#'ah. . .' throws away all progress made towards thing and goes back to what he was doing

[kaminocasey]

As Luck Would Have It Part 3

Summary: Three years go by. You're now the head of Fisk Industries and you have a run in with Spider-Man. Old feelings get dragged up.

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Queenpin!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; Angst, guns, knives, Smut, Oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), rough sex

A/N: Ah, here we are. Last (?) part (I may do an epilogue ch)! I really love Peter B Parker so much it's actually insane. I think I'll spend the rest of my days wishing he was real. (pics from pinterest)

Marvel Masterlist - Taglist Form - Marvel Sideblog: @stevengrantnotrogers

Three Years Later…

Mary Jane Watson. That’s the woman sitting across from Peter right now. She’s pretty, has a good sense of humor, and isn't an assassin… She ticks all of Peter’s mental boxes. 

But he knows he’s not going to call this woman again. Not that there was anything wrong with her… She just isn’t you. You were his best friend, the love of his life, and his entire world. He knows he can’t recreate that with just anyone. 

When Peter gets home, the same home that the two of you shared, he takes off his tie (the tie you got him for your 5th anniversary) and goes and sits on the couch, turning on the local news. Immediately, a high speed chase catches his eye. Perhaps this is what he needs to get his mind off of you again. A distraction. 

That’s how he’s gotten by the last three years. Distraction after distraction. He throws himself into being Spider-Man even more than he used to. It’s what keeps him sane. It’s what keeps him going. 

He’s not afraid to admit that he let himself go mentally and physically the first two and a half years but now… he’s gotten back into the swing (ha, get it?) of things again. He’s proud of the progress he’s made. Peter is already out the fire escape, mask on, swinging toward the commotion down near Throgs Neck Bridge. If he’s lucky, he can catch them in time and stop them from even hitting the bridge. 

You have no idea how the hell you even managed to end up in this fucking predicament. You don’t do car chases anymore. And you sure as hell don’t chase after thieves. But here you are, on your bike, chasing after Johnny’s cousin Mike. The idiot who stole 3.5 million dollars from you after he thought you weren’t treating him fair enough. He apparently thought you’d be a pushover and that you’d just let it slide. That was his mistake. 

Mike is on the bike in front of you, while Johnny is in the SUV behind you, prepared to take Mike down if he has to. You’re pretty sure he’s going to get caught in traffic on Throgs Neck Bridge before you all hit Queens. 

A place you haven’t been in three years… 

Shaking your head, you refuse to think about it. To think about him.

“Do you see him?” Johnny’s voice is in your ear piece.

Him? 

Oh. Mike. Duh.

“Yeah, I’m closing in on him.” You reply, smirking as you pull your gun out, aiming it. 

Out of nowhere, you hear a ‘thwip’ and your gun is being pulled away from you midair. 

“What the fuck?” You look around. 

That’s when you see him. The red suit… Of course he’d be here.

“Goddammit.” You ride near the rail, almost hitting it, clearly distracted. 

You kick away from it and speed ahead a little bit. 

“I think the Spider is here.” Johnny’s voice fills your helmet again. 

“Yeah, no shit.” You grunt, pulling your bike over to take him on if you have to. “Take care of Mike. I’ll handle this.”

“You sure-” 

“Don’t question me. Go.” You bark. 

“Got it.” Johnny’s SUV speeds past you toward Mike and you pull out your knife, prepared to take on Spider-Man. 

As if he was waiting for you, he drops down from the top of the bridge, releasing the webbing from his wrist, tilting his head. You take your helmet off and rest it on your bike. 

“Long time no see…” He seems nervous.

That voice… Unfortunately, it makes your stomach do somersaults and you feel like you could throw up. 

“Well, Parker… I wish I could say it’s a pleasure.” You glare, trying your best to hide your discomfort. 

“You say that like your last name isn’t also Parker.” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Haven’t been a Parker in a long time.” You stare at him.

He chuckles. “You look good.”

“I know.” 

You can feel him sizing you up and then he looks down and sees the knife in your hand. 

“You planning on using that?” He asks, planting his hands on his hips.

The same hips you used to wrap your legs around… 

Jesus. Get a grip.

“If I have to.” You shrug, smirking.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“And I’d rather you let me pass so I can handle my business.”

“Your business? The one you inherited from the guy you put into a coma?” “I think you mean ‘we’.” You tilt your head. 

“Sweetheart, you’re the one who shot him. Not me.” He shakes his head.

Your chest tightens at him calling you ‘sweetheart’ and you know you shouldn’t allow that. 

“Don’t call me that.” You step toward him. 

He puts his hands up in defense. “My bad. You prefer Queenpin?”

“That guy stole over 3 million dollars from me… I have to get it back.” You roll your shoulders slightly.

It’s been a minute since you’ve had to fight someone yourself. But you’re pretty sure it’s like riding a bike. Once you throw a punch, everything else will come back to you… You think. 

What if your body betrays you and won’t let you fight him?

Peter says your name and you nearly stop, afraid that your thought process might be right. Unfortunately, you know if you don’t do this, no one will take you seriously from now on. You’ve worked too hard to get where you’re at to throw it all away for Peter again.

“I have to.” You shake your head.

And then you throw your knife, knowing he’d be able to dodge it. It lands in a car behind him as he dodges it, just as you expected he would. Then you throw a punch, which he unfortunately catches so you rear back and spin and kick him in the chest, sending him flying into the side of a Prius. Which you can’t help but chuckle at.

“That yours?” You smirk.

He chuckles. “I wish. It handled that better than a bike would. Great on gas too.” 

You hate that he can still make you smile even after you shattered each other’s hearts. 

“Jesus, you really do talk too much.” You start to get frustrated.

More with yourself than him.

“You never said that when we used to-” 

You run at him and jump, landing with your thighs around his neck, spinning him so he lands on the ground with an ‘oof’. 

He’s breathless as he tries to talk again. “Have to say… missed these thighs suffocating me…”

Christ… That shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. 

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” You squeeze your thighs around his neck, trying to knock him out.

He says your name again and without meaning to, you let go of him, kicking him away from you, making him stumble. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, his voice soft enough to make you want to cry. 

“I think you and I both know it’s a little too late for that, Peter.” You murmur. 

With a shake of your head, you run back toward your bike, throwing your helmet on and speeding away. You just need to get away from this bridge… Away from him. 

Peter watches you go. He wants nothing more than to stop you and beg for you back. To tell you he made a huge mistake. He knows that you taking over for Fisk is his own fault. He should’ve been there for you… He shouldn’t have run away… 

Before he even realizes he’s doing it, he’s following you over the bridge toward the Bronx. If he could just… talk to you… one on one. Preferably without trying to kill each other. Maybe he could fix things… 

When you get back to your apartment in the Bronx, you do everything you can to not break down and cry.

Instead, you call Johnny for an update. 

“Money is secured. Mike is being dealt with.” Johnny replies.

You can hear Peter in your head to not kill Mike… that you’re better than that.

“Boss?” Johnny speaks into the silence when you don’t reply. 

Ugh. Goddammit, Peter…

“Turn him over to the NYPD. He can be their problem.” You sigh. 

“Boss… I don’t think-” Johnny starts but you snap at him.

“I don’t pay you to think, now do I?” There’s venom in your tone. But also exhaustion.

“Right. Consider it done.” Johnny clicks off and you toss your phone onto your bed, beginning to pace. 

Every word that was said between you and Peter starts to replay in your mind. Every touch, every chuckle, everything. It made you feel alive again, despite the heartache of it all. 

Would there ever be a possibility of you and Peter finding your way back to each other again one day? Maybe when you’re both gray and too old to be doing this shit anymore… Until then-

The sliding of your window pulls you out of your thoughts and you immediately pull your gun out and point it at the intruder. 

“Woah woah, hey! Just me.” Peter sits halfway in the windowsill, his hands up in surrender.

You don’t put your gun down until he takes off his mask, one handed, still keeping the other one up to let you know he’s not here to hurt you. It reminds you of when he’d come home through the window of your first apartment together and you try your best to push the memory out of your mind.

“You followed me?” You tuck away your gun in the back of your pants, shrugging off your leather jacket and tossing it into the chair in the corner of your room. 

He’s not subtle in the way his eyes rake over your form in your black t-shirt and tighter fitting black jeans. It makes your burn hotter than you’d care to admit. 

“I did.” He admits freely, stepping into your apartment. “Almost scared the 12 cats of the lady right underneath you.” 

You can’t help but shrug. “That lady’s rude anyway. Always vacuuming in the middle of the night.” 

He lets out a huff of a laugh and for a very small moment, things feel like they used to. But that can’t last long, can it? 

“So what do you want Peter?” You stand six feet away from him, your hands on your hips.

He’s quiet for a moment, clearly thinking of what to say. You give him a moment before interrupting him.

“Look-”

“I’m sorry.” His words make you pause.

“What?” “I’m… so so… sorry.” Peter steps a foot closer to you. “I shouldn’t have left that day. I should’ve heard you out… tried to understand your reasoning for things. I’m just… beyond sorry.”

His words send that familiar ache throughout your body and you feel like you’re either going to cry or throw up. Hopefully neither, but who knows.

“Peter…” You whisper, never breaking eye contact with those warm brown eyes you’ve missed since the last day you saw them three years ago.

He cautiously crosses the rest of the gap and takes your hand. “Can I-”

Not bothering to let him finish his sentence, you crush your lips to his, grabbing onto the spider suit as much as you can. His arms circle around your waist, pulling you against him. It’s messy and both of you have tears falling as his tongue begs for entrance into your mouth. You grant him entrance by deepening the kiss, suddenly not able to get close enough. 

“Not gonna need this.” He pulls your gun out of the back of your pants and tosses it to the floor and starts to unbutton your jeans.

“Haven’t decided yet.” You smirk against his lips, kicking your boots off somewhere, making Peter chuckle. 

He groans softly once he has your pants down on the ground and quickly drops to his knees, his hands sliding up your thighs around to the globes of your ass. He squeezes roughly before placing a kiss just above your pantyline. 

“Need to taste you again… please, baby.” He begs softly, looking up at you with needy eyes. “Been too fucking long.”

You can’t help the soft whimper that leaves your lips as you look down at your ex husband on his knees for you. Honestly, he’s never looked so good. 

When you used to have sex, you were more submissive but now… there’s definitely a noticeable dynamic change. It doesn’t seem like either one of you mind, though. 

“Can I please?” He whispers, begging for permission. 

You nod once and he wastes no time yanking your underwear down, tossing them away from your body, and diving his tongue right into your eager pussy. The sound he makes is just downright sinful, causing vibrations throughout your warmth. 

Fuck, how you missed this. 

“God, Peter…” You moan, running your fingers through his hair and gripping tightly. “Don’t fucking stop.”

He moans again and your hips buck against his tongue, the sounds of your soaked pussy filling the room. Unfortunately, your legs start to go weak. As if he can sense it, he pushes you back on your bed, his mouth never leaving your cunt. 

“Fuck…” He groans against you. “Better than I remember.”

When he pushes a finger into you, your back arches up off the bed and you look down at him with lust blown eyes. He’s smirking right up at you and you roll your eyes, both of you chuckling. It’s starting to feel like no time has passed. 

“Feel good?” He whispers, his free hand holding you down over your stomach so that you can’t go anywhere.

You nod, only being able to manage a whimper. 

“God you’re so tight.” He pushes a second finger in and you can feel your body starting to tense up, the desire for Peter coursing through your veins the way spider venom courses through Peter’s. “You think you can still take my cock?”

Your eyes roll back in your head at the way Peter speaks such dirty things to you. 

“I bet you can… can’t you, baby?” He practically coos before his lips and tongue attack your clit again at the same time that he curls his fingers inside of you, threatening to bring you to the edge. 

“I- I can.” You whisper. “Haven’t had anyone else since you.” 

He groans roughly at that and your body immediately goes white hot as you’re pushed completely over the mental cliff, coming loudly as your hands fly to his hair again, practically writhing on his face. 

It’s incredible that your body still reacts the same exact way to Peter as it used to. 

“Incredible. Fucking beautiful.” He moans before quickly sliding out of his suit and climbing into the bed with you as you pull yourself up to the pillows at the head of the bed. 

Peter’s lips find yours, causing you to taste yourself on his tongue. It’s been so long… you forgot what this felt like. You pull him down to you so that his long length slides along your pussy enough to make you both groan against each other’s lips. 

“God… it’s so hot.” He reaches between you and slaps your pussy a few times before dipping just the tip in. 

Your nails rake down Peter’s shoulders, your legs spreading eagerly for him. “Fuck me already.” 

“Impatient as always.” He smirks, resting his forehead against yours. “Good to know not much has changed.”

He looks down where he keeps dipping the head of his cock in and out, teasing you. 

“We have plenty of time to tease each other. Now is not the time.” You whine. 

“So you’re saying this is gonna happen again.” He teases. 

“Peter.” It comes out breathless as you give him a warning glare.

He moans. “God, I still love the way you say my name. Say it again, babygirl.”

He starts to slide his cock in further and all you can do is moan Peter’s name like it's a prayer to God himself. The stretch feels way too good, way better than you remember.

“God, I missed you.” He whispers breathlessly as he slides all the way in, bottoming out. 

You can’t help but clench around him. “I missed you.”

His large hands grip your thighs firmly, pushing them back to open you up more to him and you clench around his cock at the new angle. 

“Oh yeah… She remembers me.” He teases, referring to your pussy and the way it’s still made just for him.

“Jesus, Peter.” You roll your eyes, a soft breathless laugh leaving your lips before he kisses you lightly. 

“Tell me you didn’t miss this.” He laughs as he pulls out and then thrusts back in.

“I- I can’t.” You whisper against his lips. 

He continues pulling out and pushing back in, trying his best to savor the feeling, but you can tell he wants to lose control… to lose himself in you.

“Peter…” You moan to let him know it’s okay, that you’re not going anywhere. 

You can see the switch flip and he roughly shoves his cock back into you and buries his face in your neck, breathing you in with a low growl. As your hands find their way back in his hair, he ruts against you mercilessly, desperately. As if you could disappear again at any moment. 

“Fuck I love you…” His voice is raspy and low. “Never fucking stopped. Missed you so goddamn much.” 

All you can do is kiss him, a lump in your throat threatening to send you into a fit of tears. But he pulls away to look into your eyes, searching with a furrowed brow. He wants to know if you still love him, his thrusting never stopping or letting up. 

“Fuck Peter, I love you too.” The tears spill. “Of course I do.” 

Without a warning, his orgasm is ripped from him, coating your walls in that familiar come that you’ve missed more than words could even begin to describe. He growls against your lips as they collide with your own.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” He lets out a breathless laugh after a moment, his chest heaving against yours.

“Don’t be.” You let out a laugh with him, still unable to quite believe Peter is in your bed with you. 

He stays hovering over you for a moment, his eyes squinting with delight just to be able to be looking at you and holding again. 

“God, you’re just as beautiful as the day we got married.” He whispers, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You roll your eyes and he grins, collapsing next to you. “You roll your eyes but I’m only telling the truth.”

“Shut up.” You push him onto his back, climbing on top of him and kissing him as he hands finding your hips. 

“Listen… I know we have a lot to discuss… but I’m in this. No matter what. If we have to keep our businesses separate…” He tries but you shake your head.

“That would never work…” You murmur, kissing down his chest, causing his back to slightly arch into your touch. “I’m giving it up. I’ll go work in actual publishing if I fucking have to.” 

He lets out a loud laugh. “Can we get a Prius?”

You groan. “Could you be any more annoying?” 

“Easily.” He winks. “Answer the question.”

You rest your head on his chest. “Fine. But I’m not selling my bike.” 

“I can live with that.” He pulls you back down to kiss you again and then rolls you over onto your back, already ready for round two. 

It’s going to take a lot of work, trust, and therapy… But you know that if you and Peter were able to find your way back to each other, you can find a way to make a better future. And as cheesy as it sounds, as long as you have each other, you know you’ll be okay. 

[several-very-small-eggs]

The annoying combination of having 1) an identity built on your interests and 2) rejection sensitivity

[nejibaby]

Fun

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x F!Reader

Summary: With you near-death experience in Dressrosa, you’re craving for a certain type of release.

Warning: NSFW!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: A certain Luffy fanart has made me think of dirty thoughts about him so here I am posting this filthy thing. I’m so flustered, it’s not even kinky but writing smut really flusters me LOL 🤣 Please let me know your thoughts~

Celebrations are usual occurrences in the Straw Hat crew. Despite only having almost half the crew around, it doesn’t make the party any less lively. In fact, the presence of the new allies formed in Dressrosa makes up for the absence of the other crew members.

The near-death experience makes you crave for a certain type of release. And with the copious amount of alcohol being passed around by everyone, it doesn’t take you too long to gather up courage to find someone to help you.

Soon enough, you’re seated on a random guy’s lap, heavily making out with him, a few meters away from the celebrating people. Because of the alcohol, you’re not entirely sure who he is, but you have to admit he’s skilled at using his lips, his tongue, and his hands.

He’s just about to move you into a more private location, but before he could take you away, an arm wraps itself around your waist and suddenly you’re being pulled back into someone else’s lap.

You look at the person who just interrupted your moment, only to be surprised upon finding out it was your captain. “Luffy, what the hell?!”

“Oi, what were you doing with Torao?”

Torao? Trafalgar Law? You whip your head to where you previously were to confirm if the guy who you were with is truly him. Lo and behold, you find Law glaring at Luffy, and then angrily walking away.

You pout and let out a frustrated huff. “Ah, we were just having fun. I’ll just—” you point towards where Law went, “head back so we can...” you absentmindedly trail off, and then you attempt to get up from Luffy’s lap. Keyword: attempt. Because Luffy grips your legs so you couldn’t leave.

You furrow your brows at his actions. Just as you are to ask him why he’s keeping you there, he asks, “Why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

You swear your brain short circuited the moment his question left his lips. If you’re sober, you’re certain you would’ve taken his question innocently. But with the alcohol fogging up your mind, you aren’t sure if he’s just sulking because he wants you to party with him or if he’s inviting you to continue what you’ve been doing a while ago but with him instead of Law. And so, you want to clarify what he means. “What?”

Luffy giggles at your dumbfounded expression. He thought you didn’t hear him from the noise everyone is making, so he leans in, his lips almost touching your ear as he unconsciously rubs your thighs while saying, “I said, why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

And then he pulls away, waiting for your answer.

It isn’t easy to fluster you, but with Luffy’s proximity, the way his hands are moving, and the fact that you’re still aroused after the interrupted makeout session, you find yourself being affected by his question and it’s underlying meaning.

“I, uhm, I-I…” you stutter, unable to look at him in the eyes. You attempt to look elsewhere but suddenly your eyes land on his lips.

You’ve heard of people before who talked about how Luffy has his way of drawing people in and making them his allies. Right now that’s exactly what he’s doing with you, drawing you in — except, he’s doing it quite literally.

Before you know it, you’re leaning into him, and then your lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss before pulling you impossibly closer.

Luffy’s kisses are rather messy and uncoordinated, but it quickly makes you feel lightheaded and excited.

You’re so caught up with the moment to the point that it didn’t occur to you that you have instinctively started grinding on him. You’re only made aware of your actions when you hear Luffy groaning in pleasure. And that’s when you start wanting more, but you’re both still on the deck and there are still drunk people around, even if you both aren’t near them.

Luffy tries to follow your lips when you pull away. And then he pouts when your lips are out of reach. He whines your name, obviously wanting to continue.

“Luffy, I… we should… uhm…” you clear your throat. “I want you,” you whisper.

But Luffy isn’t even listening. His focus is solely on your lips and when you bite your lip nervously, he almost shivers in anticipation.

You take this opportunity to drag him into his room. Thankfully, he doesn’t object nor ask any questions, he just follows your lead. And when you’ve entered his room, you immediately lock the door and start kissing him once again.

You gently nudge Luffy to his bed, not even daring to break the kiss in the process. For some reason, the kiss turns rougher than before, almost feral.

When Luffy reaches the bed and sits down on it, you immediately climb on his lap. You grab a hold of his calloused hands and guide them under your tank top, towards your breasts. He kneads them instantly and you let out a whimper.

Luffy pulls away from the kiss. He removes his hands from under your tank top, and then the next thing you know, he’s tearing up the offensive garment. You haven’t even asked why he did that but he explains already, “It was in the way! I want to feel you better.”

If that’s the case, you unhook your bra and throw it somewhere in the room before he’d even think about ripping it off as well.

Luffy takes a moment to stare at your half naked form. With the way your boobs are slightly moving with every breath you take, he easily finds himself in a trance.

You snap him out of it by grinding on his bulge. You pull him in again for a kiss and he instantly cups your breasts with his hands again. He kneads your boobs and pinches your nipples, and you let out soft mewls in satisfaction.

You bite his lip and he lets out a sexy grunt. You palm his hardened cock and it instantly makes him breathless. He calls your name with a quiver in his voice.

You grab one of his hands and bring it under your skirt, inside your panties and urge him to touch your cunt. “You’re wet,” he breathlessly comments.

You slip one of his fingers into you, guiding him in and out. When he’s found his rhythm, you let go of his hand and let him do as he pleases. He adds another finger soon enough. The sensation elicits a moan from you.

“Do that again,” Luffy says. “Do that sound again.”

You oblige, resting your head on his shoulder as you moan at his ministrations.

You use this time to unzip his pants and tug his cock from the garments. When you start pumping him, he lets out a lewd groan and temporarily stops his fingers from moving. This goes on for a while and when Luffy starts moving his hips with the motion of your hands, you stop.

You pull away completely from him. And then you start stripping him off of his clothes until Luffy’s naked. You watch as he licks his fingers clean from the wetness of your cunt and he hums in appreciation. When he’s done, you take off your remaining clothes as well.

You grab a hold of his dick once again and kiss him on the lips. Your hand movements are slow as you switch from kissing his lips to his neck. You leave a couple of hickeys on him. Then you slowly make your way down, kissing, sucking, licking, biting his chest, his abs, until you’re on your knees, face directly in front of his dick.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, a look that you’ve never seen before on him. You look directly at him as you make kitten licks on his cock. You watch as he visibly gulps. And then you take him in your mouth and start sucking him off. Luffy pants and grunts at your ministrations. You then grabbed his balls and massaged them.

“That feels so good,” he moans.

Luffy uncontrollably juts his hips, wanting more of the pleasurable sensation you’re making him feel. And you let him.

But when you feel his cock twitching, you pull away.

Luffy whines loudly, but you push him so that he’s laying on the bed. You climb atop him, grab his shaft and coat it with your wetness. And then you slowly sink down until he’s fully inside you.

“T-tight…” Luffy mutters, “you’re so tight.”

You wait until you’ve fully adjusted to his size before you start moving. Luffy stares at you in desire as you move on top of him, your tits bouncing with every motion. He watches your face with fascination as he’s never seen your face contort with pleasure like this before. And for some reason, this makes him harder.

Then his body moves on his own, too lost in lust, his hands start squeezing your breasts, his hips start thrusting into you.

When he notices you tiring down, he easily flips the position so that you’re under him. All that’s going through his head is how good you make him feel.

“Luffy… fuck… so good…” you moan out loudly, unable to even make a proper sentence.

He snaps his hips faster and rougher as time progresses. He’s pounding into you so hard that the bed starts creaking and the headboard slams against the walls.

But those sounds are nothing compared to the noises the both of you are making. You have resorted to repeating his name like a mantra along with profanities here and there, while Luffy grunts and moans to your ears, sometimes telling you how amazing you feel.

All too soon, you’re clenching against him so tightly as you climaxed. This brings out a more brutal pace from Luffy as he starts chasing his own high. And when he releases his load in you, you almost shudder at the feeling.

When Luffy pulls out, he notices your juices leaking out of you. And before you can even comprehend what he’s planning, he starts licking.

Your breath hitches from the stimulation, but Luffy doesn’t stop until you’re completely clean.

And when he’s done, he’s grinning widely at you.

“Luffy, that’s…” you start to say, but you didn’t know what word or words you’re supposed to use. Hot? Sexy? Best fuck you’ve had in a while?

Before you can even come up with what to say however, Luffy tells you, “That was fun! We should do that again!”

[ellitx]

Beguilement | Albedo x Reader

Klee asks for Albedo’s help to make bombs with her.

word count: 2.9k

           “What are you doing?”

            Albedo peered at you from the corner of his eyes, raising an eyebrow why you were holding his cheek. His work ceased when he felt your warm hand touched his face, bringing down the papers on the desk.

            “What am I doing?” You echoed with a slight tilt of your head. “I’m checking if you’re okay. You’re overworking yourself again.” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. 

            “I’m not.”

           He latched his gloved hand on yours and bring it down back to your side. “Hm…” Your [eye color] eyes had a tint of a doubtful frown as you pout. Seeing the Chief Alchemist stuck in his research lab worried you. It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him and that’s why you’re here today.

            He didn’t mind when you waltzed in suddenly while he was mixing different kinds of herbs. He knew you wouldn’t cause a ruckus inside considering how dangerous his and Sucrose’s works are.

            “Klee really wanted to play with you, you know.” You started and took a sit on a nearby chair in his workshop. 

            “And so are you.” He placed back the various types of equipment to their rightful place and chuckled when he noticed your cheeks reddened. 

            “I—!”

            “Albedo!!” The door slammed open surprising the two teens. The said male felt someone glomped onto his leg. He looked down and saw the Spark Knight wrapped her little arms on his leg so tightly, her ruby eyes scintillating so brightly that was donned with a big grin.

            “I saw the sign wasn’t in your door anymore!! Does that mean you’ll play with Klee?!”

            Albedo rested his hand on the top of her head but threw a confused glimpse at her. He’s a hundred percent sure last time he checked, the “Experiment in Progress” sign was still hanging to let everyone know he’s busy.

            His aquamarine eyes landed on you who was innocently reading his notes, awing at his written discoveries and sketches of a place you've never seen before. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving a sigh. The Kreideprinz knelt down before Klee and ruffled her big red hat whose eyes were bright as the sun and smile so innocent.

            “Yes. My research is almost done so might as well take a break.”

            Your ears perked up at his words and lifted your head away from the notebook. “If that’s so, then I wanna make more bombs with you!!” The child tugged his lab coat and pulled him to the table, laying her hefty backpack on the chair. 

            She let out her collection of bombs to the Chief Alchemist and stretched her arms to showcase her invention. “Ta-da!! I tried to make a different Jumpty Dumpty!” Albedo placed his fingers on his chin as he inspected the object.

            You peered over his shoulder and eyes glimmered admiring the cute little red bunny device. “Woah!! This one seems different from your usual Jumpty Dumpty, Klee!” You leaned against him to get a closer look. 

            The blonde child giggled but let out a yelp when she felt that her feet weren’t touching the ground. Her small hands were now laying on your shoulder as you carry her small stature in your arms.

            The Alchemist’s focus was now on the timer hidden behind Jumpty Dumpty, surprising him. “It’s dangerous if we keep the bombs here. How about we go to Stormterror’s Lair to test it out?” His suggestion made the two girls looked at him with sparkling eyes and nodded eagerly.

            You put down Klee and helped her pack her stuff back inside her backpack. Both of you were chanting happily making the corner of his lips tugged upwards at the adorable scene. 

            “Well then,” He said, taking their attention. “Let’s get going.”

            Before Master Jean scolds us. He said to himself, sweat dropping.

            Both of you threw your arms in the air to cheer. Before you head off, you hung the strap of Klee’s bag on your shoulder and patiently waited for her to come to your side. She clutched your hand a bit tightly but one that won’t hurt you.

            Albedo took his own satchel and kept his notebook and some other materials needed in their experiment. He left a little note for Sucrose, letting her know he’ll be away for a while in case she goes looking for him. 

            Once he was ready, the two girls were already outside the room sticking around until he appears. Klee beamed in delight and grabbed his hand tugging both of you together. She was in the middle while you and Albedo were by her side.

            She started humming joyfully and marched towards the exit. 

            “Klee, Albedo, [Name], and Dodoco are off to Stormterror’s Lair!!” You chuckled at her cute declaration whilst she swung both of yours and Albedo’s arms, sauntering to the old ruins to do the experiments.

  —

             “We can try using flaming flower stamen.”

            “Oh, you mean those burning flowers?”

            Albedo nodded as he tinkered with the Jumpty Dumpties, and letting out the contents carefully on the cloth. 

            “There are few scattered around here, so it’ll be no problem for us to find one.” He lifted up his goggles, placing them atop of his head. 

            “Oh! Klee knows all the locations!!” The said girl jumped from her sitting position, raising her hand like how a student wants to be called by their teacher. “There are few around the lair and some almost at the end!”

            “Waaah!! That’s Klee for you!!” You praised her as you pat her head fondly. She giggled hearing your flattery and clasped your hand with hers. “I’ll go look with big sis [Name]!”

            “Ah, wait—!” But before the Chalk Prince can stop them, both of you were already running carelessly in search of the flaming flowers. He sighed in defeat and continued tinkering with the gadgets.

            Not even a minute later, he heard a loud KABOOM and the cries of the hilichurls in the distance. Several monsters flew in the air and slowly dropped onto the ground while some slimes were running for their lives.

            Thank goodness your vision wasn’t Electro or else the elemental reactions between yours and Klee’s attacks will cause massive damage to the ancient city.

            Sighing for the umpteenth time, his focus went back on dabbling with the bomb, pretending he wasn’t involved with their mischievousness.

  —

             “Oh! We should bring some bone samples for Sucrose for her research!” You exclaimed, watching the hilichurls’ bodies disintegrate in the thin air. You picked up the arrowheads and some horns from the ground left by the monsters.

            “Klee will gladly help big sis!” Your shoulders shake with laughter and ruffled her hair. “And I’ll happily accept your offer~”

            “I think she’ll accept anything as long as their bones, right? I did see some of her collections…” You muttered to yourself as you looked around the area to find anything interesting. 

            “Does fish blasting work as well to find bones?” Klee questioned innocently whilst holding her Jumpty Dumpties in her hands ready to throw them away. “No, Klee. Fish blasting is not good. If Master Jean caught us, you’ll be confined again!”

            “B-but… I’m sorry… Please don’t get mad at Klee.” She clamped her hands behind her back, eyes cast downwards turning glossy. Your heartstrings tugged and felt like an arrow pierce right through you, immediately feeling guilty at your words. 

            “Ah… Klee, I’m not mad! I was… I was worried about you, that’s all.” You raised her and carried the little girl between your arms and nuzzled your noses together. Her ruby eyes brightened up and giggled, slithering her arms around your neck to hug closer.

            “I can’t bring myself to get angry at you and Dodoco! I cherish both of you!” 

                      “Is big sis [Name] saying she loves me and Dodoco?” 

            “Absolutely!” You puffed your chest like a proud mom and rested one hand on your hips.

            “Klee and Dodoco love you too!!” 

            The two of you shared a few laughter and wholesome moment. From the corner of your eyes, a camp of hilichurls spotted you both, ready to attack. You shared a glance with the Spark Knight then smiled, sharing the same ideas. 

            “Hilichurl bones would be a good sample for Sucrose’s research!”

  —

             The Chief Alchemist was busy gathering glands from the frogs, carefully extracting the mucous from them. Others would be grossed out seeing this, but for him— it’s almost like an everyday habit for him to perform this.

            He became inquisitive and wondered where you and Klee are. You were just going to gather a few flaming flower stamens, why are you taking so long? 

            Too distracted from his concern for your state as well as Klee’s, he didn’t notice a figure creeping behind him. Albedo’s perception then blackened and a shiver ran down his spine when he felt something blew on his ears and whispered. 

            “Guess who’s back?”

            His fingers wrapped around your wrist and gently pulled down your hand back to your side. His eyes were met with your own [eye color] gems as you smiled down at him. 

            “You’re finally back.”

            “Bzz! Wrong!” Your arms formed an X, indicating his incorrect answer. The Chief Alchemist snorted at your childish antics, failing to see the Pyro-vision user jumped on him.

            “Albedo, Albedo!! We brought the flaming flowers! Oh, and we also got these!!” The child poured out all the contents inside her bag and showed them to him like she won the biggest prize. Various materials were scattered all over the ground; masks, horns, arrowheads, scrolls, and a bone…?

            “So that’s why both of you haven’t come back for a while.” He observed the items gathered together and nodded to himself. He didn’t dare questioned them what and why were there cartilages included. 

            His eyes caught onto the flaming flower stamen. The cores were still emitting heat even though it was already extinguished. This can be a good time to create a flaming essential oil. The needed ingredients were already here, all he needed to do was to create it using alchemy.

            Good thing they don’t need to come back to Mondstadt just to make a simple potion, as long as the Chief Alchemist is with you, he can create anything. He put out a portable alchemic table— one of his inventions— and commenced to perform his alchemy.

            You and Klee watched him crushed the stamen until it turned to small particles. He then poured the extracted frog’s gland and mixed it together. The scent was odd and strong making you almost puke. How in the world can this man handle the smell?!

            Klee almost looked like she was about to faint as she held on to your coat to maintain balance. Albedo apologized and told you you can take the mint grass inside his satchel to get rid of the smell. 

            Wow, he’s already prepared…

            It brought a smile to your face at the thought of it. You rummaged inside his bag and saw the mints were kept inside the ziplock pouch. You motioned for the little girl to come with you, straying away from the Kreideprinz’s works as to not ruin it, and opened the pouch letting the cool smell waft around you.

            You both breathed a sigh at the refreshing air, forgetting the awful smell that lingered inside you minutes ago. Albedo was already done making the essential oil and attentively spewed the liquid in one of Klee’s bombs.

            A small smoke emitted from it and he cautiously set the cover back to its place. 

            “Is it done?” You asked. The male shook his head and threw the device at an empty area to see the result. He told you to stay back as he used his geo skill to cast a shield to all of you. A sound of a clock ticking can be heard from it and the three of you patiently waited for the outcome yet nothing happened.

            “Did it fail…?” Your question was answered when you sensed the ground shook and a massive outburst greeted your view. Your mouth gaped open in shock and awe, watching many sparks flew in the air almost resembling fireworks during Ludi Harpastum Festival.

            Klee was the one who’s more amazed than you, her eyes wide open and crimson orbs sparkling in admiration at the tremendous explosion. 

            “Waah!! Klee has never created a big kaboom like this in her entire life!!” She faced Albedo and tugged his coat repeatedly. “Can you please teach Klee how to make that? Please please please pleeease with a cherry on top?”

            The male furrowed his brows, slightly troubled whether he should accept it or not. He was quiet for a while, still contemplating his decision. His eyes darted to where you were standing to ask for help but when he turned around, you were gone. 

            In his rear vision, he noticed you used your elemental skill to stamped out the burning grass. His face paled and heart raced when you knelt down and slowly approached the small remains from the bomb to touch it.

            Albedo immediately dashed towards you and extended his arm to reach for you. He screamed your name so loudly surprising you. You felt your hand heating up and your instincts kicked in telling you to run away, but even if you do so, a bright light has already blinded your eyes and ears ringing from the loudness of the bomb’s blast.

  —

             “What are you doing?”

            You peered at the male from the corner of your eyes, raising an eyebrow why he was holding your cheek. Your hands stopped midway from the plate when you felt his warm hand touched your face, bringing down the spoon on the table.

            “What am I doing?” He echoed with a slight tilt of his head. “I’m checking if you’re okay. Your face is red again.” He sighed and took out a thermometer to check the reading. 

            “I’m not!” 

            You latched your hand on his and bring it down back to his side. “Hm…” His turquoise eyes had a tint of a doubtful frown as he sighed. For some reason, this brought a sense of deja vu to him.

            Your behavior was odd after the explosion incident. You’ve been so cold towards him, making him slightly worried. He knows it was his fault that caused you like this, but he didn’t expect you’ve been so hostile to him these past few days.

            It’s like a sudden switch of personality.

            Every time he checks up on you, you just puffed your cheeks and turn your head. He asked the other Knights of Favonius about your condition and all they said was you were perfectly fine.

            How is this perfectly fine?!

            “[Name]!!” The door slammed open surprising the two teens. The said female felt someone jumped onto her bed, making her stomach hurt at the sudden weight. “Klee is so worried about big sis! When I heard you were sick, Dodoco and I were going to give you gifts! Klee thought you were fine yesterday. Diona even said she saw you going to the plaza—“

            “A-Ah— you and Dodoco brought me gifts? That’s so sweet of you! Ahaha..” Your nervous chuckle made the Chief Alchemist raised his brow at you in suspicion. You were fidgeting underneath the bedsheets and avoiding not looking at him in the eye.

            “Klee, what did Diona said about [Name]?” The girl’s attention went to him before she could rummage inside her bag. “She said that she saw big sis walking around the plaza!”

            “K-Klee!!” Your face flushed even more than before. You were stammering so much and you felt like the world was spinning around. 

            Albedo wanted to confirm his suspicions, and so he kept on pushing questions at the little girl, ignoring your attempts to shush him.

            “What kind of gifts are you going to give to her?”

            His question quickly made you sat up and threw your pillow to his face. “Th-that’s none of your concern!! It’s something private okay?!”

            “[Name] told me if I can give her the bombs you made to me. I tried to copy what you did and she seems satisfied with it!”

            Your hands were flailing in the air, not knowing whether you should continue pressing the pillow on Albedo’s face or to cover your face in embarrassment. You didn’t want to clasp your hands on Klee’s mouth to silence her, she might get hurt from your sudden actions!

            Bombs? What is she going to do with those?

            He snapped out from his train of thoughts then eyed you conscientiously. His brain connected the pieces of information together. The heat from your body, the smell of the mint grasses, and a faint of ash from it made sense. Especially how your body temperature dropped all of a sudden.

            He grabbed your wrist and intertwined your fingers together as he pressed his forehead with yours. The close proximity between you two made your head go blank and your attention was solely on his eyes, mesmerized by their colors.

            Klee naively looked at you two with a curious gaze.

            Your body heat skyrocketed and your lips quavered after his words reached your ears.

            “You know, you could’ve just told me you wanted me to take care of you instead of putting an effort to do this.”

            Your shoulders shook in aggravation and embarrassment, smothering him with the pillows to shut him up.

            “I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!!!”

            Albedo just let your antics be, not bothered by the fact you’re slapping the pillow on him each word escaped from your lips. 

         His lips tugged upwards thinking he caught your trickeries once again.

 reader was pretending she's sick just so he can take care of her lol           

[astaroth1357]

An MC Who Treats The Brothers Like a Kindergarten Teacher 

Okay, so I know I still have requests. I will get back to them right after this, but I just saw a post that gave me this idea and I had had had to get it out!! Requests will be back after this! Thank you MRS. Green Apple (my favorite band ever) and their song Present for this fun little romp of mine. 🤭

Lucifer

He is so conflicted on this it makes him wish he drank more…

On the one hand, he HATES how patronizing they can be… but even he can't deny how much progress they’ve made in his brothers. Mammon especially.

They're all actually studying more, cleaning up after themselves, doing their chores, and being polite… it's… admittedly he having an existential crisis...

This is what he's been missing this whole time?? Sticker charts?! And come on, they're all on the Student Council for Hell's sake! How could the most powerful beings in the Devildom be won over so easily by the same tactics used on human schoolchildren!?! Have some dignity!!

For the first month he just watched them whip his brothers into shape in barely concealed horror. It was so surreal...

But at about the time the MC managed to get Mammon and Levi to stop fighting and apologize for being mean to each other, he threw in the towel. Whether he liked them or not, he conceded that the human was a blessing in disguise and left most of the discipline to them from then on.

He's never been more productive in his life and he can actually get a night or two of good sleep with no interruptions... He's taken the MC out to lunch on multiple occasions and is still trying to talk Diavolo into letting them make this a permanent arrangement. They may actually get his brothers to become well-behaved demons yet...!

Mammon

Okay so, don't get it twisted. He doesn't need their stickers, or their love, or their approval, or all that positive reinforcement or anything! He's just playing along with them okay?? Okay?!

He scoffed at the whole thing at first because, look, he's no child. He's a grown-ass demon! What were little stickers of Devildom currency supposed to do for him??

But when they told him a completed chart would earn him a shopping spree outta their pocket… Well now they were talking.

He just did it at first for the big prize, but every time he finished a task the MC would be sure to notice how hard he worked and tell him he did a good job or compliment him somehow and… well… he doesn't get that a lot...

After a while he kind of forgot about filling out the chart because he would be excited to run to them and tell them what good thing he did next. Turns out this boy was starving for any kind of approval. 😖

The first time he actually finished his chart they told him how proud they were and he almost cried... Almost. He ain't that soft, okay??

Though he does mess up still, he probably makes the most progress of the House, much to everyone's disbelief. He's also super protective of his stickers and HATES when they're taken away so none of y'all better drag him into your problems, ya hear??

Leviathan 

He feels like this normie is weird even for human standards… Why do they keep offering him stickers…?

Well… They are Ruri-chan themed so he's not complaining that much.

He's not even sure where they got them from… He thought he had a pulse on every bit of merch that comes out for his favorite characters so they must had those custom ordered and that's dedication.

They told him that they'd get him a new game for every finished chart, which was nice but not necessary, he kind of just liked getting more little pictures of Ruri-chan like the collector he is. 😌

After a while, the MC started subtly theming his tasks more toward getting out of his room and being more productive... In baby steps, of course.

He'd be scared, but they were always there to praise him any time he tried. With a little bit of time, he actually started getting more confident! I mean, not a lot but hey. It's improvement.

The human even managed to get Mammon to pay him back a little bit of the money he’s owed! Well, it was literally just one night's paycheck from Hell's Kitchen but it was still more than he's seen in three centuries so he'll take it! He goes to them whenever he needs to butter up Mammon now... They’re an excellent go-between.

Satan

Ah… So the MC is well-versed in psychological manipulation… Well he refuses to fall for it.

They could offer him all the stickers they wanted, he’s going to just fall in line like his brothers! He didn't need any psychological training from them, even as the youngest he’s centuries older than they are!

But wait… are those stickers cat themed…? And is that one in a little cowboy hat??

… Touché human. He'll play nice once or twice but he doesn't need their cute stickers!

A part of him got a lot of joy out of watching Lucifer finally admit that this living nursery rhyme of a being was better at controlling his brothers than he was… Talk about a slice of humble pie, he even got it all on camera… 😏

But his brother wasn't wrong... The House has never been cleaner and everyone's grades were up, even his own. As odd as it was to say, bringing the human to the Devildom seemed to have produced a net positive all around. 🤷‍♀️

And after he discovered that the MC convinced Lucifer to let him volunteer at a human world animal shelter each time he completed a chart… Move over, Beel. He's going to finish the most charts in the House now. Just you wait.

Asmodeus 

Oh honey, he knows a thing or two about punishment and reward systems. It's going to take some pretty nice prizes for him to play this game...

Which is why his stickers get followed up by kisses.

For each new sticker, he gets to pick a spot to kiss them or for them to kiss him (though they don't let him get too pervy with it)

Finish the dishes? Get a kiss on the hand. Two hour of studying? There's one for the cheek. And so on.

The others get jealous of his deal pretty quickly and start asking for kisses too but he'll throw a fit if he ever finds out. The human's kisses are HIS prize so everyone else will just have to live with it! 😠

Asmo, drama-hog that he is, is also the biggest snitch in the House. He loooves telling the MC about when his brothers mess up and should lose stickers, Mammon especially because it make him sooo pissed.

He's also in a betting war with Satan over how many days it’ll take Belphie to actually get up and do his chores for a change... The current wager is two weeks or more.

Beelzebub 

Thought it was a little weird that the human seemed so obsessed with praising him and calling him a good boy but whatever. 

(Little did he know they were subtly using him like a role model of everybody else but that's neither here nor there 🤷‍♀️)

He doesn't mind the sticker thing because he gets them so easily. The theme seems to be: be responsible, helpful, and not a jerk which he passes with flying colors so it’s really not a challenge for him.

It was only after they told him that they'd take him out to Hell's Kitchen with each completed chart that he really got serious about it...

If you think normal Beel is sweet, actually trying to be sweet Beel is practically an angel all over again. He even stopped stealing food from other people's plates when the MC told him he could lose stickers for it… (which means that Levi can start eating breakfast for a change, at least. 🤷‍♀️)

He's long since completed five charts and is well into his sixth. It doesn't matter what it is, if food is on the line then Beel will knock it out of the park every time. If Lucifer wasn't funding their sticker project, then he honestly would have bankrupted the MC a long time ago… 😅… 😟… 😥...

Belphegor 

What the-? Did he leave his brothers for a few months and they all formed a cult or something?? Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with stickers???

He doesn't understand the appeal at all... Do chores around the house and get a prize? What kind of game were they trying to play here?? No thanks. He'll pass.

Belphie proved pretty hard to motivate, even with prizes, so the MC had to try a different tactic…

If there's anything that can motivate Belphie, it's the promise of good sleep and cuddles. But if they made it too difficult to get and he'd just sleep by himself in pouty defiance...

So they told him that he needs to get at least two or three stickers every few days or they'll stop cuddling completely until he does. 

He didn't think they were serious at first… but any time he'd try to get his arms around them, they'd sidestep or slip out of the way like they had a sixth sense or something! What kind of superhuman reflexes do you need to keep up with human anklebiters???

It took a week for him to finally relent and join the freaky sticker cult that makes up the rest of his family... He remains self-aware enough to always point out how fucking bizarre it all is... but hey. He's too lazy to do much about it, so who cares right? 🤷‍♀️

Check out my Masterlist for more!

[dreamkidddream]

“Are we just friends?” For Levi please! If possible 💗

Levi deserves all the love and I will die on that hill 🤧💜 Reader is gender neutral and sorry this got kinda long!

Prompt: “Are we really just friends?” with Leviathan!

He couldn’t take this anymore.

He knows that his sin is envy, but this feeling gnawing in his stomach was making him clench his jaw tighter by the second.

The one time he actually leaves his safe haven of a room to go to RAD, he sees some demon that isn’t him cozying up to you, his Henry, by the lockers. And the demon had the audacity to smile in your face even more when they saw him staring- well really glaring- at them. He’s far enough to where he can’t fully understand what’s being said, but his hearing is good enough to make out a few words. The demon asking something along the lines of why he’s here and who he is to you, and the worst thing that could happen happened.

He heard you respond that he’s just a friend.

It wasn’t a secret that Levi has a crush on you, that he’s in love with you. He hasn’t confessed to you yet but he thought atleast after all the long nights of gaming and marathoning together, that you would atleast notice something! The times where he would lend you his controller and even show you how to play by putting his sweaty palms over yours, the moments spent with you comforting and uplifting him when he goes through his outbursts, even the rare nights where you slept cradled in each other’s arms, with his tail wrapped around you protectively. Did that mean nothing to you?!

He wants to feel betrayed, to feel deceived, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to be fully upset with you, and while he is hurt, he can’t fully blame you for only seeing him as a friend. He’s nothing but a worthless otaku. He’s supposed to be the third strongest out of his brothers, the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, and he’s acting like this? The lower demons don’t even fear him, that was evident with the one standing right in front of him!

Why would someone amazing as you want to date someone as low as him? He’s nothing but a waste of space, and he’s stupid to try and convince himself that he had a real chance to be with you. That you actually love him like he loves you.

He can’t look at this scene anymore, and he took off before he could feel the tears leave his eyes.

He never noticed how you took off after him, quickly ignoring your friend who was looking at you in disbelief.

-

Despite him not doing any kind of physical activity, Levi moves fast. Not to mention how RAD isn’t exactly a small school, so weaving through halls and jogging down so many stairs was starting to get exhausting but you couldn’t stop now. You were able to catch a blur of purple rush into an empty classroom, and you managed to finally reach him before he could lock the door.

You heart shattered.

There he was, huddled against the wall, steady tears rolling down his cheeks that he continuously tries to wipe away. You know how sensitive Levi is, and you know how much he gets inside his own head, so seeing him like this pained you beyond explanation. By the time you slowly slid down next to him, he already tried to shuffle away, but you grabbed his hand before he could get far.

You weren’t expecting him to snatch away.

“It’s not fair! Why is it that I’m not good enough?! That I’m never good enough! The one person that I finally think I have a chance with, that sees me for me, I can’t have”, he turned to you, tears freely falling. “All the time that we-we spent together, you said that you love me, but-but- it’s not in the way that I do.”

Levi took a pause and gazed into your eyes, desperately searching for a way to prove him wrong.

“Are- are we really just friends?”

“Levi...”

You didn’t give him a chance to look away, cupping his face. “Of course we’re not just friends...we’re more than that. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Don’t lie to me! I heard what you told that other demon-”

“That you’re not just a friend?”

Levi stared at you, mouth agape. You’re messing with him, you’re trying to trick him again like when you told him that you loved him!-

“Oh Levi”, you brought your forehead to his, which was making his face turn redder than it already was. “I told my friend that you’re not just a friend, that you’re more than that. Why would I ever say that you’re just a friend? You mean so much more than that to me.”

You delicately rubbed your noses together, “Why would I ever say that about someone that I love?”

When he did his typical “WOAHHH”, you knew that you’re making some progress on this whole situation. He’s still shutting down somewhat though, shaking his head is disbelief. “S-SO! You tell my brothers that you love them all the time, how is telling me t-that any different?!”

“Well, I know how you get whenever it comes to...intimacy, so I’ve just been waiting until you’re ready. I don’t want to overwhelm you Levi, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to rush into things that you aren’t ready for. When you become my boyfriend, I want it to be when you’re ready, and I’ll wait for you however long it takes. That is...if you still want to be with me?”

“R-really? You would wait for me?”, you only saw this look on his face whenever he talked about a new release with Ruri-Chan (honestly just Ruri-Chan in general), so you being the reason that he has this look has you feeling giddy. “Ah! I-I mean...why would want to be with someone like me? You shouldn’t waste your time on a useless otaku like m-”

“Because I love who you are. You’re always so passionate, so caring, not to mention how cute you are. Not bad on the eyes at all~”

Could his face get any redder?

“You’re not useless, Levi, you never were. You play a bigger role in this family than you think, you’re stronger than you think, and I wish that you see that. You have flaws, we all do, but that doesn’t make me want and love you any less.”

You were slowly inching towards him, eyes darting to his lips and back into his gaze.

“Can I prove to you how you’re not just a friend?”

He found himself nodding before he fully processed it.

-

Something was up.

Cyn couldn’t believe that you just ditched them so fast, and for him nonetheless! The fact that you said that that weirdo was more than just a friend, and that he already owned your heart made them want to throw up. Whatever, they still have some time to shake some sense into you, no matter how much you refused to listen and got upset with them.

Seriously, they didn’t understand how the hell you continuously defended the third brother (why couldn’t it be someone like Lucifer or Asmodeus!) and claim that you’re so “in love”. They weren’t as dumb to actually try and confront Levi, no matter how weak or weird he acted, he’s still powerful enough to grind them into dust.

Walking down the steps, Cyn debated on ditching you like you did them, but your human ways rubbed off on them. So standing outside of RAD, they impatiently tapped their foot, and when they heard steps behind them and recognized your sense, they quickly turned around to tear you a new one, when they stopped.

Why are you two holding hands?

And why on Devildom do you two look so happy?!

“Oh Diavolo please no-”

“Hey Cyn! Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait! And I know that this sounds terrible, but we’re just gonna go ahead and head home, unless you wanna walk with us? Although I don’t want to make you third wheel.”

They practically gagged right then and there, but when they saw the death stare you were giving them, they just sighed and gave up. Grinding their teeth together, you heard them grit out something that sounded like “no problem” and went about their merry way.

Well that took care of one problem.

“They aren’t going to be too mad are they?”

“Ah, who cares? They’ll get over it. Now, which anime are we binge watching tonight? I’ll let you pick since-”

“TSL!”

“Sure”, you leaned over to peck his cheek. “H-hey! What was that for?!”

“Sorry was it too much-”

“N-NO! I-I mean- GAH you’re such a normie MC!”

But you saw that he didn’t pull away from you, in fact he leaned closer to you, despite what he’s saying.

It would take some time for him to get adjusted to this, but that’s okay.

You have all the time in the world if it’s for him.

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing 

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of this series! i’m very excited to start this, and i hope everyone who reads it enjoys it as well! i got the idea from a manga i was binge reading a while back, so the themes and a few of the plot points are different, but as it progresses, i’ve made it my own. 

anyway, happy christmas! see you next week! 

master list

life as she’s known it >> 

You notice the subtle clench of Kenma's jaw beneath the warm glow of the hallway's light. His hooded gaze strained by hours upon hours of gaming meets your wavering grin. The gears in his head are turning very slowly, and since silence has fallen upon the atmosphere of your shared apartment, you can actually hear the little squeaks as your poor boyfriend tries to fathom the sight before him.

You have quite a knack for bringing peculiar things home without permission; the little frog you adopted on the side of the road during your commute home one stormy night, the mud pie your nephew made for you that stunk the entire apartment for weeks because you didn't have the heart to throw it away—at least not immediately; and the dinner you brought home from the self-proclaimed "legitimate" kebab restaurant that resides in the sketchier side of the city.

All quirky things that Kenma had accepted and grown used to.

But this? This was so far from the bar you had set for his expectations, he can't help but wonder if you're pulling a prank, or maybe even actually committing a crime. But the glint of guilt and sorrow painting so deep into your face tells him otherwise.

Oh, how the poor gamer wishes it was a prank.

You swallow your fear, forcing it all the way down to the pit of your stomach. You've practiced all you've needed to say in the ride home, but all you can manage is stuttering, "I-I can..I can explain," in rather hushed tone.

There goes all my practice, you think to yourself.

Kenma raises a brow, still peering at you with the driest expression. The child in your arms begins to weigh heavier than the pressure placed upon your chest.

Ah, he just might break up with me after this...

"This is—uh, this one behind me is Eiji—Ejij say hi." The young boy behind you bows shyly, his greeting softer than a whisper it feels like you imagined it. "And this little one—sleeping soundly—this one's Yuki..."

Kenma blinks away at your words, face unamused. You regret not even trying to bring home some cake. Maybe if you did, he wouldn't be so...upset? Is he upset or is it just his face again? You can never really tell.

You huff, quietly jumping to the harsh conclusion this'll be the moment he ends things with you. But you won't go down without at least a little fight.

"Look," You sigh, shifting your hold beneath Yuki's tiny bum so he doesn't slip away, "They needed a place to stay, and no one was willing to take them!" Your lips fall dry and the more you speak, the more your words come out strained. "In a room full of people who—who called themselves your family for so many years fall silent the moment they needed help! No one spoke up to help them! It was so bad, Kenma! I-If you were there you—"

You bite your tongue, catching yourself before you're swept away by the current of your rage.

A deep, shaky sigh escapes him. His eyes finally tearing away from you as he cranes his head back, seemingly accepting his temporary defeat. "Let them sleep in the spare room and we'll talk after," is the only thing Kenma says to you before turning around walking away.

The constricting feeling in your chest eases and you sigh in relief. You mentally high five yourself for your momentary win before twisting your gaze over your shoulder to look at the young boy towering over you, motioning him to follow you.

You never noticed how wide the apartment actually is. Maybe its because of the emptying feeling you were left with back in the hallway, but it all seems so eerily wide. Like, what are two people doing with such a big space?

He'll definitely break up with me after this.

There's still a lingering prickly feeling in your heart; a mixed emotion of a win and a loss. You try your best to prepare yourself for whatever the outcome may be, but deep inside you're already prepared for a break up.

The young boy trails behind you all the way into the bedroom, leaving a considerable amount of space between the two of you.

You switch the lights on, revealing a room big enough for more than just two kids. A desk on the side, a king size bed at the center, and a window with a good view of the city. It was usually the room Hinata crashed whenever he came back from traveling with his team, but he hadn't been here in months. Traces of him were left in the form of dust.

"Will this be good enough for now?" You ask Eiji as you shrug Yuki's backpack to the floor before making your way over to the bed.

His head is lowered, eyes still failing to meet yours. He's been like this since you pulled them from under the gossiping gaze of your family.

Family, you think. The word seems so meaningless now.

"When someone speaks to you, you ought to look at them," You say it with a genuine smile, hoping that the little warmth you have left in your heart radiates off you and onto him.

God knows he needs it more than you.

"Y-yes, you're right. Thank you." He stammers, "I'm-I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude—"

"Hey," You say, gently cutting him off as you hold your smile. He's still as soft and shy as the day you first met him. You can't help but smile at the thought that he never changed. "I'm not mad or anything...Its just a teaching moment. Remember it."

You watch as Eiji slowly shifts his gaze away from the floor, slowly raising his head to meet your eyes."There you go. You've got pretty eyes, you shouldn't hide them."

He hums a quiet thank you before turning around and shifting his attention to his backpack. You take care of the little one still hanging onto you, pressing a kiss onto his little forehead and rubbing his back before settling him down onto the bed.

You're careful not to stir him as you slip his shoes off. You tuck him in, brushing his hair away from his face to reveal his long lashes and puffy eyes.

Ah, there goes the heaviness in your chest again; a recurring feeling for the day. You wonder when it'll end and your heart sinks even deeper when you remember Kenma waiting for you.

Hesitantly, you excuse yourself and make your way to the door. You let Eiji know where the bathroom is and tell him not to be scared to ask you for anything, "Please don't scared," is the last thing you mutter before leaving the boys to rest.

You tiptoe across the living room, down the hall and towards your shared bedroom. The wooden floorboards creak beneath your feet whispering, "You've done it now", "You've crossed the line", and "He's definitely going to yell at you".

You clench the knob of your bedroom door. The thumping of your heart deafens your ears and your throat grows too dry for you to swallow your fear.

You shut your eyes and pray to the deities, hoping for a good outcome—hoping for any outcome than the one you're expecting.

It takes a moment—five minutes to be exact—but you muster a sliver of courage to push the door open. For some odd reason, you imagined Kenma would be sitting at the edge of the bed, silently brewing in his anger. But instead, he's on the floor, knees up to his chest as he fiddles with his Switch.

And you can't tell if you're annoyed or relieved.

You shut the door behind you before joining him on the floor. You keep your head down, picking off your nail polish while you wait.

Kenma pauses his game, setting it down to the side before completely leaning against the bed, lulling his head back to take a breath. You shut your eyes and you take a deep breath when you feel him shifting in his place to face you.

Here it is. He's going to yell at me, you think.

"What are you plotting?" He asks, not a single trace of irritation found in his voice but rather sheer curiosity dripping from his words. You keep your head down and eyes shut. "You ought to look at someone when they're speaking to you," Your name rolls off his tongue playfully, covered in nothing more than love and sincerity.

You peak an eye at him, lifting your head. "You're not gonna to yell at me?"

"When have I ever yelled at you?" His face contorts in judgement and a little concern, wondering if his girlfriend's broken or just completely stupid. "Why would I yell at you now?"

"I brought home two stray kids..."

"Yes, you did," He says matter-of-factly, "and we need to talk about that. So, can we please talk about that?"

You nod slowly, bringing your knees up to your chest before turning your whole body to face him.

Kenma sinks his elbow onto the end of the bed, cupping his chin for support before he speaks, “Who are those kids and why did you bring them home?"

Kenma looks at you directly, his face emotionless, but a bit softer compared to when you were first standing in the hallway. He blinks at you, waiting patiently till you're ready to speak.

"They were my cousin's kids," You say in a strained whisper. "The—The one that died in the accident." Kenma hums in response, signaling you to keep going. "We weren't close—as you know or else you would've heard a lot more about him—but we felt close enough...given what our family's like..."

Growing up with the kind of family you had and having met everyone from your extended family was kind of like living in a block of ice that never melted; solid in their beliefs, slippery with their anger, and had no room for any other emotion.

You made this very clear to Kenma when you first started dating, especially when he had asked to meet your family. He wasn't one to socialize or even initiate it, but he would do it if it meant doing it for you. But you turned the idea down fast, warned him that there'd be no reason to have to go through all that stress just for you; and though he was just as stubborn as you, Kenma gave in and never brought it up again when he saw how upset you had gotten.

But in chest full of ice cubes, there was your cousin, Akihiro-san. Like you, he was different. He wasn't cold, but he was so genuine and real, you couldn't help but doubt his kindness.

A kindness you failed return when he needed it most. So, when you saw your moment of opportunity, you snatched it, regrettably leaving your boyfriend as an afterthought to your decision.

"I owe it to him, Kenma..." You plead in whisper. "I owe to him because he was the only one who was ever nice to me..."

"These are kids," He counters, dipping his head to meet your glossy eyes. He takes your cheek into the palm of his hand, his thumb tracing circles over your skin. "This would be different if it were a puppy or a plant—but these are living and breathing kids and we know nothing about raising kids. My love, we're only in our twenties..."

"But—"

"You should've called first." He cuts you off, his tone still soft , but firm. You’re at least grateful he’s called you your pet name. "You should've called me and asked."

"You would've said no..."

"How do you know? You never called me." There isn't resentment in Kenma's words. Its still  playful and light, but you can feel his hurt and you feel dumb because you know exactly why. "I would've liked to have been included in this decision...especially since this is my home and you are my girlfriend, and you promised that we would make decisions together."

You frown, tears brimming to the surface as you realized what you've done and how you've probably made him feel.You denied him of his choice, and you were silly to believe that it was okay to go over his head and behind his back.

As you whisper a string of apologies, Kenma presses his forehead onto yours, smiling at you. He was angry at first, but not so much anymore.

"Are you going to break up with me?" You sniffle, voice breaking at the thought. "I'd understand if you wanted to break up with me...But I just—I really wanted to help them. I'm so sorry I didn't ask you first, I couldn't just leave them—"

"Shhh," His breath fans against your skin, "I'm not breaking up with you, stupid. Given, this is probably the biggest wild card you've thrown at me by far, but its not enough for me to break up with you."

You hide your face into dip of his neck, sobbing into the material of his sweater, letting go of the strength you had from holding back and stain it with your tears. You had always been reckless, but it never turned him off. He never raised his voice, he always heard you out, and even when you slipped up, he always forgave you in a heartbeat.

It makes you question if you’re deserving of such a love as this. 

“I was very angry and very offended,” Kenma begins, “I didn’t like what you did. It made me feel like you couldn’t trust me, and it made me feel like you saw me as some kind of terrible person that would turn away kids that need a home...”

You shake your heard, muttering a “no” to his assumption. 

Kenma runs his fingers through your hair and down to your back, soothing you until you've caught your breaths. He'll soft press his lips against the crown of your head, discreetly swiping the little sweat off his lips to keep you from being offended.

"S-So, what do we do about the kids?" Your question muffled but Kenma can hear you just fine.

He sighs, and as he's about to pull you away from his chest, you tighten your hold around his waist. "Please look at me," Your shoulders fall and you pout when you come face to face with him. He chuckles at how ridiculously childish you look, "Do you really want to do this?"

Your eyes widen, "Y-yes. I want to do this, but if you don't want—"

"Better us than anyone else, right?" You blink at him, processing. "I don't know shit about kids, but if you really want to do this, I'll support you. But you can't expect me to be good at this."

Kenma falls onto your shoulder and rests all his weight onto you, letting out a sigh. Panic envelopes his heart, his stomach flipping and churning as he stresses over all the things that's yet to come.

“We’ve been dating for four years, and I’ve just only gotten the hang of you now...” He admits in a heavy sigh.

I'm still a kid, he thinks, groaning. He's plays games all day, forgets to shower, and doesn't know how to cook either. He works from home, rarely goes out unless he needs to or if you want to. Out of the both of you, you're--surprisingly-- more put together than he is.

Can he really do this?

"Please don't expect much from me," He begs, "I don't do well with kids, and you even took in a grown one. What if it doesn't like me or if it forget to feed it?"

You chew on your lip, holding back a laugh and quietly smile to yourself. Vulnerability paints well on your boyfriend, and you wish for even more moments like this.

“I promise it’ll only be until we kind find some other arrangement for them...Something better." You’re not entirely confident in your words, but you understand the idea of having them stay with you isn’t the most sound solution. 

"I suppose if we mess up, we'll mess it up together." He says in defeat, sprawling his legs open before wrapping it around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. He cradles your body tightly just as Yuki had done. "You don't understand how unbelievably lucky you are that I love you."

[alexaplaysgames]

Have Mercy on Me

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC

Fandom: Fictif (Last Legacy)

Rating: M (swearing, mild sexual content)

Words: ~ 1500

Description: Felix and his barista are a bit less than careful when it comes to concealing their midnight make out sess.

Notes: So Sage suspects that Felix and MC are a thing, but he doesn’t know that they are. Or he didn’t prior to this fic. The last of my Felix writing spree! I’m moving on to some Asra next.

Tags: @margitartist @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay

When I imagined travelling with the legendary Starsworn, sitting in the parlour of a run-down inn and getting wasted wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

Sage grabs a bottle from the table at his feet and takes a hearty swig.

“Even this is failing to entertain me now,” he says, cracking his back as he stands, “I’m going to go pass out.”

“Will you kill me if I call it a cat nap?” I singsong.

Safe glares at me in reply, ears pinned flat against his head. “Do you want to find out?”

I opt to stay quiet as he turns towards the stairs that lead to our rented rooms.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night as well,” Anisa hums, her green eyes glittering in the firelight. “Goodnight, you two!”

Felix and I sit silently as the sound of creaking wood accompanying footsteps retreats up the stairs.

As soon as the parlour is silent, he turns to me, smirking.

“Ah, to be free of Sage’s incessant pestering.”

I too am rather glad to be alone with him. With all that’s gone on lately, I’ve barely had Felix to myself at all these last few days.

The cracking of the fire is soothing, the silence between us strangely comfortable. It’s rather odd, considering Felix isn’t one for quiet contemplation, and it’s very rare that any situation he’s involved in remains free of awkwardness.

I’m distracted from my thoughts as Felix glances down at our hands, still close together being that we have yet to seperate from our previously crowded position on the sofa.

Once again, I feel myself wishing that he would just ask for things when he wanted them, like he so obviously wants to hold my hand now. Am I doing something wrong? Is this some consequence of his relationship with Rime? I know almost nothing about that, I don’t really want to, but if that deer-man did anything to hurt Felix, I guarantee I’ll snap his antlers like Pixy Stix.

Then again, perhaps some of the hurting was consensual. He did have some choice comments about their sexual relationship that I’ve really been trying to forget. Yikes. I can’t imagine the Felix I know in a relationship anything like that.

He’s too precious... too soft. I feel like getting rough with him would break him, shattering his beauty to shards, like stained glass.

But I wouldn’t mind if he were a bit more forward with me.

“Do you want to hold my hand, Felix?”

He starts, then blushes as he meets my gaze. Felix nods, his expression turning resolute as he slowly reaches for my hand, then intertwines my fingers with his.

I reach to delicately tilt his chin up with the index finger of my free hand.

“I do like you, you know,” I tease, but the words still carry meaning. “You don’t have to be so hesitant.”

“O-okay. I know that, I do. It’s just... difficult,” he scoffs, a frustrated sound deep in his throat. His voice goes soft as he continues, “I haven’t- I haven’t done this since...”

“I know.” He doesn’t need to say Rime’s name for me to know who this is about.

I smile, sultry turning soft, then focus my attention back on the fireplace as Felix lays his head on my shoulder with a soft sigh. Progress. His hair tickles my chin, but I don’t really mind. He smells... nice. Like... well, he actually kind of smells like sage. Sage the plant, not the person. Felix would certainly take offence to the latter. I snicker under my breath just thinking of his reaction if I told him so.

I suddenly shiver as Felix turns his face into my neck, trying to stay still. He’s not a huge fan of casual physical contact, and I don’t want to scare him away. He’s kinda like a pet, a cat, in that any time he gets close I stay shock still in hopes that he won’t run off. He’s like a cat in many ways, actually. Grumpy, recluse, adorable. Another description he would despise, knowing his hatred for Stella. I purse my lips to keep from giggling. Man, if only everyone knew how hilarious I really am.

“You realize,” Felix hums, the vibrations creating goosebumps across my skin. “We are completely alone.”

My amusement fades in an instant, my features stretching into a seductive grin.

“Oh? And what, Felix, oh dignified and talented mage, are you suggesting?”

I can almost feel his face heat from where it’s pressed against the soft skin of my neck.

He sighs, then mumbles, “I beg you not to tease me so. We can’t all be as lascivious as Sage, my dear.”

“Felix,” I tease, despite his request, “are you asking for a kiss?”

He pulls away, face flushed red, biting his lip as he refuses to meet my gaze.

“No.” The answer is obviously yes, and although his pout is adorable, he sounds like a stubborn, petulant child.

I place my hands on both of his cheeks, forcing him to meet my gaze.

“Good. Because you don’t need to ask. If you want to kiss me Felix, go ahead.”

It’s a bold challenge. Never does Felix initiate such things, but I want him to. I want him to want to.

He blinks. Then, slowly, tentatively, he shifts closer to me, the sofa creaks beneath him, and I feel the cushions sink as he leans towards me. His breath fans across my face as he gets impossible closer, his eyelashes fluttering against my cheeks.

It’s in moments like these that it truly hits me: how incredibly intoxicating Felix is. I don’t think I could refuse him if I wanted to; my heart yearns to be swept up in the vortex of his stormy eyes, to drown in a sea as black as his fingernails or as red as his bitten lips.

I can just barely feel the brush of his lips against mine, leaving my breath stuttering in my throat. It’s nice- the closeness, the stillness. Intimate even, with our foreheads pressed together and our mouths just barely touching. I could stay like this with him forever.

Then our lips slide together in a familiar, passionate dance, slow and sensual and utterly delicious. I instinctively move my hands to tangle in his hair, pulling just the way I know he likes, while Felix surprises me by moving one hand to cup my face, the other to skim my thigh, and kissing me back hard, hard enough to make me feel like the breath that fills his lungs, and I struggle to refrain from smiling against the softness of his lips.

I pull away, trying not to notice his bereft, breathy little exhale, just long enough to quirk a brow before I place my hands on his chest and push him back into the sofa, chuckling at the noise of shock that he makes.

And while I love to have him near me, holding me, this is where I like Felix best. Pinned under me as I straddle his waist, wide, silvery eyes reflecting the dying firelight.

I lean over him, tantalizing, teasing, trace a path with my tongue from his collarbone to the shell of his ear, then finish by biting down on his earlobe, rolling the stud he wears in his ear with the tip of my tongue.

Felix gasps, hips involuntarily pressing upwards and against mine, a breathy whine building in his throat. I catch his wrists and pin them above his head, leaning back to admire the mess I’ve made of him.

“So pretty,” I murmur, twirling a strand of his hair with my free hand.

“You are quite,” his voice shakes with his ragged exhale, “resplendent yourself.”

I snort, hum, then lean forward to capture his mouth in a sinful, open-mouth kiss, grinding against him once more in a way that has us both panting into each other’s mouths. I’m not sure how long we stay tangled up like that, rocking together, never parting for longer than it takes to catch a breath.

His skin is surprisingly warm to the touch when my fingers flit under the fabric of his shirt, dipping over the soft give of his stomach, a gentle, exploratory touch I can feel mirrored by Felix’s hands on the bare skin of my arms.

I’m just about to suggest we take this somewhere more private when I’m interrupted by a choking noise. A sound not unlike that of a cat, yakking on a hairball.

Felix and I hastily spring apart, and my gaze is immediately drawn to a tall, white-haired figure standing at the base of the stairs.

“Holy fuck.” Sage whispers, his expression a mix of amusement, awe, and confusion. His eyes dart between the look of sheer mortification that paints my features and Felix’s disheveled appearance and half-open shirt.

Shit.

Felix flops back down, burying his burning red face in a pillow.

“Not now, Sage.”

Sage only smirks. “Interrupted something, did I? By all means, don’t stop on my accord. I’m all for watching, or joining. If you’re into that sorta thing.”

I can only manage to stare, slack-jawed. Is he really suggesting...?

“So,” Sage clears his throat, causing Felix to groan at the realization that he has not yet left. “You two really are-“

I nod.

“No,” he grimaces.

“Yes,” I deadpan.

“No,” he repeats, louder, frantic. “I cannot live in a world in which Felix has game. First Rime, now you? Are you sure you’re the one who got teleported to another dimension?”

“That’s not exactly what-“ Felix finally huffs as he raises his head, glaring.

“Whatever, man. This is some fucked up shit. Majorly fucked up, that’s what I say.” Sage crosses the room, retrieving a dagger from the nearby armchair and twirling it dangerously in his leather-clad grip (I assume this is the reason he came back into the parlour at all).

He makes to move up the stairs, but pauses, throwing me a grin over his shoulder, accompanied by a waggle of his eyebrows.

“But if you ever wanna get a taste of the wild side...”

“Sage!” Felix exclaims, eyes flashing a dangerous green, but the former only snickers.

“Goodnight, horny children. Try to keep the noise level to a minimum, if ya know what I mean.”

I have to slap my hand over Felix’s mouth to stifle his angry retort.

This is going to be a long few days.

[malereader-inserts]

You Coward!

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader Summary: You show your love to Peter in a weird way. Word Count:  1,133 Request:  hey! i was wondering if i could request a peter parker x reader fic where the reader and peter are dating, but nobody knows everyone thinks they actually hate each other because they have that kind of relationship where they constantly insult each other to show affection. thanks a ton!

“The real treasure was the memories we made along the way!” The team hears the two youngest avengers enter the base, coming back from a shield mission.

They were always apprehensive in sending you and Peter on missions because you guys are young - you should live your life out. They’re even more apprehensive when they send the two of you together on a mission, knowing that you two somehow don’t have a pleasant relationship.

“I almost died!” Peter exclaimed as both Tony and Steve raised an eyebrow at Peter’s exasperation.

You chortle laughter, throwing your head back, “Ah yes, that was my fondest memory.“

“You’re a prick,” Peter snapped.

See, what they hear is you and Peter once again arguing, throwing each other under the bus and insulting each other. What they don’t see is the fond smile the two of your share, the love and admiration in your eyes as you lovingly had your arm over your boyfriend’s shoulder. That’s right, boyfriend. You really don’t know what it was about Peter or how you got together, but the two of you had mutual respect for each other. 

Again, it was weird how you two came to be. You were a cynic, pessimistic and probably realistic at best - you don’t have high expectation to be disappointed that easily. Peter was full of life, he saw the glass half full and always optimistic, sometimes it’s sickening. Your mutual friends like to tease you two when you’re together at school, you somehow are a further progressed relationship of Enjorlas and Grantaire from Les Miserables. 

When Tony and Steve enter the front room to see you and Peter, they witness you pushing Peter - though seconds before, you had tenderly ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. 

“Do we want to know what happened on the mission,” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Tony sighed as he pats Peter on the shoulder, gripping him and pulling towards himself, “Steve, keep your boy on his leash - will ya?”

Steve standing by you like a protective dad, “Back right at you, Stark.”

You raised both your eyebrows at your boyfriend to signal him good luck as he rolls his eyes. Tony leading Peter away before something bad between the two of you happens. You sighed, stretching your back as you looked at Steve, who raised an eyebrow at you.

“What?” You asked, almost offended.

“You need to be nicer to Peter.”

“I am nice to Parker!”

“Perhaps, start of by calling him by his first name?”

“I am nice to Parker!”

“(L/n) gave me a 'get better soon' card,” Peter spoke as he was looking at his homework.

Tony and Bruce looked up from their work as Tony spoke,  “Aw, that's so sweet!”

Peter scoffed, “I wasn't sick. He just thought I could do better.” 

There is a lot of hints that you two had despised each other, but those things were just things you did to each other to keep your relationship fun and fresh. It just so happen the team missing out on the cute stuff and overhearing or walking into the ruthless antics the two of you display.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, holding a can of soda in hand.

You were lying on the ground, “My best.”

Peter scoffed, stepping over you as Clint and Natasha watch in disbelief as Peter calls out a dig at you whilst you put the middle finger behind his back before getting into a comfortable position on the ground. 

It always seemed to be Steve and Tony that your antics get caught out by. It’s always funny to see their reaction which egged you and Peter to continue to be horrible to each other, of course within the respected limit. 

“Aren’t you sugar and spice and everything nice?” You leaned against the breakfast island with Steve looking whilst Peter was on his laptop with Tony looking over his shoulder.

“Well, aren’t you rudeness, and sarcasm and everything...” You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who flushed red.

You smirked, looking very smug, “No, go on. You find something that rhymes with sarcasm and makes sense and I’ll stop acting like an asshole.”

“Shut up-”

“No.”

It got to the point that the team was very concerned and had planned to sit the two of you down of intervention. But, they never seem to get a good time to sit you down, everyone was busy and despite their concerns, they actually enjoy the words that were being thrown about between the two young lads of the team. 

“I am here to grace you with my presence,” You announced as you enter Peter’s room.

Natasha and Clint hearing Peter groan, “Oh Lord, what have I done to deserve this?”

Ten minutes later the two hear you laughing as you exit Peter’s room, “Get a hobby!” Peter shouted.

“My hobby is making fun of you when you talk!”

The insults don’t stop there, it happens everywhere and anywhere, even at dinner with the team as you sat across each other, playing footsies under the table.

“I’m a highly educated person, for your information,” You were offended.

Bruce was about to intervene from Peter saying something hurtful but he was too slow as Peter replied, “Doubtful,” As you gasped, you saw the twinkle in his eyes that everyone seemed to miss, “ Sometimes, I wonder if you were dropped when you were a baby.”

“Fuck you, Parker.”

“Boys-!” Steve interjected as the two of you fall silent.

Your insult battle had even appeared in a battle with the bad guy, somehow you and Peter wormed in a conversation in the middle of fighting the bad guy. You’d think the team would actually appreciate the banter if they actually knew that you and Peter were dating and meant to no harm to each other

“You're annoying,” You hissed as Peter smirks at you.

At that point, the team was about to raid the living room to start a meeting with the pair of you that you should be nicer to each other. However, they were stopped short with Peter’s reply.

“But, you love me.”

You scoffed, “Doesn't make you less annoying.”

Standing in the open archway, the team looks on at the two boys who had no idea the team was behind them. Peter tackles you into a loving hug and mounted you, as he put little kisses on your face as you struggle to get out of his grip. 

“Peter!” You moaned, pouting, “This isn’t fair!”

“Don’t care,” He snaps back and goes back in kissing all areas of your face, “Let me love you, you coward!”

The team leaves the two boys in the living room, thinking they didn’t need to worry about you two at all.

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Missing You

Pairing: Idol! Yoongi x Idol! reader (minor appearance via phone call by Jimin)

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), creampie

Rating: 18 and over

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi​ @heyimtavia​

“Are you excited that this is the last show of your tour?” Yoongi asks you over FaceTime. “I am but I think I am going to miss it so much.” “Yeah. I get this way also after our Tours end, but I miss you and I am excited that you’ll be coming home.” “Y/N, five minutes till you take the stage?” “Ok! Yoongi, I have to go, Talk soon.” You say hanging up.  

The final show goes off without a hitch and you even give an encore of three additional songs. When the lights go out and you head backstage your phone goes off. Yoongi is Facetiming you again and you can't help but giggle at his genius, knowing exactly what time your show would end. “Y/N, the car is waiting.” “Thank you!” You run, cancelling the FaceTime to catch the car. You are happy to be back at the hotel and freshly showered. It is your last night in Japan and you’ll be flying back to Korea in the morning. You look out the window at the city that has been so good to you. Whispering a sweet thank you to the city you love. You hop into the plush bed and cuddle your pillow tight, thinking of how you can't wait to see Yoongi tomorrow. Your eyes begin to get heavy, the subtle sounds of your phone's vibrations lulling you to sleep.

The following morning is chaos, you and your team had a late start and are running to the airport to catch your flight. Luckily, the gate attendant is kind enough to stall the plane to allow you and your team time to board. By the time you arrive in Korea, you are more than exhausted, sighing deeply when you plop your travel bag down onto the ground. Your first instinct is to become reacquainted with your bed but instead you head for the shower. You allow the warm water to soothe your tired muscles, humming your latest song to yourself, the one you wrote for Yoongi. Suddenly, your eyes pop open. “Yoongi!” You shout, jumping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around yourself.  

You head into your bedroom and grab your phone, hitting his number on the FaceTime. You pace back and forth, your heart thumping in your chest. He doesn’t pick up. You try again, and again, still nothing. You decide to call now, whining when it goes to voicemail. “Hi my love. I'm home. I'm sorry I didn’t call you sooner. You must be busy. Call when you can. I love you.” You hang up and toss your phone onto your bed, dressing in an oversized T-shirt Yoongi had left behind. The night progresses and still no word from Yoongi. You begin to worry about him and decide to call another member. “Hello.” “Jimin! Hi! It’s Y/N. How are you?” “Ah wow! How are you? I'm good. It's nice to hear from you. How was the tour? Yoongi- hyung says you’ve been having the time of your life in Japan. Is everything ok?” “Yes of course. The tour was wonderful. I’m happy to be home. Uh, I know this is strange but is Yoongi around?” There is a silence on the phone that makes your stomach turn a bit. “Jimin?” “Uh yeah, sorry. No, he isn't. He left hours ago to go to the studio, and he hasn’t been back. I’m sorry. I can tell him to call you when he gets back.” “No, that’s ok. I’ve left him a message. I was sure he was busy, but I am just so excited to see him, I wanted to make sure he was ok.” “Yes, of course. Not a problem. Are you sure you don’t want me to tell him you called?” “Yes, I'm sure. Thank you. It was good to hear your voice. I am happy you are well. We will talk soon.” “Ok. Have a goodnight.” “You too.” You hang up and have a terrible lump in your throat. Was Yoongi avoiding you? He always responded even when he was in the studio. Was Jimin hiding something? You shook your head of these thoughts, opting to go to sleep. It would be better to tackle these things in the morning with a fresh take on things.  

You roll over in your bed, the sun peeking through the curtains and shining on your face has you grumbling in annoyance. You lift your head from the pillow, the scent of coffee in the air. You sit up quickly looking around for your phone, its 8am, no missed calls. You unlock your phone and dial Yoongi, jumping out of bed when you hear his ringtone come from just outside your bedroom. “Yoongi?” You call, walking towards the sound of the ringing. You emerge from your bedroom to find a fresh faced Yoongi moving about in your kitchen. He stops when he sees you smiling softly. “Good morning jagi. I was hoping to have breakfast made before you woke up.” You feel the butterflies' flurry in your tummy, and you run over to him, throwing your body into his. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck you squeeze him close to you. “I missed you so much. I thought, you don’t even want to know what I thought.” You whisper into his neck. He breathes you in for a moment and then pulls away to look you over. “I do actually because I want to tell you what I thought.”  

He moves back toward the stove, setting up the pan just right before moving to the coffee machine, pouring two cups of coffee over ice. He hands you a glass and nods to move to the living area, taking a seat beside you on the couch. For some reason, you have a bought of anxiety at what he wants to say. “I thought,” he begins, sipping his coffee, “That you had forgotten about me. In all the time we’ve been together, all the tours, the distance, you’ve never once not called me. When you went on this recent tour of Japan and you kept telling me how much you loved it and how you could see yourself living there forever, I was nervous that I was losing you. You could imagine the other members trying to console me.” He chuckles, shifting awkwardly in his seat. You move to speak but he shakes his head. “When you didn’t call me these last couple of days, I thought the worse. Like, oh no, she’s trying to figure out a way to tell me it’s over. That she’s moving to Japan or something terrible. It’s why I didn’t pick up your calls. Jimin was the one who convinced me to come see you today.” He smiles. “Jimin?” You whisper. “He told me you called him and told him how much you missed me. That you were worried about me. I felt foolish having thought the worse. I guess I let my mind run wild. I just missed you so much. Why didn't you call me jagi?”  

He looks at you with tears stinging his eyes. You gasp, your heart dropping to your stomach at the thought that he could ever think you would leave him without a word. “Yoongi, I’m so sorry,” You move towards him, straddling him and wrapping the entirety of your body around his, “I never meant to make you feel that way. I would never ever leave you in such a cold way. I love you so much! How could you ever think that I would even want to break up or move away?” You squeeze him tightly as he nestles into your chest. “I don’t know jagi. I guess I let my mind get the best of me.” He whispers into you. You dig your hands into his plush locks, lifting his head so you are both face to face. “I have no intentions of moving away, just as I have no intentions of leaving you. I loved Japan, it was beautiful, and everyone was so good to me, but I love you and what we have here more.” He nods, never breaking eye contact with you. “I’m sorry I doubted you jagi.” “It’s ok, I'm just happy that we talked it out and you didn’t avoid me forever.” “I could never avoid you forever.” He smirks, running his hand up your thigh, under your oversized shirt, gripping your bare ass. His brows raise and you can't help but giggle. “No underwear?” He scoffs. “I was so exhausted last night after my shower, there was no time for underwear.” You pout, rocking into his stirring length. “Well, I’m grateful.” He groans, gripping your bottom with both of his large hands.  

He takes your mouth with his, pouring all his passion into this one kiss, whispering how much he missed you between each entanglement. You bite and suck at his pout, swirling your tongue with his, panting desperately as you tear his shirt from his body. He wraps his arm around your waist to lift you, but you grip the couch behind him in protest. “No, let me show you how much I missed you.” You lift your shirt over your head and toss it to the side, lifting a bit to push Yoongi’s sweats from his hip, his cock springing free. You grip his length, stroking him a bit, a hiss escaping his lips. “Jagi, please, don’t tease.” You smirk, lifting again to line him up with your entrance. You lower yourself on his rigid member, loud moans echoing through your living space by the both of you. “God, I’ve missed you. Missed how you feel wrapped around me.” He groans when you begin to thrust along his thick member. “I’ve missed how you feel inside me. How well you fill me. I never want to stop.” You grunt, dropping down as low as you can, until Yoongi’s member fills you to the hilt.  

He growls unabashedly, latching his hot mouth onto your neck to leave his mark on your flesh. You cry out, raising yourself up and down along his cock quickly now, his tip massaging the soft bundle of nerves deep inside your warmth. You wrap your arms around his neck, digging your knees into his hip for leverage as your pace hastens. “Yoongi!” You cry out, not sure how much longer you can hold on. Yoongi hums in approval, having made his way along your collar bone, leave mark after mark along your skin. He moves lower, latching onto the tender flesh of your breast, and begins to suckle. You all the while bucking into him wildly. He soon releases your mound, resting his forehead against your chest and wrapping both arms around your hips to assist your desperate pace. You feel your core heat, drenching Yoongi’s cock with your arousal. Your pants and grunts that filled the quiet space are now accompanied by the lurid sounds of your connection.  

Your bodies are slick with sweat and you have to reach behind Yoongi to grab the couch to keep from losing your grip. Your coil is wound so tight and your pace falters as your climax builds. “Oh Yoongi, I'm so close!” You mewl, rocking faster and faster along Yoongi’s hot manhood. “It’s ok jagi, just let go for me. Cum on my cock.” He grunts, thrusting upward into your cunt relentlessly until your head falls back, your orgasm exploding through you. You release an animal like cry, not slowing your thrusts as you ride out your high. Your walls contracting hard around Yoongi who is freely moaning and mewling now, his own climax rising. “Jagi, I’m going to cum.” “Yes, fill me up Yoongi. Please.” His eyes screw shut, and he cries out, exploding into your core. He falters for a moment and then continues to thrust into you, his seed soon spilling out at the seams. He leans back, taking you with him, your bodies still wrapped in one another. “I love you jagi. I love you so much.” He kisses you hard, pushing your matted hair from your face. “I love you too so much. Forever.” You kiss him again. “Forever.” He whispers. You smile, kissing his plump cheek.  

[seventeenytiny]

Seventeen reaction to dry humping! Add in a little drabble along with it, if you don't mind! 😍

Ah dry humping, gives me flashbacks to my junior prom night oops. Anyways, thanks for the request, I hope you don't mind how I wrote ths, I guess its not technically a reaction but to be honest all of them would probably have the same reaction. Also sorry it took so long for me to post this, writing it took a bit of brain power lol. One last thing, requests are still open!!

Dry Humping

Scoups - Maybe this is a little different from dry humping but imagine thigh riding Scoups. Its just you two, the room dimly lit with natural light as the sun sets. You're both stripped down to only your underwear. He has your hands tied behind your back as revenge for something you did earlier. You become desperate to feel any pleasure and straddle his leg. You begin to grind back and forth on his leg, finally feeling something to satisfy you. Seungcheol just looks at you with a smirk, he loves seeing you so desperate for him. He reaches around behind you and grabs your ass to help give you stability as you grind harder into his leg.

Jeonghan - You're in the kitchen doing dishes when he comes up behind you and gives you a back hug. You can feel his hard cock press against your ass, you knew exactly what he wanted. You push back into him, a soft moan leaves his lips. You can tell he's been waiting for something like this for a long time. He picks you up and sets you on the counter, you two makeout heavily as he grinds into you. You knew dishes were going to have to wait.

Joshua - The two of you decide to go for a little midnight swim at the beach. It didn't take long before you started making out in the water. He looked so damn good in his bathing suit, his muscles clearly defined by the moonlight. You feel him growing harder, you jump up to stradle him and slowly grind against him. He grabs your ass to help support you while pushing his crotch onto yours. The two of you make out more before he whispers into your ear that he can't wait much longer and needs to get you home now.

Jun - It starts as you two practicing a sexy dance in the practice room. You accidentally grind into him harder than you meant but you hear a little moan leave his mouth. You two lock eyes in the mirror as his expression darkens. You continue the dance, taking every opportunity to lightly grind into him. Suddenly, he grabs your hips and pushes you into him, grinding back. You exchange glances in the mirror again, a sexy smirk on his face before he pushes you against the mirror and grinds into you. You knew the mirror would be smudged from your body, you didn't care. It brought you pleasure knowing someone would see the evidence from what you were doing.

Hoshi - You're brushing your teeth as you get ready for bed, Soonyoung comes up behind you, making faces in the mirror as you brush. You bend over to spit when you ass accidentally presses into his crotch. You hear a gasp and look up at him in the mirror, he smirks at you and takes your toothbrush. He suddenly pushes you against the counter, grinding into you as revenge. You escape his grasp and run into the bedroom, throwing your clothes on the ground to prepare for what comes next.

Wonwoo - You two lie in bed together, him spooning your body. You snuggle further into him wanted to fully feel his embrace. You feel him shift his lower half away from you, you knew exactly what had happened. You push back into him and grind, his grip on your body tightens. You two start grinding into each other, moans leaving both your mouths. His hands reach around, one to grab your breast and the other slips into your panties.

Woozi - It started as only an innocent makeout session with you laying on top of him in the bed. You thought you felt him push up into you, you two hadn't gone this far yet but you had talked about it before and were just waiting for the right moment. You push into him, his cheeks flush red, he stops you to make sure that you really want this. You reassure him you're comfortable with it, making sure he's comfortable as well. You two return to your makeout session, slowly grinding into each other. Moans start to escape your lips as the grinding speeds up, you keep moving your hips like your life depends on it. A long breathy moan leaves Jihoon's lips as he cums. His cheeks redden as he never expected to cum so fast and into his pants as well. You tell him not to worry about it as you hand him a wash cloth and gesture towards the bathroom.

DK - It starts with you playfully taking a bite of his sandwich, you laugh as you get up to run away from him. He comes racing down the hall, a wide smile on his face as he tries to catch you. Unfortunately for you, he was too fast for you and soon catches you. He grabs you around the waist, pulling you close to him. He leans over you, asking why you would do something like that. You giggle as you reply, telling him you just wanted some attention. His wide grin turns to a smirk, he whispers into your ear, “What kind of attention?" While pushing his crotch against you. That was exactly the attention you wanted, you push back into him, grinding your ass against his hard cock.

Mingyu - You two were traveling across the city together in a bus, the bus unbelievably full, forcing you both to stand. The bus breaked, causing your body to bump into his, the two of you laughed it off. But then it happened a second time, your body hit his, not a big deal until you felt his hard on. You looked up at him and smirked, he knew you knew what had happened. You then took each and everytime the bus breaked to slowly grind into him, you could feel him begin to lightly push back into you. He grabs you and whispers into your ear how much you'll regret teasing him later.

Minghao - You were finally moving in with Minghao, the day you had been waiting for for so long. You carried boxes of clothes up the stairs to his apartment, him right behind you. You stumble as you reach the top, you fall into him, his arms catching you and pulling you into an embrace. You smile, feeling so happy and loved. You look up at him and pull him in for a deep kiss, slowly pushing your body against his. You ask him if he feels like taking a little break moving, he simply responds by grinding back into you. Moans escape from both of your lips as you make out and continue to grind.

Seungkwan - The two of you where on the rooftop of his apartment, watching a firework display from the distance. You lean up against the gaurd rail, admiring all the beautiful colors in the sky. Seungkwan stands behind you, his arms wrapped around you to help keep you warm. A particularly loud firework goes off, startling you. You jump back against Seungkwan, rubbing against his crotch. This of course gives you an idea, you begin to slowly grind against him as the show continues. His innocent mind didn't realize what you were up to right away, but he soon caught on. Grinding both your bodies together as fireworks exploded around you, the cool night air nipping at your skin, the love you felt for your man. It all created such an intense feeling of emotion, you knew you'd never forget this night.

Vernon - His eyes are focused on the TV screen as he shoots Nazi zombies in a video game. You don't mind him playing games, but you also wanted a little bit of attention. You jump into his lap during a loading screen, he smiles as he adjusts so he can hold you and play his game. You sighed, still not satisfied with the attention given, you try to come up with another plan. You shift your weight on his lap and suddenly feel him getting hard. This was it, this'll get his attention for sure. You push back into his crotch, you hear his breathing change. You start to grind on him, his focus changing to you. You watch as his character dies, he turns to you, and quickly pins you down to the couch. You knew you were about to regret what you just did in the best way possible.

Dino - You walk into Chan's room to check his progress, you had promised him a reward if he finally gave his room a deep cleaning. You were quite happy to see that he was finally almost done, just a few scattered clothes on the floor. You bend over to pick them up, Chan of course takes notice of your position and comes up behind you. He puts his hands on your hips and presses his hard cock against your ass. He whines a bit, asking if he can finally have his reward. You smirk and stand straight up, you of course have to inspect the room first. You peak into the closet, its clean, so you remove your shirt. Next you check his dresser, nice and organized, you remove your pants. You look at the bed, nicely made, you take off his shirt. One last spot to check, under the bed, you tsk seeing countless water bottles piled up underneath. Punishment time of course, you push him against the bed, sitting on top of his crotch. You push into him, you can hear his breathing change from the pleasure. He desperately tries to rub against you more, struggling to feel what he wants through his jeans. You continue to grind against him, putting on a show and moaning out his name, you can tell he's going to cum soon, so you stop. You put your clothes back on and walk out of the room, hopefully that'll teach him a lesson.

[wowtobio]

Hi! Can I request headcanons where Atsunu and Oikawa are in love with the same girl and compete for her love? I

New Neighbor? Where Atsumu and Oikawa try to win your love

thanks for the request :) i hope u enjoy! 

warnings: slight angst and implied sexual content

-

*pretend hinata is you hehe ;) 

“(y/n)-chan!! I can’t believe you’re leaving me!!” Oikawa complains as you pack the last few things in your overflowing suitcase.

It was a hot, sunny Saturday afternoon in your home in Miyagi and you found yourself in your room with Oikawa casually laying on your bed. 

“Tooru, I’m sorry you know this was not my choice.” You spoke softly, Oikawa sat up and continued his whining 

“But still! We’ve been together since we were kids and you’re just gonna abandon me?? After everything we’ve been through!!?” You threw a pillow at the loud mouthed setter.

It was true, when you moved to Miyagi when you were 6 years old, you two hit it off and are still as close as ever today. Your parents had demanding jobs that required them to travel all over Japan leaving you home alone. Your parents were close with Oikawa’s so they trusted to look after you. You were practically raised by them but over time you learned to fend for yourself with a little help from him and his family. 

“Quit your screaming! And don’t make it out like we’re dating hmph. You still have Iwa-kun to cling onto. You’ll be alright.” You stood up and clasped his hands with yours. A fire sparked into your eyes as you looked at him. 

“Besides, you have to promise me that you’ll go and win nationals. Win the dream with your team!” Oikawa glances at your hands before letting them go and hooking his pinky with your small, dainty ones. 

“Mm, you can count on me (y/n)-chan” 

You smile brightly and without warning wrap your arms around the brunette’s neck. He pauses before allowing his hands to gather at the small of your back and hugging your waist. As a goodbye, you squeeze him closer and bury your face in the crook of his neck and he digs his face into your shoulder. Your breath hitched in your throat as you swear you felt him press a kiss on your neck, but you didn’t mention it. You two just savored the moment and each others warmth as it was probably going to be the last time you two would be in each others presence for awhile. Probably.

-

It has been two months since your family made the move to Hyogo, your parents as expected were not home as usual and at first it was hard for you to adapt without the presence of your parents and your childhood best friend who you texted every single day.

“heyo tooru!” 

“(y/n)-chan! i miss you ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ do you miss mee~?” 

“yah wish idiot, i’m just checkin up on yah”

“YABBEI!! ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭ you already have the kansai accent noo!!” 

“shut up! i adapt! and fyi i do not talk like this irl”

“okok whateverrr, how’s inarizaki?” 

With your high grades and excelling in academics you were able to transfer into Inarizaki high with no problem. You did not have any friends though, you did not really fit in or belong to certain cliques at the school.

“it’s been alright, kinda prestigious though and ppl have egos but nothing i can’t handle. def better than dealing with you hehe~” 

“im hurt (y/n)-chan! but that’s good, watch out for their volleyball team they’re pretty strong (ง’-‘︠)ง“

You raised an eyebrow as you realized that your new school did indeed have a volleyball team. You’ve heard about them quite a lot as they are supposedly really good, placing at nationals consecutively. You made a mental note to yourself to look further into it whenever you cared too and you bid Oikawa a quick goodbye text. You remembered an important package was waiting outside so you slipped on some shoes and ran out to get it. 

Upon approaching your mailbox, you notice two guys walking towards your direction and you glance up at them. One blonde-haired guy rambling to an uninterested sliver-haired who was practically an exact replica to him. Twins? You thought to yourself as you took a double-take.

Despite their similarities in looks, your attention gravitated towards the blond twin. Just the way his soft looking locks parted to the right over his hooded, dark eyes you could lost in. His overall energy was one that interested you. He felt your lingering gaze on him and made eye contact with you and smirked. 

You blushed lightly and hurriedly grabbed your package. You rushed since you were just wearing short shorts and a crop top. Avoiding any interactions with the pair, you walk away and miss the eyes of the blonde twin looking up and down at your body. 

Slamming your door shut, back against it you let out a sigh of relief and peek out the window to see the twins walk into the house right next door to you. The blush on your face still burned slightly, your curiosity heightens 

“New neighbors? How interesting”

-

School has ended, yet you found yourself aimlessly walking the now empty halls of Inarizaki. You wanted to avoid going home, as you did not want to be spending anymore time in an empty household and without your best friend you missed dearly. 

Your aimless wandering has led you to the volleyball gym, curiosity killed the cat and you found yourself entering the gym and stepping up at the balcony to watch practice from afar. Your eyes immediately went to the golden yellow haired guy who was apparently also your neighbor.

He sets to his teammate effortlessly and you couldn’t help but watch with amazement of his moves and how he brought out the best in the spiker. His technique was similar to Tooru’s, just a bit different. It was like his own twist. You always watched Tooru play with awe, however this guy’s setting just hit differently within you. 

You stared for a bit too long, as said setter looks up the balcony to see your form. The fangirls nearby you screech for his attention, only for him to send you a smirk and you blush profusely and immediately break the eye contact once again. 

Eventually, you found yourself coming back to the same gym at the same time everyday for the week. You went because of how much the players practiced and played flawlessly, but secretly because you wanted to watch the blonde setter in action of course. And since you were not enrolled in any clubs you killed time after school on that very balcony. 

Blonde twin has noticed you at every practice, every now and then he would nod towards you and/or throw a lopsided smile to you that made your heart jump lightly. 

It was the end of practice and you were about to walk out of the empty gym until you felt a hand grab your wrist, pulling you back. 

“Wait!”

You gasp slightly upon seeing the blonde setter. A little too close for comfort. A tint of pink dusted your cheeks as you gulped and stared into his eyes.

“Miya Atsumu, who are you?”

-

“TOOOORUUU YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED” You jumped into bed and called your childhood best friend with no warning.

“E-eh?? (y/n)-chan are you okay?? Are you finally coming back to mee????” 

“NO SILLY! okay hear me out for a moment” 

You rambled on and on about your interaction with the setter, a hint of excitement in your tone that goes unnoticed by Oikawa.

“(y/n)-chan, you do know that Miya Atsumu is one of the best setters in Japan right?” 

You immediately shut up, mouth open slightly and you noticed Oikawa’s sudden drop in mood.

“A-ah, I did not know that, sorry..” You rubbed your arm out of nervousness as the line went silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“You.. you still support me though right (y/n)-chan?” 

“Of course Tooru!”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, of course. I believe in you”

-

Over the next few weeks, you and Atsumu have been interacting a lot more than others would’ve expected. You two slowly got closer to each other, exchanged numbers, walking in the halls together, eating lunch together, even during passing time he would come visit you in your class. Rumors erupted here and there but you would ignore them, all you cared about was the fact that you were getting close to the handsome setter and you couldn’t help but feel a weird sensation in your chest whenever you were around him. 

Being neighbors, you two sometimes catch each other walking by the window and laugh at how both of you were caught off guard. He would even text you about it.

“you looked pretty cute there (n/n)-chan~”

Your heart flutters and you giggle replying back. Then you two would text the whole night away.

One night, you were on the phone with Oikawa as usual updating each other about your lives. 

“And then! You won’t believe it (y/n)-chan, Iwa-chan then threw the volleyball! At the back of my head!! How embarrassing uwaaah” 

You giggled cutely, “But I do believe it!” Oikawa just grumbles on the other side of the line and you continue to laugh. A text message then pops up from Atsumu, wishing you a goodnight. You subconsciously smile and were reminded that you should probably tell your best friend of the recent closeness. 

“Ne Tooru, I have somethings to update you about Atsumu.” It was absolutely silence on the other side, you worried slightly but took it as a sign to continue.

You ranted on about the progression of your friendship with Atsumu, almost in a dreamy tone. You finished and were met with silence which worried you even further.

“Toor-”

“We have a match with Karasuno tomorrow.” You were caught off guard with the sudden subject change. 

“E-eh? That’s Kageyama-san’s team right? And you should be sleeping then!” 

“Yeah, that guy drives me mad. But we’ll be fine, we will win” Oikawa says. You admired whenever Oikawa was passionate and serious about his dreams. 

“Of course, I wish you luck! I’ll watch you guys from home.” 

“Thank you~ Sweet (y/n)-chan” You laugh and cringed at him, but his tone went serious unexpectedly once again.

“Ne (y/n)-chan I have a question for you.”

“I’m all ears Tooru.”

“Do you have feelings for Atsumu?” 

Your breath got caught in your throat. Feelings?

“I- uhm. I think it’s too early to have feelings like that, right Tooru?”

“Mmm.” 

On the other side of the line, Oikawa frowns. 

-

They lost

They lost against Karasuno

You sat on your coach, tears forming as your hands cupped your mouth in shock. 

They can’t go to nationals

You watched painfully as you saw the cameras zoom in on the victors of Karasuno and cuts to Oikawa’s face of disbelief alongside the team members’ similar reaction and a few crying faces. Tears were as of now flowing down your face.

Tooru’s dream

You spent the next few days constantly calling and texting your best friend to check on him and remind him he did his best. He barely replied back, answering with blunt and passive answers that worried you to the core. Oh what would you give to take a train to Miyagi and comfort him. 

You heard a knock at your door, ears perked up and you walk over to answer. 

“A-atsumu??” You were shocked at the sudden appearance of him at your front door. 

“What’re you doing here??” He leans against the doorway, hands in his pockets. His casual attire being fitted black joggers, a green hoodie and a nice jacket over. You couldn’t help but stare. 

“Am I not allowed to visit yah (n/n)-chan. And it is rude to stare yanno. Not even allowing a guest in?” He smirks as you fumble with your words and let him in your home. 

“I was just making lunch, w-would you like to join me?” He smiles attractively as he takes off his coat and hangs it up. 

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

The afternoon was spent with you cooking lunch for the two of you, jokes cracked up and you both laughed and bonded. 

“What do yah mean? You never saw the movie??” You giggled.

“Hah, you expect me to be going out all the time? I’m the loner here.” 

“Nope nope, not with me around. I am taking you out to see this movie right now.” He grabs your wrist and drags you towards your room. Your heart did a thing.

“Go get ready.” You blushed red questioned frantically what was happening.

“W-what? What do you mean? Where are we going? WHat??” Atsumu waves his hands.

“Don’tcha worry about it doll. I’ll pay for your ticket, and it’ll only be the movies. Yah parents aren’t even home and I’ll bring yah back home in one piece.” 

With further convincing you sigh and agreed to his offer. As you slipped on a casual, fitting dress along with a bit of touching up of your hair and makeup your mind wanders to Oikawa. You still worried about him.

“I hope he’s doing okay..” You mumble to no one in particular. 

“Hope whose doin okay?” You jump at Atsumu’s sudden intrusion in your bedroom. 

“N-nothing! Well I’m ready now so let’s go.” Before heading out, Atsumu blocks your path and checked you out real quick. 

“Wow~ You look gorgeous (n/n)-chan” You blushed heavily and ushered him out of your room and the house. 

-

You two arrive at the train station, making light conversation where Atsumu would drop compliments every now and then that would make you redder than a tomato.

Casually strolling side by side, your shoulders bumping into each other. You stop in your tracks as Atsumu does the same, your eyes widening at the sight of Oikawa.

“T-tooru!” 

“…(y/n)-chan” 

Atsumu raises an eyebrow. 

“W-what are you doing here Tooru? Are you okay??”

“I simply just needed to see you… I missed you but I see that I am interrupting something?”

Your eyes widened, you wanted to run into Tooru’s arms but Atsumu was right beside you..

Conflicted

“Well well well, if it ain’t pretty setter Oikawa. How did that game the other day go?” Atsumu says in a taunting manner, you backhanded Atsumu’s chest lightly scolding him. However, Astumu continues 

“I think you should let her go lover boy, she’s mine.” Atsumu wraps and arm around your shoulder. You gasped as Oikawa ticks at that.

“You barely know her, don’t even think about touching her!” Oikawa growls out.

“G-guys please stop!” You felt so conflicted with your feelings. You did recently felt interested in Atsumu. On the other hand, you constantly missed and cared for Tooru. 

“She obviously likes me over you boy, I dunno your problem but I will be taking my lady out if yah don’t mind.” 

“To hell! (y/n)-chan’s been mine.” Oikawa grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him. 

“(y/n), what are you doing out with him? Is this a date? Do you actually like him more than me?” 

You flustered up at Oikawa’s words.

“No! W-well it may seem like a date, but we’re just out watching movies together alone! W-wait that sounds like a date oh my goodness. I don’t even know anymore ugh-” 

You felt so overwhelmed to the point you could not help but break your grasp from Oikawa and run from the two. 

“(n/n)-chan!”

“(y/n)!” 

You kept running, ignoring their calls.

What were you going to do? 

Who were you going to choose?

You did not know anymore

-

a/n: heyhey sorry if that turned out bad ;; i am conflicted on how to end this short headcanon so I was thinking of writing something with both endings where you either choose Oikawa or Atsumu. Only if you guys want so please let me know! And also at that last interaction I made Oikawa seem more serious since I imagine he would still be affected by losing ofc poor boi. Sorry if that seemed too ooc for Oikawa. N e ways, thank you guys sm for the support and reading my writing. PLs let me know if you would like that part two! ily :)

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Estiferous;

es.tif.er.ous /adjective/ Producing (much) heat. Pairing: Chanyeol x f.reader Rating: angst Words: 3k I spent the entire day in a seething rage about certain events that happened yesterday and so, this was born. In part because the lovely @saebyeog-i just adores him with her entire being and we’ve not stopped talking about everything wrong with the entire situation and how much he deserves to be LOVED.

“Good morning on this fine twenty-ninth of October! It’s a chilly one out there ladies and gentleman. Those gray skies are here to stay today, and it looks like the rain will be steady through most of the evening,” says your partner from his place at the left side of the table. He glances sidelong at you as he turns back to his notes, “Ah, Y/N you’re looking so happy about that!” You blink once, caught in your daydream and stumbling for a response. Looking at the cameras positioned in your direction, you quickly recover, “Even with the chill and the rain I just love this season.” The man beside you gives a flamboyant chuckle that turns your gut, “What do you love about it?” “The colors,” you reply with honesty directed toward your viewers, “They’re like fire. The last reminder of the Summer warmth.” Your co-anchor touches at his in-ear briefly, “Oh, speaking of fire, take a look at this!” He spins his chair to face the large monitor that serves as the background of the studio, “Breaking news of a rogue Evolved out on the streets!” The way he says the words fill you with horror while you force your body to turn. On the screen, a shaky, grainy video- clearly from a cellphone some yards away- shows a disaster scene. Dusty clouds and smoke drift in thick and thin wafts across the screen, and the back of a tall and gangly man comes into view. Immediately your body stiffens as you watch his frame against the backdrop of a burning building. There is no air in your lungs, turned to stone as you absorb the video progression. Whoever filmed this is clearly terrified, by their deep breaths and coughing, high on adrenaline. There’s a barricade of fallen metal. You hear the man taking the video shout in warning, whispering an ‘oh my god’ as a dozen large steel pipes fall on top of the man he’s filming. Some grunting and distressing sounds pass the few seconds it takes for the next moment to come. Through the smoke and dust renewed, something glows faintly at first beneath the pile of metal. Then, between the haze, the video catches a form rising from them, accompanied by the sounds of heavy metal banging against the ground. One glows to a white-hot redness before bending and falling from what appears to be the Evolved’s hand. ‘Holy shit, what kind of monster is he.’ Says the owner of the recording in a choked whisper, clearly filled with absolute terror. You’re still frozen to your chair with your heart thudding loudly in your chest as you watch the rogue man change. Gently at first as if he appears to be lit on fire slowly, until everyone watching realizes he is engulfed in flames of his own making. Oddly, he checks over both shoulders before he takes off into the burning wreckage of the building. The moment the video ends, your co-host whirls back toward the cameras with too much enthusiasm, “Amazing, aren’t they, folks? What a world it has become!” He pauses, looking over some new papers that had been passed to both of you. Looking down at your own, you read the words as they’re said by your partner, “Wow! Looks like this video was taken by someone who had just escaped that building with their life! Then this Evolved showed up right before the fire department.” It makes you jump as another video pops up on the screen behind you, of two children animatedly talking, albeit a bit hoarse. ‘It was amazing, like PSSSKKKHHHHHHAAAAA!’ says the smaller one, throwing his smoke-stained hands up into the air and then coughing. The larger child nods along enthusiastically, ‘Yeah, yeah! This guy came and grabbed the metal stuff in the way and, and-‘ he tries to find the words but needs to stop for a drink of water from an woman that coddles them both on a hospital cot. ‘-and he melted it all away like this. Hhhhnnngggg!-‘ he says, clenching both of his tiny fists and squeezing his face tight to make a bending motion. The smaller one interjects by jumping off of the cot, ‘and then he helped us outside.’ He looks sad for a moment before he shrugs and adds, ‘But I think he was shy ‘cause he wouldn’t come outside with us.’ ‘Go find the firetruck!’ hollers the older boy in a mocking tone. ‘But what do we say to the man, boys?’ the person filming asks, clearly the father. ‘Thank you for saving us!’ the boys chime together with grins too big for their cheeks. You smile to yourself, thinking of the kindness shows to these two children in such a scary situation. It doesn’t last, as hell breaks loose with the very same video of the Evolved across several social media sites. Tweets and Instagram shares and YouTube reaction videos. A few that are impressed to see such power from an Evolved, and a rogue one no less. Although much more common in today’s world than generations past and protected under their agencies, they are still the minority. Most of the buzz around the now viral video is alarming. Hateful spews of threats and accusations that this rogue started the fire himself. Calling him Hellspawn, or the devil himself. Threats and ugly words thrown around out of fear and jealousy. A few demanding the Manifestation Rehabilitation Center arrest him and lock him up so he isn’t a danger to society. “You heard it here first, Channel sixty-one news station. We’ll be right back,” says your co-anchor. He stands from his chair and adjusts his tie, stretching his back, “What an awful creature,” he comments dryly under his breath. It’s enough for you to catch. “What did you just say?” you ask him from your seat, back straight as a spring board. He looks at you blankly, and you decide in that moment that you hate his over-gelled slicked back hair and his tie is the ugliest shade of puke green you’ve ever seen. “Come on now, you know that thing probably started that fire. It’s lucky everyone made it out alive, but what about the damage?” It takes you a moment to consider his words and if he is really standing here in front of you or just a dirty apparition, “Excuse me?” He has the audacity to sneer, “What?” “That ‘creature’ you just called him, is a person! He didn’t ask for that manifestation!” you scream at him. The director and camera coordinators all jump, spilling coffee and turning back toward you at the news table. Even your co-host seems to fumble for words at your outburst, “Are you really so small minded? You’ll jump to that conclusion without all of the information?” He raises his hand at you to speak, “It’s probably true though. Looks better for the news at least. You saw how quickly it we-“ “Stop talking! This is unbelievable! You want to know who the real monsters of this world are?” your anger is rising like acid up the column of your throat, “You are! People who only care about their fucking money or their fucking story or their five fucking seconds of fame!” You spit more words at him before he can make a rebuttal, “You don’t give a shit about the people your stories might hurt? Are you so content with yourself that you don’t have an ounce of shame for the words you say about others? Are you serious right now? Have a bit more compassion for humanity!” He laughs. The man within striking distance of your palm actually laughs. It is as the phrase ‘I don’t care.’ Leaves his lips that your palm meets his cheek. It stings harshly, but your refuse to let it show. And then you walk out, flinging your fistful of notes in the air to scatter about the news studio as your heels carry you sharply across the floor and out the door with your coat and purse. ______________________________ “Unnie, I’m so sorry.” You mumble, wiping at your tears and sniffling to keep them at bay as you walk. On the other end of the line, a woman coos at you, “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” You feel terrible. Channel sixty one was the only news station that would even look at your resume straight out of college, and only on Yoora’s word that you were perfect for the junior anchor position that got you in the door. A year later and you were promoted to anchor, gleefully dropping the ‘junior’ title from your work. Thankful to her as always, you feel even worse as you admit that you walked out. “I just quit,” you say in one breath, “Unnie they were talking about Chanyeol.” The other end of the line goes quiet for three seconds, “Where is he?” You sigh, tilting your head to hold your phone between it and your shoulder so you can unlock your car while the other holds your umbrella. “Not sure, but I have a feeling I know. I’ll text you when I find him. I’m just… I’m really sorry after all of the hard work you did for me.” She hums, “Seriously don’t worry about that. We’ll figure it out later. For now, just make sure he’s okay, please.” “On it,” you whisper, ending the call as you situate yourself in your car. With both hands on the wheel, you take off in the direction he’s most likely to be. _________________________________ Nearing late afternoon, you’ve decided there’s only one place left to find him. His G65 is tucked nicely under the foliage of a large tree. It’s the only one left in the parking lot when you pass by the only other car on their way out of the park. You don’t bother checking your phone. He’s not answering anyone’s messages or calls and he’s turned off his location. Luckily, you had your gym bag in your car, intent on having gone today after work. Running shoes and a hoodie are much better for this kind of weather as you hunt for the man you love. It doesn’t take long to find him, since the park is scarce otherwise and he never carries an umbrella. He only ever needs to for the sake of his attire. Pulling open your messages, you text Yoora that he’s safe. You save her the detailed description of your lover; sitting on a bench with his ear pods in and the length of his legs spread out into the walkway, comfortable in his slouched position. He’s wearing his scuffed-up converse, favorite jeans and a large gray hoodie. One hand, large even from a distance, is extended in front of him. You know, even from this distance, he is watching every droplet evaporate from his skin. It is obvious in the Summertime, in the way his body steams as if it were asphalt when he doesn’t care to regulate his external temperature. You smile when he lets the hand drop to his lap and his head lulls back against the bench. He exhales into the chill, a gently puff of humid white from his volcanic chest into the late October breeze. It pulls a quiet laugh from you. His head rolls in your direction, and he is not surprised to see you standing ten yards away. His expression doesn’t change, but you know it isn’t personal. His cheeks, usually high and glowing, have deflated to sag near the down turned corners of his lips. Although he still exudes warmth, it makes your heart feel chilled. As you approach, traces of his tears become evident, pink around his round eyes- staring up at you from his resting spot. “You okay?” you ask, moving your umbrella away from yourself to shield him, “Your clothes are getting soaked.” A dissatisfied hum is your only reply at first, until he sits up and grabs your free hand to tug you closer. In his hold, you let him guide you to stand in front of him so he can comfortably wrap his arms around your hips. Leaning his head into your stomach, Chanyeol sighs. “You know you saved someone, Chanyeol.” You speak the words into the breeze with such conviction, letting your free hand raise to pet his hair. Even without the sun, you are happy to notice you can still see the auburn riding the waves of his chestnut curls. “It doesn’t matter. So many more hate me for starting a fire,” he mumbles into the thickness of your hoodie. Dropping your umbrella, you sink into a squatting position between his knees and revel in the warmth of his skin against your palms where they touch his cheeks, “But you didn’t start that fire.” He groans, voice cracking with stress, “Everyone thinks I did. It’s all that seems to matter. They are making jokes about it, too.” “I don’t think you did.” For the first time, he meets your eyes. Hesitantly, “I know.” He pulls you back up against him, hugging you into his larger frame as if you were his favorite stuffed animal, but commits nothing to the conversation otherwise. “What if you signed with an agency?” you wonder aloud. Sure, conversations had come and gone about it before, when they first began gaining popularity and legitimacy, but Chanyeol had always shrugged it off for the sake of keeping his manifestation private and doing what he wanted. He hadn’t thought that far about it, thinking there would never be a need to expose himself. “Might have to now. Still don’t want to,” he admits. “Why did you risk yourself then?” He lifts his chin and tilts his lips onto yours briefly, “The kids. They wouldn’t have made it.” The words are sobering to you, as they probably were to him. “You did that for them?” He takes a deep breath through his nose. It’s clear he is exhausted, “Would you have?” “Without a second thought.” You wrap his head in your arms again, leaning down to kiss at the crown of his head and inhaling his scent. Smoky and warm, tinged with the fresh rain. “That’s why I think you should find an agency.” Chanyeol hums, squeezing you tighter, “Later. For now, let’s go home and forget about the world for a while.” He kisses you again, “Thank you for finding me.” “I will always come to find you. I just want you to be safe and happy and loved,” you remind him gently, stealing a kiss on your own from his perpetually pouted lips. He takes your hand and stands, giving you the tiniest smile- just an uptick at the corner of his lips- at the happy sound you make when he squeezes your hand in his. It is unusually warm, like always. He takes the umbrella from your other hand, looking every bit like a normal couple trying to shield themselves from the chilled rain under one small piece of fabric. Chanyeol stops a few feet from the gate you came through, and his hand grows hotter in your hold. Enough that he lets you go and subtly moves you one step behind him, “Can I help you?” Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed a man leaning against the grill of Chanyeol’s Mercedes. He’s wearing a black overcoat, bucket hat, and dark sunglasses. Even without the weather, he is immediately suspicious. The man smiles, lifting himself from the car and uncrossing his arms. He looks down and back up, lips twisted in a smirk. Not quite cocky, but almost. Chanyeol must be able to feel something off because he reacts with one small puff of flame from his breath. You don’t miss the way he spreads his fingers wide with the hand he keeps in front of you, alerted by the way his fingertips become daker pink and then red as if sunburnt. The man approaches gracefully, and something feels a little cold. You watch, transfixed and a little afraid of the way the rain doesn’t quite seem to touch him. “Easy there, let me make this a little more comfortable,” he says mysteriously with a quick look around. You immediately notice the way the sound of rain on your umbrella has stopped. Chanyeol noticed too, and hesitantly moves the umbrella. Above your heads, the rain is not suspended. Upon closer inspection, you can see it is moving around you three instead. “See? Now she won’t get wet, right?” says the man, grinning. He removes his sunglasses and lifts his head to meet Chanyeol’s eyes. “Can I help you?” Chanyeol asks again, a little less polite than before. The man, clearly an Evolved, clears his throat and holds a card out to your boyfriend, “My name is Junmyeon. CEO of JM Enterprise, an agency for Evolved.” Your lover stills, relaxing from his threatening posture. You peek around him, curious, “Wow.” Junmyeon smiles at you, “I’m particularly selective in recruiting myself. I’m looking for a partner whose manifestation is complementary of my own. Natural element types if you will.” “Are there more?” Chanyeol asks quickly, his curiosity getting the better of him. Junmyeon smirks again, a bit lopsided. “A few. Currently, five including myself. I’d like you to make it six.” “I’ll think about it,” Chanyeol agrees a bit reluctantly, clearly finished with the conversation. He takes your hand once more and moves past the CEO toward the cars. “Oh, and miss Y/N?” calls Junmyeon. Both of your heads whip back around to face him. He holds his sunglasses with both hands, sliding them back over his eyes, “We could also use someone of your journalist talent, since you’re looking for employment now that you quit.” You squeak, trying to ignore Chanyeol’s wild eyes boring into the side of your head, “You quit your job?!”

[backtothestart02]

Hot to the Touch - 7/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Fake dating trope, anyone? Here it comes! (Only one chap left of this story!)

Commissioned by @andie1223

Also for @izzyllewis for our fics-for-icons arrangement.

...

Chapter 7 -

Another couple months passed, and with the change in season came a shift in Barry and Iris’ relationship. Barry never initiated these changes, because he was afraid he might lose her if he tried to change anything that might solidify them as more of a couple than an ongoing booty call. It was hard not to get excited though when she made changes.

He was quiet about his reaction to her suggestions every time, just taking it in stride as what she wanted to do. He was a complete doormat when it came to her, and maybe that was a bad thing, but so far he couldn’t see any downside to the way their dynamic was progressing.

First, it was little things. Like, Iris would suggest meeting up earlier in the day too on occasion. She’d say it was because she was extra horny that day, but in truth it wasn’t just that. She missed him. Barry was immediately okay with that, as she suspected he might be, and when he didn’t press for a relationship, she started bringing lunch with her to their afternoon trysts. They’d usually start getting it on halfway through the meal, but that was fine with both of them. They seemed stuck in the honeymoon phase of whatever relationship this was, and they found no problem with that.

Next, and this was kind of a big one, Iris started talking to Barry about his day. At first it was just to see if Becky had made another appearance, and if she should be doing something to combat whatever she was throwing at Barry. But after it became clear that Barry hadn’t had that many more interactions with his ex – all which were flops on Becky’s end – Iris found she genuinely liked knowing what the rest of his life was about other than just how good he could fuck her. Eventually, Barry returned the favor and started asking Iris about her days too. She found she liked the attention and fully opened herself up to gushing and venting about any and everything going on with her.

By the time Thanksgiving break arrived, they were so close and connected, it felt agonizing to be apart for even a weekend.

“So, what are your Thanksgiving plans?” Barry asked her, as she watched her button up her blouse from his recent face dive between her breasts.

Iris shrugged, smiling as she sensed his stare, almost tempted to unbutton her top again just to see the look on his face.

“Strained,” she admitted, to which Barry frowned.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, my mom and dad split up when I was 13. I told you that. My mom took my little brother, and my dad kept me. Things are tense between them when we see each other on the holidays already, but a few months ago my dad started dating again.”

“Ah. Let me guess. She’s coming to Thanksgiving.”

“Yep.”

“So, both your mom and your dad’s girlfriend will be in the same room?”

“Uh-huh. And my brother is very much a mama’s boy, so he probably won’t be on his best behavior. He’s had some anger issues in school due to the split. The fact that our dad chose to stay divorced and start dating again instead of trying to work things out with our mom hit him hard. And he takes it out on me because he’s afraid to take it out on our dad, afraid of what he’ll do.”

Barry frowned. “What might he do?”

“Well, my dad wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s been reaching out to Wally for years in fact, but my brother rejects him every time. I don’t know what he expects at this point.”

“Hmm. Sounds like you need a buffer.”

She smiled, swooning at his implied suggestion.

“Thanks, but I am the buffer.”

His brows furrowed in confusion.

“There’s a possibility Cecile, my dad’s girlfriend, will bring her daughter, Joanie. She’s about Wally’s age and obviously very protective of her mother. I don’t know what the situation is with the dad in their family, but if she brings her…” She shook her head, overwhelmed.

“Chaos.”

She laughed. “Yes, chaos, exactly.”

“Sounds like you need a distraction at the dinner table.”

Iris gnawed at her bottom lip.

“Well, I was thinking of asking Linda to join me, but then…her family goes up north for the holidays, and I don’t think she has a good excuse to not join them this year. Especially after she’s done so well academically this semester.”

“And where does your family have their holiday get-togethers?”

“At my dad’s house in Central City.” She paused, debating, then asked. “You?”

“My parents’ place in Central City.”

“Anyone difficult coming to yours?”

“Just my granddad probably. He adores my mother and loves that my dad is a doctor, but I don’t think he’s real impressed with my accomplishments so far. He thinks I can do so much more than be a CSI with the brain I’ve got, but I don’t really care. It’s what I want to do.”

Iris was immediately turned on by his confidence.

“You really don’t care?”

“Well, of course it’d be great to get his stamp of approval and have him be proud of me, but I don’t need it. My friends Cisco and Caitlin support me and so do my parents.”

“And so do I,” Iris chimed in, smiling brightly and warming Barry’s tummy.

“Iris West,” he propositioned, looking at her gravely. She was still smiling as if all was right in the world. “Will you be my fake girlfriend for Thanksgiving dinner?”

She thought she’d be mortified. She truly believed it would feel like he was pushing her into something she was not ready for and maybe never would be. But this was fake dating, and only for one night. Surely she could manage that. And it would make their prospective dinners easier to endure by far.

“Barry Allen, I would love to.”

That got her a kiss full on the lips, and she giggled helplessly.

The words I love you floated onto her tongue, but she stopped them before they pushed past her lips. It made her still though, and she fought to come up with an excuse so Barry wouldn’t find her sudden tension too odd or related to his recent request.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Uh…nothing. I just remembered something.”

His furrowed brows told her she better come up with something good, and fast.

“I…have to bake a pie.” She paused. “For Thanksgiving.” She paused again. “Sweet potato pie.”

“Sounds yummy. Can I help?”

She smiled, and they both relaxed again.

“And get a free taste before everyone else?” She shook her head. “Uh-uh. I don’t think so.”

He grinned and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“The only thing I want a free taste of is you.”

He lowered his head and nuzzled her face before swooping in for another kiss. Iris wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, moaning against the sweet pressure of his lips.

“You can have that any time,” she mumbled, and deepened the kiss, losing herself in him for a long while until they had to come up for air and go their separate ways.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, boyfriend.”

He grinned like an excited schoolboy caught in a candy store.

“See you tomorrow, girlfriend.”

She laughed at that, waved, and let herself out of the bookstore. A few minutes later, once she was out of sight, he left too.

Iris West was going to be his girlfriend - even if only for one night.

He liked the sound of that.

…

Barry and Iris didn’t meet that night at the bookstore, because they both needed to pack up and drive to their perspective families’ homes. A light snow started to fall within an hour, so the drive to the West and Allen houses took even longer.

Iris was grateful when she finally arrived at her dad’s. She parked in the driveway next to his car, gathered her purse and overnight bags and headed towards the house. She was proud of herself for wearing her fall boots, since the snow was starting to accumulate on the ground. She slipped on her gloves and hat before approaching the house and then knocked lightly on the wooden door. She had to do it a second time and started to worry because of it, but then the door swung open and a bright smile spread across the man before her.

“Baby girl.”

“Hey, Dad.”

She smiled, stepped up into the house and hugged him tightly.

“Oh, I haven’t seen you in ages.” He pulled back to take her in and then stepped aside. “You must be freezing. Come on in. I’ve started a fire in the fireplace. We’ll have you warmed up in no time.”

Shrugging out of her light jacket and other snow-covered items, Iris set her bags at the foot of the stairs and followed her dad into the living room. The place was usually a mess with the man was left there all by himself, but there was not a single speck in sight. The house was immaculate. It had been cleaned with vacuum, broom, and mop, dusted and organized. Iris hadn’t seen it so nice since before her mom moved out.

“Wow, Dad, this looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

He stopped and looked around, as if he hadn’t been responsible for the entire thing.

“I had some extra time on my hands and figured it would be nice for the holidays if my belongings were actually put away and not just stacked in the corner of every room.”

He chuckled lightly, and Iris joined him.

“You thought correct.”

“So, you want to get into something warm and we’ll watch a movie? I’m all set up for tomorrow, so we can just relax tonight.”

“Sounds good…”

“Why do I get the feeling you have something you’re not telling me?”

She laughed a little nervously.

“It’s not much, really. I just, um, I have a boyfriend now?”

His jaw dropped.

“And I was kinda hoping it’d be okay to bring him to dinner tomorrow?”

“When did this happen?” he asked, astonished. “I mean, of course putting one more seat at the table is no big deal, but I thought you would’ve told me you met someone. Especially after what happened with…”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“I just thought you swore off all relationships for the indefinite future.”

She laughed. “I did, but…”

“This one got under your skin?” He smirked.

She felt herself gasp and realized just how true her dad’s words were.

“Something like that.”

He smiled. “Well, I can’t wait to meet him. What’s his name?”

“Barry,” she said. “Barry Allen.”

“And what’s his five-year plan?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Dad.” She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled.

“I’m kidding of course.” He paused for a moment before asking, “But what’s his major?”

She laughed. “Dad!”

“I can’t help it. Your dad wants to know! Will you tell him?”

She shook her head, her eyes alight with laughter.

“Fine, fine… Well, actually…” She frowned. “I don’t even know what his major is.” She laughed. “Something sciencey though. He wants to be a CSI.”

“Oh…very interesting. We don’t have enough of those around. He’d fit in real nicely at CCPD after he graduates.”

“Daaad.” She rolled her eyes again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in surrender. “No more future talk. Why don’t you get in some comfy clothes and I’ll put in a feel-good movie for us for when you get down. Dinner’s almost ready. We can eat that while we’re watching.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She got up and walked towards the stairs, then stopped and faced her dad who was busily searching for a specific movie in the cubby beneath the TV. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, and he lifted his head to look at her.

“For what?”

She shrugged. “For being you.”

He smiled, and she returned it, then headed up the stairs with her bags and put on something warm and comfy for the night ahead.

…

Barry yawned when he woke up in his childhood bed the next morning. He’d had a nice evening with his parents, watching home movies and finishing up some last-minute cleaning in the house. His parents were ecstatic to see him, and even more surprised about his announcement that he was bringing a girlfriend to the house for Thanksgiving dinner. They didn’t mind, of course, and they were excited to see who he was bringing, but he decided to keep it a secret until she showed up. He said he’d be going to her family’s Thanksgiving dinner first and would introduce her properly after that.

As the day waned on, Barry started to feel nervous about his “date” at Iris’. He’d waited months to be on an official date with her. And even if this was just pretend and her whole family would be present with them, it still felt very real.

He wondered then if they should’ve discussed how they met and decided to start dating, what they liked about each other, etc. They most definitely should not include sex as part of the story. On Thanksgiving of all times with other controversial things in play, especially at her dinner, that was simply out of the question.

He needed to call her and sort this out.

He pulled out his phone, selected her name in his contacts list and waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” came a man’s deep voice, and suddenly he worried that she had a boyfriend back home who wanted to know who this ‘Barry’ was calling his girlfriend.

Chills erupted over him, as well as some slight anger. At himself and borderline at Iris. Why would she have a boyfriend and secretly be sneaking around with him for the past three months? It didn’t make sense. Of course it didn’t. What was he thinking? Why would he jump to that conclusion immediately?

“Dad!” He heard in the background on the phone. “Give it to me.”

The deep voice sounded fainter when Barry heard it again.

“I just want to talk to the young man. Find out his intentions!”

“Dad, no! Give it to me! Not on our- Daaaad!”

And that’s when Barry breathed a sigh of relief. It was her dad.

He smiled.

“Barry?” Iris’ voice came on. “Barry, are you still there?”

“I’m here.” He chuckled, smiling brightly.

“It’s not funny,” she said.

“Eh…it’s a little funny,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, walking into another room. “You aren’t cancelling on me, are you?”

“No, not at all!” he was quick to say. “I was just thinking….um…”

“What?”

“Maybe we should discuss our backstory?”

“Our backstory?” She sounded confused.

“You know, how we met, why we decided to start dating, some cute story the family will want to hear…”

“Oh. Right.”

By the sound of her voice, Barry sensed she hadn’t even thought of it.

“I just thought of it now.”

“Well, I think it’s simple enough.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I mean, just take the sex out of the equation.”

His laugh was strained. “Meaning?”

She sighed. “Meaning, we met at a bookstore and hit it off at a party.”

“And for a cute story?”

She licked her lips. “Um… I sent a cute text to you in the middle of the open house?”

“A ‘cute’ text, huh?” He smirked.

“Stop!” She laughed. “They don’t need to know the details.”

He laughed harder.

“Barry Allen, I swear, if you don’t-”

But he couldn’t stop laughing. She waited until he was under control.

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

“It’s all right.” There was a smile in her voice. “So, see you later?”

“Five o’clock, sharp.”

“See you then.”

“Goodbye, Iris.”

“Bye, Barry.”

Click.

…

Iris sent Barry the address to her dad’s place half an hour before dinner started. She didn’t know what she expected, but Barry showing up fifteen minutes later with a golden-yellow bouquet of flowers for her certainly hadn’t been it.

“Barry, I take it?” Her dad asked, coming up behind Iris at the front door.

Barry’s eyes bulged at the size of the man, even though they were roughly the same height. He nodded and held out his hand to shake it.

“Mr. West.”

They shook hands.

“Call me Joe,” Iris’ dad said. “I like to keep things casual in this house, especially during the holidays.”

Barry grinned. “Joe.”

“Oh, come on in,” Iris said, grabbing Barry’s arm and pulling him into the house.

She showed him where to take off his shoes, and she took his coat to hang up in the closet at the end of the hall. She gave him a short tour of their home, and as politely as she could, introduced him to her mother, brother, her dad’s girlfriend, and her dad’s girlfriend’s daughter. There were a few other relatives too, but Barry wouldn’t remember their names or their significance later, so Iris only very quickly introduced them before circling back to the fireplace and standing there with Barry until dinner was ready.

“Is that everybody?” Barry joked.

“Everybody here,” Iris said, reaching for his hands to play with his fingers.

Barry lowered his voice and started to lean in.

“I’ve missed you, Iris.”

She caught her breath in her throat.

“It’s only been a day.”

“Still missed you,” he said, and pressed a kiss to her cheek to avoid being scolded.

Apparently it was too far even at that.

“Eww, Gross. PDA,” Wally said in a monotone voice. “Mom, Iris is making out with her boyfriend.”

Barry lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. Wally was playing his Gameboy in his hands, only faintly aware of how close they were and what had actually transpired.

Francine walked over and gave the two of them a look but seemed to understand that her son had exaggerated.

“Put the game away, Wally. We’re with family today.”

“Some family.” He rolled his eyes. But he got up and stuffed his game into his coat pocket in the hallway closet and proceeded to linger in the kitchen, looking for something to eat.

“Iris,” Francine started, but Iris cut in.

“It was a kiss on the cheek, mom. Brief and insignificant,” she said, even though her heart was still racing from the brush of his lips.

Francine nodded, pretty much convinced.

“And what are you majoring in, Barry?”

He smiled lazily, expecting the question.

“I want to be a CSI,” he said. “I like forensics.”

“Oh, very interesting.” She paused, and Barry knew it wasn’t as interesting to her as she had said. Still, it hardly mattered. Iris was beside him holding his hand. “How did you two meet?”

“At a bookstore,” Iris smoothly said. “We bumped into each other in the same section.”

“And what section was that?”

“Mystery-”

“Romance-”

Francine turned with curiosity to her daughter’s boyfriend who had offered up the latter genre.

“Romance, Barry?”

He blushed fiercely.

“Who doesn’t love a good love story?”

She smiled slowly. “Good answer.” Then she walked away.

Iris was on the verge of laughter when Barry finally looked back at her.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

She looped her arm through his and led him into the dining room. Dinner was just about ready.

…

The rest of the West Thanksgiving dinner went relatively smoothly. Barry and Iris shared the rest of their ‘couple story’ better than they had with Francine, and despite the obvious tension between other members of the family, it appeared that with a non-related member there, they were less inclined to start a full-out brawl in the middle of the dining room table.

Everyone approved of Iris’ last-minute sweet potato pie, and Barry in particular praised it highly.

When it was time for them to go in order to make it for at least part of Barry’s family’s Thanksgiving dinner, everyone was pleasant enough and wished them well as they headed out the door.

“Very good to meet you, Barry,” Joe said, and Barry reached out his hand for him to shake again, but Joe brought him in for a big bear hug instead. “Mind if I call you Bear, for short?”

Barry’s jaw dropped. It was the same name Iris herself had casually called him a time or two.

“Sure,” he said, a lazy smile on his face.

Joe’s grin stretched wide across his face.

“Bye, you two. I’ll see you later, Iris?”

“I’ll bring her back, I promise,” Barry confided, and Iris was just a tiny bit put out. She wanted some time with just the two of them together, but of course she understood. Barry probably wanted time with his family too.

They waved and got in Barry’s car. Within 15 minutes they were at his parents’ house. Only two other cars were in the driveway, one belonging to Barry’s parents and the other to his granddad. There was another vehicle parked across the street, but Barry and Iris didn’t pay it any mind until they walked into the house and found a familiar blonde chatting it up with Barry’s relatives.

“Becky.”

“Oh, Barry, you’re-”

Becky’s voice abruptly stopped. Immediately, Barry knew what had happened. Becky had invited herself over, claiming that she and Barry had gotten back together and had just decided to arrive separately. His parents hadn’t known any differently since he hadn’t given specifics.

Now he really wished he had.

“Who is this?” Barry’s dad asked when he saw Iris standing beside his son.

“This is Iris,” Barry forced himself to say. “My girlfriend.”

Barry’s whole family frowned and then turned to Becky, who was not pulling off being shocked as well as she was trying to.

“But Becky here said-” His granddad started.

“I haven’t seen Becky in two months,” Barry said, deciding to be frank. He was livid over what Becky had been trying to do. “At which point I made it clear to her I was with someone else and not interested in getting back together.”

Iris looked up at him and smiled softly. She’d been so upset at that initial meeting because she didn’t think she could envision herself dating him when that was exactly what Becky was offering. But now she realized her jealousy had been completely unwarranted. Barry really didn’t like Becky, and he really liked her.

Maybe she should consider…

“I think I better go,” Becky mumbled. The rest of the family said nothing as she gathered her things and headed out.

Barry was on the verge of confirming what a great idea that was, but he knew his mom would give him hell for being so bluntly mean, so he kept it to himself.

Once she was gone, the tension increased tenfold. That was until Iris approached the table and took a seat.

“You know, I thought I was stuffed from eating at my dad’s, but this food looks too delicious not to taste. May I have some?”

Barry’s mother brightened immediately.

“Yes, of course, dear. Let me get you a plate.”

Barry came and sat beside her. They held hands under the table and smiled at each other briefly before consuming some of his mother’s food.

To Barry’s great surprise, his granddad seemed more interested in Iris than in belittling his choice of a future career, which made the whole night much more enjoyable than any of them could’ve expected.

As his granddad was leaving about an hour later, he turned to Iris.

“Iris is a much prettier name than Becky,” he said, and lifted her hand to kiss the back of it. “It was good to meet you, Iris.”

Iris felt heat flood her cheeks.

“Th-Thank you, Sir.”

He smiled, nodded, then waved to the rest of the family and was on his way out.

Barry and Iris sat with his parents by their fireplace for a while longer before Iris mentioned that she should probably be heading back. Barry’s parents shared how much they enjoyed her company and how they hoped to see her again, and how sorry they were for Becky’s deceit in their absence.

Iris brushed it aside, smiled and hugged them both before heading out the door with Barry and riding with him back to her dad’s place.

“Well, tonight went well,” Barry said, once he had parked in the driveway.

“I thought so,” Iris chimed in. “Better than expected anyway.”

“Both our families like us.”

“Which is an important thing.” She chuckled.

He leaned his head back on his headrest.

“I’m so glad you were with me tonight, Iris – at my parents’ place. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten Becky to leave if I hadn’t had you with me as proof that she wasn’t actually my girlfriend.”

“Happy to be of service.” She smiled prettily. “And, you know, if you ever need me to fake being your girlfriend again for the sake of getting rid of Becky, I am at your disposal.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. Same for you…if you need a boyfriend at a family function for whatever reason.”

She grinned. “’Kay. Thanks.”

He stared deep into her eyes and cupped her face. Just as he started to lean in, Iris interjected.

“My dad-”

Barry lifted his head, but he couldn’t see Joe West in any window on the front of the house.

“I think we’re in the clear,” he said, grinning as he looked down at her.

Relieved that there’d been confirmation of no onlookers, Iris grabbed a hold of her fake boyfriend’s face and pulled it down to her, kissing him soundly.

“Oh, thank God.”

Barry moaned. “You can say that again.”

“It feels like ages since I’ve kissed you.”

“And to think we’ll have to wait any longer until-”

“It’ll just make the reunion all the more special.”

“Or you could sneak away and we could hook up at my parents’ house tomorrow.”

She pulled back, her eyes wide.

“Barry Allen!” She smacked his chest.

“What? They’ll both be away!”

Iris opened the door and stepped onto the pavement.

“I cannot believe you. In your parents’ house?”

“Unless you want to do it here?” he offered. “Your dad works tomorrow, doesn’t he?”

She laughed. “You are…unbelievable.”

“So…see you tomorrow?” he asked, stepping out of the car to get her answer.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Iris!”

She spun around.

“Maybe.”

He grinned wide.

“But not at our parents’ houses!”

He laughed.

“Okay, okay, you choose.”

She rolled her eyes again.

“Goodnight, Barry.”

His laugh lessened into a smile.

“Goodnight, Iris,” he said softly, then watched her walk into her dad’s house before getting back into the car and driving himself home.

...

*will be posted on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

[wishiwasntstillhere]

and when the world is crashing down on you, will you give me a call?

Kyouya makes a different decision, and does not end up threatening someone he cares about. 

Kyouya-centric for his birthday!! Episode 8 fixit fic, no ships but also im clearly in love with all three of them so :) also on ao3!

Haruhi bursts into his room and goes straight for the bathroom, never even seeing him. Heaving noises ensue from within. He winces. Too much crab, then. He lays the towel down, grabbing his glasses so he can stand, but-

Should he go check on her?

For the hundredth time, the waves crash against that jagged rock and Haruhi plunges silent into dark water. He blinks it away.

Instead, he sits, toweling his hair, and wonders at her. Will she be awkward once she realizes he’s just finished showering? Hmm. Probably not. Oblivious or indifferent, Kyouya can never tell which, but Haruhi never seems flustered by that kind of thing.

That thought should be intriguing, but today there's only a churning in his gut.

“All done?” Kyouya asks, once his bathroom door opens again. He doesn't look up.

“I’m sorry for intruding into the room of a stranger-"

“How rude. It’s me.”

"Kyouya-senpai? Oh. I’m sorry, I seem to have gotten everyone worried about me.”

He refuses to let it play again. Yet in crashes the sea, the fall, the silence of that terror. He just can't shake it.

And so, the Shadow King must act.

Kyouya glances past her to the lightswitch and draws up the words he needs.

“I wasn’t particularly worried.” He stands, then drinks out of his water bottle. Cool, casual. That’s the key to this ruse.

He lays out the bait, recounting Hikaru and Kaoru’s scuffle with her attackers. Pinning his focus on his destination across the room, he spins some nonsense about bouquets and apologies to the girls. Kyouya doesn’t look at her once, even as he positions himself for the catch. In a way, it’s hosting. A careful dance made to look careless, subtly guiding her to the right outcome.

“I’ll pay for those flowers myself,” Haruhi promises, of course.

And his timing is precise. In the exact moment he lays out her six-figure mistake, he flips the lights off, and finally, Kyouya can turn to face her.

Something about the ruffles on her dress sends cold water splashing frantic up his insides. He takes another breath. He reaches down, drawing up the calculated cruelty he needs. He doesn’t like playing the bad guy, but he is best equipped for it. And someone has to.

“Why did you turn the lights off?”

She’s stepped in the snare, the cold teeth of the trap must snap shut around her now. Now, or she’ll never see the danger as it should be.

But his eyes catch on her face, blurry in the dark but watching, open, patient—and the teeth don’t move. He doesn’t move.

“Senpai?”

She fidgets, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Surely she senses the strangeness in the air.

“Senpai, you’re starting to worry me,” she starts cautiously.

Is he? Is he finally? He can hardly breathe, only he knows this isn’t enough. He grasps for his plan, the words that will make things right-

“Senpai, I’m sorry about the expense. Please don’t worry about it, I really will pay it off,” she tries, and he knows that she really means it. She gives him a look, gentler than a smile, something surreal and infuriatingly comforting in her very Haruhi way, and he chokes.

“Why didn’t you call for help, Haruhi?” he asks, relieved that his voice comes out so indifferent.

Haruhi sighs. “So you were worried.”

A Kyouya with the lights on would fill this space with words, flooding it with hurtful meaningless things. As a member of the host club, you are but an asset to me at best, commoner. Don’t presume your own importance. You are obligated to stay out of trouble until your debt is paid, at least.

There are yet other things he could have said in light, things that would have been kinder, truer, and yet just as deceptive. You scared Tamaki. You drove the twins to violence for you. Don't you see how they worry for you?

But they’re in the dark, and Haruhi’s not dumb, and his hand is already shown. Kyouya has an infinite capacity for unkindnesses––but for once, he’s willing to admit that he doesn’t want to go through with this plan.

“Why didn’t you?” he repeats.

She cocks her head, answering frankly. “It didn’t occur to me.”

And the cold inside him wails.  

He clenches his jaw to keep from shouting at her, how completely unhelpful that would be. But still more iron leaches into his tone than intended.

“And just why didn’t it occur to you?”

Haruhi’s chin jerks, eyes sparking. Oh, no.

“Well, those guys weren’t listening, so I didn’t have time to worry about how my gender would impact things. I had to act.”

She’s not listening, and the water is growing more agitated. Careless. Disrespectful. She should be afraid, and he can make her fear him.

Stomach lurching, he holds that thought in place. No. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He doesn’t want her to fear him.

This isn’t about Kyouya. It’s about Haruhi, and her safety.

How can he make her understand? How can he understand?

“I don’t disagree that something had to be done,” he starts. “Those girls were in real, immediate danger, and your intervention allowed Kurakano-kun to get the rest of the club to help. And Tamaki was being unreasonable by making the issue about your gender.”

Even this much is exhausting, so he sits down on the floor.

When she follows suit, her shoulders have settled a little from their taut hunch. Progress. He searches the dark and blurry bedroom for the next right words. But Haruhi finds them first.

“I know that rushing in to fight those guys was reckless,” she murmurs. “But the girls were scared. If I didn’t act, right away, they were going to be hurt.”

Kyouya pauses. She won’t like his next question. But he holds her gaze, intending to understand.

“Had you considered that you could get hurt, by intervening?”

Haruhi frowns. “After I hit the one, I knew they would focus on me. That was sort of the point, to get him to let go of Momoka-chan. But…” Her tone shifts into something more contemplative now. “I suppose I didn’t guard myself well, but how were my actions any different from Tamaki-senpai’s? He dove straight off the cliff to get to me, wasn’t that just as dangerous?”

She does have a point there. However good a swimmer he is, Tamaki had dived off the cliff without even looking. And yet...

True, Tamaki rushes into many reckless things to help others, but it’s never quite filled Kyouya with the same cold dread as Haruhi’s tumble off the cliff. And Tamaki has taken many a tumble. Kyouya would know, after all.

Ah.

“Haruhi, if you were robbed in a foreign country and you didn’t speak the language and you had nothing on you but your cellphone and 1000 yen, what would you do?”

She startles. “Huh? I would… search for the embassy, I guess?”

“And if you had no idea where the embassy was?”

“I would... try to find a map?”

Hmm.

“And if you got locked out of your home at 3 AM in the morning?”

“Senpai, what is this about?” Her confusion has shifted into mild irritation.

“Humor me,” he says, unsmiling.

She throws her hands up in resignation. “I would… wait until my dad got home.”

“And if he was on a business trip? Or if it was storming?”

“I would break in somehow.”

“And if someone at school was stealing your books and writing slurs on your desk?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs out, “I would let the teacher know I needed new books, and clean off my desk before school. Senpai, this isn’t very funny.”

There’s a knock at his door. “Kyouya?” And it opens. “Do you have any lotion? This sunburn is worse than I-”

Tamaki freezes in the doorway. Kyouya can’t see the look on his face, but he hardly needs to, with the perfect replica hissing steam in his mind. He has approximately three seconds to derail this explosion. Luckily, he has just the thing to reroute the wildly careening train that is Tamaki’s mind.

“What are you-”

“Tamaki, after you got scammed and you were stranded on your own in Taiwan, what did you do?”

Tamaki blinks, recalibrating.

“Uh, I think I went to the embassy?”

“And how did you get to the embassy?”

“Hmm... Oh! I called you to ask for directions.” Walking over, he drops down to sit with them. His eyebrows are pinched––he wants to ask why, but still he lets Kyouya lead on.

“Yes. In the middle of an investor meeting,” he adds to a perplexed Haruhi. “And what about that time when you tried to climb from your window to the roof and fell out of your bedroom, when you were too embarrassed to call for a maid to come unlock your own house at 3 AM?”

“I… called you and stayed over at your place.”

Haruhi makes a face at that, which is fair. Nonetheless.

This last one is a little more delicate. He softens his voice, and inclines his head toward Haruhi by way of explanation. “And when you were bullied by our xenophobic peers in middle school?”

“Ah,” Tamaki says, realization smoothing his brow. “I told you about it. And you blackmailed them within an inch of their lives, of course.” He grins at the memory, at Kyouya. It’s easy to smirk back, warm and wicked in equal measure. That plan he has no regrets about.

Haruhi looks back and forth between them. He knows she’s still turning it over in her own mind. She is certainly smart enough to get it herself. But Kyouya decides anyway to take a page out of her book and be blunt, lest a mistranslation lead to regret later.

“The difference,” he explains, “is that whenever Tamaki is in trouble, he calls.”

They sit in silence for a while, Haruhi with her face downturned, Kyouya watching, patient. Considering both of them with his own discerning gaze, Tamaki settles, too.

“I’m just not like that, though,” Haruhi concludes, at last. Her voice is a touch wistful.

Tamaki is very, very gentle with his next words, Kyouya notices. “You grew up pretty lonely, didn’t you, Haruhi?  You had to deal with a lot on your own.”

She shrugs, though all three know it’s true. And then all at once, they’re thinking of mothers and childhoods lost, and the melancholy sets in heavily over them.

“You know, Kyouya grew up much the same,” he says.

Haruhi turns to look at a bewildered Kyouya, who pushes up his glasses on reflex. But Tamaki smiles, continuing.

“Yes, he’s someone I can always depend on. But he’s not very good at asking for help, either.”

Kyouya glowers at the sheer audacity, only to startle as they both look at him with eyes far too affectionate. He shifts in place and looks down instead.

“But he has the whole Host Club looking out for him. So that even though sometimes, he doesn’t ask out loud, we can see it. And we’ll help.”

Here’s a pause. Tamaki swallows, leans forward, and bows.

“Haruhi, I’m sorry I yelled. I was angry because I was scared. That was my own fault, and you have every right to be upset.”

She rocks a little in her seat. “I’m sorry, as well. I don’t want to worry you guys.”

An absurd feeling grows in Kyouya’s chest. Half mirth, half despair.

Because he realizes: he doesn’t want her to be sorry at all anymore. She shouldn’t have to be sorry, she did nothing wrong . She acted to help, because it was more important to her than any consequence.

And now it’s clear: Haruhi has somehow become someone he truly cares about. Like Tamaki. Haruhi is something precious. Completely an agent of her own, and so trusting, and so kind. She’s earnest. She’s inherently good. He just wants her to be safe.

And he will never have any control over that.

The hysteria swells, threatening the structural integrity of his ribcage. All of the understanding he’s earned still won’t stop the fear that’s been crashing through him this whole night. He chokes down the laughter bubbling up and in his sheer desperation, looks at Tamaki.

It takes only one moment for Tamaki to read Kyouya’s distress, and in the next, he’s grabbing his hand, squeezing tight. And then he extends one to Haruhi.

“Haruhi, you don’t ever have to face things alone again. Will you let us be there for you?”

Kyouya has no control over how hard he squeezes Tamaki’s hand as they wait. He watches Haruhi’s own hands curl on her lap.

"I won’t be very good at it.”

"We aren’t either,” he says. She huffs. “It’s about the trying. Together .”

When she looks up, he's ready. Her eyes are searching, so he makes sure his own gaze is steadfast. He almost missed ever having this opportunity, he's fully aware. He won't let her down again.

“Okay,” she whispers. And takes Tamaki’s hand.

Relief blooms tangibly in the air. Haruhi’s eyes crinkle at Tamaki's relieved laugh. She opens her mouth to say something else, and-

Thunder shatters the room. Haruhi squeaks, yanking on his hand and hunching.

“Haruhi?” Tamaki leans forward, but-

Lightning strikes again, closer this time, and Kyouya feels the thunder slam into his eardrums. Haruhi yelps, trembling violently. She looks around the room, spots his dresser, and stands.

“Sorry! I- I uh- have to go now!”

“Don’t hide in the dresser,” Kyouya says, then feels foolish. Where had that thought come from? Why would she-?

But then she actually starts climbing into his dresser, and he and Tamaki have to hold the doors open.

“What- why would-? Haruhi, are you afraid of thunder?”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, this is how I always get through it,” she stammers, curling up inside.

“Not anymore,” says Tamaki, fiercely, and pulls her out into a hug.

“We have an American-style basement. It should be soundproof there, and there won’t be any flashing. Let’s head down now,” Kyouya decides. She’s trembling, clutching hard at Tamaki.

“I can’t- I’m not going to make it.”

“Close your eyes and cover your ears. We’ll get you there safe,” promises the Host Club prince, holding her even tighter.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Somehow they make it, the three of them hobbling to the basement. And somehow, the others find them, and they play games and music until they're almost all asleep on the various couches.

Kyouya’s turned off the lights and is just throwing a blanket over the twins when he hears her.

He’d thought she was asleep when he’d passed to drape a blanket over her on her own couch. Maybe she’s sleep talking, or maybe she woke up again. Either way, he stills, hoping she won’t spot him.

“You guys are even nicer than I thought,” she murmurs to the dark room. “Thank you, Kyouya-senpai.”

Despite himself, he smiles.

[steppedoffaflight]

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 12

Catch up on Chapter 11 here

“So?” Van brings you back to reality.

“So what?”

Van’s eyes widen like your question was stupid. “Are you able to go to dinner with us?”

Your neck jerks back like he’s just said something repulsive. “Why would I go to Benji’s birthday dinner?”

The longer Van stares at you like you’re an idiot, the more irritation boils under your skin. “Because you’re our friend?” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

or

You’re cordially invited to celebrate Benji’s 29th birthday.

Word count: ~14k

A/N: content warning for drunk sex and some sliiiight under-negotiated kink

Chapter Twelve July 2019

True to your word, you hold Van hostage at your place for the rest of the weekend, making sure he gets plenty of rest, fluids, and soup. It feels amazing to have him close by, not having to wonder about what he’s up to or how he’s feeling. Whether you’re on the porch with your nose in another one of your books, or finishing up some work things at the kitchen table, it relieves you to know that Van’s only a room away, snoozing peacefully on your bed. 

On Sunday evening Van feels well enough to sit on the couch with you, dragging your comforter along with him. You two resume the Netflix show about the stalker and have a small binge of it until both of you are distracted with your phones.

“Hey,” Van croaks. “What’re you doing Monday?”

“Tomorrow? The same thing I do every Monday, Van.” You can already tell from his tone that he’s most likely about to suggest something insane. You mentally gear up for his argument against your no.

“Not this Monday, the next. And I know you work, so shut up-” He shakes his head in exasperation when your mouth opens to tell him that. “I mean after work.”

You open up the calendar on your phone. There’s nothing special happening on the day in question. “Um, nothing…” You answer Van wearily, bracing for his request.

When Van doesn’t speak you dare to meet his eyes. “Uh, why?”

“We’re having a birthday dinner for Benji,” Van tells you. “Technically his birthday is on Thursday but we’re flying out on Tuesday and we wanted to go to that restaurant we like. The one I took you to?”

You nod at the memory. How could you forget it? It was the most exclusive and expensive place you’d ever eaten at. Not to mention it’s sort of where this whole thing with Van started. Or would San Diego be considered the place where it all started? You lose your train of thought pondering this.

“So?” Van brings you back to reality.

“So what?”

Van’s eyes widen like your question was stupid. “Are you able to go to dinner with us?”

Your neck jerks back like he’s just said something repulsive. “Why would I go to Benji’s birthday dinner?”

The longer Van stares at you like you’re an idiot, the more irritation boils under your skin. “Because you’re our friend?” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your jaw goes slack at this. He didn’t say my friend. He said our friend. As in the fucking band.

“What- I mean, Benji doesn’t even like me!” You insist. “He doesn’t want me at his birthday dinner. We’ve barely said five words to each other!”

“Aw, Blakes likes you plenty. He’s just quiet, is all. Bob’s cool with everyone. You know John adores you. We love having you around!”

You can’t even wrap your head about what Van’s saying. You’ve always figured you were a nuisance to the other boys, an inconvenience at their shows. The guitar Bondy had gifted you had been an incredibly nice gesture, but you always assumed his kindness was a direct result of trying to make Van happy by welcoming you.

“I think you’re just saying that,” You argue. “I don’t think they like me. They’re nice to me because you like me.”

“Not true,” Van says. “All of them have said they liked you. They think you’re cool. You’re chill at the shows, they thought you were hilarious that time we had drinks on the patio, and Bond still talks about that one time we smoked weed at my house and you told us to do Encore at our set. It was a big hit, by the way. He loved that you made the right call.”

“I didn’t make the call,” You huff. “You two both like Encore best.”

“Y/N,” Van says seriously, “Conversation is a single. The label was one-hundred percent expecting us to do Conversation. We switched the set because you, a listener, liked Encore better. We were not going to do Encore.”

All you can do at this news is blink at him.

Van wiggles around underneath your comforter. “So are you going to fucking dinner with us or not? No pressure, but I already told them you’d most likely be there and they’re excited. Afterward we’re gonna go back to John’s place and have drinks. You don’t have to stay late, though.”

They were excited that you’d be there? “Um. I mean. Well, since you’ve already told them I’m going, what choice do I have?” You roll your eyes, but it’s all just an act so Van doesn’t feel like he got his way that easy.

Van beams at you before starting to tap away at his phone. “Perfect. It’s gonna be class.”

\\

Van makes a speedy recovery on his antibiotics, and on Tuesday you come home from work to a clean kitchen and an empty sink. 

Your house is so small that you don’t need to call out to Van that you’ve arrived, like you have to do at his house if he’s not in the living room. You can instantly hear the strumming of an acoustic guitar ringing out from your bedroom. 

You open the door slowly to reveal Van sitting on your bed, strumming away at the guitar Bondy gifted you. It’s been propped in the corner, unused, but you’ve noticed Van steadily gravitating towards it during his recovery, unable to resist the temptation of messing with it. Today’s the first day you’ve caught him doing more than just tuning it or plucking a few strings; he’s got his leather notebook spread out next to him, and he’s bobbing his head to an imaginary beat that continues even as he looks up at you. 

He finishes playing his tune, setting the guitar next to him on the bed and scrawling a few things into his notebook before closing it and tossing it onto the bedside table. “How was work?”

“Good, actually,” You tell him as you head to the closet, already starting to unbutton your silk blouse. The workday didn’t feel completely behind you until you’ve changed out of your professional clothes and into something that made you feel like yourself. “I made good progress on the research for that water company.”

 Van lays back on the bed, watching you shamelessly as you peel the silk off of your shoulders. “Ah. Do you think they’re gonna make it?”

Although it was difficult to explain exactly what it was that your company did, your department specialized in market research. In L.A. everyone’s got a big idea, and they paid your department to investigate if there was something to them. As you were only a couple of years out of college, you were assigned businesses that didn’t have a big research budget to spend, ideas that you could clearly see wouldn’t be taking off. Your more experienced coworkers were reserved for companies that had something to them, that would likely be developing life-long relationships with your firm. And though it was frustrating being assigned the businesses doomed to fail, you could tell your experience was starting to pay off, and could more easily recognize who was worth more of your time. 

“Not at all,” You snort. The business in question was run by two men that looked about your age, but were probably younger. Typical surfer-stoners, they’d developed a concept about THC water. Not CBD water- which was beginning as a profitable trend- but THC water, inspired by their friend group who thought it would be a million-dollar idea to be able to get high as they hydrated on the beach. But THC water is already a patented idea, the production costs are extremely high, and there are a lot of legal hoops to jump through with THC marketing campaigns.

You’d never discussed your job before with Van, but who could blame you? What job beat touring the world performing to screaming fans? But once you’d answered his questions about what you’re always doing on your MacBook, he’d become obsessed. A big fan of the underdog, he’d taken to placing bets against you on all of your projects. He’s certain this water company is going to make it.

“Nah, just wait,” He assures you. You turn to face him as you stand there in your bra, shimmying your slacks off of your legs. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Shut up. They’re doomed, Van.” Van gives you a once over as you stand there in your underwear, and you turn away just to deny him the privilege of admiring you. “Plus, their budget is almost used up and I’ve barely done anything. They’ll likely pull out next meeting.”

“I’ll fundraise for them,” Van jokes. “Send out a couple tweets, get the fans behind them. They’ll take off.”

“Or,” You suggest, snapping your bra off and throwing a clean t-shirt on, “Save yourself the effort of trying to remember your twitter login, and smoke your weed like the rest of us in California.”

Van laughs at that, and the argument is settled.

“By the way,” You’re clad in your typical t-shirt and sweatpants now, and pick up your guitar to settle it back in the corner. When that’s put away you sit down on the bed next to Van’s sprawled out body. “Why’d you clean the kitchen? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was bored today! I didn’t do anything crazy like mop. I just wanted to pay you back for the dinners.”

You’d quickly learned that Van’s chef act that he’d whipped out the first time you’d stayed the night at his place was just that: an act. He was absolutely hopeless in the kitchen if eggs and bacon weren’t involved, which meant that every night you were the one cooking up dinner for you two while Van hacked up a lung from his spot on the couch. 

“You don’t have to pay me back for anything, stop,” You ruffle his hair. Van untucks one of his hands from behind his head so he can playfully bat you away. “If anything, I owe you the dinners for the car.”

Van shakes his head at this. “What car? The car I leave baking in my driveway most of the year?”

You bat at his hand as he plucks at the hem of your shirt, another telltale sign he’s not feeling deathly anymore. He’s been making passes at you for the past two days, but you’ve dutifully ignored them. Your first fuck after time apart was always intense, and truthfully you were a little worried about breaking him. You bat his fingertips away, playfully grazing the soft skin of your stomach, and then he bats at you in retaliation, and soon you’re both breathless from laughing and your hands sting from slapping at each other. 

“So what should we do for dinner?” You ask when you’re done giggling. “Let’s get something. I don’t wanna cook.” What you actually didn’t want to do was ruin the clean kitchen. 

“Let’s go somewhere,” Van suggests. “Nowhere fancy. But I’m really in the mood for a burger.”

That’s good news, considering he’s only had an appetite for simple sandwiches and soup. And a burger does sound good, so you agree.

You sit up, preparing to switch out of your sweatpants into some leggings, when Van’s arm suddenly shoots out, keeping you from standing up.

“Wait,” He sits up, his hair straying from its usual side part. 

“What?” His sudden seriousness has you worried.

“Is that us on your shirt?”

You frown in confusion, looking down before you understand. You’re dressed in the shirt Van had given you in San Diego, the Balance toucan design on the front. “Yeah. You don’t remember?”

“Of course I remember! Just figured you’d have thrown it out by now.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Why would I throw this out?”

“We didn’t speak for like, three months after that! Figured you forgot about me.”

“It was a free shirt! I wasn’t gonna waste it! Plus, that was a night to remember.”

Your words are tender, and you worry for a moment that you’ve betrayed your real feelings for him. But Van looks just as nostalgic and dreamy, nodding as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

There’s a beat of silence as you both remember that night, and then you both get up, preparing to make yourself presentable to the public.

\\

You’re tucked in a booth at the diner two blocks away from your house, a place where you and Mary have heavily frequented over the years. It was the perfect spot for some greasy food after your late nights out, considering it was open 24/7, and they also made some killer pancakes, perfect for mornings when she stays over and neither of you feel like making breakfast. But this time it’s you and Van settled into your usual spot, and you can see the gears turning in Van’s mind as he ponders the burger menu.

They’re not very busy tonight- probably because it was a weeknight- and the waitress is able to take your orders without much wait, and your food comes back almost as quickly. You’ve both gotten burgers and fries, and the steaming baskets placed in front of you look mouthwatering as she shuffles away, leaving you two to dig in.

Van’s gotten a classic cheeseburger, no onions, while you’ve treated yourself to the burger that included a fried egg. You didn’t get it often, but you always cursed yourself for not ordering it every single time when you remember how good it tastes. 

There’s no conversation for the first few minutes of eating, the only noise the crinkling of the paper lining in the plastic baskets. But after a sip from his bottle of beer, Van clears his throat.

“I think the waitress fancies you,” He says quietly.

His words instantly jar you. Crushing on the same sex was a complicated ritual, a delicate balance of over-friendliness while trying to avoid seeming like a creep in case the girl was straight. You’d never had any sort of playful interactions with your waitress, although she’s served you and Mary plenty of times. 

“What makes you say that?” You ask.

Van hunches over slightly, subtly trying to come in closer as he chews on a fry. “Okay, well, as soon as we got in here she started whispering,” He tells you, carefully looking around for her. “And then the second we sat down she basically ran over here and was being all nice to you. And I dunno. She was blushing when she took your order.”

You shake your head and take a sip of your lemonade. “I’m pretty sure Alexis has a boyfriend. Maybe they’re broken up now, I dunno. Mary and I heard her getting into an argument with someone in the parking lot the last time we were here.” Even as you reject his suspicions your cheeks heat up, and you fuss with your shirt self consciously. Alexis had an influencer look to her, with tanned skin and black hair so smooth and straight you were sure it was mostly extensions. There was no denying she was gorgeous, but every girl in the city was. 

“A boyfriend don’t mean nothin’,” Van insists. “Look at you!”

You choke on your bite of burger as you laugh. Your cough is loud in the small space, and you notice Alexis peers over at you where she’s dutifully bussing the front counter.

“Not everyone is bi just because I am,” You tell Van. 

He only shrugs. “Didn’t say that. It’s a possibility, that’s all.”

You shake your head. “I think she’s crushing on you, actually.”

“Me? Hell no. I’m a fucking toad.”

You roll your eyes. “Not true. And you’ve got that accent. Even the nurses were swooning over it.”

Before Van can argue, you two both sense Alexis approaching your booth.

“I’ll get you another lemonade,” She nods to your almost-empty glass. “Do you want another?” She asks Van about his beer, but he shakes his head.

“I’m alright. Cheers, though.”

She giggles as she trots off, and both of you look at one another with your eyebrows raised in a see? Sort of expression. 

\\

The sun is starting to set as Van pays the bill, and the air has cooled when you two exit the diner. You’re light on your feet, giggling as you and Van resume your argument over how you wanted to split the bill. You two are halfway across the pavement, Van jabbing at you with his elbow at something you’ve just said, when you hear the clatter of the rusty bell the diner keeps tied to their door. 

You two keep joking, disregarding the sound, until you hear someone call softly: “Hey!”

At this you two suddenly go quiet, turning to see Alexis approaching. There’s another waitress behind her, the one she’d been giggling with when you two had entered. You both stay rooted in place as they make their way to you.

“Sorry,” Alexis says immediately. “I didn’t wanna interrupt your meal, and this is so weird, but… Do you mind if we get a picture?”

Both girls are radiating nerves, their eyes glued to Van. looking at their wide, starstruck eyes makes the entire evening make sense. The blushing, the whispering. Van had misread the situation this entire time. They were fans.

As soon as they’ve broached the question, Van’s shoulders relax, his usual breeziness immediately resuming. “Oh, deffo,” He tells them, untucking his hands from the pockets of his jeans. “For sure, for sure. How are you guys?”

They both rush to answer his question, stammering and speaking over each other. You’re momentarily forgotten, his attention entirely dedicated to his conversation with them. You’re a bit amused at how they react to his intense eye contact, freezing up and stuttering over their sentences. It’s the exact same reaction you tend to have when he sets his sights on you like that.

The pictures only take a moment, each of the girls holding the phone for the other. But even after the pictures are done, Van gestures with his left hand absentmindedly.

“Have you got anything for me to sign?” He asks them, but neither of them do. “Go get my receipt,” Van tells Alexis, “I’ll sign that.”

The two girls hurry off, practically falling over their feet as they go. Once they’ve disappeared inside of the building Van remembers you exist.

He smiles in amusement, a secret inside joke over how starstruck they are, and you instantly feel included again, beaming back at him. The bell on the door rings again, both of them returning. Alexis has the bill Van just paid, and the other waitress has the pad of paper she records orders on, and Van signs both with a Sharpie they’d grabbed on their way out before he exchanges final goodbye hugs with them. Once they’ve walked back inside, giggling with each other the whole way, you two finally finish your walk to the Range Rover. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Van says immediately when you’re alone in the car. In the business of the fans you’d forgotten that you were supposed to be the one driving home, and Van’s the one that reverses out of the parking spot.

“Are you alright to drive?” You ask him worriedly, remembering the beer he’d ordered.

Van huffs out a laugh. “I’m fine.” The diner is so close to your place you’re already well on your way home by the time he passes under the stoplight in front of the building. 

“Alright. And don’t be sorry. I thought it was sweet.”

Van chuckles. “Sweet?”

“Yeah! They were so nervous. And the way you made them go get something for you to sign was so nice. You could’ve just taken the pics and left.”

“Yeah. When there’s nobody else around and I can take a second with them I like to do that. It doesn’t happen often, one or two people approaching me. Either I go without being recognized or I’m getting mobbed. Which, I’m proper surprised I got recognized. I never am in the States.”

“It was a strange coincidence,” You agree. “You’d never think the waitress that serves me and Mary all the time was a secret Catfish fan. And, by the way, I was right! She had a crush on you, not me!”

The car is stopped at a red light, and Van throws his hands up quickly in a show of surrender. “You were right, I’ll give you that. But we’ll find someone for you, don’t worry.”

You turn to look out of the window, hiding your blush from Van. How was he supposed to help you find someone when they were already sitting in the fucking car with you?

\\

In a strange- but pleasant- turn of events, Van doesn’t go home. On Wednesday he runs home to grab his MacBook and some fresh clothes, and on Thursday morning he shaves over your bathroom sink as you wiggle around him trying to get ready for work.

“Good luck with your meeting,” You call to him as you stuff things into your work tote. The band had some sort of Zoom call with their U.K. label. Van already told you what the meeting was about, but you’ve forgotten.

“Good luck with yours!” He shouts back. “Tell them I’m rooting for them!”

You’ve got a meeting today with the two founders of the THC water. You roll your eyes even though Van isn’t in the living room to see. “I absolutely will not! Bye!”

As you close the door on the morning commotion, surrounded instead by the peaceful quiet of your little street, you smile to yourself. You’ve been living alone for over a year now, and you’ve forgotten how pleasant the chaos of someone else being around can be. When you get along with them, that is. The chaos of living with an unbearable roommate is the whole reason you wanted to be alone to begin with. But you and Van seem to make it work just fine.

Your meeting goes just as you’d expected. The research budget is draining, but the boys insist you keep going, their belief in their idea still going strong. When you present the budget and the plan for your future work they make your workload easy by having to cut half of what you’d intended to do. They leave discouraged, and Van’s support for them rings through your mind. You make a mental note to put a little extra effort into their project, pro bono. At the very least, maybe you could make some calls and find someone more experienced in THC marketing that would be willing to meet with them.

You had felt your phone buzzing with texts during the meeting, but you don’t get a chance to look your notifications over until your lunch break. You’ve decided to take your break out of the office today, walking the short distance to the little coffee shop you frequent. 

There’s a text from Van asking about the meeting, and you regretfully inform him that things were going exactly as you predicted.

Mary’s sent you a picture that takes a second to load, only her message underneath visible at first: Tell me why Alexis just tweeted this last night??

The picture is a screenshot from Mary’s twitter app. There’s a tweet from @A_lexi_s that reads: Ya’ll I met Van McCann how is this my actual lifeee. She’s attached the picture you’d watched Van pose for in the parking lot. His arm is draped over her shoulders, an easy grin on his face. The breeze has made his hair a bit disheveled, and the wrinkles in his button up are visible where she’s got both of her arms wrapped around his waist. She’s absolutely glowing beside him, her waist length hair shining and her smile bright and perfect. You hadn’t realized she had eyelash extensions until now, seeing how the extra length of her lashes perfectly frame her eyes.

It’s a great picture. You don’t think you’ve ever taken a picture on the fly and looked as good as she did. In response to Mary you send back You follow Alexis on twitter?

Mary’s message pops up in your notification bar as you scroll through Instagram and munch at the bagel you’ve ordered. You don’t?! 

Before you can ask how Mary even got her handle Mary sends two messages in quick succession: That’s not the point, and This is!

Before you can question what “this” is, a third message comes through, another screenshot. 

It’s the replies to Alexis’s tweet. You recognize her coworker in the icon of one of the replies, her response a string of hearts. Someone else has asked who is that, and then someone else has responded with omg where did you meet him???!?

Alexis hasn’t replied to anyone except the last user. I served him at work!

The person has replied back Was he nice? With an emoji making an uncertain sort of face.

He was! You read Alexis’s tweet back to them. Very polite and he tipped well lol!

Was he with the band or eating alone, the user wants to know.

With a girl! I’ve served her before she’s always super sweet. 

The replies end there, Alexis’s words putting a cold pit of dread in your stomach. 

Instantly your mind starts racing. Do you tell Van? Keep it a secret? You check Alexis’s followers. 4k. Not a huge number, but there’s obviously people in that mix that know who Catfish is. Was this info going to blow up out of proportion?

You don’t reply to Mary, and spend the rest of the day debating if and how you should bring this up to Van. You push your worries aside long enough to get your work done, but the whole drive home you start to feel sick. Things felt like they were going so good. You loved having Van over and you two had been getting along so well. Now this gossip will probably scare him off. 

Still, you know honesty is the best policy. That’s why when you get home, interrupting Van as he watches something on TV, you don’t have it in you to greet him with the same enthusiasm he welcomes you with.

“Was the meeting that bad?” Van notices your energy is off immediately, sitting up straight. 

You take a shaky breath. Maybe if you were calm, you could show Van these screenshots in such a nonchalant way that he wouldn’t care. You knew your anxiety was only making everything a bigger deal. Yet, you couldn’t help it. Your heart felt certain that everything was fucked up now.

“Um. I have something to show you,” You tell him, sitting down on the couch next to him. 

Van’s brows furrow in worry as you pull up your texting exchange with Mary.

“Mary sent me these,” You tell him as you hand over your phone, letting him read the screenshots on his own.

His brows stay furrowed as his eyes skim over the tweet and its replies, and then his expression relaxes when he understands.

He hands you the phone back gently. “She said I’m nice and I tip well,” He laughs. 

You don’t have it in you to laugh along with him.

Van looks a little hurt that you don’t joke with him. “What’s wrong? Are you that embarrassed to be seen with me? Christ.”

You look up at him in shock that he read you so wrong. “Aren’t you worried about this blowing up into some big rumor?”

Van laughs at that. Like throws his head back, genuinely laughs. “I’m fucking twenty-six years old, Y/N, I don’t care what people on social media are saying. One time I took my necklace off to go through airport security and forgot to put it back on and this giant rumor started that my folks, like, disowned me or something. Shit on there does not make the slightest bit of sense. That’s why I stay away from it.”

Your nerves are still shot from the fear of Van wanting nothing to do with you, but you start to relax at how he brushes the entire thing off. 

“You’re so tense,” Van points out after you stay quiet. “Want me to roll us a smoke?”

You do, and while he goes to get the weed tray you head to your room to change. Alone in your bedroom, you let out the breath you feel like you’ve been holding all afternoon. For once, luck was on your side with Van. 

\\

On Monday morning when you rush to silence your blaring alarm, you’re alone in your bed. 

Not because Van’s left, because he hasn’t. By the weekend he was already too committed to staying at your place, citing the fact he had absolutely zero food at his own. There was no use in going back home and trying to order groceries or clean up, he’d argued, because the boys were leaving for the next leg of the tour on Tuesday. For the record, you couldn’t care less about his reasoning. You’d listened politely, nodded along and assured him he was welcome, all while repressing the urge to jump for joy. 

He’s not in bed this morning because he couldn’t sleep. His full recovery from his strep meant that he was no longer exhausted, back to his usual bouncy self. Last night you’d left him on the couch, watching some sort of British show that was available on Netflix, and then had been woken at God-knows-what hour of the night to Van slipping into your room and grabbing your guitar. He’s taken to playing in the guest bedroom when he needs to be quiet, even though there’s no furniture in there and he has to sit on the floor against the wall.

When you stumble out of your bedroom, rubbing your eyes, the whole living room is dark except for the flashing lights of the TV on mute. Van’s lumpy form is curled up on the couch, fast asleep on a decorative pillow with throw blanket on top of him. The blanket is way too small for his height, and his legs are completely uncovered, his bare feet exposed to the chilly morning air of the house. 

You leave him be and head for the kitchen, switching on the lights so that you can start to get some coffee brewing. While that’s going you jump in the shower, mentally trying to prepare for the day ahead of you. After work you’ve got Benji’s birthday dinner, and tomorrow morning you had to drop Van off at the airport. This week of domestic bliss would be coming to a close. You dreaded it already.

Your robe is actually clean for once, a direct result of Van learning to use your washer and dryer. He throws a load of your clothes in anytime he needs to wash his briefs or the t-shirt he’s been sleeping in, and now you were actually caught up on the laundry. He couldn’t take all the credit, though, because you’re the one who actually folds the clothes. If Van had it his way, everything clean would be in a rumpled pile on the floor. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in your fluffy robe with your towel dried hair, Van’s awake.

“Hey,” You greet him before turning the corner into the kitchen. You prepare yourself a mug of coffee before returning back to the living room. “When did you go to bed?”

Van shuffles over on the couch, making room for you to sit with him. “I dunno,” He yawns. “Lost track of time.”

You flick the floor lamp behind the couch on, the space basked in light before you sit down on the cushion Van’s cleared for you. Van searches for the remote in the cracks of the couch for a minute before he finds it, flicking the television off. 

“Write anything good?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink.

Van fusses with the throw blanket, trying to make it cover his folded legs. He nods. “I’ve had some scrap verses that I couldn’t find a place for. Finally wrote a nice chorus for them last night.”

He reaches for his pack of cigarettes on the table. He doesn’t ask if you want one anymore, automatically plucking one out of the box for you. 

“So…” You take your first drag of the day, even if 6:30 A.M. is way too early to be having a cigarette. “Who gets to hear these songs?”

Van was always writing. Always jotting down things in his notebook, always audio recording bits of melodies with his phone. But you’d never gotten to hear a finished song, or read any of these lyrics. You didn’t want to pry, but his enthusiasm for the things he’d been creating lately made you curious. 

Van scratches at his stubble. “Nobody, at first,” He says. “Unless it’s love at first listen, like this one is. So I’ll probably play this one for the boys soon. But I save mostly everything until it’s time for the new album, and by then I sort of know what my favorites are. Pick a few of those, then we’ll we write the rest around them.”

“What about me?” You decide to ask, keeping your voice light and joking. “When do I get to hear them?”

Van grins. “When the fourth album is out, duh.”

You scoff at the unfairness, before quickly composing yourself. “Fine. But if we hate each other by then I’m not listening.”

Van pretends to be wounded, hand to his chest. “Hate each other? You’re my best mate!”

You shrug as you take another sip of coffee.

Van wiggles into your personal space, resting his body against yours. You catch a whiff of your shampoo as he leans his head on your shoulder, and can tell from the waves in his hair that he’d taken a shower last night to pass the time.

He knocks your balance, almost spilling your coffee. “Van,” You glare at him. 

He blinks up at you in mock innocence. “How could you hate me?” He pouts. “Because I want you to hear a full, cohesive album? Aren’t I your best mate?”

You pat the crown of his head. “You’re my best friend,” You correct his British vocabulary. “But Mary has seniority, so be careful.”

“And friends can fight,” You point out. “You can ruin a friendship like anything else.”

Because it’s true. You two could find out you disagree on something fundamental, like human rights. Or the connection could fade with time and distance, as has happened with many of your friends back home. Or everything could be royally screwed up by unrequited love, for example. That’s an example, obviously. It’s not like you were sitting here with Van’s body pressed to yours, breathing in the scent of his clean hair as your stomach already ached with how much you would miss having him around because you were terribly, hopelessly in love with him and he didn’t feel the same. 

“Nah, not us,” Van shrugs you off, sitting up so that he was supporting his own weight now. “We’re solid.”

“Hmm,” You hum thoughtfully. Then, as you lift your mug to your mouth: “Are you pro-choice?”

It’s Van’s turn to scoff. “Course I am! It’s your body, innit?”

When he realizes how you two have never discussed this, his expression turns from indignation to confusion. “Aren’t you?”

Your laughter echoes through the silent house.

\\

Considering the fact you’ll be up late tonight for the birthday celebrations and up early tomorrow morning to see Van off, you throw yourself into work today. The less you had on your to-do list tomorrow, the better. By the end of the day you’re satisfied with what you’ve gotten done, and relieved that you’d been so distracted you’ve forgotten to be anxious about the dinner tonight.

You return home at the end of your workday to a silent house. Van is burrowed in your bed, comforter pulled over his head, the curtains in the room drawn tight.

“You’re still sleeping?” You ask, poking at his legs through the comforter while you get undressed. 

He really is sleeping, because he doesn’t respond. You tug the comforter down away from his face, watching his nose scrunch in displeasure. 

“What time is it?” He whispers, struggling to tug the blanket back over his eyes. You don’t let him.

“It’s about to be six,” You tell him, leaving the side of his bed so you can finish getting dressed. The reservation wasn’t until eight, but you might as well throw your outfit on now. You had a pretty good idea of what the boys would be showing up in, so you’ve picked out your own clothes accordingly. You’ve just bought a new baby blue tank top for your work wardrobe, with fabric so light and flowy it was like crepe paper. You throw some dark jeans on to keep it casual, and grab a dark cardigan off of the hanger so you don’t forget it. 

Van is awake, squinting up at his phone screen. 

“You gotta get ready,” You remind him.

“Gonna take me about six seconds,” He replies, his voice stiff.

You ignore him, closing the bedroom door behind you when you leave. You’re starting to learn that grumpy, exhausted Van wasn’t worth getting worked up over. You immediately head to the kitchen, getting a pot of coffee started. You weren’t usually one to have an evening cup, but Van was. You cut yourself up a bruised apple that’s been sitting in your crisper for a bit too long, and scrape the bottom of the peanut butter jar to make yourself a snack to hold you over until dinner.

You bring your paper plate into the other room, settling yourself at the table. The coffee machine has just finished warming up, getting noisier in preparation to run the hot water over the grinds, when Van finally emerges from your room.

“Coffee?” He grumbles, stumbling into the kitchen before he realizes it’s still brewing. He redirects himself to the bathroom, taking a piss with the door open before he finds his way back to the table. 

“For you,” You tell him around a bite of peanut butter covered apple. 

He perks up at that. “For me?”

“Yeah,” You keep your tone indifferent, hoping he realizes that he’s pissed you off. You think he does, because he stays silent until you hear the machine sputter, signaling the end of the brewing cycle. Van immediately jumps up, heading into the kitchen to pour himself a cup.

He comes back with two mugs. One is filled with black coffee, for him, and the other has milk in it. He places the one with milk down in front of you.

“I don’t drink coffee this late,” You inform him. You’d planned on having a cup, but Van didn’t need to know that.

“We’re gonna be up late.”

You’re both silent except for the sound as you bite into your apple slice, and the noise of Van setting his mug down. 

“Sorry I was a dick. I’m fucking wiped out.” 

“I know,” You sigh. With his apology, your mood has cleared, and you slide your paper plate towards him slightly. “Want some apples and peanut butter?”

Van shakes his head. “Apples make my teeth shift. Drives me nuts.”

You tug the plate back towards you. “More for me.”

\\

You two were supposed to leave at 7:30, but as always Van is running late. Why exactly, you don’t know. When the Uber pulls up outside, struggling not to block the entire street, Van is still in his socks, fussing with his hair in the bathroom.

“Uber’s here!” You call, but Van can’t hear you over the sound of the blowdryer. You repeat yourself in the bathroom doorway, watching Van style his hair with the dryer and a brush. 

As Van finishes shaping his waves into a presentable shape, you notice in the mirror that his hair’s gotten longer. 

“How often do you get your hair cut?” You ask as he unplugs the blowdryer, rushing past you to stuff his feet into his boots. 

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “We’ve got a stylist on tour. She gives me a quick trim whenever I need it.”

Van never seemed to have a solid concept of time. It seemed like he just floated through life, sleeping, eating and performing whenever, wherever. Unlike you, who had to look over your calendar app multiple times a day. You sigh at his vague answer, sliding your cardigan on and grabbing your bag. 

It’s 7:50 by the time the Uber is pulling away.

“We’re not gonna be there in time,” You tell Van after you check the time on your phone. The driver is grumpy that he had to wait on the two of you for ten minutes, and is brooding in the front seat. It’s making you uncomfortable, but Van seems oblivious.

“Bob’ll be there,” He shrugs. “He’s always early. Bet Bondy’ll be later than us.”

“So Bob’s just supposed to sit there alone?”

“I’m sure Blakes is there! They don’t like being late, those two.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And you do?”

“I don’t mean to be!” Van sighs, frustrated. “Christ, woman.”

You cut him some slack, deciding to drop the subject. 

You two arrive almost twenty minutes late, Van scrambling to give the driver a ten dollar bill as you two rush into the building. Once he informs the hostess of your reservation you two are led out of the lobby and into the familiar dining area. 

You spot the table that you and Van had eaten at, momentarily lost in your reminiscing as the hostess leads you away from that dining room and around the corner to tonight’s table. You’re in your own private room tonight, which hosts two large circular tables, five seats each. Only one is being used, Bob and Benji looking up as soon as you two enter the space.

Nobody gives Van any shit about being late, and Van doesn’t offer any apologies. Bob is sitting next to Benji, and Van slides into the empty seat on the other side of Bob. You sit down next to Van, and that means that Bondy will be sitting between you and Benji. You feel relieved with how the seating works out. It’s always strange being sat next to someone you didn’t know that well, but Bondy was enough of a familiar face that you didn’t mind. 

Bread has already been served, and Van reaches for the basket eagerly while you’re distracted admiring the decor. There were still the glossy white floors and the dark walls, but this area lacked any of the windows looking out onto the courtyard. Instead, the walls boasted a collection of impressive looking paintings. One catches your eye in particular, a renaissance style oil painting that depicted a woman preparing a loaf of fresh bread. It was in the sort of style where the humans don’t look very realistic, her face and arms painted with curvy, disproportionate strokes. Her dress is covered in intricate designs and bright colors. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Van interrupts your thoughts, mouth full as he chews a bread roll. 

“That painting,” You nod to the one of the woman with the bread.

Van looks it over carefully as he swallows his bite of food. “Kinda looks like my mum,” He says finally.

At this you dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Bob asks, a smile blooming on his face only because he’s watching you and Van laugh. 

Van gestures to the painting. “Doesn’t that look like my mum? Blakes? She looks just like me mum!”

Both boys crane their heads to look at the painting. “It does,” Bob agrees quietly, smiling to himself as he returns to looking over the menu. When Benji turns back towards you guys he looks repulsed.

“Van, that doesn’t even look like a person,” He insists.

Van gestures passionately with his hands. “Oh really, because everyone agrees! It looks like my mum!”

It’s this moment that Bondy’s chosen to join everyone, trailing in behind the hostess as gets him settled with a menu in the seat next to you. Nobody seems to mind her presence, Van and Benji bickering like noone’s watching. 

When she’s gone, Bondy looks up from his menu with a confused smile. “What’s this about?” He asks you, because you’re letting them battle this out between themselves. 

“Van says the woman in that painting looks like his mom,” You try to discreetly point to the one you’re talking about.

Bondy shifts in his seat so that he’s closer to you, trying to figure out exactly where you’re pointing. “The one that looks like the virgin Mary?”

There’s a painting near the one you’re referencing that clearly has heavy religious influence, although you’re not positive if it’s a painting of Mary. “Below it,” You correct Bondy. “The one making bread.”

Van and Benji have started to quiet, but both jump to attention at Bondy’s deep, throaty laugh.

“It does, it does,” Bondy agrees, and this starts them up again.

They settle when the waitress turns the corner, prepared to take their orders now that everyone’s arrived. 

“Do you want the wine we got last time?” Van stage whispers to you as the waitress hovers around Bob, carefully noting what he’s pointing out on the menu. You nod eagerly, remembering how it tasted. The freedom of not having to worry about driving home means that you’re eager to start drinking as soon as possible and loosen up. 

When the waitress gets around to Van, he orders his usual lobster and a bottle of the wine for you two. You settle on the chicken parmesan, and listen as next to you Bondy orders the roast dinner. Then your menus are carried away, and the chatter starts up again.

“So you agree?” Van jerks his head to ask you. “That looks like my mum?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. Debates between the boys can go on forever, fueled by each of them always wanting the last word. “I don’t even know what your mom looks like.”

Van pauses, realizing this is true. “You’ve never seen a picture?”

“Where the fuck would I see a picture of your mom?” You laugh.

“Dunno… The internet?”

You actually cackle at this, even if it makes Benji look at you from across the table. “Do you think I like, sit around googling you? What should I search up? Van McCann’s mom? I’ll get right on that.”

Even Bondy snorts from where he’s engrossed in his phone. 

Bondy’s snort at his expense has Van narrowing his eyes, gazing past you at Bondy. “Texting your girl, John?”

At this you jerk your head to look Bondy. “You have a girlfriend?”

Bondy rolls his eyes at Van before setting his phone down. “A gentleman can’t say,” He teases.

“You can’t say if you have a girlfriend?” You laugh. “I don’t think that’s a real rule.”

You knew from dressing room conversation that Bob and Benji were seeing someone, but Bondy’s never spoken about his romantic life.

“Is she British, too?” You decide to ask.

Bondy takes a long sip of his ice water. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He aims this dig at Van, glaring at him. “But she’s from here, actually. She’s in London for work. But that’s all I’ll say, I don’t wanna jinx anything.” He holds up his hands, and you know that’s his way of politely shutting down any more questions.

“He’s been after her forever,” Van pipes up, ignoring Bondy’s attempt to close the topic. “She’s finally done with her bloke.”

“He’s finally got a proper chance,” Benji grins.

It feels like a family dinner, the way everyone bickers. The food is finally served, and it takes forever to eat with everyone too engrossed in conversation. Benji’s digging into the roast chicken entree you got last time you were here, and Bob’s picking at some sort of creamy pasta. Everyone drinks except Bob, and the waitress is scary good at bringing beer for Bondy and Benji whenever they’re running low, and delivering freshly chilled bottles of wine for you and Van. 

There’s not a moment that feels awkward. Just like at soundcheck, everyone loves using you to pick at Van, and your heart feels so full and warm from the atmosphere that you don’t mind. It used to be overwhelming at first, but you realize you’ve gotten much more comfortable interacting with the four of them all at once. 

You’re in a wine-induced haze as everyone heads out to the parking lot. Patrons in the regular dining area go silent, glaring at the five of you as you all laugh way too loudly at a joke. Soon you’re out in the warm summer breeze, headed for Bob’s car. 

He’s got a small sedan that only seats four. Bondy calls shotgun immediately, tucking himself into the front seat, and then it’s up to you, Van, and Benji to decide on the seating arrangement in the back.

Before your anxiety can even get a headstart on worrying, Van puts a hand on your back, leading you over to the driver’s passenger side. He climbs in first before motioning for you to sit in his lap. You’re thankful it’s dark enough that nobody can see the blush that starts burning on your cheeks.

“Put your seatbelt on,” You tell him, and Van obliges before reaching for you again. You crouch down, sliding into a sitting position on top of Van’s thighs. You feel him stretch underneath you as he grabs for the door, closing it securely.

Nobody says anything about your seating arrangement, but you’re still so self conscious you could combust on the spot. You try to shift your weight around.

“Am I squishing you?” You ask Van quietly as Bob starts to back out of his parking spot. You hunch your shoulders, lowering your head so that he can see behind him in the rearview mirror.

“Not at all,” Van says, and then you feel his arms slide around your waist, pulling you close to him.

You’re stiff as a board as the car pulls onto the road, careful to shift your weight as forward as possible, trying not to smush Van between you and the seat. But he tugs you back by your waist until you’ve relented, allowing your weight to press against him. Forever unbothered by other’s opinions, he hooks his chin over your shoulder, closing his eyes serenely. Your hands come to his forearms, one of your thumbs starting to rub back and forth, feeling the hairs on his arm ruffle with every swipe.

None of the boys even give you two a second glance. Bondy is helping Bob navigate to his house, and Benji’s on his phone, the glow of his screen lighting up the dark car. The drive is longer than you expected, and eventually you relax fully, tipping your head so that it was gently resting against Van’s, feeling his breath on your ear the rest of the way. 

You can’t help the stab of disappointment when the car lulls to a stop, Bob finally having pulled up at Bondy’s. You try to shake off the drowsiness that the car ride and glasses of wine have left hovering around you as everyone climbs out of the car and heads inside. 

While Van’s house is more classic-L.A.-bachelor-pad, Bondy’s house has a heavy Spanish influence. Missing are the clean, stark-white floors and dark walls typical in the newer homes. Instead, warm hardwood extends in every direction, interrupted only by plush rugs with rich colors. There’s at least one eccentric, abstract piece of art adorning every wall, and guitars are everywhere. Some are hung with the art, and you spend a moment hovering by his stone fireplace, admiring a very used guitar with someone’s illegible signature on it. And there are others that it’s clear he uses, one propped by the plush armchair, some on a storage rack by a large potted plant. 

The ceilings are insanely high, supported by thick wooden beams that keep the extra space from feeling empty. You gaze around in awe, mentally debating whether you prefer Bondy’s decor over Van’s.

While you’re distracted, the boys make themselves at home. Van and Bob get lost in conversation in the foyer, where they’re supposed to be taking their shoes off and hanging their jackets. Bondy has already headed to the kitchen to start the drinks, and Benji made a beeline for the bathroom, clearly comfortable with the layout of the house.

As if synchronized, the moment that the flush of the toilet sounds from the hall, Van and Bob emerge from the foyer, everyone stumbling towards the kitchen at once. Van hangs back for a second, waiting for you to stop flicking through one of the coffee table books.

“This is so cool,” You look up to see Van watching you in amusement. “Have you looked through this?”

It’s titled 1000 Record Covers. Every page is dedicated to a photo of album artwork, with minimal captions describing the source. You know Van’s waiting but you’re too intrigued.

“I have,” Van says, his voice gentle with understanding. “You can spend hours going over everything.”

You close the thick, hardcover book with a satisfying thud, and catch up to Van. He slings an arm around your shoulder, warm and comforting, and suddenly you’re regretting this afterparty. It’s lovely to be in Bondy’s home, but you wish you could be spending your last night with Van snuggled up in the comfort of your own bed. 

Bondy’s kitchen is as gorgeous as the living room. A large, square island takes up the center of the room, counters and appliances running along the walls. Everyone makes themselves at home, reaching into cabinets and shuffling around as you’re all responsible for your own drinks. 

Van grabs a beer from the fridge, and helps you navigate the kitchen as you make yourself a Diet Coke and vodka. It transports you back to your college days when you take a sip, remembering the nights where your goal was to get as drunk as possible, as fast as possible. Now you typically enjoy a more tactful (and better tasting) approach, but it’s clear the boys mean business tonight. As soon as everyone has their drinks, Bondy has procured shot glasses and is starting to splash tequila into them. 

Even Bob is cajoled into taking one. The entire night has consisted of cheers to Benji turning 29, and this shot is not an exception. After cheersing over Benji’s birthday you all down your glasses before heading into the living room. Bondy and Van struggle to get a fire going, but eventually one is roaring and everyone gets cozy on the couches, the endless stream of conversation picking up right where it left off at the restaurant.

Van slings his arm over the back of the couch, so essentially around you as well. You’re tucked into Van’s side, sipping idly at your drink while the others talk. The conversation has somehow migrated to the band, and you don’t have much to contribute. Before you know it, your glass is empty.

You don’t rush to fill it, knowing you’ll make the same mistake of downing your next one too quickly. You wait for Van to finish his beer, your body occasionally jostled when he talks with his hands, lifting the arm behind you to gesture. 

The fire makes the space a bit warm for comfort, and when Van asks you to hold his beer bottle the cold glass feels nice.

“I’m gonna down this,” You warn Van, peering down the neck of the bottle to see what’s left. It’s only a couple of inches, a few nice gulps. You see him look over at you in your peripheral vision.

You look up and Van’s smiling. “Go ahead, love,” He chuckles, but he doesn’t tune back into the conversation. He’s waiting to see you do it, so now you can’t back down.

You hate the taste of beer, but it’s bearable because it’s cold. When you’re finished you hand Van the now-empty bottle and beam at him. “Now come get another drink with me.”

You trail after him into the kitchen, where he grabs himself another beer. 

“I’ll have one too,” You say quickly where you’re leaning against the counter next to the fridge. The marble is cool under your palms, and you wish you could press your face into it. You don’t know how long you consider doing it before you realize Van hasn’t passed you a bottle, and is staring at you with his eyebrows raised instead. 

“What?” You giggle.

“I’ve never seen you drink beer, that’s all,” Van shrugs before he grabs another bottle. He uses the bottle opener set out on the counter before passing you your very own ice-cold drink. 

“It’s so nasty,” You confess, contradicting yourself by taking a sip. “But I’m so fucking hot and this is cold.”

“You do look pretty warm,” Van points out. You can feel your body radiating heat, sweat forming at your hairline. You don’t know if it’s from the wine, the vodka, or the fire. 

Van looks reluctant to head back into the other room, taking a swig of his own beer as he leans his hip against the counter. Your eyes roam over him. His cheeks are pink, too, and any effort to style his hair has gone to waste by now, the waves falling into his face. He looks so happy, like he has all night. It’s as if joking around with everyone has lit him up from the inside out, and now you just wanted to be alone with him and bask in the glow of a nice night out.

Without a second thought you pop up onto your tiptoes, pressing your mouth to Van’s. 

You’re startled by the noise of Van setting his beer down, both of his hands reaching for you instead, pulling you closer. For a moment everything is off kilter, the balance of the moment disrupted. You’d only been prepared for a quick kiss but Van’s desire for more is evident as he keeps you close, kissing you again, and again. Your body only needs to borrow the spark of Van’s attraction before you feel the heat in your belly, a full fire burning for him under your skin. 

It’s during that third kiss that you both hear someone call Van’s name, the two of you jerking apart. Your hands fly to your hair self-consciously, easing your fingertips through the strands that Van had just had his hands entangled in as Bondy comes into the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna break out the big E,” Bondy declares, shuffling past the two of you. He looks completely oblivious to anything that’s just happened in here, and you relax in relief. Van looks over at you with worried eyes. You furrow your eyebrows in a silent question.

Bondy’s been digging through different kitchen drawers, but suddenly he procures a zip lock baggie out of one of them, shutting the drawer with a thunk.

“Here we go!” You can tell he’s drunk by the way his voice rings loudly through the kitchen. “You want some, Van?”

The bag contains a collection of colored capsules. They look like vitamins. You hadn’t understood what he’d been referring to at first, but now it’s clear: Ecstasy.

Van looks uneasy. “Maybe in a minute, mate,” He tells Bondy, who does not seem to catch on to the lack of enthusiasm. He proceeds into the living room, hollering about what he’s got. 

You can hear Benji asking for a capsule, which makes you snort. Van looks alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him. “Are you gonna have some?”

Van’s eyes widen. “Are you gonna have some?”

You shake your head. It had crossed your mind, but probably wasn’t the best idea if you had to drive early in the morning. “But you can!”

Van hesitates before shaking his head. “Nah. It’s alright.”

You roll your eyes. The spark of your kiss minutes before has started to fizzle out with Van’s weirdness. “What’s wrong? Isn’t ecstasy, like, your favorite?”

“Nothing’s wrong. As long as you’re not uncomfortable.”

You laugh at that. “Uncomfortable? Why? I know you’ve done it!”

“I haven’t recently,” Van mumbles, sipping his beer. You remember yours, and decide to press the cold glass against your cheek after you take a sip. “And I dunno. It’s weird to be the only one in the room not blitzed out of your mind. I’ll say no with you.”

His unease makes sense now, and his concern has you stepping forward for another kiss, Van reciprocating passionately. 

“What time is it?” You ask when you pull away. You hadn’t brought your phone into the kitchen, but Van procures his from his back pocket, flashing you the time. It’s slightly past midnight. 

“One more drink and we can head back to yours?” Van suggests, and you nod in agreement.

“What are you two doing in there?” Bondy calls, all of the boys chiming in with their own teasing. Van rolls his eyes, pressing his thumb into the fingerprint sensor on his iPhone.

“Order the Uber now, you know the wait’s gonna be ages.” He passes his phone into your hands before he goes back into the living room. You immediately hear him laying into everyone, a bite of annoyance in his voice. 

You blink down at Van’s unlocked phone, handed to you so trustingly. His Instagram feed is pulled up, his favorite app for passively scrolling. You hit the home button twice to see if the Uber app was still open from your first ride tonight. 

There’s a few things running in the background, but you don’t see Uber right away. There’s Instagram (obviously), and his notes app, and you flick through the line of open applications until you see Uber, right at the end. 

But right next to it is Safari, and the preview makes you flush brighter than you already are. You can clearly see the miniature layout of a porn website, a paused video front and center. Your curiosity gets the best of you. You have to click it.

One tap of your thumb expands Safari so that it encompasses the screen. The still of the video expands, but it takes a second for your brain to understand what’s going on in the tangle of limbs on screen. It’s a woman, hunched over a man. She’s clearly riding him, evident from the focus of the shot where their two bodies are joined. PINNED DOWN AND FUCKED, the title of the video boasts in bold letters, and when you peer at the paused moment more closely you can see that the woman has two hands around the man’s neck, choking him. 

You quickly click away to the Uber app and start ordering a car, your head spinning. When you hurry into the living room to sit back down with Van and tell him when the car would be arriving, it’s clear that Bondy and Benji’s ecstasy adventure is underway. Bob’s opted out as well, and Van’s discussing how he’d like the drums to sound on the song he’s just written this morning, leaving you to ponder Van’s porn choices while you wait. 

You end up grabbing the coffee table book with the record covers again, admiring all of the artwork while you listen to the boys talk about the next leg of tour. It used to be awkward when the boys start going on about band things you couldn’t relate to, but you find that you’ve adjusted to it. They didn’t mean to exclude you; they were just passionate about their work. It feels nice to be a fly on the wall sometimes, listening to them interrupt each other in excitement. You smile to yourself at how many fans would die to be in your place right now. 

Van isn’t paying attention to his phone when the screen lights up on the coffee table. He’s too busy laughing at Bondy and Benji, who are slung over the couch opposite you three. They’re already starting to sweat, and you can tell they’re speaking faster. Benji especially tended to speak in longer, meandering sentences, and it’s clear he’s rushing to voice his jumbled thoughts. They’re discussing something about Austin Powers, which you hadn’t realized Van was so passionate about.

You grab Van’s phone, showing him that there’s an Uber notification. With a press of his thumb you see the notification that the car’s arrived.

“Alright boys, this one has to get to work tomorrow,” Van explains, heaving himself off of the couch. You follow suit, saying goodbye to everyone. Bondy and Benji reach out for hugs, and you give them one good-naturedly. Bob, who’s not craving touch like they are, gives his usual wave. You and Van stumble around the foyer, tugging your shoes on, and Van slings his jacket over his arm, and then you two head out. 

For once you’ve managed to get a female driver, and have avoided pissing her off. She’s the type who makes small talk as she navigates back to your place, and although you prefer to quietly stare out of the car window, Van clearly enjoys the attention. 

You’re both quiet as you stumble through your front door into the dark living room. Van clicks the lamp on, heading straight for the bedroom, but you head for the bathroom, eager to wash off your makeup. You’ve had it on way too long, and it feels nice to wash it all away, your skin feeling like it can finally breathe. 

In the bedroom, Van had already stripped down and changed into boxers, starfished across your comforter. 

“Are you gonna get under the covers?” You giggle, kicking your shoes in the general direction of the closet. No thoughts of neatness cross your mind as you let all of your clothes fall into a heap on the floor. You’re still flushed, and the cool air feels good on your exposed skin. You climb onto the bed in only your underwear.

Van’s eyes had been closed, but he opens them as the mattress shifts with your weight. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you topless, attempting to yank your sheets back while Van weighed them down. 

“You gonna sleep like that?” He asks, his voice high in that amused tone he gets.

“You act like you’ve never seen me naked,” You reply, finally able to tuck your body into the soft cocoon of your bed. The sheets against your stomach feel nice, and you wonder why you don’t sleep without clothes more often. 

“Never seen you sleep naked,” He points out, finally joining you under the covers.

“Well, I’m still hot!” You switch your lamp off before flopping back down, sighing happily.

You can feel your whole body thrumming with contentment. Tonight was wonderful. You felt welcomed and accepted by the boys, you were warm from plenty of alcohol and laughter, and now you were settling down for the night next to the man you loved. You can’t remember the last time that your heart felt so full. Even in your best moments, you always tended to feel a trickle of sadness, like a piece of your heart was out of place. You didn’t know why. You only knew that nights where that shadow wasn’t lurking around were few and far between; Christmas in your hometown, sleepovers with Mary where you two stayed up giggling about nothing like you were kids. But now you could add tonight to the list. Everything in the world just felt right.

That’s why you feel compelled to snuggle up to Van, kissing his neck without hesitation. 

Van’s body stiffens. “What’re you doin’?”

His lack of immediate reciprocation might send you into a spiral any other night, but tonight you’re blissfully free from inhibitions, continuing to mouth at his pulse point. 

“It’s our last night,” You murmur into his ear, smiling when you feel him shiver. “Let’s do it the right way.”

Van’s time in L.A. has completely slipped through your fingers. Between the strep throat fiasco and your busy workweek, there’s been no extra energy or time to fool around. Your bodies have been running on different frequencies all week; either Van’s in the mood and you’re not, or you’re in the mood and Van’s finally catching some much-needed sleep, or there’s the nights where you had your mind set on messing around, but had fallen asleep as soon as you’d laid down.

Van tucks a finger under your chin, tugging you away from his neck before connecting your lips with his. You recall how he’d kissed you at Bondy’s, the way he’d surprised you with his urgency. It gets that fire going all over again, and you seat yourself on his thighs, still hunched over to kiss him. 

Van’s too close to his edge of the bed, your knee dangerously balanced on the mattress. “Scoot in,” You instruct him, and your bodies rub together as he shuffles towards the center. While he’s adjusting his hips you get your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, attempting to tug them down. You don’t get very far.

You climb off of him, dealing with your own underwear while Van kicks his boxers down around his ankles. It feels so good to climb back on him again, to feel the warm muscle of his thigh press right against the tenderness of your clit. The sensation makes you jump, which only provides friction. You hadn’t realized how slick you were until you realize you’ve gotten Van’s thigh damp. You curiously run your fingers over his skin, unable to help your small gasp of surprise when you realize how much you’d smeared on him. You’d been oblivious to how bad your body was craving him.

You lean over to kiss Van again, pressing his lips apart the same as he’d done to you earlier. He tastes like beer and Diet Coke and vodka.

“You had a lot to drink,” Van murmurs when you pull away. You realize that you were the one who tasted like the Coke and vodka.

You pause the kissing momentarily, instead nuzzling into his neck. You were well past tipsy, but nowhere near blacking out. If this was someone you’d never met, going further wouldn’t be appropriate. But cuddled up to Van, breathing in his scent, you give another happy sigh. With Van, this was a no-brainer. 

“Not enough to not know what I’m doing,” You tell him. It’s definitely true. You would remember this tomorrow, even if the memory will be a bit fuzzy. 

You lean away from his neck, admiring his beautiful face. “And you’re my best friend. It’s safe.”

Your words don’t come out exactly right, but Van’s expression softens as he gazes back up at you. You had meant you were safe with Van. Because you knew it was true. You had been to plenty of sketchy parties with your ex-girlfriend, who was on the hunt for the cheapest coke she could get her hands on. You’d seen bonfires escalate from a joint being passed around to people shooting up heroin behind closed bedroom doors. You’d been approached by shifty, jittery men more times than you could count, towering over you as you struggled through the weed to figure out how you were going to get out of there. It was only pure luck that nothing dangerous had ever happened. 

But at a party where people were blatantly peddling coke, Van turned them down like he’d never done it. In the presence of four men that were all various levels of inebriated, it never crossed your mind that anything would go amiss. You trusted Van with every bone in your body, and you hope you convey that message as you lean in for a kiss. 

“Alright,” Van replies. He uses a hand on the back of your neck to tip your head down, giving your forehead a quick kiss. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” You chirp, happy to have gotten your way. When you sit up again, you yawn. “Condoms are in there.”

Van twists to slide open the drawer of his nightstand, procuring the large value box of Trojans you’d purchased at his suggestion. “You shouldn’t have!” He teases, popping the box open to grab one of the packets. “You want me to put it on now?”

You nod. Clearly from Van’s thigh you were in no real need of foreplay, and you were eager to get started. Van gives himself a few firm pumps before expertly rolling the condom on. 

Getting into position over him makes your heart start to race. You loved riding Van, the way he went absolutely nuts when he couldn’t control every single little thing. 

“You’re not too drunk, right?” You ask when you’re ready to lower down. You had no idea how many glasses of wine he had, or how many beers.

“Nah,” Van laughs. “We’re about the same, I’d say. I think you’re just having a better time.”

This was probably true. Van’s brain wasn’t being clouded by crazy love hormones like yours was. With that settled, you sink down onto him. You’re so wet that he slips in faster than you’d prepared yourself for, the breath punching out of you. Both of you pant for air as minor adjustments are made before everything is going at a steady pace.

As predicted, Van is clearly going crazy over his lack of control. He can’t stop touching, stroking his fingers over any of your skin he can reach. It’s fine when he rubs his calloused fingertips over your nipples, or eases a thumb against your clit. But then he’s just restless, stroking lightly at your sides, which is tickling you.

“Will you stop?” You huff, pushing his hands away from your ribcage. He starts to smooth his palms over your lower stomach instead, where your skin bulges slightly with a pesky pocket of fat. It makes you self conscious, which is distracting.

You think about the porn he had pulled up on his phone, and the gears in your mind start turning. Van is stroking your upper arms now, an unnecessary sensation as you try to figure out your pace. You’d never choke Van without his consent, obviously, but maybe you could try something a little less intense, see how he reacts to that. If he’s not a fan, he only needs to say so and you two can get back to your regularly scheduled programming. 

You have to lift your hands from where you’re using them for balance against his chest so that you can loop your fingers around his wrists before bringing them down to the mattress. You press them down on either side of his head, and keeping your weight forward to balance yourself means that you can successfully apply enough pressure to hold him down while also continuing to ride him. 

Van looks stunned.

“I said stop touching me,” You explain. “It’s ruining my focus.”

Van stays silent, but under your palms you can feel his arms tense, testing how hard you were pinning him. You swear you’re not imagining how you feel his dick twitch inside of you as he relaxes, surrendering to your hold.

“You done? Want me to let go?” You ask him, eyebrows raised. It seemed like a clever enough way to make sure he was alright without breaking the mood, and you’re happy it works. Van shakes his head, and you see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

You feel a satisfied flush burn on your chest, pleased that you knew him well enough to get this right. 

Only as you keep Van helpless beneath you do you realize how much he’s actually necessary during sex. You’re quickly exhausted being responsible for all of the thrusting, and without any hands available you’re not getting any of the stimulation you’ll need to come. You’re dying to kiss Van, to run your fingers through his hair or over the soft hairs on his stomach, but none of that’s possible as you keep pressing him down.

But even with all of the drawbacks, it’s one-hundred-and-ten percent worth it for the view. Van is a complete mess, sweating and squirming and whimpering. He’s not exactly one to keep quiet during sex, but you’ve never heard him like this, practically whining with each breath. He’s gulping down air like he can’t get enough oxygen, squeezing his eyes shut like looking up at you is too much for him.

He doesn’t squirm too much at first, but things get more difficult as you feel him ready to finish. Your thighs are on fire, but you keep your rhythm as steady as possible. You don’t have the core strength to lower down with control anymore, instead simply slamming down against him before you struggle to lift yourself up. The stiffer he becomes beneath you, his muscles starting to clench in preparation, the more you feel his wrists press against your palms, fighting against your restraint. You’ve got to shift more weight forward, your shoulders burning with the resistance against Van’s struggling. There’s a few moments where you realize you might have to give up, that you’re not physically fit enough to both fuck and pin down a full grown man. And then Van really pushes up against your hands for a moment before he cries out, melting beneath you as you feel the condom start to fill inside of you. You hold his wrists until you feel him shudder through his aftershock, finally opening his eyes.

Your muscles cry out as you finally shift your weight back, releasing Van’s arms. Everything aches. Van reaches down, getting his hand around the base of the condom, and you can feel his fingers trembling. Your thighs feel like jelly as you lift off of him, and the noise of him slipping out of you is obscene. 

You take care of the condom this time, worried that it’ll slip through his unsteady hands. Neither of you say anything as you gently free his dick from the latex, struggling to tie it off in the dark before leaning over to toss it into the small trashcan by the bed. 

You haven’t come, but something about Van’s orgasm felt final. You don’t expect him to muster up the energy to finish you off, and truthfully you don’t really feel like you need it tonight. 

Van coughs to clear his throat before he puts his hands on your hips, tugging you forward.

“C’mere.” His voice is rough. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, frustrated. You’re too tired, and he’s not making any sense. 

“Sit on my fucking face,” Van bites back at your frustration, and you freeze in shock at his request.

He tugs your hips forward again, and this time you start to walk your knees up the sides of his body until you’re seated on his chest.

“Have you ever done this before?” Van pants, licking his lips. 

You shake your head, reaching out for balance. You’ve got an iron bedframe, so it’s easy to wrap your palms around the top bar of the headboard. 

“That makes two of us,” Van tells you, his palms cradling your ass as he adjusts himself slightly. “So let’s see how this goes.”

You’re careful when you lower down on his mouth, scared to death of smothering him. He’s got to crane his neck up slightly so that he can lick at you, and you shiver, clenching your bedframe tightly. 

After a few licks, Van jerks you down harder onto him, his arms wrapped around your thighs. You startle, attempting to hoist yourself up again.

“Stop going so easy on me!” Van laughs, pulling you down again. He’s pulled you off balance, and your hand flies to his hair to steady yourself.

“I’m trying not to fucking kill you!” You tell him, easing yourself back up. 

“Will you quit?” You can hear the amusement in Van’s voice. “Let me do this properly.”

If he wants to be stubborn, fine. You let him pull your weight back down, pressing his tongue against your clit. Every lick makes an audible noise, and you’d be cringing self consciously if it didn’t feel so fucking good. He’s got a 5 o’clock shadow, and although his is never visible with his facial hair being so light you could definitely feel it. 

He’s angling his mouth to get deep, licking you clean when you seize up around him, frozen in place as the waves of your orgasm rock through you. Van is an expert at making it last, of keeping his licks quick and light to draw your climax out as long as possible, and as you tumble off of him you’re already dying to know when you can try this again.

Van immediately hops up from the bed, rushing from the room. He must have to pee. You catch your breath while you wait for the bathroom to be open, your mind trying to get some sort of grip of what’s just happened. 

When Van comes back in, he hunts around in the dark for his boxers. You flick the lamp on, and he finds them instantly, shimmying them on. 

It’s your turn to pee and then clean yourself up, tossing wad after wad of toilet paper out covered in your come. When you get back into the bedroom you don’t feel like trying to track down your underwear in the mess on the floor, and climb right into bed instead. 

Van has a cigarette lit, and he passes one to you right away. As terrible as you know smoking is for you, Van’s onto something with the whole cigarette-after-sex thing. It’s a nice way to relax and come back to reality. 

“Can we do that again?” You blurt out shamelessly. 

Van jerks his head. “Tonight?”

“No!” You laugh. “Not tonight! You think I’m ready that quick? Just… again!”

Van nods as he tips his head back, a puff of smoke floating from his mouth. “Shit. Whatever you wanna do, I’m down.”

You blush at that, peeking over at the time on your phone.

“Oh my god, it’s two,” You groan. You take one last hit of your cigarette before carefully snuffing it out on the empty water glass you’ve left in here. You carefully set the extinguished, half-smoked cigarette aside so that you could finish it tomorrow. You’ll have to try to remember to get yourself a pack after you drop Van off at LAX. 

Van yawns, but doesn’t seem disturbed that you two will only get two and a half hours of sleep.

You almost doze off while you wait for Van to finish his cigarette, but you’re jolted awake as he leans over to shut the lamp off before burrowing down next to you.

You wait for him to flip away from you and head off to sleep, but instead you feel the warm press of his body against yours, nudging you until he can rest his head on your chest. You force yourself to stay awake, to savor this moment, and you bend your arm so that you’re cradling his head and able to lazily play with his hair.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?” You ask him, your voice syrupy and slow with exhaustion.

He jostles your body when he shakes his head. “You got it right,” He tells you.

“Okay,” You exhale a big sigh of relief, and feel Van chuckle against your chest. “But I have a confession to make.”

You can feel Van grinning. “And what’s that?” 

You yawn. “I saw the porn on your phone.”

Van stills. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” You nod. Your mind is so hazy with sleep that you don’t consider that Van might not take your news very well. “I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to open up Uber.”

“You liar,” Van lifts his head, but he’s smiling. “You were being nosey!”

“No!” You argue, but Van’s smile is contagious, so you look like you’re lying. “Okay. Alright. I was curious. I guess I didn’t realize you were so serious about the whole… I dunno. Rough thing. Whatever you like to call it.”

Van shakes his head in disbelief, wiping his hands over his face. “Christ. You’re unbelievable. A lad’s porn is sacred!”

“I’m sorry.” You put on your best pout. “Am I still your best friend?”

Van sighs. “Of course you’re still my best mate. And if looking at my porn is what gave you the bollocks to do that, you can look at my porn history anyday.”

“Bollocks?”

“Balls,” Van translates, flopping back down against your chest. “G’night.”

You pat his hair. “Night. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I miss you already,” Van mumbles against your skin.

When you wake up at 4:30 A.M., barely conscious enough to be driving Van over to his place so you can help him pack, you shoot a text to your boss that you’ve come down with a nasty case of food poisoning so you’ll be taking a sick day. And you do it without one single lick of regret, because those late night moments with Van were worth every. Single. Second. 

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