#( i think u can pinpoint the exact moment when i started to get a little bored/annoyed bcUZ IT JUST KEPT ON GOING )

[puck-luck]

evening embrace | jack hughes

warnings: oral (m! & f! receiving) aka 69 BABYYYY!!!!! whiny jack, silly jack, established realtionship af, very domestic pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader request: "jack hughes coming home from practice or a game all grumpy and frustrated and just ranting endlessly about whatever is pissing him off so u just casually decide to give him head mid-rant. without a word you just start palming him over his pants while he’s mid sentence and he’d be like “baby, what are you doing?” and you’d casually make your way to your knees with a shrug and say “you’re stressed, seem like you could use some relief” and once you’ve got his dick out and you’re about to bring it to your lips you’d say “you can continue with your ranting baby, promise i won’t get distracted” with an innocent little pout i-" wc: 4423

Jack had a bad day. The Devils just had their first few preseason games and Jack, although he felt ready to get back into his normal routine, feels like his shoulder injury from last season is still a little tender. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment that he snapped, but he thinks that he blacked out around the time when he missed a pivotal pass that resulted in a breakaway and goal in the game today. He’s never been so angry after a game– and this is just preseason.

He bursts through the door to your shared apartment, already ranting. 

“This is shit,” Jack complains, dropping his bags in the doorway and kicking off his shoes. 

“What’s shit, Jacky?” You ask from the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and reading a book. Now that he’s home, though, you set the book down and give him your attention.

“I’m not playing good enough,” Jack huffs out, frustrated and annoyed. “It’s my stupid shoulder. I’ve rehabbed it, I’ve gotten it fixed through surgery, and I still feel like I’m not playing at 100%.”

“Aw, honey, come sit,” you say, patting the cushion beside you. 

Jack stalks over, collapsing onto the couch cushions and pulling you onto his lap. He kisses you hello before going back to his ranting. 

“I knew I needed to work more on my wrister before the game,” he says. “But Keefe wanted us to run drills at camp so that we could be better all-around.”

You hum when you need to, but Jack’s just complaining and pouting. He had a tough day and wants to get all of his negative thoughts out, knowing that you don’t mind listening to him when he has problems.

“And I appreciate being a good team all-around, you know,” Jack continues. “But there should be times during practice when a guy can go work on his own shit, which will make the team better overall once he’s perfected the skill.”

“Maybe you can talk to Nico about that,” you murmur, tracing the letters on Jack’s shirt. 

“I don’t want to be that guy,” Jack grumbles. “It’s a team sport. If Keefe wants us to practice as a team, then that’s what we’ll do. He’s the coach.”

You nod absentmindedly, adjusting yourself on Jack’s lap. Your hand continues to pet over his covered chest as he talks. His muscles are defined; it’s clear that he put in the work during his time off. You know he did, actually. You’ve watched his body swell and gain muscle mass over the summer and you’ve been able to see the changes up close and personal.

But not this past week: training camp started and Jack has been so tired and stressed out that he’ll come home, eat dinner with you, and collapse into bed with nary a makeout sesh anywhere. He’s been too tired to get off with you, although you know it relaxes him and helps him keep his mind clear, so you haven’t pushed.

Yet, as he talks about his day, you can’t stop thinking about how much better this would be if your lips were wrapped around his dick.

Your hand drops to his lap, palming his length over his shorts and interrupting Jack’s sentence.

He catches your wrist. “Baby, what are you doing?” Jack asks. “I’m talking to you.”

You blink up at him innocently, moving from his lap and sliding down to the ground. You situate yourself prettily on your knees, right between his thighs. Again, you touch the front of his shorts, rubbing the area like you’re giving him a handjob over his pants. “You seem stressed,” you tell him, simply. “Like you could use some relief.”

Jack’s mouth is agape, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “I– um, yeah, I mean, I guess I’m stressed,” he replies, agreeing with you with an additional nod.

“Let me help,” you offer, cupping his bulge with your hand before leaning in to brush a fleeting kiss against the growing tent. You mouth along for a moment before bringing his waistband down, revealing his tight boxer-briefs. His semi is much more noticeable in just the underwear, straining more against the fabric as he grows harder. You fit your lips over the tip of his cock and suck slightly, through his shorts, just to make Jack jump.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, touching the back of your neck hesitantly. He moves like he’s still confused and not quite sure what’s happening.

“Keep talking, baby,” you say to him as you pull his length out of his underwear and start to stroke it. You press a kiss to the crown of his cock, then pull back. “I’m listening. I promise I won’t get distracted.” You blink up at him through your eyelashes, watching countless emotions pass over Jack’s face before you kitten-lick over his slit and hum in approval. 

“It’s just hard,” Jack says, his eyes still wide and blown because of the shock that came over him when you made your bold move. “To, uh–”

He trails off, gesturing helplessly as your tongue traces the veins on the underside of his cock. You hum, bobbing your head in a commiserating, blatantly sarcastic nod. You know what you’re doing to him. You know that Jack goes boneless whenever you suck him off, that he promptly loses his words when you gag on his cock. 

So, you pull away from him. You let your spit pool where it lay while your lips were around him– able to use it as lube as you pump him, blinking up at him like you’re unimpressed. “C’mon, J. I thought you had things to be frustrated about.”

“I do!” Jack exclaims, finding his words after your mouth parts from his body.

“Oh, you do,” you repeat, a smug little smile on your face. “So tell me about it.”

“I– well– it doesn’t matter now,” Jack whines, his hips twitching under your calm palm. 

You furrow your brow and tilt your head to the side. “It doesn’t?”

Jack covers his face with his hands and makes a frustrated noise.

“Well, if that doesn’t matter, then why am I doing this?” You ask, feigning complete confusion even as you continue to stroke him. Jack has obviously gotten side tracked– and the relief of your mouth is like a wet rag on a dry erase board: it wipes everything completely clean and fresh. “I thought I was offering you something sweet to make up for your bad day.”

“You are, just– stop stopping!” 

You move your head from side to side with each word in your response: “You can’t make me!”

At a stalemate, Jack deflates. He frowns to himself, then pointedly at you. You’re still stroking him, just teasing him, waiting for him to sweetly ask you to continue until–

Jack pulls you up onto the couch and takes your place, sinking to the ground on his knees with his pants and underwear pooling around his ankles. He doesn’t bother to take his clothes off before he touches your leggings reverently with a light ghosting of his fingertips. He brushes a sweet kiss against the inside of your thigh as he touches you, but the sweetness and teasing doesn’t last very long.

“How was your day?” Jack asks with a smirk and another kiss to your covered skin. He pulls at the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down your legs in a totally obvious way.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you warn.

“Not doing anything,” Jack teases. 

“Don’t lie to me, Jack Hughes.”

��Full name,” Jack notes offhandedly. He licks his lips and rubs his thumb along your slit, still covered by your godforsaken panties. If he’s going to do something, he had better do it. “Just giving my baby a taste of her own medicine,” he adds.

“My day was fine, thank you very much,” you retort.

Jack hums, fiddling with the edge of your panties, the part of the underwear that’s covering his favorite part of you. “What’d you do?” He asks.

“I showered,” you say.

“Without me,” Jack adds. You don’t have time to berate him for acting like a fuckboy– not when he starts mouthing over your hipbones until he finds the waistband of your panties. He takes the band between his teeth and drags the fabric down to meet your leggings. All the while, he stares up at you with his own wide, blown, horny eyes. 

“And I had breakfast, then I worked for a while, then I got lunch with my coworker like I told you about last night–” You continue, but Jack interrupts, pulling away from your bare cunt.

He pouts a bit. “What coworker?” Jack asks. “Who was it again?”

You muster the courage to glare at him. Jack just grins, his thumb sweeping through your folds like he hasn’t got a care in the world. 

“Sadie,” you remind him. “The new girl in accounting.”

“Oh, Sadie,” Jack drawls, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “How could I forget about Sadie?” He smiles at you briefly to show that he’s messing with you, then nears your mound. “What did you eat?” He asks, just before replacing his thumb with the tip of his tongue, pride written all over his face as you take a deep breath.

“We got those Mediterranean bowls you like,” you say. You don’t tell him that there’s one in the fridge waiting for him.

“Without me,” Jack repeats, sounding a little more forlorn than the first time. Who knew that showering without your boyfriend would be less titillating than a Mediterranean bowl from that place down the street?

Regardless, you still don’t tell him about your little surprise in the kitchen.

“Without you,” you agree. “I can’t always be with you, you know.”

“Mhm, and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever had to go through,” Jack says, using his thumbs to pull your lips apart so he can really dig in and lavish your cunt. Jack drinks up the gasp that leaves your mouth when his tongue twirls against your clit, then drops lower to press against your entrance. Jack presses a kiss against your entrance before his tongue really works into you, rendering him quiet.

You know he expects you to continue speaking, just as you expected him to continue. One thing you’ve always been better at than Jack is compartmentalizing– you swear it comes with the territory of being a woman compared to being a man– but you’ve missed this so much that you don’t care about his gloating that will come later. 

“Jack, come–”

You interrupt yourself with a breathy gasp, hands flying to his hair. Jack has always loved when you tug at the brown waves adorning his head, so the heady look in his eyes when he looks up at you is no surprise. It’s also no surprise that your gasp has Jack flattening his tongue and showering your cunt with attention.

You had meant to ask him to come back up onto the couch, wanting him to be comfortable, but Jack doesn’t seem to care. You still want him to fill your mouth. There’s a trace of his salty precum on your tongue and the absence of his cock on the muscle leaves you writhing. 

He eats you out messily, getting your juices all over his lips, cheeks, and chin. When he pulls away to catch a breath, you admire how his chest heaves with the effort to fill his lungs before diving back in and the way he licks his lips. You grip his hair, tugging slightly to get his attention, and then Jack’s disheveled baby blues are back on you. He smiles dopily, moving to wrap his lips around your clit, but before he can, you speak.

“Come up here,” you implore, tugging at his hair again. 

“Wanna stay here,” Jack replies, succeeding in his efforts to reconnect with your core this time. 

Despite the shockwaves flying through your body at his powerful suction, you remain steadfast. You’re even able to string a sentence together that has Jack pausing: “Please, J, wanna suck you too,” you complain.

It isn’t long until Jack thinks of a joke to refute you. “Baby, I’m 86, not 69.”

“Jack,” you complain, tugging his hair again indignantly as he laughs against your cunt, enjoying his own joke. “Not funny.”

“Very funny,” Jack mumbles, fitting a finger inside of you and thumbing over your clit in the absence of his mouth. You’re grinding down against him now, not nearly full enough or satisfied enough. Jack’s smirk tells you that there’s more coming. “You want to have my cock in your mouth so bad that you’ll do your least favorite sex position on the couch?”

You groan. Of course he remembered the conversation he walked in on when you had your girlfriends over a couple of months ago– a lengthy, very detailed, very philosophical conversation about which sex positions are practical and impractical, as well as what places are more practical than others. 

You don’t suck Jack off as he eats you out often. It’s not something you ever really feel the need to do, even though Jack has admitted to loving the way you’ll moan against his cock and rock back into his mouth like you’re unsure which is better. The reason you don’t do it often, though, is that you can rarely finish like that. And Jack, being the doting, pussy-drunk boyfriend he is, would rather have you in a position where you’ll come all over his cock or his face rather than struggle to make it to your destination.

As for the couch, you’ve always thought that it’s more fun to ride Jack and distract him from whatever he’s watching on the TV, or for him to bend you over the edges of the furniture to pound into you from behind.

But today– today, you’re confident that you can finish. It’s been over a week since Jack felt like doing anything and you’re needy. You’re not ashamed of it, either– you love your boyfriend and the passion shared between you both is enough to steam up the windows of the apartment. It’s no secret that Jack does everything he can to make you feel good.

Which is how you’re going to convince him to get back on the couch and fill you completely, please you from both ends until you’re boneless and smothering him with your cunt– “The ideal way to die,” according to Jack, and all of his friends who insisted he was right when he dared to bring up sex at one of the parties on the lake house the previous summer. 

“Jack,” you say, simple and plain. You lean forward on the couch, reaching down to cradle his face in your palms. Your hands get sticky with your own slick, but it’s no big deal. After all, you’d already touched Jack’s dick, so it’s not like your hands are clean. You press a fleeting kiss to his nose, making Jack grin widely. “Wanna sit on this pretty face,” you tell him. “While I gag on your cock.”

“Mm, yeah?” Jack asks. The way he perks up is laughable: if he was a dog, he’d be wagging his tail. “Gonna come in my mouth while I come in yours?”

You shiver at the thought of a simultaneous orgasm– your own warmth and relaxation taking over your body while Jack fills you up. You nod slightly, biting your lip to hold back a needy whine. Your eyelashes flutter as you watch Jack stand from his spot between your legs. 

He lays on the couch, his head resting on a throw pillow for some extra leverage. He makes himself comfortable, and it’s a little silly that both of you still have your shirts on, but Jack sticks out his tongue and waves you forward. The position makes you laugh, combined with his antics, so you make a silly move of your own. 

You crawl towards him, across the couch, trying to look like Sophie in Mamma Mia while she and Sky sing ‘Lay All Your Love on Me,’ but there’s no music playing. It’s just you and Jack and your soft little giggles, which are eventually quieted by a sweet kiss and a swipe of Jack’s tongue against your own. You can taste yourself on him and he can taste himself on you, which has Jack smiling into the kiss. His teeth clink against yours for a second, then he pats your hip and you pull away.

“Come have a seat, baby,” Jack invites, unable to wipe the grin off of his face. You shake your head and avert your eyes, blushing a little bit at how giddy you’ve made him with just a few kisses, some attention to his cock, and access to your pussy.

“Forgotten all about your bad day?” You tease.

“It turned out okay, I think,” Jack replies with a wink. He keeps his hands on your body as you turn, then line yourself up with his mouth. You’ve got the perfect view of his cock in this position, standing up and red for you, just waiting for you to lean forward and welcome him into the warm wetness of your mouth.

Jack hasn’t waited to admire you. He’s already sloppily mouthing at your lips, sliding his tongue against your clit. He has his arms looped around your thighs, hands planted squarely on your ass. He grips your cheeks and spreads them so that he can pull you back further and work his tongue inside of you. For your hesitation, he gives your clit a little nip to encourage you forward. It doesn’t hurt, but it does surprise you, and you let out a hushed yelp. Jack giggles before returning to your entrance, prodding at you.

You bend forward, laying across Jack’s body and holding yourself up by laying your forearms on his abdomen. Your left hand pets over the skin on his hip while your right holds his base steady. You gather some spit in your mouth before letting it drip onto his slit. The fluid drips down his cock, but you’re determined to replace your spit with ropes of his cum.

You take him in your mouth as far as you can, moaning when his tip nudges the back of your throat. He twitches in your mouth, involuntary but welcome. You love when he’s unable to control his reactions, doubling down on his enthusiasm at your core. 

You can feel yourself dripping all over Jack’s face. His hands are strong on your hips, pulling you back to grind against his mouth. Taking an arm from around your thigh, he brings his fingers back to your core, sliding two inside of you while he focuses on your clit. 

He’s so messy and he keeps making slurping sounds because he’s so into it, which is completely not sexy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You treasure the moans and hums that follow the unattractive slurping– Jack’s voice has grown high-pitched and needy, completely intoxicated by your taste.

You imagine him now, cheeks flushed just as pink as yours. Hell, his lips are probably swollen and the same shade of red as his tip. 

You bring a hand up to move your hair to one side of your head, the strands brushing Jack’s thigh and tickling him slightly. It’s necessary for you to give this blowjob your full attention, and you can’t have your hair getting in the way now, not after you’ve been missing Jack’s cock for a full week.

No, you’re just as drunk as he is, moaning and gagging and humming. You pull out all the stops– leaving his cock to kiss over his balls and suck at the skin while you pump his member. Jack’s always enjoyed that extra touch, his hips jumping uncontrollably into your space for the second time tonight.

“Wanna fuck my face?” You ask, words coming out in a rush. 

Jack keens beneath you, holding you closer. He pumps his fingers inside you quickly, working a third into your hole and curling his knuckles until he finds your sweet spot, making you moan wantonly. His hips are moving again, wiggling beneath you until you bring your lips back to his tip. You press a kiss against his slit before opening your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing your cheeks against his shaft until Jack starts to move.

He’s quick like a jack-hammer. His movements are twitchy and shallow because, as you’ve said time and time again, Jack has never been the world’s greatest multitasker. He’s able to perform well on the ice, very athletically minded and capable, but when his mind gets all foggy and sex-crazed, he’s completely helpless. 

He chases his pleasure wildly. He continues to make his sweet, pretty whimpers against your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit as fast as he can manage while also fingering you and fucking into your mouth– he’s working overtime and his chest is heaving with harsh breaths. You take it, even rolling your hips against his fingers to try and help him out. 

You’d feel bad about making him do all the work, but you’ve known since the beginning of your relationship how Jack feels about making you come: he loves it. It’s better than his own release. He always wants you to come over his tongue or make a mess all over his cock or fingers.

“Baby, baby,” Jack whines against your clit, his lips brushing the nerves as he talks. “Fuck, gonna come, please, please–”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, the best response you can give with your mouth stuffed with his cock. The vibrations send Jack over the edge and he lurches beneath you, pulling his fingers from your hole and replacing them with his tongue. He switches, putting his thumb on your clit and rubbing furious circles until you’re writhing above him.

You’re able to swallow a mouthful of his cum before you have to squeeze your eyes shut and focus on your own orgasm, milliseconds away from breaking down the dam inside of you. You pull off of Jack’s cock and pant above him, continuing to stroke him through his climax. 

Your eyes are a little teary from the ecstasy coursing through your veins, fueled completely by Jack’s rapid movements and equally frequent muffled pleas. He can’t stop begging you to release all over his face, even with his tongue inside of you. You can’t focus on what he’s saying, but his voice is wrecked and bordering on distressed. That’s how bad he needs you to come, how badly he needs to make you come.

His jaw has got to be aching by this point, having eaten you out for so long, but you’re so close.

You sit up a bit, just enough that you can place your hands on his muscular thighs and grind back against his face. Your hips are quick, messy, and inconsistent. ��Jack,” you cry out, your breath leaving you like a hard fall to the ground knocking all the air from your lungs.

“Yeah, yeah,” he encourages, his tongue flicking over your walls.

You come harder than you ever have like this– maybe harder than you ever have in general. Jack holds you against him and laps at your release, despite the pleasure causing your hips to jerk and try to escape. You lose track of yourself, feeling completely gone. There’s a chance you’ll have to wash the couch cushions later, with the way you’re spreading slick over Jack’s face. It feels endless, your orgasm, and you think Jack may have actually made up for a week of nothing in just one night. 

He licks over you until there’s nothing left for him to taste. His hair has gone wild, eyes bright but groggy and hazy at the same time. You’re sure you look the same, unwilling to find yourself in the mirror across the room when you roll off of Jack and find a shaky footing on the floor. Your shirt is damp with sweat, as is Jack’s. He lifts the neckline to wipe the lower half of his face, dazed. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, placing a hand over his heart. His eyes look up at you, a slight smile lifting the edges of his lips. “That might be the closest I’ve ever gotten to dying from your pussy, baby.”

You laugh at that, running your fingers through your hair. “I think we both need a shower,” you say with an easy smile. 

Jack yawns. “Then bed?” He asks. 

“If you don’t fall asleep on me right here,” you reply, nodding at his body as it lounges on the couch. You thought you were bad with going boneless– Jack seems to have sank into the cushions. The sight is hilarious– your boyfriend, completely love drunk and smiling up at you like you’re an angel, with his shirt still on but no pants and no underwear. His dick has softened against his hip, the cum you didn’t swallow drying against his skin. “With your dick out and all. Any burglar would run the other direction.”

“You don’t think he’d be impressed?” Jack sits up just enough to look at his length. 

“Maybe not in this state.”

“I’ll just have to explain to him that my girl fucked me so good that I couldn’t move anymore,” Jack ponders with a shrug. He laughs to himself, eyes hooded but blinking slowly at you.

“Well, you did come first,” you agree. You reach out and take his hands, dragging him up to a sitting position, then up to his feet. 

Jack stumbles into you, petting over your rat’s-nest of a head of hair and pressing a series of kisses all over your face.

“Gross, gonna have to do extra skincare tonight,” you pout, pushing him away. 

Jack continues making kissy noises as you pull him towards your shared bedroom, depositing him in front of the shower so that he can start the water while you grab new clothes for the both of you and go to the bathroom. 

He feels you up in the shower until you’re both laughing and covered in suds, unable to keep your lips from the other person’s for longer than a couple of minutes. He makes his hair into a shampooed mohawk just to make you giggle again. His displeasure from earlier in the night is completely gone, and you couldn’t be more glad. 

notes: this is one of my favorite fics i've ever written, so i hope y'all enjoyed!!

[sohnric]

gold stars – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: friends (idiots) to lovers au. fluff. a sprinkle of hurt/comfort in some parts, a hint of college au!!

wc: 9.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mention of toxic family behaviors, a joke about a praise kink. eric is an embarrassing loserboy but i love him sm

listen to: risk by gracie abrams

where everything eric sohn does is search for your approval, and where you reward him with a gold star sticker for every act of kindness. will you ever see him as more than just a friend?

a/n: thank you best friend @csenke for beta reading as always (i miss you deeply btw</33). also thank you @from-izzy for brainstorming with me and listening to me while i gushed about this silly fic idea. thanks @strayed-quokka lennon for giving me eric's insta username idea i will keep using it from now on in all fics AHAHA TT

If Eric was asked to pinpoint the exact moment where he started to rely on your validation, he wouldn’t really be sure of his answer. The truth is, somewhere deep inside of his soul, he knows the yearning has been there ever since he can remember, but the instance that is rooted in his memory as the core one– the one that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like a teenager in love for the first time (which he wasn’t! Nor a teenager, not in love for the first time… right..?) – was one Thursday afternoon after he came home from taking his last exam of the semester to find a message from you waiting in his Instagram DMs. 

Breathlessly clicking at the notification (and now, this should’ve been a sign of his growing feelings for you), he is welcomed with the sight of you sharing a post with him. Wholesome, but still a little silly, a picture of a yellow star poorly drawn onto a white background waves at him, the words ‘congratulation the stress didnt abolsultly kill u’ written in the Comic Sans font on the inside, making him giggle. Despite the typos and the poor grammar, his heart squeezes on itself, shaking his head at your adorable antics as he shoots you a quick message as a thank you. You’ve been helping him with the studies for the last couple of weeks (if constantly yelling out “you will murder this exam, Sohn’ and laughing at his miserable face counts as support), so it’s even more heartwarming to see his friend still be so supportive of him even after the hell already ended.

@ damnsohn [5:11 PM]: thank u i will now need to receive gold stars for everything tho

And see, he wasn’t really thinking before sending that message. He just needed to convey his gratitude without sounding too overly eager– without sounding too infatuated with your sheer existence and the validation of his efforts. (Failed)

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually follow up on his request. 

To make things even better, you pulled through with physical reminders. The poorly drawn golden star landing into his Instagram DMs was just the start of the habit you fall into with Eric Sohn, the man whose love language is words of affirmation– without him even realizing it. And so, what started out as a wholesome, innocent joke, now turned into a recurring thing that is slowly, but surely making the boy go absolutely insane.

The first time he receives a physical golden star sticker is one day when he comes over to your place to watch a movie with you. You made a list full of iconic films you haven’t seen before– a list you get clowned for at first dates with any man that is pretentious enough to talk about his love for Quentin Tarantino (Eric told you to stop going on dates with the aesthetic, ‘indie’ looking men you find on Tinder) – and little by little, you try to get through it with the help of the rest of your friend group. Since everyone gets bored easily of mediocre films they’ve seen before, Eric is the one that spends the majority of movie nights with you– and that’s only because he’s the only one that doesn’t mind watching the Titanic for the fifth time already, if it means he can spend some time with you.

“You brought popcorn?” you gasp upon his arrival, gazing at the plastic bag in his hold, eyes big and full of stars– one would say you were looking at your first love. You weren’t– it was just a salty treat. Isn’t that every girl’s first love, though?

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Pre-popped?” 

“Pre-popped,” he agrees as he takes off his shoes behind the door, watching as you jump up and down in excitement, taking the big bag out of his hands.

“I like it pre-popped the best, oh my god,” you hum, hugging the huge bag like it’s a teddy bear, going as far as pushing your cheek against it, making your face turn into an adorable pout. “They are a little stale and softer and–”

“And the salt is really settled into it’, yeah, I know, Y/N,” he snickers, finishing the sentence he’s heard you say about a million times already– he starts to wonder if you have short-term memory loss and don’t remember telling him every time you walk by the cinema. (And that’s a lot of times, since Sunwoo’s dad owns the place. Sometimes, Sunwoo makes Eric be his own delivery man– he would deny on most occasions, but ever since he learned that bringing Sunwoo his lunch to work means he can take home a bag of cinema popcorn, the one that admittedly, always tastes the best, he doesn’t complain much– he can use the stale bag as a leverage to make you do about anything.)

“Oh man,” you sigh, “aren’t you a dream. I was going to wait for a more serious occasion, but wait, let me just–” you say, running quickly into your room. Eric doesn’t question your antics, figuring out that he will know the reason for your disappearance soon enough anyway, and allows himself into the living room. Two cans of coca cola and a chocolate bar are already waiting on the coffee table, alongside the TV remote, and while he passes the couch and opens one of your kitchen cabinets to fish for a bowl to put the popcorn in, he hears your socked feet rumble against the floor, announcing your arrival.

Once he takes the big bowl he’s sure he’s seen you puke in before after a wild night out and settles it onto the kitchen counter, the bag of popcorn comes back into his view as you lazily throw it into the white plastic, still closed and sealed, waiting to be opened. As his hands move and go to rip it open, meaning to pour the snack in so you two can share while you watch the next movie on your list– which, just for the record, Eric never asks the title of before, afraid it might make him less excited for the movie night– you put something onto the back of his hand, giggling.

Eric curiously stops his movements, gazing at his own skin. There, shiny and glittery, is a sticker attached to his limb– a yellow star sticker, to be exact, making him look at you with a dumbfounded look, eyebrows furrowed, but lips still sealed into a wide grin.

“That’s a gold star for remembering my favorite snack,” you point, flicking his forehead as a way of swatting him away from you so you can open the bag yourself, “and for bringing it.”

When Eric doesn’t give you any coherent reply– despite his brain operating on a thousand miles per hour, thoughts just swirling around and silencing any rational words– you only laugh at his face, your nose scrunching in that adorable way that makes him want to reach over and squish both of your cheeks in between his fingers, crying out. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so serious about this,” you sigh, snickering. Eric was going to bring up the fact that you were the one serious enough about the sentiment to buy a full roll of star stickers to give him on various occasions, some more serious than others, but he kept his silence in fear of getting this advantage taken away from him. He doesn’t think he’d survive it. “If you manage to not eat the entire bowl before the movie starts, I’ll give you another one. Come on,” you call for him, body already disappearing back into the living room.

Eric follows you like a lost puppy. If he had a tail, at this moment, he would’ve been waggling it. After he drops to the sofa, he notices the movie paused on the TV in front of him to be none other than Dirty dancing. With a sigh, he recognises that he’s seen it about five times already with his mother and sister, and so he spends the hour and a half gazing at the star on his hand instead.

The next few stars he receives are gifts of a similar manner. Half-serious, but still enough to make Eric’s heart leap in his chest at your recognition.

One day, he says a joke in the middle of the conversation that nobody really appreciates. And see, it’s not really unexpected– he was already aware that his friend group doesn’t appreciate good humor– but the dead silence he receives after the lame joke still makes him feel kind of awkward. That’s only until he is greeted with the sound of your muffled chuckle, though– which is of amusement at the situation, and not his joke, just for the record– and the sight of you ruffling around your pockets. You take a roll of stickers out of your jean jacket, and before he knows it, a star sticker is glued onto his phone case, right in the corner of his phone laying screen down on the table. 

“A gold star for trying,” you hum, making the rest of the group holler out a laugh at the casual bullying, “not as bad as last time, keep it up, buddy.”

Eric gets red in his cheeks. When he looks up from the dark wood of the dinner table, he is met with the sight of Sunwoo and Juyeon looking at him with shit-eating grins on his faces, wiggling their eyebrows at the very obvious reaction Eric has at the half-assed praise. The boy wonders if you’re the only one that hasn’t noticed yet, or if you just don’t really care about the effect you have on him. The star sticker stays glued to his phone case at all times, though, even when it’s worn-down and peeling off at the edges.

Another gold star is won from you one day when the semester starts again and you two meet up in the library, working on your respective essays. Each of you major in a different thing, so there is not much actual help shared other than underlying emotional support, and despite the coffee Eric brings you upon his arrival and the bag of chips resting on the table waiting for you to munch on them, which you refuse to touch before you finish a segment of your essay to ‘motivate yourself’, as you say, he can see you’re still a bit stressed out.

The suspicion is only proven to be true when he speaks up suddenly, lost in thought and a little overwhelmed himself. “How do you spell ‘accommodate’?” he asks, scratching the back of his head.

He now admits that it’s a stupid question to ask, but somehow, getting advice from you is much easier than looking it up himself, or simply writing the word down to let Google docs do the editing. The answer you give him is short, sharp, and the tone of your voice stings the boy the tiniest bit. “Are you 5 years old, or something?”

“I–”

“I’m in the middle of writing an important paragraph, Eric, just Google it–”

“Jeez, okay,” he hums, rolling his eyes at your snappy composure. When your eyes meet only two seconds after, you look a little guilty. You say nothing, though, only continuing to focus on your essay– and Eric does the same, for the most part. (While he also tries to take his mind off the fact that you might think he’s a little bit stupid. You are a STEM major, after all– he’s the one studying media.)

After a while of typing away on your computer, though, you look at him with big eyes, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The subtle nerves and desperation in your face are enough to leave the man weak in his knees, and even though he’d like to reply to you in a similar manner to show you his disapproval with your previous tone, he can’t find it in himself to ever reject you as you mumble out a soft: “Switch?” having the man instantly nod, offering you his laptop.

This is standard practice for the two of you. While he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about in your essays– for all he knows, you could be pulling everything out of your ass– he enjoys reading the words you’ve written. You two often work on your essays together and switch from time to time to reread what the other one has so far– on a lookout for wrong word order, grammar, or anything sounding weird. It’s hard to rationally evaluate your work and find flaws in it after spending hours and hours on it, your brain desensitized to the content you’re writing. Having a helping pair of eyes is always for the better.

When the both of you are done and you switch the laptops back, there’s a gold sticker smiling back at him from the device settled right next to the Kirby sticker you’ve given him once after hearing him gushing about the game one night (Yes, he was tipsy and sentimental). He didn’t even notice you putting it on, and when he looks up at you with questioning eyes, you shrug at him, averting eye contact.

“A gold star for spelling ‘accommodate’ right,” you say, making the boy roll his eyes, snickering.

He doesn’t really question you further. Just the star sticker is enough for him now, if he’s being totally honest– even as unserious as they come. Had he pried more, though, maybe he’d find out that the gold star wasn’t just the prize for his spelling– but also for his patience and silent support he’s been sending you every single day. 

And so, the habit preserves itself at first in a joking, half-serious manner. A gold star sticker for him when he reminds you to water your plants (‘for having a good memory’). A gold sticker for him when he carries you home on his back after you get too drunk at the bar with your friends (‘for having strong muscles’). A star sticker for him when he picks you up after work and drives you home (‘for having a cool car’). Another one when he cooks you ramen when you’re sick and don’t have enough energy to make yourself something warm for dinner (‘for being a 5* Michelin cook’). For his birthday, alongside with other things, you give him a strip of the gold star stickers, 5 in a row all next to each other– ‘for bearing the old age well’. He’s not even that much older than you in the first place, but he takes the external validation and praise with open arms, not really dwelling deeper into the sentiment underlying your joking, unserious reasonings. 

He doesn’t really realize the stickers were a sign of gratitude for the fact that he listens to you and remembers what you have to say– not for having a good memory. They are for taking care of you on your lowest– not for having strong arms and a ‘fat ass’. They are a wordless thank you for his acts of service and protection of you, not for having a cool car and getting his driver’s license– although, the pride is the common undertone in some of the gold stars you give him. You give him gold stars on his birthday to tell him you’re proud of the man he’s growing into, not to make fun of him growing old. The boy is just too oblivious to realize it, it seems.

Some days are more difficult than others, though, and that’s when your star stickers gain more value and seriousness. 

The day after he has a family reunion with the distant relatives that always pry too much into his business– ‘Do you have a girlfriend yet?’, ‘What will you end up doing with that useless degree of yours?’, ‘Do you still share a flat with that friend of yours? What about getting your own place?’ – he is met with the sight of you waiting for him after class, on one of the bean bags outside of the lecture room. His department is a solid 20 minute walk away from yours, so the sight of you there surprises him, but the shock is only intensified when you call him over with a wave of your hand and present him with a pack of M&M’s with a gold star stuck to the packaging.

“What’s that for?” he says, but opens the candy nonetheless. After he takes a few into his mouth, he offers you some– to which you shake your head and shrug.

“For being the coolest one out of your family,” you say close to his ear, like it’s a secret, before you ruffle his hair and stand up from the bean bag, strutting towards the exit. “Come on, I have beer over at my place. You can come over and rant about them being stupid, if you want.”

Eric smiles at your sincerity. Trying hard to tame his hair back into place, he follows you with his backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, and even though he’d love to finish the candy you’ve given him, he forces himself to leave at least three pieces inside of the bag, saving it for later– just so he can keep holding on to the star-adorning wrapper for some more.

One day is particularly hard for the boy as he locks himself out of the apartment, having to wait for his roommate Jake to come back from his hometown the other day, leaving him no place to stay– before you invite him over and force him to sleep over on the couch. You can tell there is something more bugging him, though– and so you push the boy for answers.

“What’s up? Locking yourself out is not the end of the world, y’know,” you say, trying to lighten up the situation.

Eric looks at you with tired eyes, shrugging. Truth be told, his mood has been gradually falling over the last couple of days– this incident was just what really tipped him over the edge and nudged him closer to a nervous breakdown. He’s been overwhelmed with work (too many people having high expectations of him that he is scared he cannot meet), with school (too many assignments he is afraid he can’t manage to get done in time) and also with his family constantly being at his neck about everything he does and chooses for his future– only fueling the burning pit of anxiety and insecurity crawling outside of the big hole inside of his chest.

“It’s nothing,” still, he notes. “I’ve just been having a bit of a rough time, really, ‘s all.”

You answer him with a slight pout of your lips, a saddened expression taking over your face. There is sympathy oozing off your presence, and Eric can’t tell if he dislikes it, or yearns too much for your caring words and gentle encouragement. He can’t tell if it’s natural or pathetic, to want, to need your compliments and validation so much– or if he’s just fallen into a hole he can’t crawl back out of, too hungry after every bit of your attention. You’ve completely enchanted the boy, made his heart both soft and erratically running whenever you’re around, and the things he constantly does for you are not only because he wants you to tell him he’s doing well, but also because he wants you to think of him as someone that you can lean on. He wants you to think of him as someone good enough for you. 

Today, though, maybe he just needs a bit of validation. Maybe he just selfishly strives for your encouragement. It’s okay to just want to be loved on from time to time, no?

You coo, taking a seat next to him on the sofa you’ve spent countless movie nights on together, slotted side by side. Eric plays with his fingers in his lap, a heavy cloud hanging over his face. You know your friend isn’t really good at talking about his emotions– something akin to a mental block inside of him preventing him from ever fully opening up– but despite it all, it seems like he’s completely see-through in your eyes, handling you all the unspoken words on a silver platter. You know him too well.

“You’re doing well, Eric. Don’t let the doubts get into your head, yeah?” you hum, meeting eyes with the boy. 

“Am I, though?” 

The face you give him is stern, acting upset with him. “Of course you are! Stop saying that,” you shake your head at him, sighing when he doesn’t comply with your hard love. After a heartbeat of silence, you turn your head away from him and face the turned-off TV, instinctively wrapping your arm around the boy first, tucking him to your side, before you cradle his head and move it so it sits in the crook of your shoulder. 

Patting his hair, ruffling it and gently playing with the strands before you move to scratch on his scalp, the actions all unarm the poor boy. He almost feels like he could cry and fall apart right there in front of you, right there in your hold, but his pride is oftentimes bigger than his need to let it all out– so he just stares ahead of him, teething at his bottom lip in silence.

After a moment, you rustle around your pocket with your free hand, seemingly searching for something. Eric watches you with curious eyes, big eyes reminiscent of ponds of water waiting to overflow when you take out a strip of star stickers from the inside of your sweatpants, gently taking one of them and sticking the golden star onto the fabric of his pants, right on his knee, before patting it affectionately.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice a bit hoarse. He’s glad you don’t mention it.

“Just in general,” you shrug, hand coming back up to play with his hair, “a gold star because I’m proud of you.”

“There’s nothing to be proud of, though..?”

“Of course there is!” you argue, raising your voice at him. He doesn’t make much effort to show you that he agrees or understands your point, so you gently take his hand into yours and wave it around in mock-joy– although you’re kind of serious about the sentiment. “Proud of you, because you’re alive and surviving! Yay!”

Eric snorts. It’s not enough to cure his mood completely, but it warms his heart up enough to make him forget about his tears.

“Do you just carry these on you at all times?” he asks, pointing towards the sticker on his leg.

“You never know when you need them,” you innocently agree. After your continuous doting, the boy finds himself falling asleep on your shoulder. When he wakes up in the morning, there’s a blanket thrown over his body he didn’t see in the room before, and he feels a thousand times better.

So far, Eric’s never asked for the gold star stickers. They always come to him by your initiative– and although he has to admit that sometimes he does stuff for you and expects a reward for it (in the form of the sticker, of course) – he never once begged to receive one himself. Sometimes, you surprise him. Sometimes, it’s obvious there is one coming– like after he helps you send out your psychology survey to every single person he knows (and he knows a lot of them. He is a born extrovert, after all.). 

Much like the day of his football match. 

He’s not really the biggest fan of the sport– he much prefers baseball, but his university no longer has a baseball team and he needs to get additional credit somehow– but when you add up the fact that it makes him popular with the fact that he ends up spending time playing around the field with his friends and over the course of the season gets actually better at the sport the more he practices, it’s not as bad as he expected.

The last match of the season turned out well– with their team winning– and although Eric wasn’t the one in charge of the winning goal (damn Kim Sunwoo and Jake Sim for collectively beating him to the victory), he was still ecstatic about the whole thing. After celebrating with his teammates, dubbing them up and screaming in victory, his eyes scan the crowd to find the rest of his friend group that he knows is there, watching him and Sunwoo play. (In reality, he’s just looking for you– he won’t admit that out loud, though.)

Running up to you with sparkles in his eyes, he watches as you cheer on your other friend, Sunwoo, when he beats him to the bleachers. (Not cool of him, if you ask Eric. His crush is literally right there.)

The taller boy enthusiastically talks about the match– as if you, Jihoon, Ryujin and Jay haven’t been on the bleachers the whole time, watching– and after a while, Eric hears your enthusiastic praise aimed towards his best friend, making his blood turn green in envy.

“Yo, that goal was so good, though!” you gush, patting Sunwoo on the shoulder.

“I know, right? Jake passed the ball to me in the perfect time, that other guy couldn’t even register what was happening,” he boosts, grinning to himself.

All attention is drawn on Kim Sunwoo, and Eric doesn’t like it. Not when it’s your attention we’re talking about. He doesn’t care if the whole university drools over the handsome fire sign (as if he doesn’t have a girlfriend anyway– although Eric is still surprised by the fact, after the way he treated the part-timer at his father’s movie theater in the first few weeks of their acquaintance). Believe me, Eric is completely content standing in the shadow whenever someone gushes about Kim Sunwoo, the star player of the team– until you’re involved, of course.

So, he sulks. And it’s apparent– or at least he thinks so. It doesn’t seem to clock in with any of his friends, though, as they all walk away from the football field, aiming to celebrate together in the cheap restaurant downtown. Eric walks behind the group like a lost puppy, and it takes exactly 5 minutes and 35 seconds (not that he’s counting) for you to finally notice the absence of his lame jokes and loud comments to just about everything.

“What’s up?” you ask when you trail behind the group to join his side, laughing at the pout on his face. “You look like you just lost the match. Which you didn’t. Not sure if you caught that…” you joke, bumping your hips with him.

“Well, you seem to be acting like it,” he comments, his words leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Huh?” you ask, genuine confusion tinting your expression. “We’re literally going to celebrate, I don’t get what you– is this because you want that stupid star sticker?” you cut yourself off mid-sentence, the boy already too readable to you after so much time.

Eric gasps in shock. He’s not really sure what he wanted out of mentioning it so openly to you, but to be called out like this surely wasn’t on the list. He feels heat rising to his cheeks with lightning speed, his eyes averting your gaze in the instant. Maybe the voices inside of his head were right. Maybe he is embarrassing.

“Well,” he shrugs, only digging the hole under himself deeper, “did I not do well too?” he mutters under his breath, the humiliation fully settling into his bones after you laugh straight at his face.

“Wow…” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “If I knew I was fueling your praise kink this much with the stickers, I would’ve stopped a long time ago–”

“I don’t have a praise kink–” he screams, battling you as you suddenly scramble after him with the sticker on your finger, waiting to be plastered somewhere onto his figure. He’s sure the whole commotion heard his poor attempt at defending himself, but he’s not willing to back down without a fight– anything to prove that he doesn’t depend on the stickers as much as one would think. He doesn’t want the sticker anymore. He doesn’t need it.

As you fight him and womanhandle him on the street, though, hands all over him, trying to get close as he desperately tries to push you away and fight the allegations, he finds himself unarmed when you get in close proximity of his body, pushing him against the wall. He’s sure he has more muscle power than you do, but the mental power in him is lacking– he just can’t make himself push you away from him. Your face is close to his, your breathing tickling his nose. His heart is stammering hard against his chest, your hands still clutching his wrists against the wall, making him feel like a horny teenager. His breathing is heavy– he doesn’t think he’s done much physical labor, though?

Before he has a chance to collect himself and physically unglue his eyes off your lips– glossy and pink, inviting him in– you make the boy’s brain short circuit even further when you lean close to his ear, whispering so no one else can hear.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, by the way.”

You know just which buttons to push. Maybe you’re a bit sadistic– with how knowledgeable you are of his feelings, but of how much you’re enjoying him being completely oblivious to the fact that you’re aware. You have him at your mercy, all yours to keep, his heart all yours to play with and scan in the palm of your hands.

A star sticker is pressed into the skin below his ear, right at the pulse point. With that, you unstick yourself from the boy, running back to the rest of the group. It takes Eric a moment to collect himself enough to rejoin his friends– so much he has to run (which is good, in hindsight– at least he has something to blame for his breathlessness)– but after this, he swears he’s never asking for validation from you ever again.

It’s too dangerous.

Almost as dangerous as you trying to ride his skateboard for the first time, it seems. He’s met with the fact only two weeks after the football match. When you texted him and convinced him you’re going to be fine and that he should definitely bring the board with him when you hang out later in the day– ‘I’m not a five year old, I can handle it! I bet it’s going to be fun!’ – he didn’t really expect you to be this bad at it. You seemed a little too confident for him to believe otherwise, and, well, in Eric’s eyes, you are perfect at just about everything. 

This really shattered the image of you he had in his mind. Not in a bad way, no– the man has and always will worship the sheer ground you walk on– it’s just that more than admiration, the feeling flowing through his veins right now seems to be adoration. Eric always admired your every move, every single sentence that ever came out of your mouth. But now, he just can’t seem to contain himself as he watches you stumble over your own feet and try to balance yourself on the unmoving skateboard in the middle of the empty park, hands waving around your figure in a desperate need to not fall over and break your neck. (Which would never happen under Eric’s watch anyway. His reflexes are fast.)

“You look like a baby learning how to walk for the first time,” he gushes from the bench, your bags waiting at his feet. A wide grin is plastered onto his face as he watches you, his cheeks beginning to hurt from the constant stretch of the muscles.

“Very funny,” you sigh, stumbling over once again, making the board move with the kinetic motion of you stepping off of it, leaving Eric to stop it with his outstretched leg.

“You were so confident before,” he shakes his head, mocking you.

“Well, I tend to overestimate my abilities sometimes,” you shrug, a pout slowly appearing on your face as you move closer towards the male, obviously going to sit at the bench next to him. “It’s whatever, I don’t feel like skateboarding anymore–”

“You’re giving up already?” 

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he shakes his head, standing up and offering you his hand to take so he can bring you back up to your feet, “never back down, never what?”

“Eric, I’m not going to finish your TikTok references right now–”

“I said never back down never what?!” he hollers, forcefully tugging you to a standing position, the sigh escaping your lips only fueling him further with his ridiculous antics. “Never give up! That’s right, Y/N, very well. Now, let me help you, I promise it’s not as hard as it seems.”

“I mean, given the fact that even you can do it–”

Eric flashes you a stone cold look as a warning. He doesn’t really think the teasing is at place right now– you’re the one not capable of keeping balance on the skateboard. It’s not like you have any right to joke right now.

“Okay, I take it back.”

“Leave the jokes for when your legs don’t look like a freshy born horse’s with how much they’re shaking when you’re up on this thing, yeah?” he chuckles, hearing you snort out a laugh at the accuracy of his comment.

Eric should’ve known he was the one miscalculating his abilities to efficiently teach you how to skateboard before the act itself happened. He didn’t, though, and the thought only occurred to him the moment you started latching onto him like a koala to its favorite tree– all just so you could hold balance on the board beneath your feet.

Your legs are a little shaky– and so are Eric’s hands when they instinctively land on your waist as you latch onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. The boy is painfully aware of the layers of clothing preventing him from touching your bare skin, yet, his fingertips still tingle as they bear into your midriff, holding you steady and preventing you from falling.

“Now, this isn’t so hard,” you conclude, chuckling. Eric doesn’t find it in himself to look up at your face, knowing he’d go painfully red the second your eyes would meet. The close proximity of your body still makes him shy sometimes, despite the years of friendship you share, and so he keeps his gaze glued to the ground instead, clearing his throat before he speaks up again, trying to seem nonchalant and casual.

“I’ll move now, yeah?”

Without really waiting for your reply, his feet shift their position on the ground, dragging you across the road with him. Gentle steps at first, making sure you’re not too overwhelmed, then picking up speed so you move a little faster on the board. “Will you be okay if I let go?”

“I don’t know..? Hopefully…?” you say, voice wavering a little, nerves seeping through your tone.

“I’ll catch you if you fall, don’t worry,” he hums, feeling how you squeeze his shoulders for one last time before he lets go of your waist, watching the way you slide away on the skateboard. The pace isn’t too fast, yet, it’s still enough to make you grin widely at the boy, your body now used to the feeling, balance finally finding its way to you. 

“Do you want me to push you around for a bit?” he offers, relishing in the way you nod eagerly at him, the grin on your face making his heart squeeze on itself. If he could carve the muscle out of his chest and offer it to you, he would. In his eyes, you deserve everything in this world– how could he not just try and give it to you, little by little, all by himself?

Light steps nearing your figure, he gently pushes you in the back, watching as you slide farther and farther away from him. Every time he gently nudges you in the right direction, he earns himself a hearty giggle from you, the motion making you feel free and reckless– just like teenagers do when discovering the activity for the first time. “I was right! It’s fun!”

Eric can feel himself relishing in the moment fully. Your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he wishes he could engrave the sight of it into his memory forever. He knows that’s not possible, though, and so he pledges to try his hardest to make it appear on your face so much and so often that he has no chance to forget how it looks.

After you’re done and exhausted with the day, Eric makes it his quest to get you home safely before heading to his place. You complain about your feet hurting, and although the boy is doubtful of your whining, he still offers to drag you home as you stand on the skateboard, holding your hand the whole way. When he’s almost at your apartment complex, he feels the familiar star sticker glued to the back of his hand before you intertwine your fingers with his, running a thumb proudly over the gold plastic.

“A gold star for being a good teacher,” you note when your eyes meet, making the boy chuckle.

“Shouldn’t I be giving you one for being a good student? Is that not how things usually work?” 

“I give credit where credit is due,” you hum, nodding to yourself. “Besides, that’s not only for that. I just…” you trail off, as if too nervous to say the next words. “I just wanted to show gratitude to you, ‘cause I had a really good time today,” you say nonchalantly, still, shrugging. Eric feels his stomach churning. How can you be so casual with saying words that make his heart skip a beat?

“I should show my gratitude to you more often too, y’know.”

You shake your head at him, laughing like it’s funny. “Oh, Eric. You do it so often you don’t even realize it. You just have a different way of showing it than I do.”

Eric averts his gaze from you, chewing on his bottom lip in nervousness. He starts to wonder if he’s been too obvious with his feelings. Do you see him differently now?

The questions almost drown him out on the way towards your house. Somewhere along the way, he realizes the act of holding your hand feels natural to him now. Gazing at your interlocked fingers, he smiles to himself. He could get used to it– all of it.

He could get used to the people smiling at him and you on the street when they see you with fingers interlocked. He could get used to holding your hand every day, keeping you close. He could get used to your touches, hugs and skinship. He could get used to waking up to you in the same apartment as him, like that one time he locked himself out and you let him sleep over at your place. And to a certain extent, he already has gotten used to you– all of you. 

He’s used to texting you every day. He’s used to seeing you multiple times a week– because if he doesn’t, he misses you a little too much. He’s used to your movie nights and dancing with you in bars, shielding you from the looks of other greedy men wanting to get a piece of you. He’s used to the gold stickers you constantly provide him with as a gentle reminder of the unsaid feelings shared between the two of you. He’s used to your presence and your energy, he’s used to your teasing words and the memes you send in his Instagram DMs. If you were suddenly removed out of his life, he knows he’ll find it hard. It would feel like a piece of him was missing.

Some days, he tries to make himself believe that he’s content with what you two have right now. And he is, for the most part– but deep down, he knows he wants more. He always wanted something a bit more.

It shines through his actions on most days. It’s visible to everyone– the longing looks, the gentle touches. Jake once said Eric would jump out of a window if you asked him to, and after careful consideration, the boy had to shamefully agree with his roommate. Eric gets laughed at every time his cheeks blush when you give him too much special attention. He’s used to being called the ‘lover boy’ whenever you’re around. 

In front of you, he tries to hide his feelings as much as possible, though.

Sometimes, it slips out of him, though. In moments where the day slowly comes to its end and the atmosphere turns more tender. On days when the movie nights get moved to his apartment, because it’s closer to your university and you claim you’re too tired to walk all the way back to your place. Eric claims you’re just lazy, but the pout on your face tells him otherwise. 

On days when there is no one else in the apartment, just you two, and your conversation dies down. The boy is usually a chatterbox when it comes to watching movies with you– commenting on every single scene, making fun of the characters, teasingly spoiling bits and chunks of the plot for you– but it was a Friday night and you were snuggled up in your favorite hoodie, your bodies stuck tightly to each other on the sofa. There is a cloud of comfort, a huge curtain of intimacy falling over you two, and Eric is afraid that speaking up would ruin the sentiment. 

After a few minutes, he feels your head lay on his shoulder. The crown of your head is instantly more interesting than the movie playing on the TV, his eyes glossing over your relaxed expression. There is hair falling into your face and your eyelashes are kissing your cheekbones, your brain no longer focusing on the movie, but slowly dozing off instead. Eric mentally coos– it’s not often you fall asleep next to him, and so he somehow finds himself treasuring the moment. You look so peaceful, so beautiful– yet so unaware of it. His heart squeezes with tenderness, making sink a little into the sofa cushions so you’re more comfortable in using him as your head rest. He knows waking you up or moving you so you’re resting against the back of the sofa would be more convenient for your neck, but he selfishly relishes in the fact that you found comfort in the crook of his shoulder instead.

He can’t help but smile widely at your composure. You look small and vulnerable. You look like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Eric indulges in the fact that he’s not watched right now, letting himself fully enjoy and admire your sheer existence. 

He acts on impulse when his lips softly land onto your forehead. Not much thought goes into the sentiment– he just sheerly answered his heart’s calling. 

You look dreamy. You look lovely. He’s in love with you, he thinks.

He lets himself settle deeper into the couch cushions. After no longer having to entertain you with his comments on the movie he’s seen 4 times already– The matrix– he finds himself bored enough of the familiar plot to doze off himself, forgetting about the promise he made to you to drive you home after the movie is over. 

He sleeps through your smile and the shake of your head, as well as you detaching your head off his shoulder, smiling at the unaware boy. Not yet asleep– just resting your eyes for a bit– you were a witness of the boy’s tender, loving ministrations. You disappear out of the apartment after the movie is over, crossing paths with Jake in the entrance hall giving you a quiet wave and a point towards his roommate sitting on the sofa, a gold star adorning the tip of his nose.

You just shrug before leaving. Jake just shakes his head at both of you, wondering when your time will finally come. Eric wakes up in the middle of the night to the TV off, asking himself if he should consider the sticker a silent invitation.

And after a while of careful consideration– laying awake and wondering of all the what-ifs, replaying every moment spent with you over and over in his mind, looking for the very obvious signs of reciprocation– he decides to just go for it. He decides to be the brave man he claims he is, and finally makes the first step.

Well, at least tries to. Because as it turns out, it’s much more difficult to invite someone out on a date if you’re already friends with them for a prolonged amount of time. Not only is it more nerve-wrecking, but also much more confusing to the other party– and after inviting you out to get boba in the new place downtown, he’s not so sure you are aware that you’re on a date with him. 

Not that Eric expected anything to change between the two of you instantly after going on a date– no, he’s completely fine with the dynamic you two have, and it’s one of the things he values the most about your friendship– he just thought the atmosphere would be… a little different.

Which is why he decides to start dropping not so subtle hints about his intentions. Brave, isn’t he?

First of all, he pays for your order. All after the 20 minutes you take standing outside of the boba store searching through the menu to find out what you’re going to get– and although Eric finds it endearing, he is also starting to get a little nervous.

“Didn’t know you were so indecisive,” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m not!” you grunt, shaking your head at your own antics. “I just don’t know what tastes good together. Should I just get one of the premade drinks on the menu? But I’m not really in the mood for any of these–”

“I’ll just get you a random one,” he sighs, “and you will have no other choice than to drink it.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then at least you have someone to blame,” he snickers, pushing the glass door open and entering the quiet boba store. He orders you a kiwi bubble tea with strawberry popping pearls– because he knows you enjoy how they come apart in your mouth– and after he comes outside with both of the drinks in either of his hands, he waves you off when you ask him how much yours was so you can pay him back.

“It’s on me,” he hums.

An over-exaggerated sigh escapes your mouth at that. “You’re paying? You never pay,” you exclaim and take the straw in between your lips, ready to taste the drink. You and Eric both know that what you said is a lie– he has no issue with paying for you, and he brings you random treats all the time– but for the sake of the next line, he decides to go along with it.

“Well, today is a different occasion, I guess,” he shrugs.

With that, you stop and stare at him with stars in your eyes, a teasing smile slowly overtaking your lips. You’re not stupid– you’re not oblivious the way he is– and so Eric thinks you finally got the hint. Or, at least he hopes so. “Is it?”

Suddenly too shy under your gaze, cheeks tinting light pink, the boy averts his gaze from you and walks down the street, expecting you to follow him. He might be brave enough to drop hints, but still not brave enough to admit to it explicitly.

Not when he drags you to the park and sits with you on the bench, people watching. Not when he casually drops his arm on the back of the bench behind you, gluing himself particularly close to your body. Not when he lets you try his drink, battling away the annoying voice inside of his head telling him that you just shared an indirect kiss. (‘Come on, Eric. You’re not a teenager anymore. Get it together.’)

He doesn’t admit to it in words, but he sure does in actions when he gives you his jacket when the evening gets chilly. He swears you look the most adorable in his red windbreaker, and in a moment of weakness, he puts his arm around your shoulders as you walk down the street, a selfish need of having you close to him winning above everything else.

“And what was so different about today, Eric?” you ask on the way to your apartment, gazing up at the beaming boy next to you. Are you teasing him again? Do you enjoy watching his misery?

Eric figures it’s for the best to tell you, though. He thinks it’s important to set the tone– because after today, it’s almost like nothing changed at all. The dynamic stays the same– and while he doesn’t think he hates it, he admits he’d just rather call you his.

So, despite the embarrassment, he chews on the bottom of his lip. You’re almost at your place already, and so he thinks it won’t hurt to talk about it now. If things go wrong, you can just go home and he can run to his apartment and violently cry into his pillow. 

“Well, I was thinking…” he starts, clearing his throat to buy himself some time and also trying to bite down the excessive nerves clawing at him from the inside, “I… you… I was hoping this wasn’t just like… a regular day out, you know…?”

Blinking at him a few times– because you must love to torture him, there is no other explanation– you shake you head at him. “No, Eric. I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Eric physically tears himself off you, your apartment complex now directly in front of him. Cracking his knuckles and taking a deep breath in to calm himself, he tries again. “I meant to… invite you out on a date today,” he proposes simply.

And in that moment, it’s like the whole world stops turning for a minute. Not only do you not give him any verbal answer, but your expression also stays the same as before– completely stoic and neutral, giving him no window into the way you feel about his suggestion. And you know what they say about Eric Sohn– he talks too much. Not only in situations where it’s inappropriate, but also in moments where he feels like there is nothing better to do than to fill the suffocating void that is the silence hanging over him– much like right now.

Eric rambles. “And- and I know I should’ve said that before making you go with me, but god, you don’t know how hard it is to make it clear to you that I’m trying to be more than friends with you without sounding absolutely fucking awkward!” he sighs, wetting his dry, chapped lips. 

“And I’m sorry if this changes your view of me, or something, but trust me, our friendship means to me so much more than just trying to make you date me, that was never my intention behind things, I do everything out of care for you, because you’re– you’re just everything to me–”

After the last line, he hears you chuckle. Your eyes finally meet, and he feels like he wants a car to run him over approximately 15 times to make sure all his bones are broken and his skull is smashed into pieces– he’s sure it would be more comfortable than the situation he put himself in right now.

“That was so cheesy,” you say, Eric’s stomach making a flip that might as well force acid up his throat. He won’t throw up, he won’t throw up, he won’t embarrass himself even more–

His hands shake. Suddenly, you take them into yours. 

He watches you carefully, ready to be let down. You step closer to him– surely, you’re going to give him a comforting hug as you tell him he read all the signs wrong and you don’t feel the same– before you lean into him, face inches away from his. Blinking, Eric suddenly registers your lips locking with his for a mere second, a soft, sweet caress of your mouth on his not giving him a chance to react– a chance to reciprocate– before you pull away, making him freeze.

“You always make things more complicated than they need to be,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Uh…” he lets out, like he lost all the words in his vocabulary. It’s the first time Eric Sohn has nothing to say– and it feels like a miracle. In reality, he’s taken aback and still processing.

The sight of him like this only makes you grin wider. It’s no question that you find him adorable like this, so bashful and surprised, cheeks turning red and lips slightly ajar, big eyes staring into yours. “Cat got your tongue?” you tease, letting go off his hands and placing your palms onto his cheeks instead, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. His brain might be blank right now, but his orbs still hold so many emotions– ones that make you soften and cave in on yourself, overflowing with tenderness. Hands automatically resting on your waist, Eric holds you close to his chest.

“Put your mouth to use in a different way, then,” you joke, watching the boy in front of you go into factory reset.

Lips crashing against yours, the boy kisses you like you’re his lifeline. Chasing after you, he puts all the words he’s said before and the ones he keeps hidden inside for now into the action, having you melt in his hold. He feels your breathing on his face, making him deeply aware of every detail, of every miniscule shift of your figure, every tiniest movement of your lips and the almost inaudible sound you let out when his teeth tug on your bottom lip as he pulls away for air, being a little overly-excited.

Foreheads resting together, the two of you in your own little bubble no one gets to peer into even on the busy street, Eric watches as you look down and take something out of your pocket– something he so deeply recognises, making his heart thump a thousand miles an hour, if it wasn’t already.

Another kiss is given to his lips– for good measure– before you press another one to the tip of his nose and one more peck into the middle of his forehead, making his legs feel like jelly. You follow your lips with the star sticker attached to your thumb, sticking it to your lover’s skin. 

“That’s a gold star for being adorable,” you say, making him roll his eyes. “And for the nice date.”

“Don’t I get one for being a good kisser too?” he pries, watching as you scoff at his prideful question.

“I don’t know, Sohn,” you shrug, “I’m not sure yet, but I could be convinced–”

He cuts you off by locking your lips again, ready to prove you of his abilities. With the gold sticker proudly glimmering on his forehead, he realizes that maybe you were right– and all along, it has always been this simple.

[itoshiexx]

wonder

synopsis: sae wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 800 | warnings: established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, sae is stupidly in love with u

notes: why hello! i'm barely alive! i know i kinda disappeared but i was struggling with personal issues and my mental health, so i didn't really have creativity to write. i'm not sure i like this either, but i couldn't let sae bae's bday go by without posting anything. also this is slightly inspired by the song "wonder - shawn mendes". thank you for your love and patience! <3

masterlist

there are certain things itoshi sae would never admit. like the way he loved calm walks at the beach or how seagulls were his favorite animal. how he secretly regret hurting his little brother’s feelings when he was a stupid teenager. how his life was way lonelier than the world could even imagine, making him hate the walls of his oh so empty apartment.

mostly, he would never admit he wondered what it was like to be loved — not just by anyone, though, but to be loved by you.

he’s not sure when it started. he can’t pinpoint the exact moment his heart began beating faster and his black and white world was filled with color, but he does know that, inevitably, it all comes back to you, like you’re some sort of big bang that created his whole existence. itoshi sae doesn’t think he was actually himself before he became yours.

if you ask him, he’d say it’s a bit pathetic, really. he was never a guy that cared about romance, and he definitely didn’t believe in the concept of a love that could sweep you off your feet, like the hollywood movies desperately tried to sell. perhaps one of the reasons he liked you so much was because you managed to prove him wrong, and not many people were able to do that. 

sae was usually right. but you, in his life — that was even more right than his stupid beliefs. 

“sae, i need to get up,” your voice breaks him from his stupor, and, instinctively, his hold on your waist tightens. it’s some sort of protection, he thinks. not to you, but to protect him from the pain of having you stray away. 

(he never wants to let go).

the football player twists his body to trap you even further on the mattress, burying his face on your chest and tangling his legs with yours. your giggle reverberates through his whole body and brings warmth to his cheeks. his heart flutters, and he can’t even find it in him to hate it. 

you must have put a spell on him, he concludes.

“i’m serious. i need to make breakfast,” you say again when he doesn’t answer.

“don’t wanna.”

“you don’t want breakfast?”

“nuh-uh.”

you giggle again, and this time, you seem to give in, relaxing your body and welcoming him in your embrace. sae can only sigh in satisfaction when you card your fingers through his reddish-brown locks, relishing in the peace only you seem to be able to give him.

“i wonder what people would think if they knew how clingy the all mighty itoshi sae can be,” the teasing lit in your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you earn a scoff.

“shut up,” he quips, although there’s no real bite in it. “you love me.”

and you must not be from this world, because it’s easy — the way you pick up on any slight nuance of his voice or demeanor. it’s so fucking easy for you to read him like an open book and to give the reassurance he so desperately needs; albeit unaware. 

your voice becomes impossibly soft, “i do, baby. i love you so much.”

you kiss his forehead, and after wandering around for so long, sae thinks he’s finally home. 

for a while, you two just stay there, in bed, wrapped in each other in a way you can’t know where he starts and where you end. the thought of being one with you makes him happy, but that’s just another item in his long list of things he would never admit. 

your sweet voice breaks the silence. 

“we’re gonna be in bed all day?” there’s nothing but pure curiosity in your voice. no judgment — you never judge him, despite the way he deserves it sometimes. the thought makes his chest tighten with the amount of love he has harbored just for you.

sometimes he thinks he’s too small for it, and he’s scared all this love will overflow and consume him whole. though, it’s even scarier to think he wouldn’t mind: sae is yours. you can have all that he has and all that he is. 

“just a little longer,” he whispers, a little more vulnerable than he would like. but it’s okay. it’s always okay when it’s you. “please?”

you hum in agreement, continuing to caress his hair. 

“of course. whatever the birthday boy wants.”

sae allows himself to close his eyes and bask in your warmth, on the safety that you so effortlessly gave him. by smelling your perfume, he’s filled with gratitude for all the times he wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

“happy birthday, love.”

he’s glad he doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[lotusheirs]

timeline!

aka what the hap is fuckening with the twins

they’re born to the pack alpha of the fushimi inari shrine in kyoto, but twins were considered a bad omen, and the parents were ordered to either kill one, or leave

the father, ren, decided to leave with the firstborn, shinjou, thinking his mate, chou, and the younger son, shinzou, deserved to stay with the pack they considered family

the twins are separated too young, they don’t remember one another, nor do they know the other exist until their parents mention it when they’re older

they’re identical at this point, the only way to tell them apart is to look for shinzou’s birth deficiency in the form of a floppy ear

shinzou

shinzou basically gets treated like a prince, brought up as the next alpha, despite some of the other kitsune still scoffing at him

devoted to his mother, stubborn and determined to make her proud

asks too many questions about dad

learns he has a twin, cue even more questions

develops the mentality of being the unwanted child, that his life doesn’t matter, and all the world needs is his brother;  he covers it up, but it plagues him for his entire life

learned how to pretend because of this from a very young age, deals with his issues alone

his mother starts to get sick, and she knows it’s the beginning of her heartbreak due to prolonged separation from her mate.  she doesn’t tell shinzou this

he gets desperate, and one night goes to beseech inari for a blessing

gets caught in a blast from a field test of the early prototype biological weapons containing the angel gene;  his right hand, chest, neck, and face get badly burned

thinks it’s a curse from inari, and turns againist his clan, saying they’re serving and woshipping a  ‘false god’

gets exiled, is ordered to take his mother with him.  she’s weakened and cannot fight this, and shinzou is too young to really stand up againist everyone, but he tries

not that he succeeds

cue his lifelong hatred of gods and anything divine

he, nor his kin in general, has ever been around humans, so has troubles adapting.  knows basic glamours at least, though

his life revolves around saving his mother

they live in a small forested area at the outskirts of the city

when his burns heal at least a little bit, he starts job hunting, eventually landing something in one of kyoto’s strip clubs, where he goes under the work name  ‘kessho’

works as both a stripper and an escort

his fur and hair that had been damaged in the fire grew back black, so now half his hair is black, along with his right ear.  also, his right eye turned red, half of his right eyebrow never grew back, nor did his eyelashes.  rocked the undercut haircut for a while, as his hair grew back

one night after his shift, he’s approached by a stranger claiming to know he’s not human, and pressures him into joining their organization

he only agrees out of desperation and under the promise that they can cure his mother

it’s revealed to him that they’re an angel hunting organization, and that if he helps them, they could easily develop a cure for chou.  shinzou has no clue what this is all about, but he’d do anything for his mother

so they take them from kyoto to maebashi, the city where the phenomen originated from

as it turns out, the hunters couldn’t quite trust a youkai, and so he’s ensnared and branded againist his will, with a spell placed upon him that effectively makes him their slave

the brand is the kanji for the number four  ( 四 )  in a circle on his left inner wrist.  its symbolism represents that this contract is for life  ( read as  shi, same as 死, meaning death  )

they do that, along with taking his star orb, which is essentially his soul taken physical form, and use it as means to keep him in check

hides the brand with a thick leather bracelet

his job is hunting down angels around the city and it’s neighborhood, though sometimes he’d receive an order to go even further afield

his free time is limited, so he strikes a part-time job at a local strip club once more, to have some cash of his own, given the hunters don’t really give him anything

he’s not aware that his mother is used as just another test subject for the angel experiments, and she keeps quiet about it aswell, not wanting her son to worry

what’s worse, her natural eye color is red, so as the mutation takes effect, shinzou doesn’t notice the difference

one day meets a boy, kaede, shy and softspoken, who approaches him when he sees shinzou getting harassed by some stranger who most probably knew him from the strip club, given he was asking for a  freebie

they start hanging out together, pretty much all the time when shinzou has the time

never tells him he’s an angel hunter, given that the boy has angel eyes himself, doesn’t want to put him in dager

as it turns out, he’s the first angel ever created;  he suffered from a terminal blood disease, but this new  ‘cure’  helped him live.  this gives him more hope for his mother to survive, too

things get gAY, they even mate

somewhere along the way he fucks up, and the organization he works for discovers he knows the identity of the first angel, and is ordered to hunt him down and bring him in, alive

is faced with a dilemma, but in the end chooses his family over his love life

so things get angsty, but shinzou eventually does return with the first angel, only to find his mother dead

he never learns how it happened, never really has it confirmed that they’ve been experimenting on her, but the thing is that supernatural creatures don’t handle the angel gene well, and with her already being weak and bed-ridden, she eventually succumbed to it.  he has his suspicions that that’s what happened, but still

also, neither does he learn that she was dying of heartbreak

anyway, he gets mad, forgets his orders, turns into a big bad fox and burns everything

going againist his owners means extreme pain, given the brand, but he endures.  ends up limping and not being able to use his left arm for quite some time

retrieves his star orb along the way, but it doesn’t fully free him from this slavery, since the brand persists  ( more on that later )

his mate survives the destruction, but no one else does.  they rendezvous outside the burning facility, where shinzou bids him goodbye as he feels the need to bring his mother’s body back to kyoto for burial + he needs to deal with his grief

promises he’ll be back tho

shinjou

compared to his brother, shinjou and his father got into a more direct contact with the angel phenomen.  they’re dragged into the more underground business, the criminal side of all this.  they remain in kyoto, though

they’re just as inexperienced around humans, which ends up in the current yakuza head taking their star orbs to have them under their command

they’re manipulated, given the illusion of power, of being in the lead while they’re really not

the yakuza progresses to be one of the most successful groups in the whole angel business, eventually going as far as actually conducting their own experiments, and starting their reign of terror, as they spread the stigma of angels being lesser than humans, that they’re monsters to be contained

the human trafficking begins

ren and shinjou become the first of the yakuza to be infected with the virus voluntarily, their morals and world views so skewed at this point that they’ve become power hungry  ---  ren especially, and shinjou is brought up in his example

shinjou is raised with the regime of all work, no play.  he becomes detached from society, from other people around him, all that matters is that he successfully walks in his father’s footsteps and makes him proud

shinjou’s mutation is cultivated in such a way that it surpasses what the first angel is  ---  he’s mostly a myth as of right now, but they know little tidbits here and there, and believe him to be the greatest specimen, and want shinjou to revolutionize this

he sees this as an honor really

develops a twisted mentality of angels being  beautiful,  rather than monsters, and thinks the world would be better off if everyone became one

he still goes all wrong about this.  i mean, constant torture and terrorism really isn’t going to make the world feel the same smh

eventually, his father succumbs to the angel genes, much like his mate.  this is what triggers the chain reactions of both parents dying, and when shinzou goes to destroy the facility he was  ( is )  chained to

shinjou becomes the next boss abruptly, and still relies on his advisors  ( aka the people owning his star orb at the moment, and the ones actively manipulating him as their pawn )

his father’s death drives him into more aggressive experiments with himself, this is also the time when he starts becoming more interested in the scientific side of all this;  aka where his mad scientist label comes from

he goes too far, so much so that it starts affecting his brain even more than the poor parenting already had, and he starts hearing voices, becomes unable to sleep  ---  and when he does, he always has to deal with sleep paralysis  ---  and even starts coughing up blood every now and then

ofc doesn’t stop SMH

he renames the yakuza to  ‘order of the lotus’  in his father’s honor, and their new insignia becomes the lotus flower

he’s the reason japan no longer views the lotus as a symbol of something good and pure, nor do they use the word  ‘angel’  as a term of endearment anymore

many have attempted to stop him, but to no avail

eventually gets a new cop, ciro, on his tail, who turns out to be an angel himself, with a very unique mutation  ---  the ability to see the past and future, to see through lies and illusions

thanks to this, he’s always a step ahead of shinjou and naturally he gets furious

game of cat and mouse begins but then it also gets gay along the way??

their relationship starts out as just friends with benefits, and only gets more toxic as time goes on

he learns that his new  ‘friend’  was actually originally trying to stop his own father, who was revealed to be shinjou’s current biggest rival in the angel business, someone who actually actively tried breeding angels for better results

shinjou kind of persuades the man to side with him, and their union eventually end in his rival’s demise

so shinjou basically gets the whole country for himself, gg

they end up mating aswell which ends up being a horrible mistake lmao

still, ciro also helps shinjou to free himself from his  ‘advisors’  influence, showing him that they were pulling the strings behind the scenes, gaining more benefits from what shinjou’s been doing that he did, himself

so shinjou gets his star orb back aswell, and is now in full control of his yakuza;  and all of kyoto, really

reunited

the twins find each other at the grove near their old home at the fushimi shrine.  as it turns out, it’s where shinjou had buried their father, and where shinzou went to bury their mother aswell

big feels time™

admittedly shinzou is a little unsettled by how unstable his brother is

shinjou tells him more in detail about the angel genes, and that he is an angel aswell, rather than it being  ‘inari’s curse’

it’s hard for shinzou to accept, but he does...  doesn’t change his opinion on the gods, though

so then he also struggles when he realizes his brother has a god complex

the happiness of finding what remained of his family was better than worrying, though, so he turned a blind eye to basically everything

shinjou gets shinzou to be the yakuza head with him, so shinzou gets a matching lotus tattoo on his spine

he doesn’t actively participate in the angel hunts and experiments his brother conducts, but he does act as a regular hitman and infiltrator, and all that angel-unrelated crime stuff

he meets ciro, and they hate each other.  constant fights and bickering

this has him trying to convince shinjou he’s not good for him, but he doesn’t listen

at one point, the twins agree to exact revenge on their clan, exacting the genocide during the full moon in july that year.  thanks to this, locals start to avoid the oldest of inari’s shrine, believing it to be haunted

the violence helps shinzou get over his grief, even if that had nothing to do with his mother’s death really

he leaves kyoto again to return to maebashi to find his mate

spends some time with him there, but some of the allies of the organization he originally worked for have tracked him down and tried to get him under their command again  ( thanks to the brand and the spell persisting )  and get the first angel

cornered, shinzou cuts off his own arm with his illusory weapons to rid himself of that link.  a price most people wouldn’t pay

he’s now truly free, but has to deal with getting himself a prosthetic and also his wounded pride;  doesn’t allow anyone to see him without the prosthetic, compensates for his ego by working out more, just basically trying to prove the world he’s  not weak

shinzou and kaede decide they should move away from maebashi, given it’s not safe for either for them, so they move to kobe rather than kyoto, because shinzou worries about what his brother might do to his mate who is the long-sought-after first angel

still comes to visit every now and then, though, only to long for leaving again given the constant disputes with his brother’s mate

still ends up hating the fact that he keeps having to choose between his brother and his mate, so he ends up talking kaede into actually moving in to kyoto with him

kaede, being the soft boy that he is, discovers shinjou has a little angel girl in his custody, and adopts her...  steals her, really

shinjou lets him have her, in exchange for his blood sample

shinzou however, disagrees on having children and makes kaede put her to orphanage

time passes, and sans the constant terror the elder twin brings, life seems good

eventually shinzou changes his mind and surprises his mate by actually adopting the little girl, papers and all

they name her chou in the memory of his mother

nothing good lasts forever, though, and shinzou and kaede end up fighting a lot, especially because shinjou’s mate ends up making sexual advances towards the fox out of spite, and it eventually ends in their break up, and  ---  given the angel’s weak psyche  ---  him taking his own life

shinzou is now left being a single mother  ( his daughter refers to him as  ‘mama’  because he encouraged her to view him as her mother figure, because other kids teased her for having two dads )

ciro doesn’t stop with his harassment, just further proving what a piece of shit he is, but shinzou is still unable to change his brother’s mind

frankly, the angel treats both twins differently, but is still a rather toxic presence in both their lives

it leads to ciro actually raping shinzou, though unfortunately for him, it involved touching the kitsune’s tails without his permission, resulting in a curse being laid upon the man that ends up eventually killing him

so essentially, shinzou’s killed his brother’s mate, something he never tells him

he becomes withdrawn from the trauma, and kind of doesn’t ever want to get in another relationship again.  goes back to stripping to deal with this, because it was about the only thing that ever made him feel good and he genuinely enjoyed it;  made him forget things, etc.

with the death of both the twins’ mates, they start feeling the heartbreak settling in, toxic relationships or not

ciro’s death also basically brings shinjou to the brink of insanity, and if he can’t have anything good, then neither can the world

cue the lowkey apocalypse

japan’s end

shinjou’s rage consumes japan;  he kills and destroys without a reason, his obsession with his mate showing

he, unlike his brother, was aware of the whole heartbreak thing

decided to have them both undergo more drastical adjustments to the angel genes in their body, forcing the parasite to keep them alive

the destruction was raw and imminent, though only in kyoto’s near vicinity.  it took years, centuries even, for the young kitsune brothers to overtake all of japan  ---  frankly, it was all mostly shinjou’s doing, but shinzou helped so he’s also guilty gnfjdkg

both shinjou’s mental and physical condition doesn’t get better, given that he accelerated the parasite’s growth

shinzou can do only so much to help him, though.  oftentimes, he’d disguise himself with a glamour of his past mate to help him deal with his loss  ( no matter how gross he felt doing it )  usually when shinjou was so sleep deprived that he believed it to just be a dream, but it was good enough to keep him at least a little sane

japan eventually becomes a prison country, where angels from all around the world are brought in, for shinjou to do whatever he pleases with themhe’s still extremely fascinated by the mutation, so really, most of them end up being lab rats as he tries various new experiments with their dna

angels may have prolonged lifespans, but they are not immortal.  and so, shinzou has to deal with the death of his daughter aswell

they’re alone, have no one but each other, they’re sick, both mentally and physically, they’re withdrawn, dangerous, and unpredictable

despite all that, technology thrives.  the surviving angels form a resistance, and where shinjou focuses on the biological, they focus on the technological

lots of current angels have various cybernetic implants and microchips to enhance them further to actually stand a chance in this war

what shinjou does, is to actively shut down more and more power plants to make the country fully dependant on him, given he commands the element of lightning, it’s easy for him to provide electricity to his surroundings.  ofc, this is limited by his age, but it’s a gradual process

[islesnucks]

hi bae can i request a barzy blurb based on dress by taylor swift? ty 🥺

a taylor swift song inspired barzy fic? hell yeah that’s like my two favorite things in the word together

requests are open so go send something if you feel like 

also this turned out a bit longer than I expected

I DON'T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND - MAT BARZAL X READER

Word Count: 1.9 k

Warning: none

Summary: after Mat introduces you as his best friend and it affects you more than it should, you end up confessing your feelings for him 

Masterlist

Add yourself to my taglist!

His words hadn’t left your mind the whole night, they were on loop, replaying over and over in your brain. ‘This is Y/N, one of my best friends.’ That’s how Mat had introduced you when you arrived at his family’s friend’s wedding, to which he had invited you as he’s plus one.

You knew you and Mat were just friends, you have been for a long time, and it surely wasn’t the first time he introduced you like that. Maybe this time hit differently because you had just come to terms with the undeniable fact that you had fallen for your best friend, no matter how cliché that sounded.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when it happened. It just happened slowly without you even realizing. Suddenly seeing him hit on random girls at the bar made you feel sick. Suddenly his hand on your lower back guiding you through a crowded room felt different. Suddenly your name coming from his lips made the world stop. You didn’t know what turned the switch in your brain from platonic to romantic love and made you look at him with new eyes, but once you realized it there was no going back and the thought of Mat and you becoming something more was always there painfully present in the back of your head.

“Y/N?” you heard Mat call you, bringing you back to reality. You looked at him still a bit lost in your thoughts. ”Are you okay?” he asked with his eyes stuck on the windshield as he drove you home after the wedding had ended.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“I don’t know. You’ve been a little off all night.” He noticed, he obviously did. Because he’s Mat, he’s your best friend, he’s one of the most attentive guys you know and he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. So he obviously noticed, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t keep on pretending.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you replied failing to sound as confident as you wanted to. Mat didn’t say anything and the car fell back into silence. 

You looked outside the window, trying to distract yourself and calm down. You weren’t far away from your place, in just a few minutes you’d be in your apartment. Mat had noticed something but he didn’t know what it was, so you could send him a text explaining you had a headache or something to get him off your back and just move on.

At least that was the plan but then Mat turned off the car and got out of it with you. You thought he was walking you to the building door like he had done many times, nothing strange. However he walked into the building with you and got into the elevator.

That’s when you started to suspect something was happening. You looked over at him confused and he just smiled at you, like nothing was going on. So maybe he was just walking you to the door. You decided not to think too much into it because if you did your heart would start racing and would notice your nerves, the last thing you needed was to give him more reasons to believe something was going on.

As you opened the door Mat was quick to walk into your apartment and you watched him with furrowed brows as he took a seat on your couch, casually like there was nothing weird with it.

“Excuse me? Can I help you with something?” you asked, stepping in front of him.

“I know something’s up Y/N. You barely talked today and you didn’t cry, I’ve seen you cry at stupid commercials and you didn’t cry at a wedding.”

You rolled your eyes walking away from him because you knew you couldn’t lie to his face, he’d notice. “I’m fine Mat I promised I just had a headache.”

“No you didn’t. When you have a headache you massage your head and you get sleepy, that’s not what happened today. It’s more like you were gone.” You hated how much he knew you, it would be harder to convince him but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try.

“Well I’m sorry I don’t always have the same gestures Sherlock.” you replied, irritation was clear in your tone. Mat let out a deep sigh and got up. It wasn’t his intention to argue and he could see you were getting mad, he just wanted to know what was going on.

“Y/N I know you-” he started to say as he approached you but you were tired of hearing that speech.

“Can we not do this right now? I’m tired Mat, I just wanna go to bed.” you said with a defeated look, lowering your town. He looked at you for a minute and decided to push his stubbornness aside. He knew he was right, he’d bet a million dollars on it, but he also knew you were exhausted, he could see it in your face.

Mat walked till he was in front of you, inches away, and suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. He held you tight as one hand went up to your hair to stroke it. You were surprised at first but then he felt you relax in his embrace. He placed a kiss on top of your head as he balanced slightly from one side to the other, keeping his face buried in your hair.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on okay? Because I know something happened, don’t even try to pretend it didn’t. I just wanna know if it’s something I did, that’s all I need to know because I can’t leave you here alone knowing I may have done something to upset you.”

His voice was soft as he spoke against you. Tears started to build up in your eyes and you tried to push them away as you debated what your next move would be.

If you told him it wasn’t about him he'd leave and you could move on pretending nothing happened and dealing with your unresolved feelings. If you told him the truth you didn’t know what would happen. However you knew that regardless of how he felt about you he’d be nice to you. The man was hugging you tight about his chest, refusing you to leave until you told him it wasn’t his fault because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing he did anything to hurt you.

Maybe it was the wine you had drank. Maybe it was because you were emotionally exhausted and unable to think clearly. Or maybe because you were tired of pretending. You didn’t know the reason why you decided to be honest and tell him how you truly felt, but you did that.

“You introduced me as your best friend today, that’s why I was off the whole day, I just kept thinking about it.” you mumbled against his chest, breaking the silence.

“Did you want me to introduce you differently?” He pulled away a little to be able to look you in the face, but his arms were still around you.

“Yes- I mean no. I-” You stumbled on your words, trying to find the right way to explain everything. “What you did was fine, I am your best friend, that’s right.”

“Then why did it upset you?” You rested your head face against his chest again, not having the courage to look him in the face as you confessed what you were about to confess.

“Cause I don't want you like a best friend Mat. I haven’t for a while now and I just don’t know how to deal with this. It’s not your fault, I don’t know what happened or when or how. I have these feelings for you and I guessed it hurt a bit to hear you calling me your best friend, even though that’s exactly what I am.”

After you spoke the room went silent again and you started panicking. You looked up at Mat who was already looking down at you and all you could see was shock. Suddenly your worst fear was real, you had screwed up your friendship with him. It was over. You felt the familiar knot in your throat and tears blurred your vision.

“Sorry ignore everything I said. Just forget it okay?” you said as you freed yourself from his embrace. Still no reaction whatsoever from him. “Shit. Shit. Shit. I feel so stupid.”

“Y/N.” he said, but you were too distracted pacing around the room and rambling to hear him.

“You know I even spent hours shopping for the perfect dress that would magically make you see me as more than your friend, do you know how stupid that sound? What am I? 15 years old?”

“Y/N listen-” he tried again but there was no getting to you, you were too lost in your own jabber. It was like once you started you couldn’t stop and you’d surely later regret all you were confessing.

“I’m an idiot. I really thought you could maybe by some miracle feel the same and-”

“Y/N!” he said now in a much louder tone so you would hear him and place his hands on your sides to stop you. You were surprised, not even realizing he had approached you at some point.

“Please stop.” he added now on a lower more tender tone, it almost sounded like a plea.

Now that you looked at him the initial shock had been replaced by something you couldn’t make out. His face was unreadable as he stated leaning in and before you could even question what was going on his lips were on yours.

You were surprised at first, eyes wide open not being to process what was going on. But once the initial shock was over you kissed him back. It’s embarrassing how many times you had thought what kissing him would be like, but it turned out to be even better than you could have imagined. His lips caressed yours gently, even a bit shily. Your hands met on the back of his neck and his slid down your sides to your waist, pulling you closer. 

Then a thought found its way into your brain.

“Wait.” you mumbled against his lips and he instantly pulled away. “I need to know you’re not doing this out of pity.”

He chuckled letting his head fall back before answering. “I’m doing this because I also don’t want you like a best friend. Because you do look amazing in that dress. Because I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long now. Because-” 

Your smile grew wider with every word and your cheeks turned red. You could tell he planned to keep on going, and you were surely going to ask him to tell you the rest later, but now there was only one thing you wanted.

“Ok, ok. I get it. We can go back to kissing now.” you said making him laugh, already tugging him closer by his neck and his laughs died in your lips.

-

hope you liked it! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

taglist: @glassdanse @2manytabsopen @tazeboes @barbienoturbby @sweetlittlegingy @petey-patty @mcsteamylove98 @ttylfedora @chieflawyerpastatoad @iwantahockeyhimbo @cherrymaybank

[stopeatingwhales]

playing cards x damon albarn

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OMG OK. hope you guys enjoy it!!!! I love arrogant damon sorry not sorry <3

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: 2.339

@damonfuckingalbarn this is 4 u!!!! <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Have this, you’ll like it far much more than what you’re drinking.”

Diverting my gaze from the beverage encapsulated in my palm, I met my view with the mysterious voice that had beckoned in my direction. “Excuse me?” I said, first landing my glare on his ethereal orbs, spheres that were so magnificent that I had to attempt a double-take; the idiosyncratic shades, merged together to create a masterpiece of different blues, as if they were small fragments of the water from most pure oceans, exemplifying the ideation of eyes that engulf you in at the instant - simply gazing into his orbs was the token I had needed to be entirely enthralled by his presence. Perhaps his gaze was too intense, too enticing, leading me on to trail my stare to admire the more gorgeous head of hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been brushed, though that portrayed its attractiveness. His face was beaming toward my direction, taking me aback slightly as I quickly ditched the sight of his face, drifting my sight to gawk at the two drinks clasped by his hands. “That looks like shit.”

A small scoff escaped his throat, evident that he was not expecting the abrupt attitude that had beckoned upon my lips. Slightly embarrassed at my dramatic remark, I adjusted my posture, accentuating such confidence that I had seemingly demonstrated so diligently with my demeanour. “Just try it.” he replied, placing one of the glasses on the dark wood counter, pushing it towards my direction lightly to prevent it from slipping off the glossy counter. Leaning my torso closer to the counter, I spent a couple seconds examining the contents of the unknown drink, it being something that I had never set my eyes upon.

Placing my original drink on the countertop, I nervously grasped the ambiguous drink that he had offered me, glancing back at him with an unsure expression illustrated on my features. In a way to reassure or encourage me, he nodded his head, resulting in me then taking a small sip to ease myself into the new flavour. Before the liquid had merely touched the back of my throat, I spat the contents back out into the glass. “That’s minging!” I choked, my face scrunching up in disgust. Focused on each move I was making, I felt his eyes continue to gawk at me as I attempted to rid the awful taste that lingered on my tongue by taking a lengthy sip of my pint, swallowing down the contents gleefully. Connecting my stare with his, I once again analysed his features, almost like my mind trying to discover what had been the true ideal that his beauty had enthralled me so rapidly just gaping at him. Perhaps I had over-emphasised his gorgeousness too much, though my doubts were denied as soon as my view had set upon his face once again. He had a smirk carefully illustrated at the side of his lip, curving the top of his cheek slightly, his face sculpted so delicately it urged the want to caress your finger against his skin, it conveying the impression that it was so soft, accentuating the prettiness of his facial features. Something inside me was itching towards the fact that he was somebody I knew, or at least somebody that I had seen somewhere, until it had clocked that he was from television, more specifically Top Of the Pops, last night. "You're that singer from that art school band, aren't you?" I questioned, my vision squinted together as I challenged my active recall abilities. “Damon isn’t it?”

"Wow, you know your music!" he laughed, edging his arm to rest on the counter. The stare orchestrated between us remained, as I left my mind to ponder over the common-knowledge of how men were like in bands. Aware of what he was going to solicit, and knowing that he would think it was going to be extremely easy, I had to prepare myself not to fall for it, no matter how good-looking or tempting the concept engulfed in my brain made it out to be. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow?"

“No, sorry.” I bluntly replied, breaking the poignant eye contact to down the rest of my drink, slightly forcing the glass containing the beverage he had offered me, back to him. If I had my eyes lingering on his for any longer, I’d end up doing something I’d highly regret the next morning.

“Why not?” he quizzed, bewildered by my sudden response. Clearly he had never had a woman decline his offer before, or was definitely not expecting it after he had gone head to head and won against the second biggest band in the country the night previous. So arrogant.

“Because I don’t want to?” I replied, slightly amused by how perplexed he had gotten. Darting my eyes around the dimly-lit room, my gaze fixated on a booth consisting of boys that, from my vague memory, believed were his band members. Knowing that he was still looking at me, I allowed a smirk to fall on my lips as I thought of what to say next. “I've actually got my eye on that guy over there," I mumbled, pointing towards the familiar booth of boys, my index finger lingering on the tall, lanky boy, whose hair looked as soft as the petals of a newly-bloomed rose. Granting my finger to saunter for a while, it directed enough time for Damon to swivel his head around to see whomever I was speaking about. "Alex, isn't it?"

Switching my focus back to look at him, I noticed his jaw clench at my remark, his orbs dawdling over the three boys who had been engrossed in conversation. Feeling the smirk on my face widen, I relished in the sensation of battering his ego - even if it was just slightly. A small laugh escaped his throat as he locked his gaze with mine, clicking his tongue as he sneered, understanding what I was trying to do to him. It was a forced chuckle, most likely portrayed out of annoyance,  “Look, I just think you’re really pretty, alright?”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I felt my stomach ignite at his frustration towards my obnoxiousness. Butterflies were blooming in my stomach as a certain heat flushed over my cheeks, my body mindful that I couldn’t keep up with such a persona for a much longer time. As well as this, it would potentially drive him away, which at this rate I didn’t want him to do, so I thought of the best possible solution to bring his hopes up, reaching to the ground underneath the barstool to grasp my bag, taking out a deck of cards. “Let’s play snap.” I exclaimed, beginning to shuffle the card deck.

“And you just carry those around do you?”

“It’s fun to play.” I replied, splitting the deck and then sliding him his share.

“Can I just get you a drink?” He groaned, though a small smile had perched on his lips at the irregularity of the situation. A girl is asking him to play cards after she simply rejected him, at a bar.

“You already did, Damon, and it was shit.” I spat back, fixing my eyes on his once again. He looked slightly offended at the insolence I demonstrated towards his efforts, which, for some reason, sank my heart a little. “If you win this game, I'll give you a second chance.”

“Deal,” He beamed, the signature devilish grin of his painted on his lips once again. “Might as well get you that drink now.” he added, his arrogance seeping through his teeth.

As we began placing our cards in the middle of the table, one after another, the environment was tense as to when two cards of the same origin would land upon each other. It was funny, I had gone out tonight to blow off steam from the stresses that work had offered me the past week, and somehow I had landed myself playing a game of cards with undoubtedly the most famous musician in Britain at the moment. “I’m not falling for it, you know.” I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Then why are you doing playing cards with me, love?" he interrogated, the sneer on his lips evident by his lustrous tone. He was right; his obvious pretentiousness, and egocentrism only edged me towards loving his company just that much more, which had disgracefully increased my attraction to him, but of course I wasn’t going to admit that, hell, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to fall for it, even though that was exactly what I had been doing this entire time - sinking down a hole of allurement from his persona that panned something inside of me that I wasn’t able to pinpoint on. Pop star effect, I suppose.

Completely silenced by his comment, I felt a certain radiance tease it’s way to my cheeks once again, edging me into humiliation even more to the fact that he could tell the effect his words were having on me - the sly grin on his features was felt in the tension shared between us. In an endeavour to shy away my embarrassment, I dragged out my packet of Marlboro cigarettes, snatching one from its packaging and lighting it before placing another card down on the deck that had been piling up since we had started. Inhaling sharply, I allowed the cancerous smoke to escape my lungs, my body adorning the relaxed feeling that seeped through after. “Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Why not? Your pack’s full!”

Pausing my movements before taking another hit from the roll of tobacco, a smirk lingered on my lips as I let my head rest on my palm, keeping my body upright. "Why? Those songs of yours not selling much?" I mocked, blowing another whiff of smoke into his face, the stunned expression held on his face only exhilarating me more in what felt like... control, though from the way he had been acting, I knew that such power was not going to last for a long while. "Put a card down, for goodness sake."

Scoffing, he followed my demand, though the card he placed down was the exact same as the one I placed down before, ensuing his hand slamming suddenly on top of the card deck, my mouth agape as I realised that he had won. “Look who won!”

A beam covered my face as I shook my head, watching him grab the attention of the bartender, asking for another drink that once again, I hadn’t heard of before. Once the bartender was done preparing the beverage, Damon passed it over to me, another grin captured on his expression. Sighing, I discarded the remains of my cigarette before taking a sip of another, unknown drink, the feeling of déjà vu hitting me as I had enraptured myself in the same situation when we had first spoken. "For fucks sake Damon, this tastes worse than the last one."

"More for me then, isn't it?" he grinned, my mind now aware that he had simply ordered such an appalling drink to agitate me. Be that as it may, he was aggravating, and took delight into making one’s time horribly spent, there was something about him that kept me latched onto him. Perhaps it was his glowing features, which were so enticing that it blinded me into thinking that he was the only other person in the room, and the only other person that I could set any fragment of attention towards.

"Stop pissing me off, you twat." I mumbled, looking at my bag as I placed the card deck back inside, it not proving much use to the situation anymore.

"You could quite easily just walk away, if I’m pissing you off this much.” he said, his head tilted to the side as his eyes lingered on me, practically forcing me to connect our gazes once again. “Doors just there, love." he uttered, beckoning his hand towards the timber door that divided us between the streets.

"Why would I leave when I'm getting free drinks?" I asked, trying to maintain whatever control I had over the situation, which had been deemed to have slipped out of my grasp at this given moment. The tension between us had been alleviating faster than it had been before, as we began reaching the climax of the encounter.

"You're not liking them though, are you?" he replied, face beginning to draw dangerously close to mine, his eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips every couple of seconds, contemplating how to end the situation. It was fully in control with him now; I was merely wrapped around his measly little finger, and he knew it. Our noses grazed ever-so-slightly on one another's as I felt his breath fan onto my cheeks - all I had craved for at this point was to attach my lips onto his, my breathing quickening as the realisation of just how close our bodies were to one another. "Just admit it, you're loving this." he mumbled.

"Am not." I whispered, my eyes staring at his lips as shuffled closer and closer to mine. We were both aware that what I had said was a lie, but my stubbornness wasn't ready to let that slide yet. Just as I thought we were going to connect lips, he darted his head away rapidly, the movement so swift I hadn't come to realize until a couple seconds afterwards, my cheeks now reddened to the point that I was almost convinced I had a fever.

"You fell for it, lovely." he grinned, placing a white slip on my lap, decorated with numbers to which I assumed were in relation to his telephone number. "Let me know when you're free!" he exclaimed, before waltzing off to the booth where his friends had, leaving me completely stunned, and exactly where I knew would be - absolutely encapsulated by the man known as Damon Albarn.

[jincherie]

florescence | vi

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 4.9k+ ❀ — rating: sfw...ish? ❀ — warnings: everything is smoothing over.... and now that angst is out of the way, oc is having to deal with some thoughts that now have the time to rise to the surface. so um. hickeys and also an almost risque dream ❀ — notes: happy birthday to me!!! i hope u enjoy this!!! every chapter we get closer and closer to the heat!!!!!!

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 30.03.2020 // masterlist || prev. | next.

It seems that for all your many efforts over the weeks in reassuring the two hybrids that they’re wanted by you and that they can settle down and make this their home, it doesn’t really sink in until after the night you let them scent you.

Which, of course, makes sense considering that was what was making them unsettled in the first place. You knew that letting them do that would return their behaviour to normal, but you weren’t expecting that in the process it would also do a complete one-eighty.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

The first thing you notice, is that when you all head to bed and you enter your room, closing the door behind you, they seem to hover outside of it for a moment before continuing to their own room. Now, the old you would be thinking why? But! This is the new you, the new-and-improved y/n who knows how to use google when she should! And since you’ve been referring to google and the more trustworthy sites you’ve found, you know that they’re probably battling the urge to be closer to you.

What you mean by that, is that you read that more often than not hybrids prefer to be as close to their owners as possible at all times—and this can also mean that they want to sleep in the same room. It soothes an instinctual part of them, apparently. You can understand it, plus, if you’re being honest…. You’re not as opposed as you should be.

The idea of getting to cuddle with them while you sleep makes you feel warm and gooey inside, but the thing is that after the way things were hinted to be going the other night… you kind of have to chase off more than inappropriate thoughts every time you think about it. You can’t help it! They’re both handsome, sweet boys, and—

You’re gonna stop yourself there.

“I’m home!”

You call out as soon as you enter through the door, an unnecessary act considering they could probably hear you all the way down the street if they really tried. Still, it’s habit. You used to yell it even when no one was here, because it made you feel less lonely. Kind of sad, now you think about it. You hum, reaching the bench and placing your things down on top of the counter.

You’re startled into yelping when thick arms slip around your waist, heat pressing against your back and a face mushing into your neck. The lack of whining tells you it’s Taehyung that has reached you first today, eager to cuddle close until every trace of any other hybrid’s scent is gone. They’ve taken to doing this every time you get home—at first you wanted to protest, since they barely let you get five steps through the door before accosting you, but after seeing how pleased and content they look after, you couldn’t be mad at them for it even if you wanted to.

“Tae,” you hum, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair; your nails run against the back of his ear by accident and something akin to a purr thrums through his chest. He presses his lips to the junction of your neck before nipping it lightly in greeting, arms tightening around your waist fractionally. “I missed you too.”

When he pulls away and moves around to your front, you’re taken aback by how pleased he seems to be that you pinpointed what he was trying to say. His big chocolate eyes with those long, pretty lashes are looking at you so earnestly you can’t help but coo, bringing your hands up to pinch his cheeks. They instantly flush pink beneath your grip.

“So cute,” you coo, grinning as you squish his cheeks like he’s a newborn baby and you’re an aunt who is performing her obligated first cheek-pinch. “My cute baby Tae, I really did miss you so much.”

Teasing him probably isn’t the best way to deal with the sudden overstimulation of your senses at how cute he is, but his reactions are always worth it. He’s growing so bold lately that even though he doesn’t talk still, you almost forget how shy he can be. Blushing, Taehyung steps forward and drops his head, headbutting your shoulder to hide his face. A laugh tumbles from your throat before you can even register it, arms coming up to hold him close. You’re gonna die from a heart attack at his cuteness one of these days, you just know it.

“Where’s Seokjin?” you ask after a moment of holding him, trailing your fingers down his spine soothingly. His tail wags in joy each time you do it.

At your question though, he pulls back, and you’re surprised to see a look of hesitation on his face. You tilt your head, wondering as to the cause of it. “Is he okay?”

Taehyung nods instantly, not wanting you to worry, and seems to make up his mind about whatever he was considering. He slips his hand into yours, entwining your fingers, and tugs you towards the stairs. You follow, letting him lead you easily—this works well with your plans since you wanted to get changed into your pyjamas anyway. You kind of expect him to take you to his room, but your eyes widen when you see him turn and pull you in the direction of yours. You don’t have a name for the light, fluttery feeling that occurs in your stomach.

The door is slightly ajar as you approach and Taehyung goes straight in, pushing it open softly before stepping to the side and halting, a somewhat sheepish expression crossing his face. You see why a moment later.

There, on the edge of your bed closest to the wall, is Seokjin. He’s curled up around the blankets, a blue material you quickly recognise as one of your shirts clutched against his chest as he snoozes. He looks so at peace, cheek mushed against his hand and his hair tousled so endearingly; you’re making your way over before you even realise it.

As you approach and take in the other side of the bed, the comforter rumpled and another shirt laying discarded atop the covers, you surmise that Taehyung must have joined the older male in his nap at some point as well. When you shoot him a knowing look, he purses his lips and averts his eyes somewhat guiltily, making you laugh softly.

“Seokjin,” you say quietly, resting a knee on the bed so you can lean over and nudge the fox’s shoulder. His hand uncurls from his chest and you tickle his palm with your fingers. “Seokjin.”

He grunts softly, smooshing his face into the bed for a moment. Reflexively, his fingers start to curl around your own. You try calling him to wake again, “Seokj—oop!”

The sensation of falling onto the bed has your stomach temporarily being left behind your body as you’re pulled down, arm instantly slipping over your waist. Your cheeks heat, heart thudding so loudly you’re sure Taehyung can hear it; right in front of you is Seokjin’s face, so close that if you leant forward even a centimetre your lips would brush his own. The knowledge has your blood pressure skyrocketing.

A soft sound, almost like a whimper, comes from behind you, and you turn your head to glimpse at the dhole hybrid who still has a hold on your other hand—his expression is almost indecipherable, a mix of fond, jealous, and somehow amused all at the same time. There’s something else in there that melts his citrine irises into dark honey, something that makes your stomach flip instinctively before you push it forcibly from your brain.

Brushing your thumb over his hand to soothe him, you then turn back to his brother and ponder how to proceed. You need to wake him up because, to be honest, you’re hungry as hell and want to sort out dinner already. He has your hand trapped and held against his chest, hugging your arm like a teddy, and so you free your other hand from Taehyung’s grasp (ignoring his soft protest) and bring it to cup his cheek. Admiring his features for a moment, you brush your fingertip down his nose, and then pass your thumb over his cheekbone; even asleep, he nuzzles easily into your touch. Your chest is so warm.

“Seokjin,” you murmur, not wanting to alarm him by being any louder. “Seokjin, wake up please.”

He mumbles unintelligibly, bringing the hand he has in his hold up to his cheek and nuzzling against it—honest to god you think your heart is going to explode like that bird in Shrek when Fiona sings to it. What are you supposed to do with these feelings! There’s so much of them!

Unable to help yourself, you end up channelling it the exact same way you did before. You pinch Seokjin’s cheek, huffing, “Seokjinnie, wake up, I’m hungry.”

Apparently the pinch did the trick, because in the next second he’s cracking his eyes open, blinking blearily. As soon as he catches sight of you—or really, as soon as he registers that it’s you in front of him that he’s been staring at the past few seconds—he freezes, mouth popping open.

He continues staring at you for one, two, three seconds. Then he jerks back like he’s been burned, flinging somewhat haphazardly into a sitting position with a yelped, “y/n!”

You take the opportunity to sit up and climb from the bed now that he’s released your hand, smiling at him cheekily. “Missed me, did you, bub?”

His face erupts into a violent blush, but surprisingly he doesn’t shy away. “No!” he denies, before realising how incriminating his current location and choice of teddy-bear is, and later amending, “… Maybe.”

You laugh, grabbing his hands and pulling him to a stand; fluidly, in the same movement his arms slip around your waist and he curls around you, face going straight to the other side of your neck to perform his daily evening scenting. You allow him until the soft trailing of his nose along your neck tickles too much and you let out a squeak, wriggling out of his hold.

“You guys are gonna kill me one day,” you remark, shaking your head with a smile. Still sleepy, Seokjin returns your smile with a dazed one of his own, his hand coming to clutch your sleeve as you beg to depart from the room. Taehyung rushes ahead to get the door, fluffy russet tail swishing happily behind him. “I missed you both too. What did you get up to today? I mean, besides napping in my bed.”

Seokjin lets out a protest at your teasing, but it doesn’t last long before he’s happily filling you in on the details of the day, running you through its contents in detail. You listen attentively, pulling out utensils and dishes for dinner as you do so. You only pause when Seokjin halts suddenly, and you feel his tentative touch on your elbow.

When you turn to him, it’s a determined, pleading look in his amber-hued eyes that greets you. “Can I cook tonight? I want to learn so I can make dinner for you. You always come back and make it for us after being away most of the day.”

Something akin to fluster creeps under your skin and warms your cheeks—you don’t know what to do with the way his words make your heart throb. “Oh, o-of course. You remember how to make spaghetti?”

At his fervent nodding, you relinquish the items in your hold to him and step back, moving to join Taehyung on the stools at the other side of the counter. Now that he’s gotten his question out of the way, Seokjin resumes his earlier chattering, speaking enough for the three of you. You did have some slight reservations about him cooking by himself, but as you watch you realise that he really has been paying avid attention every time you teach him how to make something. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’d taken notes and studied.

“We wanted to nap on the hammock outside, but it’s not the same without you,” Seokjin pouts, squinting his eyes as he slices onions. “Also, we kind of finished that season of The Dragon Prince without you… sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you answer immediately, before letting out a surprised gasp when something brushes your back. You didn’t even know Taehyung had moved until you feel him pressing against you from behind, slipping his arms over your shoulders to hang slackly and resting his chin on your head. “You’re very cuddly today, Tae.”

“He missed you,” Seokjin supplies without pause, pausing his cutting only to give the younger hybrid a fond look. His peppery tail sways and wags contentedly behind him. “You were gone extra early this morning, and he didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Ah,” you hum in realisation, tilting your head back to meet Taehyung’s gaze, your hand coming to touch one of the arms hanging over your shoulders. “Sorry, Tae. I’ll make sure to say goodbye in the future.”

To your utter surprise, the dhole hybrid lets out a sound oddly like a mew and a chirp blended into one. He brings his arms to hug your shoulders, face burying into your hair happily; you can feel his ears flick against your head and you focus on that instead of the way his hand had accidentally brushed against your chest when he moved his arm.

“You’re forgiven,” Seokjin informs you, amused. His words bring a smile to your face.

Seokjin is quick and concise while making your dinner, but spends a fair amount of time in the final stages making sure it tastes just right. By the time the food is served and steaming in a bowl in front of you, it’s barely been forty minutes and you’ve never been hungrier. The smell alone in the last twenty minutes has had you salivating consistently.

To Seokjin’s credit, it’s delicious and honestly better than your own cooking. You make sure to tell him so and he blushes, shoving a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth to hide his happy smile. The praise makes him glow with pride for the rest of the evening, Taehyung telling him in his own way that he enjoyed the meal too. You wonder if Seokjin would be interested in looking up other recipes, and make a note to look into finding a recipe book for him.

After eating, the three of you move somewhat lazily to the living room to watch something before you retire. Well, you say that loosely. What really happens as soon as you sit on the lounge is that your two hybrids lay on top of you and command all your attention in the form of cuddles. You’re so happy that things have resumed the way they were, better even. You feel soothed, and surprisingly a little bit giddy with anticipation for how things can only go up from here. As you turn on Netflix and catch up on the series they’d watched without you, you can’t help the way your thoughts stray to what is going to happen as soon as you call bedtime.

Honestly, you haven’t paused and let it sink in that you found Jin napping on your bed earlier. Do they do it often? It would explain a lot—namely the way your bed when you come home would sometimes be in a different way to how you left it in the morning. It also makes sense considering you’ve noticed how drawn they are to your room. It’s not like it’s explicitly out of bounds for them, but you get the sense that to them it’s a topic that they don’t know how to approach yet. You wonder if tonight you will catch them lingering on the way past your door again.

A few hours and several episodes later reveals that the answer is: yes.

You’ve just finished changing into your pyjamas, some shorts and a loose, thin singlet, when you catch familiar shadows moving from underneath your door. You smile, stretching as you make your way to the door as quietly as possible.

When you swing it open and catch two hybrids standing hesitantly outside it, you promptly scare the living daylights out of them.

“Sorry,” you say, grinning at the way Taehyung pouts grumpily at you and Seokjin places a hand over his heart. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing outside my door?”

At your question, their faces draw a blank. Apparently, they hadn’t realised that you noticed their usual lingering.

“Um,” Seokjin bites his lip, canines digging softly into the plump flesh. “No?”

You try not to laugh, for his sake. Your hybrids always blush to easily and while they look cute when they do you kind of wonder if there’s any long-term side effects of having that much blood rush to your head on the regular.

The longer the interaction goes on, the more flustered he gets. “Um. We were just going to bed. Goodnight—”

You don’t miss the way Taehyung smacks his arm, giving him a pointed look, and you decide to be the bolder person in this case. You made a promise to yourself after last time that you were going to be more attentive and proactive, and so here you are! Doesn’t mean you can’t tease them a little while you have mercy on them, though.

“Oh,” you say, letting out a sigh. “Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to sleep in here tonight, but if you want to go to your own bed it’s o—”

The way their eyes light up is almost comical, Seokjin cutting you off hurriedly. “No! No, we don’t want to—I mean, we like our bed, but i-if we can, um, sleep in yours…”

You opt not to say anything, simply stepping back and opening your door to them. They dart inside like they’re scared you’re going to change your mind, diving onto your bed and worming beneath the covers in record timing—you have to laugh as you climb into the space they left you in the middle. Using your remote, you make sure the light is off and your fan is on since you have a feeling you’re going to wake up overheated.

It’s only the fairy lights framing your window that cast a soft, blue glow over the handsome curves of your hybrids’ faces now, both of their eyes trained on you as you settled down onto your back. As soon as you’re comfortable, they dive forward and plant their faces in the respective sides of your neck they’ve claimed.

“Sorry,” Seokjin murmurs after a moment, nosing against your skin and inhaling softly. “It’s… a hybrid thing. Being around your scent is really… calming.”

“Oh,” you say, flustered. “So long as I don’t stink, then. Tell me if I insult your nose.”

“I don’t think you could ever smell bad, y/n,” he confesses lowly, Taehyung humming softly in agreement. The vibrations against your skin almost make you shudder.

“I’m flattered but I can assure you that’s not true,” you laugh, breath hitching as Seokjin buries his face further into your neck, nosing along your hairline.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, wriggling closer and hugging you tight. Taehyung almost fights him for the privilege of having an arm around your waist but settles for looping it over your ribs instead. “Go to sleep, ‘m sleepy.”

You roll your eyes, wondering how you never noticed his sassy streak earlier on, but oblige his request. Its warm in their hold, and as it usually does you find yourself quickly melting into the security of it, sleep coming easily. You pass out, limbs intertwined with those of your hybrids as you all slip into your respective dreams.

x—x—x

About midway through the night you find yourself waking, eyes blinking blearily at the ceiling before you even realise you’ve been roused from sleep. For a moment, you find yourself sifting through the fog of sleep in your mind for the reason why you’ve woken, until you become aware of a sensation at your neck.

It’s wet, you realise belatedly at the feeling of cool air brushing your sensitive skin, but that’s not all. Warmth travels down your spine and your thighs twitch with the urge to move at another sensation, one that takes you another moment to identify.

Someone… is sucking on your neck?

Your brain, even still hazy with sleep, is quick to piece it together after that. It’s Taehyung, soft chitters escaping him as his chest thrums with something akin to a purr against your shoulder. He’s still asleep, you surmise, but even in sleep he’s really ravaging your neck. Each soft suckle of your skin into his mouth is paired with the scrape of his teeth, a shudder fighting to roll down your spine as something a little too synonymous with pleasure shoots through you.

Distantly, you know you should push him off of you, but your head is so fuzzy and your heart is doing a tumble routine in your chest. You go to push him away softly by placing a hand on his shoulder but only end up bunching it in the material of his shirt when he moves lower and huffs before attaching his mouth to the tender junction of your neck and shoulder. The whine that rises in your throat thankfully gets caught before it can escape, your hand sliding up from Taehyung’s shoulder to touch his cheek.

Your finger accidentally brushes his mouth, but what catches you more off-guard is that he immediately detaches his mouth from your neck and goes for your finger instead, the hand wedged between you two holding it to his face as he nibbles and licks the skin there instead, much more gently than he had your neck. You think your heart is about to give out, but now that the sensations aren’t so overwhelming, you find yourself sinking back into sleep once more. You’re so tired, after all, and it’s so warm… it doesn’t take you long at all before you’re snoozing away once more.

x—x—x

When you went back to sleep, you weren’t expecting to be thrown back into a dream—but you have a fleeting realisation, for just a moment, that that’s where you’ve ended up.

Everything is a little foggy.

“you—you won’t… you never…”

You pause—you’re waiting for him to continue. You’re in his room, and you don’t know where Taehyung is. The shower? Maybe. Seokjin is confessing something to you, something to do with his hybrid nature. It filters through your brain—you’ve messed up again, but it’s something different this time…

“Why are you upset, Jin? You scent me, Taehyung scents me. I thought that was what you needed to feel more comfortable? And at ease?” you push softly, prodding for an answer that will finally enlighten you. You’re on the bed now, reaching for his hands—were you on the bed before? You can’t remember, but it somehow makes sense that you’re there now. His hands are startlingly, lucidly warm in your own.

“Y-yes! We do! Because we care about you!” his tone has grown sharper now, voice lower and rougher. “But you—you don’t do it, and you never do it, so how are we supposed to f—”

It clicks into place in your head about midway through his rant, what has got him all bothered this time—the information comes to you like a premonition. A hum escapes you, and you shuffle closer to him on the bed, watching his gaze rest elsewhere. At least, it does until he feels your hands come to his waist where it blends into the sight flare of his hips, material bunching in your grasp.

Maybe its because a part of you can tell that this is far too fuzzy and far-fetched to be real, that this is really just a dream, but something foreign and brazen wells up in you, fills every inch of your body like a hand slipping into a glove. You’ve never had these thoughts before, but at the same time… they don’t feel unfamiliar. The urge you’re feeling isn’t one you recognise but it doesn’t feel out of place.

Even so, when you move you’re surprised by your own boldness—its like you’re only controlling a portion of your own body, and the rest of it is acting out a script you’ve never seen.

“You think I don’t care about you because I haven’t ever scented you, Jinnie?” you ask, tone soft but clear.  His ears flick towards you before flying back, his tail flicking once behind him. His cheeks are a familiar pink, but the heaviness of his golden eyes isn’t something you recognise—you struggle to discern, even in your dreamlike state of omnipotence, exactly what you’re seeing. An optimistic thought whispers across your mind; is it yearning you glimpse? “Even though I tell you every day, and every night, how much you mean to me?”

Seokjin stumbles over his words as he fumbles with his grip on you, eyes wide and stuck on your face. You don’t remember the transition, don’t think it even happened, but his back is pressed to the pillows now, and you hover above him. The soft cotton in your grasp is all too easily pushed up to allow your fingers to brush his skin—wasn’t his shirt different before? It’s not important enough to keep you occupied.

“N-no, I mean y-yes, b-but you—”

“Alright, Seokjin, I understand,” you breathe, meeting his gaze and taking in the way he shudders at your words, confusion flicking across his features. “You want me to scent you? I’ll scent you.”

The poor fox hybrid doesn’t even have a chance to orient himself after those words before you’re swinging a thigh over his hips, knees pressing into the lush bedding. He scrambles to adjust out of instinct, unintentionally helping you in the process as he tips you forward, your face landing against his neck. Immediately, he freezes, the slightest sound catching in his throat, and you know you’re on the right track. Distantly, you realise the dream would have carried you here no matter what.

You allow your arms to slip and embrace him, laying against him for a moment until you feel his racing heart calm just a tad; it’s an odd detail that sticks out to you amongst the fog of everything else. Then, you turn your head and take in a long, deep breath, and it starts thudding frantically away all over again. His hands clutch the material of your shirt tentatively, chest moving yours with it with each inhale.

Realising where your face is pressed, somewhat playfully you smile and hum against the smooth skin of his neck, feeling his whole body shudder beneath you in response. He rasps, voice thick, “y-y/n—”

He doesn’t finish whatever he begins to say, though, because in the next second you’re nuzzling your face against him, tip of your nose brushing the dip beneath his jaw before it’s replaced by your lips. He chokes mid-sentence, breath catching audibly in his throat, and you’ve never been so endeared and… other things, in your life.

Yearning, yearning, yearning—it fills you to the brim and you feel you’re about to overflow.

You don’t give him much of a chance to adjust, especially since you suddenly recall exactly how he was when you first let him scent you, barely a week ago.

At the sudden sensation of your tongue dragging along the flesh beneath his jaw, Seokjin jerks and whines.

You blink your eyes open, the harshness of the sunlight filtering in through the window making you snap them shut once more.

What. The fuck.

The details of the dream are still fresh in your mind, but you can feel them slipping away even as you ease your eyes open to check where you are. Okay, you’re in your room. What just happened, didn’t happen. What even…

As you lay and mull over the contents of your current reality, it sinks in exactly who and what happened in your dream—instantly, your face burns. You’re mortified, and only now do you suddenly recall the two hybrids that had been sharing your bed.

One of which, you just almost had a raunchy dream about.

To your surprise, though, when your gaze flicks to either side of you, the bed is empty of anyone but yourself. Instantly, relief flushes through you. They probably got up to make breakfast, and of course they have no idea about the contents of your dream. You’re just being paranoid because you’re somewhat ashamed right now.

God, you need to repent—but you’ll do that later. In the meantime, you’re just thankful that your two hybrid housemates are none the wiser to the mess that is currently going on in your brain.

Little do you know, that the reason they’d fled your bed early was because of the telling, sweet scent that begin to sink into their senses partway through your dream, and the instincts that had begun to rise within them in response to it.

a/n: happy birthday to me!! please let me know what u think and whether u enjoyed by leaving a like n reblog!!!! <3 <3

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[jasperwhitcock]

equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location. 

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist. 

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––”  Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face. 

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note. 

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself. 

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body. 

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules. 

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

  Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

[jjaybank]

The ‘No Macking’ Challenge. (jj maybank)

Or  

The 3 times you almost got caught + the 1 time you were.

Summary: Pope and Kie feel like the PDA on The Cut is getting a bit out of hand, so for their own sanity they put stakes on keeping your hands to yourself. Pairings: JJ x Y/N, Sarah x John B,  Kie and Pope x 100% done with ur shit. Warnings: swearing, light smut, mentions of alcohol and drugs, not proof read. A/N: I can’t stand PDA, Kie and Pope I’m with u huns x I got this idea last night and I had to write it before I forgot x

Tagging some babes: @teamnick @spilledtee @downbytheouterbanks @https-luna @jellyfishbeansontoast @danicarosaline @kookkyra @bricksatanakinswindow 

You’re not quite sure who it was that first started getting on Kie and Pope’s nerves.  It could have been either you and JJ, or John B and Sarah, you were about as bad as each other.   But there is absolutely no doubt on earth that JJ was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  

_____________________

The heat of the day was almost unbearable.  The sun beat mercilessly down on the six of you, unforgiving and blistering.  You were sprawled out on the deck of the Pogue, drying off from your latest dip in the marsh.  The evidence of your swim evaporated almost as soon as you pulled yourself from the cool sanctuary of the dark water.  You lay on your back beside JJ, your boyfriend of almost a year.  There was something so completely sublime about being able to spend all day in the sun like this with your closest friends.  There was a comfortable silence on board the little boat, and the combination of beer and the heat of the day was causing you to drift off.  You could hear Sarah and John B muttering to each other, probably something impossibly sweet that would make you fake hurl.  You shut your eyes against the bright blue sky and settled in for a midday nap. When JJ suddenly poked you in the side you sprung to life, gasping and catching the attention of everyone else on the boat. He laughed animatedly and you squinted up at him, raising a hand to shield your eyes.   ‘What do you want?’ you mumbled, drowsy from your cat nap and the sun.  JJ smirked at you, his eyes trailing down your bikini-clad body and you slapped him lightly on the arm to regain his attention.  His eyes found yours again and his smile became softer- less lewd.  He handed you a bottle of water that had been stowed away in the shade.  You perked up a little, taking the bottle from him gladly. ‘Thank you, babe’ you said between sips.   ‘Gotta keep my girl hydrated!’ he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.   You handed the water back to him and turned over onto your front to even out your tan.   Beside you, JJ practically moaned and it’s like his brain switched off for a second, which wasn’t unheard of.  His hand found the flesh of your now exposed bum and you instinctively pushed up against his touch.  His fingers squeezed slightly, and that’s where you can pinpoint was the exact moment that Kiara and Pope had had enough.   ‘Fucking hell guys, get a room!’ Kiara sighed, throwing up her arms and rolling her eyes.  You pushed JJ’s hand off you quickly and rolled back over to face your friends.  Your face was flushed in embarrassment with everyone’s eyes on the pair of you. ‘Sorry’ you winced, suddenly incredibly conscious of how close you and JJ were sitting.   ‘No, actually, sorry doesn’t cut it anymore Y/N,’ Pope chimed in, ‘this happens literally all the time at the moment, and don’t go thinking you two are any less guilty!’’ he pointed an accusing finger at John B and Sarah who looked away bashfully.   ‘We really are sorry, Pope.’ you reiterated, sitting up properly and leaning against the side of the Pogue. ‘Nah, I’m not,’ JJ laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders, ‘you’re just jealous you’ve got no butt to grab!’ ‘Right, that’s it,’ Kie burst out, ‘next couple to show even an ounce of PDA in the next two weeks has to clean the Pogue.’  

You all looked around the deck of the boat, suddenly acutely aware of how absolutely filthy the vessel was. And so began the ‘No Macking’ challenge.   ______________________________________ the times you were almost caught

1. You were all taking Kiara and Pope’s rules seriously. Even JJ didn’t want to risk taking on the monumental task of scrubbing the HMS Pogue clean.  You had noticed him mentally checking himself when he was around you, and it made you smile to see how much he was battling with himself to keep to Kie’s rules. The rules were that there was to be no PDA in front of anyone at all, including the other couple, which you had to say made the game much more interesting.  Hand holding was okay, in moderation of course.  And you were allowed one innocent hug once a day.  That was it, no other public affection allowed, and Kiara had shut down every objection with ease.  It was interesting, you thought, that it was John B and JJ who protested the most.   You had stayed the night at The Chateau and were currently making two mugs of coffee in the little kitchen.  The beach shack was eerily quiet, and you looked out onto the marshland which was already saturated in sunlight as you waited for the water to boil.  There was a gentle creak on the floorboards behind you and strong arms suddenly penned you in against the kitchen counter.  You beamed as JJ placed soft kisses against the base of your neck.   ‘Morning, baby.’ he murmured against your skin.  You melted into him, pressing yourself flush against his body.  He took your wrist in his hand and turned you gently to face him.   His lips were on yours in an instant, and you were getting vivid deja vu from the previous night.   His hands began to wander, tracing lazy patterns on the skin beneath the shirt you were wearing (which coincidentally belonged to him).  His hands were warm but he left a trail of chill on your ribs and stomach.  The sound of John B’s bedroom door swinging shut was lost on you as you ran your tongue over JJ’s lower lip.  JJ, however, was on high alert.  His eyes flew open and he pulled away from you almost as quickly as he’d initiated the kiss in the first place. He spun you around on the spot just as John B entered the kitchen.   You looked over your shoulder to see John B leaning against the doorframe, eyeing your close proximity suspiciously.  JJ reached over you and grabbed three mugs from the cupboard above your head.  He shook them in John B’s direction with his eyebrows raised, silently explaining why he had been standing directly behind you.   ‘Morning!’ you sang, adjusting your shirt discreetly.  John B narrowed his eyes at you, but there had been nothing to see on his end. You thanked your lucky stars that JJ was so against cleaning that boat.  Losing the game on day one would’ve been embarrassing. ________________________________ 2. It was three days since Kiara and Pope had declared their terms and so far so good.  You were down on the beach with Pope and JJ, setting up a barbeque and waiting for the rest of your friends to arrive.  Pope had rolled his eyes at the two of you holding hands on the walk to the bay, wishing he hadn’t convinced Kie to let you guys have that.   The sun was beginning to set, casting tones of amber and vermilion cascading over the calm waves.  You decided to head out for a swim while you waited for the others to arrive, the water looked too inviting to refuse it.  You stripped off your shirt and shorts all the while painfully aware of JJ’s gaze on your body.  You shot him a look that said, ‘don’t even think about it.’  He grinned toothily at you and took off in a sprint towards the sea.  You rolled your eyes and bit back a smile before following him in his tracks.   The three of you splashed around for a while, your whoops of laughter echoing up and down the beach.   The water was cool against your skin. A blue breath of fresh air after a hot and muggy day.  You lay back, floating on the waves as the sea washed over you and lapped against your skin.  You heard JJ swimming towards you and looked over to him with a wide smile.  His hair was dripping in gold and the sunset reflected off his body which glimmered in seawater.   ‘Stunning.’ you mused. ‘What is?’ He asked curiously, floating on his back in the water beside you. ‘This, yknow? The sun, the sea.  Everything.’ ‘Oh, how annoying, I thought you were talking about me.’ You laughed, knowing you’d been caught admiring him. ‘Yeah, you too.’ There was sudden movement beside you and JJ was pulling you towards him with his hands under your knees.  You glanced around to check for onlookers but Pope was swimming towards the other end of the bay, seemingly taking laps very seriously.  You wrapped your legs around JJ’s waist and rested your hands on his broad shoulders.   ‘How’re you doing, babe?’ you asked softly, resting your forehead on his.   He groaned, his fingers spreading wide under your thighs.   ‘This is the most torture I think I’ve been through’ he sulked, jutting out his bottom lip.  ‘I didn’t realise how much I touched you all the time!’ You nodded, tracing a finger along his jaw.  You were leaning in to press your lips against his when he moved quicker than you’d ever seen him move before, and you found yourself dunked completely underwater.  You came up gasping for breath and staring wildly at him. ‘What. The. Fuck?’  You wheezed, pushing your dripping hair out of your eyes and spitting seawater out of your mouth. ‘Guys!’ JJ shouted, waving at the beach excitedly and widening his eyes at you apologetically.  You whipped around to see Kie, John B, and Sarah walking along the sand and waving back out to you.  Pope met you at the shore line and looked concerned as you choked up more saltwater.   ‘You okay, Y/N?’ Pope asked, rubbing a hand over your back. ‘Fucker tried to drown me.’ You rolled your eyes and jabbed a thumb in JJ’s direction.  The blond smiled down at you and raised his arms in defense. ‘Hey, it was funny!’ He laughed, ‘I’m sorry I got you so good.’ Pope shook his head in disbelief and started towards your friends. The two of you dropped back as you approached the others.   ‘So, was that completely necessary?’ you asked, poking at JJ’s ribs. ‘Babe, I’m literally so sorry, I panicked!’ He stressed, grabbing your hand and running his thumb over in circles over your palm.   You laughed brightly, and of course you forgave him in a heartbeat.  You would get him to make up for it that evening when you had a moment alone.

_________________________ 3. On the fifth day you had a kegger and you had been absolutely dreading it.  You, JJ, Sarah, and John B had tried to convince Kie and Pope to let you have the night off from the challenge but they were having none of it. ‘Nope’, huffed Kiara, ‘it would be nice for you guys to spend some time with us tonight instead of sucking each other's faces all night long.’ It was going to be difficult.  Drunk you was magnetically drawn to JJ and you struggled to keep your hands off each other at the best of times, let alone when alcohol was involved. 

JJ watched you get ready for the night and sighed dramatically when you picked out your outfit.   ‘Babe, if we’re going to win this thing I don’t know if I can be around you in that skirt.’ You held it up on the hanger, playing with the pleats and throwing it back onto the bed. ‘Fine, I’ll wear that another time.’  You threw him a wink in the mirror and bit your lip against a smile as he adjusted his shorts.  You settled for jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, the least tempting thing you could come up with.   The kegger was heaving with tourons, kooks, and pogues.  The bass thrummed across the beach and you could feel the music through your feet.  JJ left your side to grab you a drink from a couple of his friends and you teamed up with Kie in a beer pong tournament.  You were cheered on by John B, and JJ when he returned.  It kind of felt like the old times, before you and JJ had finally made it official.  Just hanging out with friends, nothing deep. In your drunken haze you made a mental note to do things like this more often.  To make more time for your other friends and to make sure Kie and Pope never felt excluded. You spent most of the night as wingwoman for Kie, helping set her up with a particularly gorgeous touron.  When she left you in favour of the company of her new conquest you smiled encouragingly as she walked away.  You sighed to yourself, looking into the party from the outskirts. You stood there under the palm trees and just enjoyed the rhythm of the alcohol coursing through your body for a moment.  A body broke apart from the throng of people on the beach and you beamed as JJ ambled towards you.  He looked so otherworldly, illuminated by the moonlight and the bonfire. ‘Hey, stranger.  You come here often?’ He hummed as he came to a halt in front of you.   You nudged him softly and took a sip of the drink in his hand.   ‘Mm, I might make a habit of it if you’re going to be around.’ you smiled up at him and caught the dark twinkle in his eye. ‘J-’ you started, tilting your head to one side. ‘Baby, no one can see us here.’ ‘You saw me!’ you exclaimed. ‘Only cos I was looking.’ His eyes were wide and innocent but you knew him too well to believe that facade. You looked past him and towards the kegger.  A new game had started up which seemed to involve running across hot coals from the bonfire, and everyone did look beautifully distracted. Weighing up your options took about 0.2 seconds.  Especially when one of your options was the extremely tempting specimen stood before you. You didn’t remember either of you making the first move. His lips were warm against yours and he tasted like the bitter beer he’d been drinking all night.  His hands ran down your sides, digging into your hips ever so slightly.  You sighed against his mouth as he took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently.  Your hands bunched into the fabric of the back of his t-shirt as you leaned ever more into him.  His hand travelled up your back and settled on the back of your neck.  He ran his tongue over your lip while his hand twisted into the hair at the nap of your neck.  Your eyes flew open at the pleasure of the sensation, and just as well, because you could make out none other than Sarah Cameron walking across the sand towards you.   You pushed JJ away awkwardly and when he went to question you, you pulled him into a clumsy hug.   ‘Hi, guys - what are you doing?’ Sarah asked innocently as she approached you.   ‘Oh, hey there!’ you said, perhaps too brightly, holding JJ tightly against you as he fidgeted like a badly behaved child. ‘JJ had a bad hit of weed, just making sure he’s okay.’ You felt JJ stop struggling and you could almost hear his eyes roll against your lie. ‘Oh, okay...I could have sworn I saw - Never mind, hope you’re okay J!’  He groaned dramatically keeping up the act.  She looked at you suspiciously but turned on her heel and made her way back towards a couple of her kook friends. JJ pulled himself free of your embrace.   ‘Bad hit of weed?!’ he hissed, ‘how did she even buy that?’ You shrugged and wrapped your arm around his waist as you made your way back towards the party. ‘I’ll get you back for that, baby’ he whispered into your hair, before you parted ways and wished the rest of the night away. ________________________ + the one time you got caught. It was the seventh day of the no macking challenge.  You had woken up alone at your parents house to a promising sounding text from your boyfriend.   ‘Get here now.  Free house x’ You’d practically skipped to The Chateau, breathing in the heady scent of freshly cut grass and summer.  When you got there the yard was empty save for JJ’s dirt bike which was abandoned on the grass. The door hung open lazily and when you pushed it closed behind you JJ appeared in the hallway, letting out a low whistle.  You were in his arms in a moment, pushed against the door you’d just come through. ‘Morning, baby.’ he breathed pushing your hair back behind your ear and capturing your lips in his.  Your hands found his face and you traced your thumbs along his cheekbones.  He broke away and stepped back to look you up and down. ‘Hey, you wore the skirt!’ he grinned, flipping the pleats of your skirt gently and resting a hand on your hip.   ‘I did say I would.’ you smirked, watching his excited eyes take you in.  ‘Where is everyone this morning?’ you asked, walking further into the room and flopping onto the couch. ‘John B forced Pope and Sarah to go fishing,’ JJ slumped down beside you, ‘And Kie is at hers - think she has work this morning.’ He rested a hand on your thigh, spreading his hand out wide on the sensitive skin between your legs.  Your body quivered in response, lust flowing through your veins and settling at your core. You hummed, ‘that sounds like the perfect scenario then.’   You pushed JJ back against the couch and straddled him.  His hands found their home on the tanned skin of your ass, pushing your skirt up over your hips.   ‘I like this one.’ he remarked, admiring the way it looked bunched up around your waist.   ‘Really? Can’t tell at all.’ you deadpanned, moving suggestively against his shorts. ‘What else can that smart mouth do?’ You shook your head at him, smiling down at the sight before you.  The high points of JJ’s cheeks were tinted with pink and his hair stuck up awkwardly from sleep. He moved his hands over your skin, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake. You shifted against him and he let out an involuntary moan.   JJ pulled you down over him, catching you up in a kiss again.  His hands continued to roam your skin before they finally landed on the soft fabric of your underwear.  His fingers were deft and light, they grazed lightly over you and coaxed quiet moans to spill from your mouth into his.  You were deep in the moment when JJ froze all of a sudden beneath you.  You pulled away and tried to catch his attention but he looked past you slightly. ‘You better get that red bikini of yours on, baby, we’ve got a boat to clean.’ Your head spun towards the door so fast you could’ve sworn you've got whiplash.  Standing in the open doorway was Kie, her hands tight over her eyes. ‘Fuck. Kie,-’ ‘Nah, I’m out! Guys, seriously? I’ve not even had breakfast yet!’ Kiara grumbled, her hands still firmly covering her face. ‘This can’t count surely?’ You protested, ‘we were home alone!’ ‘I don’t care, Y/N, I saw your whole ass.’ You blushed violently, resigning to the fact that you’d definitely lost the bet.   You moved off of JJ and readjusted your skirt.  Kiara peeked through her fingers and sighed in relief to see you were decent.   ‘I can’t believe you barely lasted a week, so gross guys.’  She rolled her eyes at you but she couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.   ‘I can’t wait to tell John B and Sarah, they’re gunna be so over the moon.’ Kie laughed, rummaging in her bag for her phone. ‘Hang on,’ you said, ‘ why don’t you just not tell them for a bit? Be funny to watch them work it out?’ ‘I like your thinking, Y/N! Knew there was a reason we were friends.’ She grinned. ‘Kie, I’d love to stay and cook up trouble, I really would’ JJ announced unexpectedly, ‘but Y/N and I have a situation that I think you’d prefer we handled in the bedroom.’ You didn’t stay around long enough to see Kie gag.

[krabstick32]

Corduroy Dreams

Pairing: Giyuu & Reader Synopsis: There was no mishap, no death, no tragic accident to speak of. They were only two people, who felt lonely even when they had each other.

Tags/warnings: angst. relationship problems.

A/N: something short and angsty that I wrote instead of doing homework UwU. Online classes are killing me, so as a coping mechanism, I did the fun thing and churned this out in an hour or so (so apologies for any mistakes/inconsistencies _:(´□`」 ∠):_ )!!! And yes, the title is from the song Corduroy Dreams by Rex Orange County. (try listening to it while reading, and try to listen to the lyrics. You’ll understand why i named this corduroy dreams)

I hope you enjoy!! or not since, you know, this is my try on angst after all... but i hope u still enjoy uwu

For the first time in a while, Giyuu feels your hand—warm, soft, and familiar—reach out to tug at his jacket. You pull him aside to a quiet area in the park and lead him to take a seat. Besides the two of you, there was no one else, save for the occasional passerby who was barely even close enough to hear the conversation you were about to start.

“You’re no longer happy.” It wasn’t a question - there was nothing questionable about something that was so painfully obvious.

Not with you, he wants to say. He wants to salvage what he can, but he could see it. He could see how your eyes didn’t light up the way it used to and he’s aware that this relationship was failing. There was nothing else he could do.

“I am.” But not with you, he itched to add. He was unhappy that your happiness no longer included him, but he couldn’t say what he wanted, not when you were looking at him like this. “And so are you.”

Maybe this was it. No, this was it. There was no coming back from this conversation, and that’s why he never started it. He was too much of a coward to instigate it, and perhaps the only regret he had when it came to this relationship was that he pushed that responsibility onto you.

“Yeah.”

He was aware that this relationship has been failing—both of you tried to save it after all. There wasn’t an exact moment where he could pinpoint when it started. All he knew was that despite making plans and meet-ups, you two started seeing each other less and less, until it left you both on this date, unhappy and feeling heavy with what was about to come.

“I’m sorry.”

There didn’t need to be any more questions. Giyuu knew you were faithful, and you knew he never strayed. It was just a matter of letting go and accepting that this was going nowhere.

“I know. I’m sorry too.” You turn from your seat on the bench and Giyuu has never felt so far away from you, even though there was only a foot of distance in between. 

He still loved you. He still loved you so, so much. But when you were no longer happy with him, he wouldn’t be able to bear the thought that you no longer wanted to be in this relationship. So, if his only regret when it came to you was that you were the one who started this, he’ll lessen your burden and be the one to end it. “I… I guess this is it?”

“I guess this is it.” Your hands turn white from how hard you’ve been clenching them into fists, and he could see them trembling slightly. Any other day and he would’ve taken them in his own—you always liked it when he held them. Right now, he kept his hands to himself.

“We’re breaking…”  His throat closes at the word breaking, because he could feel his own heart already breaking. But he clears his throat and pushes on, because you deserve a clean break. You deserve to have a clear stand between all of this. “We’re breaking up, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You answer, and look at him when the silence starts to feel unbearable.

“I’m sorry Giyuu.”

“I’m sorry too, (y/n)”

You stand, and turn to look at him. He gives you a small smile—he knows you could see through it. Instead of addressing the heavy atmosphere, you smile at him, and he realizes that this would be the last time you’d smile for him.

“Thank you, Giyuu. I really loved you.”

Loved. Past tense.

“...Yeah. Thanks for the past few years too. I hope you find someone who’ll make you happy.”

You bend down a little and pull him into a hug. He’ll miss this, he’ll miss you, but letting you go was the right thing to do. Your happiness is what he wishes for the most in the world, and if that was no longer with him, then he hopes you find it with yourself or someone else.

The hug ends entirely too soon for Giyuu’s taste, and you give him another small smile before you turn on your heels to hide the tears clouding your eyes. Even if this relationship no longer brought you the joy it did the first few years, leaving him still hurt because you still cared for him even if you didn’t necessarily love him anymore. Breaking things off when you no longer had feelings for him was the kindest thing you could do - he deserved that much.

From the bottom of your heart, you apologized that you couldn’t give your all to him, and wished that someone else would, in your place.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Giyuu nods, but then speaks when he realizes you can’t see him with your back turned. “See you.”

Your shoes clack against the pavement and it sounds like it’s echoing through the park as you leave him be.

He watches your back, and he watches as you get on the cab. He beats down the feeling of wanting to chase after you, but this was already hard enough. So he stays put on the park bench that he’ll hate for the rest of his life, and buries his head in his hands.

For the first time in a while, Giyuu cries.

a/n: I mostly do Giyuu fluff but I procrastinated real bad and made this mess instead but aaaa, this is my first angst fic so I hope I did good? I’ve also never been in a relationship, let alone a break-up before so this has been me, winging it the entire time lmao

i’m currently working on a request, but im still trying to think up of a good premise for it, so its going a little slow. But to the anon who requested it, dw bb!! i am working on it, it just might take a while

anywayzz, i hope i made u sad. u can come yell at me in my ask box if you need any tissues (or if you have any requests uwu)

[jungshookz]

Say if there was an alternative universe where L*** actually got together with Ceo!Yoongi, how would Ceo!OC deal with it? Genuinely curious & no offense to miss OC! We luv u! 🥺

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; alternate ceo!yoongiverse, uh oh uh oh it’s angst!!!!!! angst in ur pangst 

➺ wordcount: 1.7k

➺ what to expect; “how do you know when you’ve found the one?” 

➺ note; first of all l*** made me chuckle and second of all buckle up!!! it’s time to travel to an alternate ceo!universe where yoongi and y/n don’t end up together :’(( my heart is sad :’(( this was a baby drabble that went off the rails a little whoOps

➺ ♪;  serendipity (music box edition) okay serendipity is such a beautiful song already but the music box edition.,,. it’s so.,,. it makes a single tear roll down my cheek and i thought it was so fitting for this alternate storyline :-(

                                  ➽───────────────❥

it’s about 10:15 when you hear the faint ding of the elevator

!!!

yoongi’s back!!!!!!

you pull the sleeve of your blouse up to check the time on your watch

jesus

he’s been gone for like four hours

do dates normally last that long???

you haven’t been on one in forever and the last date you went on only lasted for like an hour and a half 

(it wasn’t a super great date)

(he took u to a burger king drive thru and u had to pay because he ‘left his wallet in his other jacket’) 

you perk up immediately when yoongi’s footsteps begin echoing down the hallway and you get up from your chair before smoothing your skirt down

your legs are a little numb considering you’ve just been sitting here tapping away at your monitor for the past four hours 

and your ass is a little sore too 

the things you do for this man!! 

“how’d the date go, boss?” you keep your hands folded in front of you and try your hardest not to twiddle your thumbs

you notice the dopey grin on yoongi’s face as he approaches your desk and... 

you’re not a love guru or anything, but that seems like an indicator that the date must’ve gone pretty well

the faint lipstick smudge on the corner of his mouth is also a pretty big giveaway

“it went so much better than i expected!” yoongi laughs lightly as he heads into his office with his suit jacket flung over his shoulder

he’s practically floating on a cloud 

you can see the little pink hearts bouncing around his head!! 

“i’m so happy to hear that, sir.” you trail behind him obediently and swallow thickly as you feel your heart clench in your chest, “i’m glad it went well!”

you don’t want to make yourself sound like an awful human being or anything but you’d be lying to yourself if you said a teensy little part of you didn’t want his date with lisa to crash and burn

you just... 

you thought that maybe... 

god 

what were you thinking?

did you actually think you had a chance with yoongi?

did you think that just because the two of you have spent a considerable amount of time together that something would happen? 

that he would slowly fall in love with you the way you’ve slowly fallen in love with him?

do you even hear yourself right now??

you’re IN LOVE with min yoongi!! 

and you thought he’d love you right back!!

you sound ridiculous!

you feel pathetic! 

how could you be so delusional?

“lisa was so wonderful… so kind and sweet and funny… she took me to this frozen yogurt place for dessert! i love frozen yogurt!” yoongi sighs as he plops down on his chair, “can i ask you something personal, y/n?”

“that depends, sir. what is it?”

“how do you know when you’ve found the one?” 

oh�� 

your heart thrums painfully in your chest and you swallow the growing lump in your throat 

“that’s a good question. you’ll just know when you’ve found the one, i think.” you clear your throat, “when they smile, so will you. one of your favourite sounds in the entire world will be the sound of their laugh. they’re the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about before you fall asleep. they’ll make your heart glow golden in your chest... at least, that’s what i think.”

the corner of your mouth lifts in a fond smile when you notice yoongi gazing up at the ceiling with a dreamy look in his eyes  

you feel a kind of warmth grow in your chest when he lets out a cute little sigh 

you’re not particularly sure what kind of answer he’s looking for but obviously he wasn’t really listening because he’s starting to blab again, “how long should i wait until texting her?? god, i feel old-“

“i’m sorry, sir, you have some… you have some lipstick on your mouth.” you smile sheepishly as you cut him off

you don’t know how much more of this you can take

“oh, lord. that’s a little embarrassing.” yoongi reaches up and wipes at the opposite side of where the smudge is, “there?”  

“no, it’s just-” you point to the corner of his lip, “it’s just right there...” 

yoongi reaches up again and just misses the spot and you can’t help but snort 

“can you just help me so i don’t keep making a fool of myself?” yoongi leans back against his chair and you smile before nodding 

you make your way to the other side of his desk and yank a tissue out from the tissue box  

yoongi rolls his chair towards you and you bend over slightly to get down to his eye level  

“if it makes you feel any better…” you tuck a finger under yoongi’s chin before raising his head a little, “cherry red is definitely your colour.”

“you out of all people should know that burgundy makes my eyes pop.” yoongi murmurs quietly and you let out a light giggle as you wipe the smudge away gently

the two of you lock gazes for a brief second and you feel your heart skip a beat

oh boy

you’re in too deep 

how the hell are you going to get yourself out of this?

(and just to sprinkle a little more salt into the wound-)

“speak now or forever hold your peace.”

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palm as sooN as the priest utters that stupid phrase

you would curse but you feel like god is going to send you straight to hell if you have a dirty mouth under his roof

“hey, you okay?” jimin reaches over to take your hand and he gives you a reassuring squeeze when he notices your eyes starting to glaze over, “y/n…”

“it’s okay, i’m okay.” you press your lips together and nod, “sorry. you know weddings make me weepy.”

jimin’s shoulders droop slightly and he turns back to face the front as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously

you’ve told him time and time again noT to feel bad for you but he can’t help it!!!

he can’t help but feel awful when he sees how sad your eyes are!!!

he can’t help but feel awful when he sees the way you look at yoongi

you look at him with so much love in your eyes and it’s so clear that you’d pluck all the stars in the sky for him if he asked you to 

and jimin hates that he can’t do anything to help you!!!

you’ve been hopelessly in love with yoongi for nearly two and a half years now and jimin can tell you’re dying on the inside having to watch the man you love marry someone else

he’s tried to help you move on but it’s apparent that your heart just can’t let go 

every time you try to move on you end up bouncing back twice as hard 

he still remembers the day you found out yoongi had proposed to lisa 

the two of you were meeting up for lunch as per usual but for some reason when you stepped off the elevator to greet him you looked as pale as a sheet of paper 

“just know that this is coming from a place of love, but i feel like you might need to get a tan or something because-“ 

“she said yes.” you whisper so softly that jimin can barely make out what you’re saying 

she said yes? 

she said yes. 

yoongi’s getting married? 

he’s getting married... to lisa. 

“i feel so stupid.” your voice wavers as you let out a chuckle of disbelief 

a ghost of a smile appears on your face briefly and jimin’s eyes widen when your eyes begin to water and your cheeks begin to redden 

oh, no… 

“c’mon, there’s an empty room around the corner.” 

the memory of you collapsing to the floor and bursting into gutwrenching sobs as soon as you stepped into the room never fails to send a pang straighT into jimin’s heart 

also

weddings dO make people weepy but it should be a happy weepy!!! 

not a sad weepy!!!!!!

“you may now kiss the bride!”

the crowd immediately bursts into thunderous cheers when yoongi sweEPs lisa off her feet before giving her a loving kiss

she giggles against his mouth as she reaches up to cup either sides of his face 

time slows down as you rise from your seat and begin to clap

the sound of applause rings in your ears and you begin to feel lightheaded when the realization hits you:

it’s too late. 

jimin is able to pinpoint the exact moment your heart shatters in your chest and he feels his own heart ache for you

you look so defeated.

you force a bright smile when yoongi and lisa begin to make their way down the aisle

he looks so happy

so in love 

and that’s what’s most important here, right?

as long as yoongi is happy, you’re happy!  

“don’t.” tears tremble at your waterline and you shake your head furiously when you see jimin’s lips part to say something

you don’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say because you are currently in a veRY fragile state and you feel like you could burst into tears and completely break down at any given moment

“hey crybaby, see you at the afterparty??” yoongi reaches out to grab onto your hand as he walks past your row

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world, boss!” you chirp in response and yoongi gives your hand a squeeze 

your heart sinks in your chest when you feel his hand slip away from yours

it’s too late.

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

don’t stop turn it up

Summary: hii can u do a losers club x reader where they’re teens and at a party trying to take care of drunk Richie and reader except they’re acting crazy? 

warnings: they’re in their first your of college so they’re older then eighteen which is perfectly legal in my country but just for readers from the US: underage drinking 

‘I’m hungry, can we go to McDonalds, please’, you whine, draping yourself over Stanley as he huffs, trying to slip from under you.

‘M-m-McDonalds is a half an hour away Y/N, we’ll go next time’, Bill placates, switching places with Stan, wrapping your arms around his neck in a facsimile of a piggy back ride.

‘No I wanna go now’, you drag out, your head lolling forward to rest on Bill’s shoulders. Your stomach grumbles in agreement, and you giggle at the sound it produces.

‘See, my tummy agrees.’

‘We’re not going anywhere except home.’ Stan’s angrily wiping his sleeve with a napkin he found at the bar, the stain a result of Richie spitting the beverage, water that Ben lied was vodka to sober Richie up, at Stan because of a dare. He’s pissed, and rightfully so, but in your highly intoxicated state, all it does is make you chortle.

The end of the first semester in college has arrived, and to celebrate the losers and you agreed to go to a party a classmate set up, far away enough from your campus that there were no regulation to abide by.

Now, you weren’t a heavy drinker by any means. As a sixteen year old your dad let you take a sip from his coffee laced with some sort of alcohol in it, and your taste buds did not like it, the heavy undertones of extreme sweetness soaked in your tongue, so sweet you feared for cavities in your teeth. However, after hearing the stories Richie and Bev animatedly spilled after a night out, you were willing to take a change and find out just what exactly it was that attracted people to drinking alcohol, and you got buzzed.

The music crackled in the air, deafening your eardrum with the most generic pop music, sweating body polluting the air with their bodily smells and inappropriate touches that by all means should make the receiver confining, and you disliked the scene right away and asked to leave within the first hour of you being there.

A drink offered to by Richie loosened you up, and his antics overleaped to you, following his path to act erratically and with no care in the world. After that, the party was a lot of fun. You were definitely a lightweight, as you only drunk two gin tonic’s before flying off the world and into the unknown, the room swirling around you faster and faster, gripping the bar to steady your wobbling legs.

Richie was no better off, but he had chugged significantly more beers and booze than you had. The two of you took on the role of comedy relief of all the losers, the dances you performed appalling and off beat, or the moment you forgot to take the cap of before guzzling down your next liquid, only to be terminated by the lid, comedy gold.

The little shits also exploited your state to extract all the secret you harbored from them, the time in fifth grade when you accidently wet yourself no longer confidential, but that was okay, because these people were your best friends and for all you cared they could understand you inside and out, and you still wouldn’t feel intimidated by it.

‘Come on’, Bill grinds, hoisting you half over his shoulders. ‘We should get g-g-oing.’

‘I don’t want to’, you complain, levitating your legs off the ground so all your weight land on Bill who, not prepared for this, loosing his footing and pitches to the ground. It’s thanks to Mike’s quick reflexes and his core muscles strength that stops your downfall, towing the both of you up.

‘Be careful Y/N.’

‘You’re not my mother’, you say, sticking out your tongue in Mike’s direction, though your blurry eyesight makes it harder to pinpoint his exact location.

The alcohol is thrumming through your veins, transforming every word and sentences into the funniest things you’ve ever heard, so overly warm as the liquor builds momentum and stuffs your head full of cotton.

‘They’re both going to be so fucking hangover after this.’ Eddie sounds heated, fretting over Richie who smiles to him as if he’s seen the gates of heaven for the very first time. How those two manage to keep the way they’re in love with each other under wraps, you’ll never know.

‘Oh shucks Eds, I guess I’ll have to let your mom down then huh? Shame, she was really looking forward to another one of our escapades.’

‘Shut up asshole, that doesn’t even make any sense.’

‘It doesn’t’? Richie asks genuinely confused, scratching the top of his head.

You cackle with laughter, untangling from Bill and mike in order to sink down onto your knees and then your back, the soft carpet softening the spot designated for you to lay on.

The party is still in full swing, a few people making out in the far end of your eye sight, while others gyrating too fast for your mind to keep up. The colorful lights spin over the ceiling, a magnificent lightshow for only to see. You’re getting tired, but the night as brought noting but wonderful things and you don’t want it to end just yet.

Richie ducks up out of nowhere, cushioning his head on your stomach and gazing at the same light you are. ‘My bodies has never released endorphins so fast before, not even after seeing Eddie,’ Richie blanks out, mind reeling with the implications of what he confessed. After a moment of truthfulness between the two of you he concludes that everyone is able to hear him, so he adds, ‘’s mom’, Richie awes, his hand outstretching to feel the light, as if that’s in any way possible. Regardless of whether or not it was meant as a joke, you begin to howl in joy, the giggles beginning to cramp up your belly.

Stan’s face appears in front of the lights, bend over at an uncomfortable angle to force eye contact. ‘Get up’, he states coolly, not even offering his hand to help you do so.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie takes Richie’s hand, wrenching Richie up and maneuvering him with his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, distributing Richie’s weight.

Ben is the one to aid you, stealing himself after seeing what happened to Bill. The sudden movement cramps your stomach up in a not so pleasant way, the blood rushing back to your face, forcing the bile back.

‘Do not’, Stan’s tone sharp is as the edge of a knife, ‘throw up on me or so help you I will kill you in the most horrendous way possible.’ Richie laughs like a drain, doubling over and clapping on his knee in pure hilarity.

‘Same goes for you’, Eddie confirms, jabbing his elbow in Richie’s stomach. The movement shoves Richie off balance, his arms fluttering in the air birdlike to regain his balance.

‘Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it’s Richie fucking Tozier’, you cantillate off pitch, egging him on.

 ‘Fear not, for Super Richie’s swooping in to save the day’, he recites in his best Christopher Reese impression, surprisingly well done. ‘What do you say Eds? You wanna be the Lois Lane to my superman?

‘I’m not some fucking damsel in distress Richard.’

‘But you’d let me kiss you?’

‘Yeah Eddie you mmph.’ Beverly’s hand bites of your phrase, the unspoken words formulating and preventing a train wreck waiting to happen. The meaning of why goes unclear to you, lost in the haze of foggy interpretations of incentives picked up by your senses.

In retaliation, you lick Bev’s palm, and she retracts her hand, but not without chuckling about it first. ‘Can I please do one more dance on the table? Please? I’ll even let Mike stop me from falling over this time, just please?’ You pout, bottom lip sticking out, begging wordlessly.

‘No, the uber is right in front and we need to leave n-n-now,’ Bill states resolutely, no room for disagreements or debates, your best interests at heart.

‘Alright fine’, you complain, though you tear up at the sight of all of your friends present around you, all in their element and perfect in their own way. Are you looking forward to going home? No. But if the others do, you’ll blissfully follow them, for they are your happiness. You shouldn’t have started thinking that, because the alcohol made you twice as emotional.    

‘Are you crying right now?’

‘I’m sorry, I just love you all so much,’ you slobber a kiss over at the two people loitering around you, first Stan ,with a kiss to half of his cheek and ear, the coordination letting you down big time, and then Mike, who unlike Stan happily receives the affection.

‘We love you too’, Ben emphasizes, spooked as a girl walks past him and trips over her own to feet. ‘But I want to leave now.’

Mike throws you around in a fireman position, bracketing your legs so you don’t tumble over the other side. With a whistle, you sag down Mike’s back, giddy with it, seeing the world  from a different perspective now.

‘Wow, Stan’s upside down’, you claim fully believing it, and that breaks the last of Stan’s resistance, the edges of his lip twisting up in amusement and a crow galming the room.  

Personally the most amusing thing of going out, Stan think to himself, is the reaction to the mind-numbing ache a hangover conjures, as he finds out in the morning.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Worth the Risk | Bodhi Rook x Reader (2/2)

Words: 1839

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this small continuation for [Run Away With Me]. I've been alternating between writing and drawing and I hope to one day tackle those big projects that I've been meaning to do for years. I like to think that my current skills won't do them justice, so I just have to keep on writing, keep on drawing, until I reach that level.

-

You couldn’t keep still as you neared the village where your parents had settled. They had set up a farm and built connections with their community. When you had asked for directions for their place, the people were hesitant in giving up such information until you told them who you were.

You regret not seeing them sooner. It had been years since you last saw them, but you always made sure that they were financially comfortable. Seeing them rush out of their home with gray streaks in their hair and the wrinkles on their face being more defined, you couldn’t help but cry into their shoulders as their bodies slammed into yours.

Your mother was making dinner with Desa’s help as you spoke to your father about your adventures and run-ins. Then it came to the part where not only were you smuggling goods, you were smuggling people. You didn’t know what to expect when telling them, but seeing the proud smile on your father’s face made you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, and guess who we ran into a few years back?” your mother said from the kitchen. “That sweet boy that you always used to hang out with back on Jedha. Bodhi. Nice boy, though… he did have an Imperial uniform on…”

“What did you expect? The Empire had taken over Jedha,” your father replied.

“Well,” you said, straightening up in your seat, “He defected. He’s with the Rebel Alliance now. In fact, he had helped destroy the Death Star.”

“Oh, really?” your mother said excitedly, looking over her shoulder at you.

You nodded. “I’ve worked on a mission with him and his crew before.”

“Look at our kid, all grown up and fighting tyranny!” Your father exclaimed. “So, did you get a rebel uniform or something?”

“No, I… I’m not officially part of the Rebellion, but they said I was welcomed to join.”

“Well, why not? This will be good for you. You’d be in good hands. No more doing dangerous dealings.”

“I just thought it’d put the both of you in danger,” you said, frowning. “All this time, ever since we left Jedha, you guys had to hide. If I’m part of the cause that fights against the Empire, I thought that they’d try to go after you two again.”

Your mother sighed, wiping her hands before slinging the hand towel over her shoulder. She leaned against the counter and gave you a smile. “Sweetie. We’re okay. This community was built by people who swore to protect and look after one another and they are certainly against the Empire. I know it doesn’t mean that we’re completely safe, but no one truly is until this whole war is over.”

You leaned back in your chair and absorbed your mother’s words. She was right, of course, and you trying to remain neutral had been proven futile the more you witnessed the aftermath of the Empire’s rotten touch. Being neutral in this war will do no good for anyone. You needed to take a stand and commit to it. But, there was one other thing that you never thought you were afraid of until you looked back on it.

“Mom, when dad would travel to dangerous places or work with dangerous people or cargo, did you ever… thought of the worst? Like, if something were to happen to him, were you scared? Did you ever consider… not dealing with all of that anymore?”

Your mother nodded, taking the seat next to your father. He reached over and tangled his calloused fingers with her worn out ones. “Of course I have. Many times. Even when you grew up and went with him. I thought… our child shouldn’t have to live this life. In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have to. But you two always came back. My two loves. Even before you were born, when your father’s business started honest, it was still risky. We didn’t have much to begin with and there were risks of thieves and pirates stealing his goods. I thought of ways where we didn’t have to hustle and bleed and sweat to get by, but our situation wouldn’t allow that. I figured as long as we were together, we can get through it no matter what.”

She offered you a reassuring smile, untangling her hand from your father who pouted. She rubbed a hand on his back and whispered something about his palm getting sweaty. You followed her to the kitchen where Desa was finishing up the soup.

“How do I know that I’m making the right decision?” you asked her, the image of you breaking through the clouds and preparing to land on the tarmac of the Rebel base made your heart race.

“Did you think you were making the right decision saving all of those families?”

You nodded. “Well, yes, but…-”

“I think,” she squeezed your shoulders and looked you directly in the eyes, “you already know.”

Desa had told you almost the exact same thing, but it felt different coming from your mother. Like she was telling you to let go of your fears and do what your heart is telling you, to do what’s right. It was like a heavy weight had lifted from your shoulders, the sudden light feathery feeling making you anxious and excited.

“Mom…”

“Go, honey! And make you come visit us when you can or at least contact us as much as possible.”

You hugged your parents farewell and looked around for Desa. You didn’t even notice when she had left the house. There was only one place she could have gone. Jogging back to the ship, you already saw Desa warming up the engines.

“My current information claims that the Rebellion resides on the same planet that we had arrived on before,” she said as you aboard the ship, not at all surprised that you were there. “But they will relocate soon.”

“We should head there as soon as possible, then.”

-

Bodhi slid out from under the U-Wing with a long winded sigh, tossing the rag aside, his eyes drifting up tohe clear night sky. It’s a nice night to fly out, but the Rebellion had been on alert for any remaining Imperial soldiers that could find them. He needed to be ready at all times. It wasn’t just casual flying that he was yearning for.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that his feelings towards you became more than friendly, but he did remember his heart aching when he ran to your house and found it gone. All that remained was furniture, everything else stripped bare of any personality, as if your family left in a rush. Not enough time to say goodbye, then, he had thought. Surely, you had your reasons.

There were many times where he imagined how your reunion would go. That he’d be at the markets in Jedha, buying a meal with the extra credits he won from Sabaac, when you’d appear within the crowd, pushing passed everyone to get to him. Or maybe on one of his runs for the Empire, you’d be one of the traders that had his order to pick up. He’d ask you to leave with him, and you’d take his hand and fly away from the Empire.

He never thought he’d be able to defect, to be fighting alongside the rebels that fought against the tyrannical Empire. He went on a completely separate path than where he imagined he’d go. Imagining that you’d change your mind, that you’d come back and stay for good seemed childish now. That jittery childish feeling that he thought he had set aside years ago when he realized that you weren’t going to come back to Jedha had returned when he saw you as the mercenary that would help him and his crew on their mission. It wasn’t as if you’d suddenly show up in front of him, hovering in the sky and readying to land…

The mechanic working on the ship next to him dropped her tools, letting it cling and clatter against the tarmac as she left her station towards the runway. The others seemed to follow suit, everyone dropping what they were doing to look up at the sky. Bodhi sat up slowly, looking around him before following their line of sight.

As soon as you were in range, you made contact with the Rebel communication tower and was fortunately allowed through. You knew that it was a little late in the night for any ship to be arriving, but you didn’t want to wait. Not anymore.

You landed at the nearest empty spot on the tarmac and powered the engines down. You were surprised to see so many people still awake, but you suppose that, from Desa’s reports, they had been restless for the past couple of weeks. Desa lowered the ramp and helped gather your things.

You stood at the top of the ramp, your back facing out, and exhaled slowly. Was Bodhi mad at you? What if he refused to see you because of your avoidant behavior? You wouldn’t blame him, but still.

“(Y/n),” Desa said softly. She laid a metal hand on your shoulder, prompting you to turn around.

There at the base of the ramp was Bodhi. Your Bodhi. You searched his face for any signs of anger or resentment or anything. His eyes were watery as he offered you a smile. He spread his arms wide and waited.

Your heart swelled as you took one step, two steps, three, until you were running down towards him into his open arms. He immediately embraced you, squeezing you tightly as if preventing you from slipping away from him again. You hugged him back, closing your eyes and soaking yourself in his presence.

“I’m sorry, Bodhi, I-” you whimpered.

“Sh, it’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing your back. It was only then you noticed that you were shaking, tears pouring out of your eyes before you could do anything about it.

“I was too scared and I… I just kept pushing you away because of it and-”

“You’re here now.”

“I’m never leaving your side again, I promise.”

“Well, good. I need my stargazing partner.”

This feeling in your chest, like a water dam threatening to burst, was something that you didn’t fully understand. It was the years of suppressing certain emotions, a defense mechanism to protect you from the dangers that the galaxy held. You knew that with each moment that you dropped your defenses, a crack forms on the emotional water dam. That visit to your parents’ farm made you realize that it was okay to just… let it fall and flow freely.

It was now you fully realized what Bodhi meant to you. He was an amalgamation of your lost childhood, a reminder of goodness remaining in this galaxy, a symbol of hope and wonder, and a love that was worth the risk of love itself, the good, the bad, and everything that it has to offer.

[one-d-library]

August 2020 Fic Recs

Young & Beautiful by velvetoscar

{mature, 227k, 34 chapters, slow burn, angst, hate to love, no detailed smut, university AU, side ziam, OT5 friendship, descriptive plot}

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

My opinion which no one really asked for: 

My country has started another lockdown for corona so of course I had to bless the start of it with y&b. This is one of the better known fics in our fandom but I still don’t think it is talked about enough!! This author has a way with words that I hold in the highest regard. Honestly, I am in love with this book. It was so layered, descriptive and I fell in love with every. single. character. Words can’t describe how wonderfully written this was. Truly my favorite fanfic (or one of them hehe can’t choose). 

Can be found in: 

Longer Fics

Uni AU

Iconic Fics

Fav Fics

Just a Flower Boy by Larryruinedme

{not rated, 70k, 15 chapters, highschool AU, football player!Louis, out!Harry, homophobia, OT5 friendship, pining, fluff, smut, first time, somewhat of panty kink}

Harry Styles is a clumsy, flower crown-wearing, openly gay junior with only two true friends, Niall and Zayn. Louis Tomlinson is the school's attractive, straight football captain, with a small body and a big personality. As fate will have it, Harry has a huge, unrequited, utterly hopeless crush on Louis.

Fate is thrown out the window the day that Harry and Louis find themselves partnered up for a history project. Harry starts to receive notes from a secret admirer, Louis starts to get jealous of Harry's budding friendship with senior Nick Grimshaw, Zayn and Liam develop a thing for each other, and Niall is the best mate anyone could have asked for. And suddenly, Harry's crush on Louis doesn't seem so utterly hopeless anymore.

My opinion which no one really asked for: 

Oh my god. This was absolutely adorable. I’m a big sucker for a cute little high school AU, especially ones with popular!Louis and nerd!Harry. This fic felt really intimate and personal and beautiful. Honestly, I think I liked this so much because this Harry is lowkey how I was in highschool, and I would’ve liked a Louis in my life then. 

Can be found in: 

Highschool AU (2)

Fav Fics

Untangle Me by suicxne

{explicit, 103k, 11 chapters, canon compliant, MITAM era, friends to lovers, pining, angst, fluff, smut, OT4 friendship}

Louis finds himself out of place in LA, unable to get at an itch that’s been bothering him for years. He supposes back in the early days, home hadn’t been a place. It’d been a person. He’d etched it permanently into his skin for fucks sake. It was always him and Harry. Stuck to each other like super glue. Pulled together by some magnetic force, existing in their own bubble. Everyone could see it, but that was half the problem, wasn’t it?

It’s not like Louis can pinpoint the exact moment in time when him and Harry fell out of sync. There wasn’t really one at all. It had been a gradual slip, like the tide wearing away at a sandstone cliff. Chipping the solid foundations until there was nothing left to stop the structure falling to the waves below. It’s not like he spends all of his time sitting around moping over a lost friendship, he’s good at distractions. But LA only seems to accentuate the distance between them. Two separate planets, not even in the same solar system.

Or the one where Harry and Louis finally get it right.

My opinion which no one really asked for: 

I’m sorry I couldn’t find a collage for this fic and I didn’t want to make one, so this funny gif of OT3 will have to do. Anyways, canon compliant fics were how I first dug my way into this larry fanfiction hole so I’ll always have a part of me that loves and appreciates a good non-au. This fic is one of the ones I’ll always appreciate. The smut is very well written and the characters all feel personal to you. It gives me a weird sense of peace relating to the whole ‘we ruined their friendship’ narrative, (which, of course, is not true). I recommend to read this if you’re into non-au and descriptive smut. 

Can also be found in: 

Canon Compliant 50k+

~

more fic recs can be found here!

[krisdreaming]

I hope I’m not too intrusive by asking this but how did you know you were asexual? I’m really conflicted right now because I think I’m bi but I’m not 100% sure. I can picture myself with guys and girls, but I’m a lot pickier when it comes to guys. And one time I almost dated a guy and he put his hand on my thigh and I was like okay now I don’t like you? Idk it just felt weird from there on. But if you don’t feel comfortable you don’t have to answer ☺️ thank u - 🐓🐓

Hi there! I’m sorry it took a little bit to get to this, but it’s not uncomfortable for me at all, so no worries!!

It’s a little hard for me to pinpoint the exact moment that I realized it, because I think it was a lot of small things combined. I just started to realize that anything oversexualized made me feel super uncomfortable. I also started to realize that the sex in books & movies wasn’t just for books and movies, and it was legitimately something that the people around me thought about and desired, and I didn’t feel that way at all. I can’t remember exactly when I learned about asexuality for the first time, but I’d never heard of something that described my views on sex so perfectly. Knowing that there were people out there who feel like I do made me feel so much more comfortable with myself.

It can be so different for everyone, but from what you described I think it’s definitely a possibility that you may be somewhere on the asexual spectrum!! And it’s important to note that it is a spectrum! You could be gray-ace, where you may have times when you do want sex and times when you don’t. You could also be demisexual, and only want sex after you’ve formed a strong bond with your partner. I definitely encourage you to do a bit of research if you’re curious, there’s a decent amount of information out there.

Let me know if you have any more questions, I don’t mind talking about asexuality or my experiences at all! (I’ll tag you as the 🐓🐓 anon, since that’s how you signed off!)

[kpopfanfictrash]

Scholars and Slackers

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Namjoon / Reader

Word Count: 1,802

AU: Podcast

Dialogue Prompt: "I’ll be honest, I’m not fan of how tall he is. He could be like inch shorter, really. "

↳ part of my AU drabble game

“You know what’s the worst part about this podcast?” 

Leaning into his microphone, Namjoon adjusts his headset.

“No,” you say, propping both feet on his desk. Namjoon glares because he hates when you do that, but you don’t put them down. As you both know, his bark is worse than his bite. “Tell me, RM. What is the worst part about having this podcast?”

“The money. You know what they say. Mo money, mo problems.”

“Oh, right.” Seriously, you nod. “Sponsors are killing themselves to be heard on our campus-only podcast. Which – by the way.” You pause. “Drink Red Bull. This message is brought to you by… Red Bull.”

Namjoon snorts. “Yeah, you’re right. The problem is definitely not the money. In case any of you needed reminding, we’re just two broke college kids like yourself. Donate today!”

“If you’re waiting for a noble argument, we have none,” you add. “Keep us fed – or more accurately, help us get drunk at Klein’s on Friday nights. That’s where your donations are going. To alcohol.”

“We’re college kids first, humans second.”

“Anyways.” Leaning back, you wriggle your toes on Namjoon’s desk. “If money isn’t the problem, what is?”

“It’s your fucking feet on my desk.” Namjoon groans, his expression souring. “I know this is a podcast, so our listeners can’t see what Viola is doing – but she’s currently seated at my beautiful, hand-crafted desk with her shoes on top of my carefully taken notes.”

Viola is your podcast name and RM is Namjoon’s.

Viola, after the Shakespearian character of said nomenclature, your favorite of all he has written. The moniker seemed appropriate when you two began this podcast, since you met while watching the campus production of Othello. (It was terrible. You gave it two out of five damned handkerchiefs. Namjoon gave it one.)

Unimpressed, you glance at his desk. “He’s lying,” you say. “My feet are currently on top of a crumpled bag of those gross flavored Lay’s and what seems to be a diary. Ooo!” you gasp. “Anyone wanna hear RM’s deepest thoughts?”

The question is rhetorical since you aren’t live, but Namjoon snatches his notebook away like you are. 

“No,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “My deepest thoughts aren’t that exciting. Not that deep, either. One time I thought about the Mariana trench. That was pretty deep.”

“Friday, October 17th.”  You mock-read aloud, in a dramatic tone. “Today I realized we’re all just wisps of time in the universe. All who came before us, all who come after and all who fail to leave their mark upon society – what was the point? Are those who altered history any happier in the beyond?”

“I’ll have you know,” Namjoon interrupts. “I’m currently seated on my bed holding my journal. Viola is reading from nothing.”

“Okay, true enough,” you say with a laugh. “That’s not what RM’s journal says. What it actually says is Monday morning, 7:00 AM. Jacked off in the shower. Monday afternoon, 4:17 PM. Jacked off in my bed. Monday night, 11:49 PM –”

With a loud thwacking sound, Namjoon hits you with his journal. 

“They get the point, Viola!” he says, making you snort with laughter.

The sight of his eyes crinkled, face squished makes your heart do a backflip. Fuck, are you in love with him. You have been ever since the week of your first, official podcast. 

It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment. Maybe the first time Namjoon ignored your rambling bullshit and pointed out exactly what you were thinking. Maybe when you ended the podcast and realized you’d talked for over an hour about nothing. Or maybe later than that, with your feet propped on his desk and his smile giving you heartburn.

Whatever the moment was, the result is a giant crush on your best friend. One you can do nothing about, since your podcast (Scholars and Slackers – two guesses as to which one you are) is a massive success on your campus. You didn’t expect it to be. What began as a mostly reviews hour – campus productions, local restaurants and the like – soon developed into something you never imagined. Namely, your friendship.

Viola and RM are known on campus, even if Y/N and Namjoon are not. Their friend chemistry is infamous and the spine of the podcast. It’d be suicidal to risk a relationship because, while Namjoon is correct and neither one of you is rolling in cash, the podcast does generate a substantial amount of income towards student loans. Things would be hard if the podcast suddenly came to an end.

Shifting forward, you crack open your laptop. “Let’s see,” you say, scrolling through last week’s comments. “I’m reading the comments from last episode and damn, some of y’all are thirsty.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Are they asking you to take your top off again?”

“No, but again.” You blink, shaking your head. “I don’t understand. You can’t even see me!” you say, as Namjoon starts to crack up. “Do you really want to subject RM to torture that badly?”

Abruptly, Namjoon’s laughter stops. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says into the mic. “I think we should ask RM what he thinks before dismissing the topic so quickly.”

“Pass,” you say, waving his suggestion aside. “Anyways, here’s a comment asking how tall RM is.” Pausing, you frame Namjoon with your hands. “I mean, he’s tall. I couldn’t fit him in a bread box, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll be honest, though, I’m not a fan of how tall he is.”

Namjoon sits up straighter. “No?”

“Nah. He could be like, an inch shorter, really.”

“And why is that?”

“The nook.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“You know.” You wave a hand. “The nook! The spot beneath a person’s arm where the other person fits. It’d be ideal if you were just a little shorter, RM, since right now your nook is just too tall. It’s hard to snuggle.”

Namjoon stares at you, mouth agape. “I – what? When have we snuggled?”

“We haven’t. I’m just guessing based off height ratios.”

“I...” Namjoon makes a strange, choked sound. “This is ridiculous. Come here. I’m going to disprove your dumb nook theory.”

“Come there?”

“Yes.”

“Why?

“I’m going to snuggle you, you ass.”

“RM. You are not snuggling me during our very serious podcast, just to prove a point.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Viola, shut up and let me put you under my arm!”

“You sound like you’re going to give me a noogie,” you yelp, frantically moving away. “Hard pass.”

Rolling his eyes, Namjoon flops back on the bed. 

“Fine,” he grumbles, scrolling through some more comments. “Hey, look. I found another request for your top to be removed!”

“RM. That one is from your username.”

“It is not!”

The rest of the hour passes this way. You manage to get to the point eventually, reviewing a new café off campus which you felt had great atmosphere, adequate coffee. Namjoon refuted that atmosphere shouldn’t even be a requisite in food ranking and you spiraled from there.

Once finished, you remove your headset and sigh. “Another excellent podcast,” you say, sticking your hand out in his direction.

Namjoon stares at the extended appendage. “Are we concluding a business interview?”

“No, silly. I don’t want you to shake my hand, I want you to kiss it.”

Namjoon snorts, batting your arm away. As he stands and yawns, he stretches both arms overhead. The motion exposes a tanned strip of skin and, cheeks heating, you quickly look away. Rather than stare at your gigantic crush/best friend, you scroll through more comments. The oddest pattern has emerged as of late, even though you and Namjoon have yet to discuss it.

Most of the comments are related to content. People point out things they found funny, relatable or disagree with. Occasionally, people troll for someone to remove their shirt or do push-ups on air. Then, there’s the recent wave which seem to be multiplying by the week.

Jenny918: When will Viola and RM just kiss already??

hOOKEDonPhoenix: y’all if they aren’t dating within the year, I’ll eat my own hand

irredeemableDreamer: the tension is so thick in that room u need a HACKSAW to get through it

Jaw clenched, you read them all. 

You can only assume Namjoon’s seen them, but he’s never mentioned their presence. He’s never said anything about them at all and so, neither have you. It does make you wonder though, if your listeners are able to hear something you don’t. They all seem to theorize a tension which doesn’t exist.

Standing up from your chair, you push this from mind. Perhaps they just don’t have opposite sex friends of their own.

Slinging your bag over one shoulder, you shut your laptop and slip this inside. “Alright,” you say, glancing at Namjoon. “I have to go finish an essay. Lemme know if you need help editing.”

He nods, one arm behind his head. Namjoon’s glasses are on, squinting at the bright computer screen. 

“Sounds good.”

You wave, halfway into the hall when he speaks up behind you.

“Y/N?”

Paused on the threshold, you turn back. “Yeah?”

Namjoon’s expression is uncertain. Unusual, for him. Typically, you’re the mess and he’s the pulled-together one. Right now though, Namjoon seems to be dissecting a complicated math problem in his head.

“Would you want to…” Trailing off, he hesitates.

Although you wait for his sentence to finish, Namjoon seems to check himself. He bites down on his cheek, stifling the words.

After another long moment, you arch a brow. “Would I want to what?”

He inhales and glances away. “Uh, would you want to listen to the podcast before I post?”

Oddly disappointed by this, you nod. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just email me when you’re done.”

Offering a half-hearted wave, you leave. It could be your imagination but as the door shuts behind you, you swear that you hear Namjoon groan. The sound echoes in your mind down the hall, since you feel exactly the same.

The only difference is he’s groaning because he needs to edit an hour-long podcast and you’re groaning because you need to get your feelings for your best friend under control. If random listeners can hear the obviousness of your crush, you’re more transparent than you thought. It’s only a matter of time before Namjoon confronts you and when he does, you don’t know what you’ll say.

Thinking this, your lip quirks. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you log in with a URL Namjoon knows nothing about.

QueenMab01: RM, take your shirt off!!!!

Grinning widely, you return your phone to your pocket.

↳ part of my AU drabble game

© kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.