's Y/N."

"Of course, it is," Felix scoffs. "Where's the rest of the guys? I thought you said we were to come early—" Felix pauses, eyes widening and gasping, "Hold up! Y/N is late. Whoa!"

"They are probably running towards the gym right now," Hyunjin says before picking up the call. He mouths to the rest, "It'll be short, I promise," and pouts. Chan sighs, only to smile and wave his hand at him to take the call.

"Y/N," Hyunjin cheers up instantly. "Where are—" He hears a choked sob from the other hand and Hyunjin stiffens, face losing the smiling in a second. "Are you alright?"

"I am," you strain it out. You barely manage through with the chokes and that pain that ripples through in waves but you eventually find the words to tell him, "I won't make it to practice today. Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

Hyunjin is angry and he doesn't even know who it is aimed at. He is just beyond mad at the fact that you are crying and someone made you cry. The thought of the skin by your eyes aching and eyes red and burning over anyone made him so angry that he could punch a wall through.

"I'm not telling you," he hears you say and he clenches his fist.

"Stop being a brat, Y/N," he stresses and Chan gestures at him, asking if there was something wrong. Hyunjin nods. "Where are you?"

"Leave me alone, Jinnie," you tell him through the phone, "Please,"  and his eyes widen before he calms himself down, realising that you are trying to cope all alone, a pathetic self-destructive quirk of yours that he had learned to live with after all these years. He gulps and realises you truly needed time alone and he hums in approval.

"Please reach out to me when you need me," he begs. "Please, Y/N."

Felix and Chan are staring at Hyunjin in worry when the door to the gymnasium opens and Jisung rushes into the room. He is panting and he looks around, searching for someone. Hyunjin turns away, his attention back on the call in his hands and he ends the call quickly, making a note in his mind to check up on you after practise. Not that you would let him miss practise. (Not that Hyunjin would do it to himself in the first place. He'd kill for volleyball.)

He walks towards the rest when Minho walks in, black duffel bag on his shoulder. Jisung is quick on his feet as he runs towards the other man, hands on his shoulders and he shakes the living hell out of him.

"He's gone crazy, dude," Felix mumbles and Chan laughs.

Hyunjin stays at a comfortable distance still, looking at his phone in worry every now and then. The man lifts his head and brings his attention back to the present only when he hears your name leave Jisung's mouth.

"Whoa, dude. You got back together with Y/N?"

"What?" Chan is the first to respond. "You did what?"

"I didn't get back together with her," Minho says, his voice is monotone and lacks anything more than nonchalance and it pisses the hell out of Hyunjin who has his fists still clenched tightly.

"I saw you kissing her but. . ." Jisung drops the bomb all at once in such a lost way that he doesn't realise the impact it was to have in this large gymnasium.

Hyunjin is charging forwards all at once, yelling, "You bastard," as he throws a punch at Minho. The blond dyed man is quick to put two and two together and realise that you are after all, crying because of the black haired man before him.

He pushes him back, Minho hitting the floor and Hyunjin's on top of him, punching him with his clenched fist, mind void and painted in hot red anger. Minho has his arms, blocking his punches and chooses to play on the defensive side.

In fear, we are all monsters. Hyunjin believes that he would be afraid of himself had he astral projected and looked at himself in this minute, all unhinged because of one girl — one girl he would set the world on fire for.

All that rage comes out faster than magma for Hyunjin and is just as destructive. More so because he's the captain. It consumes all that he is, so delicate under that carefully ordered world and carefully put up feign that he is alright with Minho breaking the heart of the girl he loves. Minho shrivels before him but Hyunjin does not stop. He relentlessly keeps going, stopping short of physical violence but doing far more damage with the words that he throws.

Chan tries to pull Hyunjin away as Jisung drags Minho from underneath him. The black haired man is left with bruises and a busted lip. On the other hand, Hyunjin is still fuming, along with Chan, sporting a few cuts from Minho who decided to throw a few punches in the last moment.

"Can you all stop?" Felix sighs.

"Why would you bastard make her cry again?" Hyunjin raises his voice. He's yelling at this point, loud enough for everyone passing by the gymnasium to hear. "Why the fuck would you make Y/N cry again? I told you to leave her alone!"

"This wouldn't have happened if things went different—" Hyunjin tries to rush forward to hit him again upon hearing his words, but Chan and Changbin, another teammate, have a strong grip on him. His blond ponytail lashes in anger and he fights against the two, trying to let go of himself. Minho yells back, "I would have never broken up with her if you never liked her, Hyunjin."

"What?" He stops still in his tracks, limbs falling and Chan lets go.

"How am I supposed to think it's alright for you to randomly stare at my girlfriend with heart eyes? For fuck's sake, you guys hug way more than I hug her," Minho glares, chest rising up as he vents everything he has bottled up so far. "If you had always liked her, you should have told me! I shouldn't have overheard it from Chan telling you to ask her out." Chan's face pales visibly. "I would have tried making her stay. I would have made her stay. I would have," Minho's voice lowers. "I still did, but I was too late."

Hyunjin has no words to refute. His eyes widen and his heart is in his throat, barely being able to say, "You could have taken it out on me. Why would you drag her into this? She loved you. She still wavers because of you. Your faithless love was the only hoax she was forced to believe."

Jisung pouts in awe at the words Hyunjin spills and Minho mumbles, "I don't know. I couldn't think straight."

Felix drops the ball with force, suddenly. The ball squelches before raising high and hitting the wall with impact. He folds his arms and speaks up, "Stop acting like kids." He points at Minho. "You, stop putting the blame of your failed relationship on Hyunjin. Him liking Y/N did not ruin your relationship. You killed it yourself."

"But he—"

"I liked her even before you made a move on her. Nothing has changed, Minho," Hyunjin inhales sharply.

"It's because you're a coward, you arsehole."

Hyunjin closes his eyes, looking away, mumbling, "Not going to even bother denying that. I'd be dating her if I wasn't this scared of losing her."

Felix proceeds to point at Hyunjin, glaring sharply at him, "You call yourself a captain? We have a match in a few days and you decide to lose control and beat up your teammate? One of the best middle blockers out there! What in the world are you thinking, Hyunjin? Jesus Christ, when Y/N hears of this, she's going to beat you up so bad for doing this to him in the name of the team."

Hyunjin doesn't dare to look up at Felix, shuffling the balance of his body from one feet to another. He is embarrassed. He should have never let his emotions take control of his body and yet he did.

Chan walks towards Felix before announcing, "We'll start practice in five. I want the two of you to sort this out by the end of this day. If you haven't, I don't want either of you coming to practice tomorrow."

"I'm the setter!" Hyunjin protests.

"Jeongin can do a darn good job too, so shut up and listen to me well."

"Now," Felix claps his hand, smiling once again brightly before running to pick up the ball. "Let's practice like the perfect team we are!"

"And like I couldn't stop myself. It's like something dragged me to move forward and the next thing I knew, I was on top of Minho—"

"Fuck, that'd be hot."

"Y/N, focus. And like I was beating the crap out of him."

You dab an alcoholic swab over the small wounds on his face as he seethes in pain and you sneer, "Deserved it."

"Ouch," Hyunjin fakes offense. "Side with me at least now. You aren't dating him anymore." You stop, your hand midair and you dab constantly over his wounds till Hyunjins screaming, "Ow, ow, ow. I'm sorry," and holds your wrist and pulls it away.

"But you messed up your team dynamics just because of your anger," you frown. "You and Minho better sort it out quickly, Jinnie. Else, I swear to God." You glare at him.

"What will you do?" Hyunjin laughs, scrunching his nose and teasing you. You place the bandaids over the wounds and raise an eyebrow. Hyunjin prompts, "Bite me?"

"I will," you warn and Hyunjin scoffs, "As if."

You bite him. His shoulder, to be exact. Your teeth hold onto his socket for a good one minute tightly till he is yelping, hitting your back to let go of him as he hisses in pain. You let go of him and narrow your eyes at him. Hyunjin is shocked. So shocked that he blankly stares at you with his mouth wide open.

"Are you a dog?"

"I could be one if you taunt me too much."

"Wow," he blinks and you poke the insides of your cheek with your tongue. "Wow, you're truly one of a kind." And Hyunjin breaks down laughing, holding his shoulder with his hand and bending forward overcome by intense laughter.

"Buy me mint choco," he prompts. "Because now you injured me and I want compensation."

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin pushes himself forward, edging closer to you, looking you in your eyes before saying, "You know you have to," in a low guttural tone that your heart does a whole somersault, triple axle and then lands with an ovation. "You hurt me."

You push him away and you leap onto your feet, your eyes wide and your hand over your chest. Hyunjin looks at you with a raised eyebrow. To change the mood of the situation, you quickly announce, "Fine. You'll get mint chocolate only if you get ready and come out in five minutes. Else you pay for it on your own."

Hyunjin stands up and holding your wrist, he pulls you with him to the door. You look at him in utter confusion and ask, "What are you doing?"

Hyunjin stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, blond strands leaving his ponytail to cover his eyes slightly and pink lips so plump that you wonder how they feel. The realisation that you have started viewing your best friend as someone more than just that hits you and you look down instantly. When did this happen?

"I'll just wear a coat and so should you," Hyunjin laughs. "Ice cream can't wait."

People think of laughing as a noise that comes from the mouth more often than not, but when Hyunjin laughed it was nothing like that. The laugh is in his eyes, in the way his face changes into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. And yet, in all honesty, it is not in his face either. His laugh comes from within, it is just the way he is wired with the instant ability to comfort someone. Just the sound of his gales, his snickers, his giggles, was enough to transport you far away from all your worries and the tension your life has in the minute.

Enough to make you forget that you have to tell him today about the decision you have taken.

Hyunjin and you walk down the stairs and off onto the road in five minutes as planned. The cool air of the night hits you and you hold yourself closer, the long coat held tightly to your body surface. Hyunjin laughs before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close by just a little bit and yet enough to share his body warmth.

"Mint choco, here we come!" And he runs with you.

The thing with your stupid heart is that you don't understand why it is beating so rapidly in this moment, your heart beat easily jumping to more than 95bpm and all because Hyunjin holds you. You look at the man by your side, his blond hair moving with the air, exposing his face and you wonder — had Hwang Hyunjin always been this beautiful?

You have known Hyunjin for a long time now. Too long for you to realise that your heart had a change in its plans for emotions recently. You have known Hyunjin way too long to know that you want him for a lifetime by your side, as a best friend at the very least and the thought that if you did act upon your new emotions that you have just discovered in this cold, breezy night, you are screwed.

Hyunjin turns to look back at you after hearing absolutely no sound from you. His face pales when he realises you are looking far ahead and he wonders if you do remember now. If you remember the drunk night.

So he asks to put himself at ease, "Y/N?"

"Huh?" You jolt up to consciousness, looking properly at Hyunjin. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember the night a few days back?"

"Night? Few days back?" You ponder. "When I was drunk?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin mumbles and you raise your body in anticipation, finally wanting to ask about the magical teleportation.

"Now that we are on this topic," you fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at your best friend. Hyunjin shuffles his balance from his left to his right. "Did you carry me to bed that night?"

Hyunjin chokes on air, sputtering out incoherent words before finally forming one proper sentence, "You knew?"

"You're the only other person I live with and I don't have any recollection of going to bed so like I presumed," you look down, heat rising to your cheek and you fidget with your fingers. "That you carried me to bed."

"That's all that you remember?"

You lift your head up, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, "Is there more?"

"Uh," Hyunjin turns back to face forward, his broad back in your vision again as he walks forward to the ice cream parlour by the junction.

"Hyunjin?" He walks quicker. "Yah! Hwang Hyunjin!" You follow him with quick, short strides, almost jogging up to him. "What did I do, Jinnie?" He opens the glass door to the ice cream parlour. "Yah, Hwang Hyunjin, tell me no matter how embarrassing it is." You follow him into the white aesthetically pretty place.

You finally catch hold of his coat and tug at it. Hyunjin turns, his cheeks flushed and you wonder what in the world happened that night. Yes, you have vague memories of hugging Hyunjin and passing out, but for him to act like this — wait, you didn't empty your stomach out on him, did you?

"Did I—" Hyunjin's eyes widens. He turns back, his attention on the man behind the counter and he points towards you.

"She's paying."

"Okay," the man nods and turns to look at you, waiting for your order. You sigh, glaring at your best friend before ordering one quantity of mint chocolate ice cream. Your eyes waver to the green ice cream and you frown in displeasure, something Hyunjin catches sight of your expression.

"How dare you?" He folds his arms, dramatically. "The only people that matter in this world are the one that like mint chocolate." The man at the counter smiles at the two of you.

You open your mouth, clicking your tongue, "I'm not paying money to eat toothpaste."

The man behind the counter laughs out loud and Hyunjin glares at him, scoffing. He takes the ice cream from his hand and waits for you to pay. The tall man looks at the two of you, again, before finally telling, "Good luck on your relationship. It's always fun to see couples have an argument over mint chocolate and still be so in love with each other." He turns to look at Hyunjin only, "For your information, I like mint chocolate."

Both Hyunjin and you look at each other, either of you waiting for the other person to disagree with the man but there is just silence. You can feel Hyunjin looking at you through the corners, waiting for you to refute like you always do. You don't and you do not even know why. The heat builds up beneath the apples of your cheek and the thought of being in a relationship with your best friend strangely brings about a wave of calmness within you, doing its best to shove the uncertainty of so many things away.

"Thank you for the ice cream," you say and walk to an empty table. Hyunjin thanks the man too, and follows you, sitting on the seat opposite to you and places the mint chocolate in between.

He watches you, unsure of the situation and you bite your lower lip nervously before shoving the cup closer to him and mumbling, "Eat. We came all the way here for you."

"You should have gotten another ice cream," Hyunjin frowns.

"It's past nine," you laugh, your hair falling over the chair as you lean back. "I can't let fat into my body after nine. You know that."

"Why do I know you?" Hyunjin puts his hand on his forehead looking at you and then he pushes the cup of ice cream towards your side. "Disappointment." You look at your best friend, disgusted and he won't take the disrespect though.

"It's a refreshing taste," he digs in and takes a big bite. "Plus, it's the right balance." He lifts the spoon with a small amount of the mint ice cream and shoves it right in front of your face. "The perfect amount of mint, chocolate and milk to make the world's most perfect ice cream."

You push his hand away and glare, "Why would you ruin two beautiful sweets," you raise an eyebrow, "Chocolate and ice cream by including," you fake a gag, "Mint?"

"Because mint balances the sweetness of the chocolate," he scoffs. "All you mediocre people won't understand. Mint chocolate was created for the elite class."

"Did you just call me mediocre?" your jaw drops and Hyunjin laughs. It's soft, airy and so carefree that you don't mind the fact that he is laughing at you and not with you. You don't mind one bit when you break down and laugh with him, unable to keep your face straight as you lean forward on the table, your head resting on your hands and you watch Hyunjin.

You decide to tell him of your decision in this minute.

"I'm going to make Seungmin manage the team," you tell Hyunjin and he stares at you, the spoon dropping from his hand and clattering against the glass rim of the ice cream cup. You continue, "He's always wanted to manage the volleyball team and I thought I should let him—"

"Why?" He sounds hurt. Disappointed, in fact and your heart plummets down.

"I thought it's time to move on."

"From the team or Minho?"

"Minho," you say, nibbling on your lower teeth. "I want to go back to him—"

"What?" Hyunjin feels his heart sink.

"Don't cut me off, hoe," you click your tongue. "I want to go back to him and be his friend. I'm not ready to ruin a friendship over this. I just won't."

Hyunjin looks down at his cup of ice cream. His spoon digs into the cold dessert over and over again till he realises that he'll do what he has always done for you — be right by your side as your pillar.

"Feed me," Hyunjin prompts and you stare at him with a void expression, mouth still open, wondering if he suggested this only and only to change the topic. Hyunjin stretches his arm out to shut your mouth. "People are going to think I'm starving you here."

"Whoa." You lift your head up. "And if I do that, people are going to think we're possibly the cutest couple out there still in our glorious honeymoon phase of it."

"Okay," Hyunjin shrugs and leans back against the chair, folding his arms against each other.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

You sit up straight and look down before finally saying, "Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Those words that make my heart flutter. I don't know what to feel, Hyunjin." Hyunjin is too stunned to react and whine over the fact that you called him properly by his name in your conversation. The fact that he too can cause your heart to race a little bit just like you have with his all these years. "Don't say them to me if you won't ever be ready to take responsibility over them."

You place your thumb and forefinger on your forehead, squeezing the skin slightly to calm the slight ache you can feel, the vein throbbing slightly and you know it is your anxiety that kicks in because you almost spilled everything out. You quickly stand up and holding your coat tightly, you look at Hyunjin who is still seated and looking at you intently.

"I need to go to the pharmacy next door. I'll wait for you there. Finish your ice cream and come."

You don't turn to look at Hyunjin as you walk out, slightly embarrassed by your own behaviour. Between you and Hyunjin, you are the one who had to keep your cool, making sure you didn't slip up or make a mess so that you could at least have time to clean his spilt milk.

You push the door of the ice cream parlour and walk out, the doorbell ringing at your push and you hold yourself in the cold breeze. If Hyunjin did not respond to it, it is only safe to presume that he feels nothing more towards you. You could at least put two and two together. Or so you thought till Hyunjin is chasing after you, big strides and dark blond hair in the wind as his rubber band comes loose and slides off a bit.

"Y/N!" He shouts and quickly holds your wrist, pulling you so quickly that you stumble forward into him. Hyunjin grips your arms to steady you and he looks at you, his brown eyes trying to peep into your soul. He smiles, hand running through his hair only to bring more strands forward, covering his vision.

Falling in love with Hwang Hyunjin, you realise, is the easy part. He makes it so easy to fall for him — when he smiles at the sun, covering his eyes or when he is covered by the dogs in dog parks all eager to hug him because that's how he just is. You don't even realise when you fall for Hyunjin but when you do, you know you are already sinking and you are far too gone for saving.

It is, however, admitting to yourself that you fell for your best friend that is hard. The Hwang Hyunjin that you have seen since the five year old boy moved next door to you. The Hwang Hyunjin that would cross dress in your clothes. The Hwang Hyunjin that would steal your dumplings. It is the same Hwang Hyunjin that you fall for. You had all these doors with specifications that opened to only men like Lee Minho and yet like the rude asshole that you oh so adorably love he seemed to tear them down. Or perhaps those doors were meant for others and Hyunjin always had a door of his own for your heart.

You should have asked yourself why but would it have really mattered? You're here with Hyunjin by your side, whether he knows your feelings or not and you couldn't be any less glad, even if you are sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing Hyunjin right there.

"I'll come back, Jinnie," you tell him, looking up at him and coughing slightly, trying to move back slightly to put some space between the two of you. "I'm not running away. I just need to buy some strips of paraceta—"

"I want to be responsible for them," His gaze doesn't leave yours. "I want to be responsible for you, your emotions and everything you are, if you let me."

You wouldn't dare to shift your eyes away, or focus on anything else. Just Hyunjin. Just your Hyunjin. Your heart beats so fast against your chest that you wonder if it ever had this much for any man or woman. And when Hyunjin pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your frame, hand flat against your head that buries your face into his chest, you learn that Hwang Hyunjin's heartbeat is always your metronome — the beat your entire life seemed to have moved smoothly to.

You giggle against his chest, breaking into a smile, "Are you asking me out, Jinnie?"

"I guess," he chuckles into your hair, snuggling himself into you. He pulls you back to explain. "My original plan was to ask you out after the practice match that I'll make sure we win, but you could possibly not be there as our manager and what if I miss the chance?"

"You lovesick boy," you laugh, smiling stupidly at him. Hyunjin cups your face and presses his forehead against yours.

"I've liked you for so long, Y/N," and you blush, lips pursed and you smile back, heart fluttering.

"Thank you," you press a kiss against his cheek.

"For what?"

"For being you and for always loving me."

Hwang Hyunjin holds your face and kisses like he is capable of getting rid of all your worries, slowly bleeding into your marrows and cells and soaking you of the very essence he is. He holds you like you are a precious being — and to him, you are because he finally has you after all these years; he finally gets to call you his.

His lips are warm and tasted of mint; obviously from the mint chocolate ice cream earlier. His hands are wrapped around your waist and yours are locked around his neck pulling him down slightly. His strands of blond locks brush against your face, ticking you slightly and you giggle into the kiss. He laughs against your lips before kissing you slowly, drawing the kiss for as long as he could. When you break apart for air, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his, gathering some much needed oxygen. His smile tells you everything you need confirmation over and you smile back, sinking into his hold.

Hyunjin hugs with gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe; yet it is the hug of a strong pair of arms that tells everything that you are - every fibre of your being - that he is with you, and you wonder how he is capable of that. How he is capable of holding like you are his whole world — like he rather hold you than anything else.

Hyunjin does exactly that. He holds you tight and close to him in this cold night, ignorant of everything else around the two of you, like you and him only mattered in the place, like you and him are fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vi)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: BUCKY BARNES IS BACK AND HAS A CONFIRMED PERSONALITY 

also omg everyone who’s been sending me ideas- ur the lomls. 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Your place or mine? ;)

He stares at the text.

The right answer is mine. See you at the lair.

“Y’all are dating now?” Clint peeks over his shoulder. 

“Fuck no,” Bucky says indignantly. “God forbid.”

“Okay, man,” he retracts, giving Bucky space to turn around and face him. “What do you want to call your mini dates then?”

“Missions,” Bucky corrects him.

“No one wants to go on a mission. You volunteered to go back there.” 

“It’s for the good of the tristate area.” 

“I bet.” The snort he lets out contradicts his words. “Whole world is depending on you, Barnes. Go save them from the treachery of your crush.”

“Enemy.”

“Girlfriend.”

“Mortal nemesis.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Go further, I dare you.”

“What are you gonna do? Choke me? Punch me with your metal arm?” Clint cranes his neck. “Bring it, big boy. I’m not scared of some kinky shit.”

He hates living here. 

The door is left open for him. 

This time, even though the lair is still illuminated by the green light out in the front, there’s a minor change. Sunlight streams in through a skylight in the roof. 

There’s a ladder there, leaning against the rim. It gives him an entrance to the roof, which, judging by the lack of any other presence in the lab, is where he’s supposed to go.

As he gets closer he notices there’s a note on one of the rungs.

‘Evil’ with an arrow pointing upwards.

He rolls his eyes, discarding it on the floor before swiftly scaling the steps.

“Ah, Mr. Barnes,” he hears your voice call out even before his head pops up above the surface. “We’ve been expecting you.” 

He pauses, looking around. “Who’s with you?”

Because other than the gigantic machine pointed up towards the sky, there’s only you with a visor and sunglasses. The  best way he can describe its design was that it was shaped like a pine cone, had a large antenna pointed towards the sky, two handlebars near its base to manoeuvre it with a large button in between them. 

“Just imagine I have my henchmen with me,” you urge. “I’m on a budget, man, I can’t afford them yet. Maybe when my cloning machine finally works-”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s a James Bond reference,” you add when he doesn’t show any signs of answering. 

“Haven’t watched it yet.” Bucky shrugs. “We’re doing Star Trek right now.”

“You’re done with Star Wars?” you, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Nice. You’d find the spy shit ridiculous anyway, it’s way below your level.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He makes a mental note to add the Bond movies to the list. 

“Speaking of stars,” you begin, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to harness the power of the sun.”

“For what?” He doesn’t bother asking how, he already knows you’ve figured out something. 

“There’s a science exhibition and my team’s stupid solar car experiment isn’t working and I need it for them to win.” 

“So build a better one.” 

“No, ours is the best and if Jeff and his stupid baking soda volcano beat us then we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”

“Your hands,” he emphasises. He has nothing to do with this.

“I said what I said, boy.” You glare at him. “This is our problem now.”

“How much power are you taking?” If it’s insignificant enough, it wouldn’t matter much. He thinks. 

“The whole thing.”

He laughs. He stops when you don’t.

“You’re taking all the energy of the sun to power your shitty science model.”

“Your face is a shitty science model,” you mimic him in a higher pitched voice. “I will do anything to win.”

He wonders which grade kid you stole that insult from was in. There’s no way they were anything older than 13. He could use it on Steve, maybe.

“Everyone on Earth will die.” He feels the need to remind you, even though there was no way it was actually going to take place. Eat shit, Clint. This superseded the tristate area.

“Not for eight minutes.” You look at your watch. “And, if Jeff dies then I win by default.”

“You’ll die too,” he points out. 

“I’ll die a winner.” You nod seriously as if that makes it better. 

He’s not that worried. Experience tells him that you’re not a mass murderer willingly. 

“You’ll die an idiot.” 

“Only if you don’t stop me.” Your lips curve into a smile. “And how will you when I do this?”

You yank the machine to point towards him and slam the button. His hand reflectively pulls in front of him to defend himself. Something hits him with enough force to send him skidding backwards slightly. 

He removes his hand carefully from in front of him, looking at you. 

Something feels off.

“You just-”

The knives strapped to his thighs suddenly feel heavier.

“Took your powers?” you finish his thought. “Yeah.”

He feels his body tip towards his left. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of the arm. Had it been this heavy all this while? 

“You’ve barely changed,” you noted, “You’re just regular Bucky but like, 20% less beef.”

After all, he was a boxer when he was a teen. One of the best men the Howling Commandos had even before the serum.

His shoulder feels heavier though. And somehow he thinks he’s sensing things a little less. He can’t really hear the faint buzzing of the generator downstairs anymore.

“Yep, that’s real muscle.” He turns when you poke at his shoulder. He doesn’t know when you got there. “You’re like a modern day Schwarzenegger. Grade A beefcake.”

He can’t see the construction site near the horizon as clearly as he used to. 

Something about this situation makes him feel like he’s going to have a midlife crisis, even though he’s overshot the age by a huge number. No one has a midlife crisis at 106. 

“Now that we’ve established that this works,” you say, back near the machine again. When did you walk there? “Let’s show this bitch that I’m the brightest star allowed in this solar system.” 

He shakes his head to jolt himself awake, shoves aside his mental dysfunction and breaks out into a sprint when you pull the device down to aim it at the sky. 

He latches onto the side, using his left hand to pull himself up, straddling the machine.

“Excuse me,” you exclaim like it’s a minor inconvenience and he feels the machine sway wildly under him. “You’re weighing it down, get off my inator.”  

You’re shooting recklessly, trying to shake him off. It’s not dissimilar to the mechanical bull Natasha made him ride during a mission down south so she could win money off placing bets on him. They had lobster that night.

He reaches down to its side, hoping to feel maybe a panel he can rip off. He finds nothing.  

He hopes none of the rays are actually hitting anything. It’s a little harder to stay on than he’d imagined it would be, and he thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best plan. 

He changes his mind in a split second, swinging himself over so that he can climb the underside of the machine like a monkey bar. He feels like a fucking insect. How was Peter not mortally embarrassed? 

He factors in the fact that his hands are getting clammier and his grip is slipping faster than usual. Also, he can taste his lunch at the back of his throat.

“Motherfucker,” Bucky curses when his hand slips, leaving him to hold on only by his metal arm. 

“You okay?” you call out, not giving him a second to recover unless he really needed it.

He lets out a grunt, swinging his arm up and catching hold of the antenna, yanking it down and towards the machine itself. He pulls himself up so that he’s straddling the machine again. 

One more shot and-

“Very smart, Barnes,” you say dryly, letting go of the handles. 

He sends you a sly grin before sliding down the barrel, kicking the large button with his heel right before he jumps off. 

The beam shoots out, instantly meeting with metal. The device automatically gives a mechanical groan before powering down, turning off altogether. 

“I hate you,” you huff, before noting his paleness. “D’you want some water? An IV maybe?”

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.

He’s tired, more so than he would have been under any normal circumstance. He feels a little dizzy, a little disoriented. 

“Don’t worry, your magic powers will be back in a few minutes or so.” You examine the bent antenna, pressing the button and sighing when it stands there lifelessly. “Once Jeff wins, I’ll send the dry cleaning receipt to you. You can pay to get the tear stains out of the kids’ outfits.”

“Your tears or theirs?” He’s relieved about the powers returning, he thinks.

“Both, bitch.” Your eyebrow quirks at his retort. Clearly, he had more energy in him than people realised; his brain seemed to be working fine. He was stronger than you thought. Good for him. 

“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” He lets out a final exhale before standing up a little straighter. 

“Thanks. It’d be better if you asked your billionaire tech genius to send us something, but okay.”

“It’s a middle school science exhibition. Make a potato battery or something.”

You tsk-tsk. “No points for creativity, Mr. Barnes.”

It creeps into his mind without warning. He wonders if he actually wanted the powers back. Wonders what his life could be if he maybe retired, settled down. For the brief time he feels like his pre-war self, he starts to think like his pre-war self.

“I’m not the one who’s about to lose to a baking soda volcano,” he finds time to respond, however. 

“Your face is a baking soda volcano.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I will not lose.”

“You’re running out of time. Chop chop.”

But the thought hits him. Who is Bucky without his super soldier serum? If he doesn’t have his powers then he can’t think of what use he is to the Avengers.

Who the hell is Bucky if he can’t provide a service to others? How else does he make up for being himself?

His, what he’s now deemed, afterlife crisis is starting to look more apparent.

He compartmentalises and stores it away in a box. He’ll bring it up with his therapist later. 

“I’m going to win and then you’ll be sorry you weren’t a part of it because you didn’t let me steal the sun.” 

“If you win, I’ll still be glad I didn’t let you.” He climbs back down the ladder, feeling the ache in his muscles reduce with every passing minute. 

True to your word, his powers do return a while later. 

And while he’s watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter in the living room two days later, his phone beeps with a text. 

It’s a picture of a blue first place ribbon next to a toy car that looks like it’s powered by a potato battery. Beside it is an out of focus middle finger that is aimed at him. 

Congratulations, he texts back. Told you potato batteries always win.

Your face always wins, he receives in return. He can’t tell if you’re insulting or flirting with him. 

He just shuts his phone off and goes back to watching the show. 

Next part

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe. 

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

-

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

-

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.  

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.  

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.  

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.  

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.  

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

-

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.  

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

-

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

-

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

-

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.  

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.  

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.  

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

[amimimi]

a helping hand; reki kyan

request: “okay so we’re dating Reki and we go over to his house to hangout without him knowing so his mom opens the door but when we go up to his room we catch him masturbating to a photo of us?”

pairing: reki x gn!reader

warnings: 18+, masturbation, hand job, swearing, teasing (?), reki and reader are first years in college!

word count: 3.6k +

notes: i apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors! i cackled reading this request sjmcjsmsjsjd. i got too carried away with this...REKI STANS, COME IN HERE AND GET YO JUICE!

reki stood in front of his closet, debating on whether he should wear his swim trunks to the beach or wear his regular shorts.

if he wore his shorts...he’d have to change at the beach into his swim trunks and then BACK into his shorts. but if he wore his swim trunks...well it’d be less changing.

you and reki had planned out a beach trip for today. he had been looking forward to it all week, given how busy your schedules were. today was one of those rare days where you both had a full day to yourselves. he did feel a little nervous, given that your relationship was relatively new. of course, reki had known you practically all his life, given you two had been good friends. but your feelings for one another shifted from platonic to romantic over time and well, so did your relationship.

reki squats by his bed and resumes packing for the trip. he stuffs his backpack with his portable speaker, sun screen (which you forced him to start using), a beach towel...damn, what else?

he glances up at his bedside table to see the framed picture sticker of you and him in a photo booth. a smile tugging at his lips, reki reaches for the frame, examining the photo like he’s done a thousand times before.

the photo sticker consisted of three successive shots. the first shot featured you and reki with your arms wrapped around each other cheek-to-cheek, the both of you grinning so hard. reki can’t help to note how sweet—full, radiant you look. your whole face was lit up, your eyes reflecting the white light from the photo booth. he thinks you look like an angel.

reki’s eyes sweep to the second shot, which he remembers being taken. he had turned his face at the last moment and bitten your ear, wrapping his arms tighter around you when you shrieked. in the photo, his face is mostly obscured, only his slight smile visible from the side. the photo booth captured you mid-laughter, your facial expression caught somewhere between glee and shock, the sides of your eyes crinkled with laughter. reki remembers the way you flinched against him, remembers the your body shakes in his hold as you laughed. you had been sitting in his lap (you couldn’t tell from just looking at the picture) and he remembers you squirming, trying to get out of his hold as he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

reki is vaguely aware of the way you’re affecting his body, the front of his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. he quickly glances down to see, unsurprisingly, that his cock is beginning to bulge against the fabric of his pants. reki sighs, quickly checking to see if the door is shut behind him, before settling one of his hands over his erection. he slightly palms himself, his breath catching in the back of his throat.

reki knows his mom is the only one home today and that she was out in the garden doing work. he glances at his alarm clock, sighing in relief when he realized he had around one hour until you came over.

still gripping the framed photo in one hand, reki fumbled to unbuckle his belt, standing up and sitting on the side of his bed. as shimmies his pants down to his thighs, his cock, swollen and oozing precum, slaps up against his lower belly. he shakily wraps his hand around his shaft and thumbs his slit, sighing heavily as he redirects his attention back to the photograph.

reki pumps at his cock harshly as he focuses on the final shot, in which you were kissing him on his open mouth, both of your eyes shut. he remembers the feel of your tongue against his, hot and heavy in his mouth. a groan tumbles from reki’s lips as he lays back against his bed, his legs still hanging over the side. his eyes don’t stray once from you as he fists his cock, which was completely slick with his precum.

he notices in the final shot that your hand was placed against the back of his neck, remembering the sensation of you squeezing the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck. at that memory, his hip involuntarily bucks up from off the bed as he gives a choked sob.

he remembers the way your chest was pressed flushed against his, your breath fanning against his face. and after the photo had been taken, you had the nerve to pull away and giggle airily in his face, as though you hadn’t just tried to steal his breath.

“y/n” he moans raggedly. “y/n, fuck—”

he’s trembling now, jaw clenched as his grip on his cock tightens. reki twists his hand along his shaft, his eyes hyper focused on you smiling so sweetly in the first shot as he tries to imagine your hand pumping his dick— not his own calloused one.

“o-oh” reki whimpers, his belly tensing as he arches off the bed. the only sounds in his room were guttural groans that kept tumbling from out his mouth and the slick sound of him pumping at his cock.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

“damn it!” you hiss, rummaging through your tote as the prickly feeling of dread sets in your chest. you had forgotten your sunscreen.

your sunscreen.

you stand on the sidewalk outside of reki’s house, debating if you should run back to your place to pick it up. you were sure reki had some but you knew that he would tease you mercilessly for forgetting sunscreen. especially after you had prodded him for months to start incorporating in his routine.

it was entirely too hot to make the trip back home for sunscreen and you decided that if reki were to tease you, you’d simply bite him.

you walk in past the stone walls surrounding reki’s house and almost jump when you turn and see reki’s mom trimming at a hibiscus bush.

“oh!” you startle, quickly gathering yourself. “hello, mrs. kyan!”

reki’s mom, who looks equally as startled as you, grins at you before setting her clippers aside. “hello, y/n!” she smiles from underneath her sun hat, eyeing your tote bag and shorts. “oh, i almost forgot you and reki had a whole beach thing planned today!”

“yeah! i came a bit earlier than we planned, so i hope that’s okay with him” you gesture towards the house unconsciously, but reki’s mom waves you off.

“no, no that’s good! tell him to cut up some fruit for you both, you don’t want to get hungry later!” she instructs, and you can’t help but to giggle at the mental image of reki in an apron, diligently cutting up watermelon for you. “you can go in, the front door is open”

you thank her before heading towards the entrance of the house, slipping your shoes off before stepping in. the kyan residence seems unusually quiet this morning—no signs of any of reki’s younger sisters or even his grandmother. you walk into the hallway towards reki’s room when you hear your name shakily called out.

“y/n~”

you halt in your tracks, immediately recognizing reki’s voice. blinking, you stand still and wait for reki to speak again, maybe thinking that he was talking on the phone. until he says—no, moans your name again.

you almost choke. your reaction is caught between giddiness and complete shock. wait, wait why were you shocked? you’re dating him. of course he masturbates to you—you masturbate to him. and yet, something about standing outside his bedroom door, hearing himself jerk off to you is a strange, new feeling that coils in your stomach.

should you just, go in? or leave and come back? you felt a little guilty infringing on his privacy—

“ah, y/n, baby please—”

okay, that was fucking hot.

gently, you step closer to his door and twist the knob, slightly pushing the door open. your breath catches at the sight of reki, laying back against his bed as he desperately pumps his cock, gasping and panting. he’s holding something? you realize it’s a picture frame to his face as he moans your name again. oh, this boy was going to be the death of you.

you push the door open wider, and reki must’ve hear the hinges squeak this time because a gasp tears from his chest. he drops the frame beside him, quickly pushes himself up, and to his absolute mortification, sees you of all people standing in the doorway.

“y-y/n?” he stammers, his face blown red as he glances over to his alarm clock to see if he had mistaken the time. “what are you—” he realizes that his dick is still out, and hurriedly tries to pull his pants up. “—what are you doing here?”

“i...came early...” you manage to get out, still in awe at what you had just seen. reki doesn’t look up at you as he struggles with his pants, his ears burning red.

“i-i know that!” he hisses, mortified. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—had you heard him moaning your name? he groans and smacks his hand to his forehead. “did you...did you hear me?”

you stay silent, clutching your tote bag.

“...yes” you admit quietly and reki shoulders tense with humiliation. you lay your tote bag against the wall and rush over to sit beside reki on his bed. “no, no! don’t be embarrassed!”

“i’m sorry” reki manages to get out.

“no, i’m sorry!” you rush to get out, placing a hand on his thigh. “i heard you from outside the door and i knew you were...i should’ve come back later! you just sounded, so good”

reki blushes even harder, slowly dropping his hand from his face.

“you don’t...” reki hesitates and you kiss his cheek. “you don’t think i’m horn dog right?”

you snort at his choice of words, giggling as you rest your forehead against his shoulder. “oh my god, no, reki” you say and you feel reki’s shoulders sag with relief. “it’s not a big deal, we’re dating— i masturbate to you too!”

reki knows you’re trying to make him feel less embarrassed, but he feels himself blush straight down to his chest. he presses his hands back over his face.

“y/n...” reki mutters, digging his palms into his eyes making colors swirl behind his eyelids. embarrassment overwhelms him, but he’s reminded of how aroused he still is when his mind supplies him with the image of you masturbating to him; lying on your stomach, ass up as you fuck yourself on your fingers—writhing and mewling for him. “that’s, uh...”

“inappropriate?” you answer.

“uh, no—well, yes, but no, i mean it’s not inappropriate to me, but—” he cuts himself and looks up at you from his hands. you’re staring at him with pursed lip, looking slightly nervous. “we just, recently started dating... I wanna make a good impression on you. ”

“but we’ve been friends for years” you reply easily, smoothing reki’s hair back before adjusting his headband.

“no, i wanna make a good impression as your boyfriend” he says, gripping his knees with both his hands and staring straight ahead.

“i...i understand that, that’s a valid feeling. i just don’t want you to beat yourself up though” you say a little quieter, leaning against his arm as you study his side profile. you brush the back of your hand against his cheek. “i already knew you’d be a good boyfriend before i started dating you”

reki isn’t completely convinced, but he does feel a huge weight fall off his shoulders. he turns his face to yours, his nose brushing against your nose. you nod slightly and he nods back, earning a grin from you.

you reach around him to grab the picture frame he had placed haphazardly on his bed. examining the framed photo sticker, you coo and wrap an arm around reki’s neck.

“aww, you framed this?” you smile, bumping your forehead against his cheek. he nods, leaning into your touch. “this was at the festival last month, right?”

“yeah” he hums, content with the way you’re pressed against him.

“hmm, yeah you must’ve been really horny because i don’t even look hot in these pictures” you mutter and reki whines, falling back against his bed and bringing an arm up to cover his eyes.

“you look amazing in those photos, shut up!” he protests and you grin, setting the frame down beside you. your gaze settles back to his cock, taut against the front of his pants, noting that reki is still turned on.

“well, i’m here now” you supply with a mischievous smile, sitting up on your knees and crawling over to straddle reki’s lap. reki peeks at you from under his arm just as you palm his hard on.

“oh~” his moan catching in his throat, chest jumping. he hears you giggle and he pushes himself up on his elbows. “we don’t—you don’t have to”

“do you want me to?” you grin at him, eyes half-lidded as you continue to palm him through his pants, which he hadn’t even zipped up all the in the rush to conceal himself. “i need an answer, babe”

reki can hardly think you knead your palm against his cock, which was throbbing painfully. “i, ah, mmm—” he babbles, his arms threatening to give out from under him.

“yes or no, reki” you ask, insistent for an answer.

“yeah, yes—please” reki sighs, his voice catching as he feels you work at unbuttoning his pants. you sit up on your knees to shimmy reki’s pants down to right around his lower thigh. his cock springs up, slightly sticky from earlier as a precum beads at his slit. he gazes up at you expectantly, panting slightly through his mouth as he rests back on his elbows.

you wrap your fingers around reki’s shaft, rubbing your thumb over his slit and reki keens—rutting into your hand.

“geez, what’s got you so worked up?” you’re half-teasing as you continue to swirl your thumb around the head. you eye reki, still pushed up on his elbows as his chest heaves. he only whimpers, shutting his eyes and lolling his head to the side.

“oh, wait” you frown, glancing towards the door to find that it half open. you had forgotten to shut it on your way in. “the door is still open...lemme go—”

“no, hng, don’t, i’ll be quiet” reki practically begs when he feels your grip loosen. you blink at him, surprised and heavily aroused at how needy reki sounded.

quickly, you try to calculate the time in between now and when reki’s mom might be finished gardening. she had barely started trimming those hibiscus bushes when you first saw her, there was no way she’d be done in the next ten minutes—could she? you’re sure you could get reki to cum in ten minutes—

suddenly, reki bucks up into your hand, fisting the sheets under him. “y/n, please” he half sobs, as he looks up at you pleadingly

make that five minutes.

“okay, okay!” you whisper, tightening your grip around his cock, which was practically drooling. his t-shirt is hiked up, slightly revealing his toned belly. you place your other hand on his lower stomach and gently massage his skin in an attempt to soothe him from his frenzied state.

it only slightly works. reki’s mind is reeling with how quickly his desperation heightened within the span of a couple minutes. he doesn’t know how and he doesn’t care to know. all he knows is that he’s yearning—no, aching for you to make him feel good. he’s delirious off of you, he realizes, and you didn’t even have to try. he wants you in every way possible.

your pace quickens as you twist your hand alongside reki’s shaft. his thighs spasm under you as he moans your name between harsh pants. you remove your other hand from off his belly, opting to support your weight as you shift forward on your knees.

still rapidly pumping his cock, you lean in and reki pushes himself up higher on his elbows to kiss you greedily. you pull back, pursing your lips into a smile as reki whines.

“what were you thinking about?” you purr, slowing down your strokes around reki’s cock. you squeezed your fingers around his head, dripping and sensitive, and reki moans so prettily. “when you were jerking off to me in that picture, what were you thinking about?”

reki struggles to form a coherent sentence as he attempts to bite back the wine that forms in his throat.

“you” reki manages shakily as he watches your hand stroke firmly up and down his cock. he’s transfixed by the way your hand is dewy with his precum, glistening as it continues to twist around the head of his cock.

“you gotta be a bit more specific, baby” you smile teasingly and he wants to scream. there was no way you actually expected him to form coherent sentences in his state—he knew that.

“the way you kissed me and how pretty you—oh, fuck, you looked” reki hiccups, chest jumping with pleasure as you give his cock a particularly firm tug. “you look so good, all the time. ‘love you”

“i love you too, angel” you sigh before leaning in again to give him a sloppy kiss, stroking his cock with more force. “you’re so good for me”

“gonna cum” reki whines, his cock twitching in your hold. his body lurched forward, slamming his forehead against yours. you lean into him, your pace never wavering as you steal a kiss.

“better hurry” you murmur against his lips, eyes flirting to his opened bed room door. reki only whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he curls forward. he feels his lower stomach and thighs stiffen as his mouth garbles around a guttural moan.

without warning, reki’s chest spasms repeatedly and he can only sob as thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, spilling down your hand and on his stomach, the muscles flexing and un-flexing as his orgasm washes over him. you kiss reki through his orgasm as he convulses against you.

you’re still milking his cock as reki puffs through the aftershock of his orgasm. he kicks his legs out as you continue to glide your fist along his shaft, shuddering at the slight overstimulation.

whimpering, reki weakly swats at your hand and you get the hint, easing your hand away. “you good?” you ask as reki trembles, struggling to keep himself up on his elbows.

“so good” he hums, blissed out as warmth stirs in his chest. reki hears you giggle through his haze and he blinks up at you.

you kiss him before pulling away with an obnoxiously loud smack. “your mom said you have to cut up some fruit for us” you smile, sitting back on his lap. reki furrows his brow in confusion, trying to wrap his brain around what you just said.

“who? what?” he croaks.

“when i came in, your mom said that we should take fruit so we don’t hungry at the beach” you reply, lifting up your hand, still sticky with reki’s cum, to examine it. reki slightly flushes as you scrutinize the mess he made on your hand.

“o-oh, what kinda fruit did you want to bring then?” reki asks, as you continue to examine your hand. a bit of his cum begins to drip down your forearm and without even thinking, you lick up his essence before it can drip any further.

“whatever you have, really. watermelon sounds kinda nice—” you stop when you glance up and see the flabbergasted look on reki’s face. you blink, confused. “do you not like watermelon?”

“did you just lick my cum?” he asks, barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with shock.

“yes?” you reply, eyeing the mess on your hand. “what? i’ve sucked your dick before”

“oh” he frowns. “i guess you have...does it...taste bad?”

to his relief, you shake your head. “do you wanna try?” you offer, holding out your hand to his face. reki blinks at your hand, then back at you. he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“....maybe” he mutters. you extend your index finger, where a glob of his cum had collected. hesitantly, reki pokes his tongue out and kitten licks along your index finger. he pulls back, smacking his mouth experimentally.

“well?” you ask expectantly, as if you’re making him taste test a homemade stew. reki cocks his head to side and purses his lip.

“a little salty, i guess” he mumbles, looking back at you to see that’s grinning at him. “what?”

“nothing, you’re really hot” you sigh, planting a kiss on the side of mouth before sliding off his lap. “i’m gonna wash my hand and grab you a towel!”

you disappear from out his room and reki hears the bathroom faucet run. he slumps back against his bed, sighing through his nose.

suddenly, reki hears the front door open and shut. he sits up, heart rate suddenly quickening as he strains to hear anymore noise. he hears your muffled voice and, oh my god, his mom’s voice.

someone pushes his door open and he squeaks, attempting to to cover himself, only to see you holding a wet towel. you scurry into his room and toss him the towel. reki just barely catches it as you’re already scrambling out of his room.

“clean up and change” you whisper before going to close the door behind you. you halt and stick your head in the room. “also, pack sunscreen because I forgot mine, love you!”

you shut the door behind you as reki moves to frantically wipe down his stomach and his crotch area. he hears his mom’s voice somewhere from outside his door.

“he still hasn’t cut up the fruit” she questions incredulously.

“he’s getting changed, but i can start right now and he’ll help out later” you reply easily and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes from his chest.

notes: ami says make men taste their own cum. i’m writing a joe drabble and some haikyuu head canons currently so lemme get back to it