#Happy Birthday Uni!! :3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toruro · 1 year ago

Text

— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab��oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt fluff #svt angst #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu angst #📝 writing

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accidentcache · 4 months ago

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everything i didn't say

feat: college au, frat boy touya x fem!reader (she pronoun is used)

warnings: drinking (3rd year of uni so everyone is of age), language, heavy suggestive bits (slight nsfw), angst if you squint (miscommuncation and emotional constipation yay)

cache notes: 6k read so buckle in motherfuckers. happy birthday to the love of my life and my favorite man in the whole word <3

m.list

touya was an idiot for falling in love with you.

you have him wrapped around your finger and you aren’t even aware of it. he didn’t know when these feelings developed, but months ago he realized that the thought of you getting intimate with someone other than him made him want to put a hole in the wall. it was a rough revelation on his conscious, and an even heavier one on his heart.

because truthfully? the two of you were friends. close friends. best friends.

he met you during the first few days of freshman orientation– you weren’t talking to anyone nor were you making an effort to, and touya was bored and didn’t find anyone interesting enough to sit down with. all it took was one clever and witty line to win you over (and an offer to sneak out and smoke a joint when the upperclassmen weren’t looking) and the rest was history.

the two of you did everything together. you were inseparable. any party that the two of you attended you were attached to his hip and vice versa. he was a part of you as you were of him.

as the years went on, touya and yourself had gotten more… affectionate with one another. you were never afraid to flirt openly with him– he returned it, actually– and touya was not scared to sling an arm around your shoulders or even your waist if he was intoxicated enough.

it was just how the two of you were.

even currently, you’re teasing him as he follows you to your dorm room. he’s got his dab pen perched between his pointer finger and thumb, taking rips occasionally as he takes lazy strides behind you. the straps of his bag are loosened all the way, so it hangs low on his back and makes him slouch when wears it.

“why are you even following me right now?” your head tilts back to look at him. your tone is clearly playful, and if that wasn’t enough; the smirk stretching on your lips was another clear sign. “your dorm is on the other side of campus.”

touya grunts. there’s a dull itch in the back of his head as he tries not to think about how attractive that grin of yours is. “‘m bored and your company isn’t as bad as i make it seem.” his head turns to the side and his tone lowers to a grumble. “plus i like the view.”

you continue forward, a laugh bubbling from your chest. “ouh,” your voice drawls, dripping with ridicule. “the touya todoroki likes my company? i’m so honored.”

he scoffs in response, bringing the pen to his lips and takes a good four second rip. he holds in the vapors for a couple more seconds, speaking through the exhale as smoke curls around his cheeks. “i take it back,” his lip curls with mock irritation. “you’re annoying and infuriating and insufferable and–”

he cuts himself off. comes to a complete stop behind you, and it’s involuntary what comes out of his mouth next.

“gorgeous too.”

your eyes roll just the slightest bit. “flirt,” you call over your shoulder– but he decides not to comment on it.

by now the two of you are standing in front of the steps to your dorm building– touya doesn’t remember the majority of the walk there. he was more focused on how the color of your hair matches so well with the palette of the scene outside– it’s fall weather, so the trees look stunning around campus– and how you’d always step on the crunchiest of leaves. touya doesn’t know how you do it every time. maybe you have some special, niche and useless talent.

but he finds it endearing and it makes his chest twist.

he watches you take the first step towards the building, his heart stuttering when you choose to tilt towards him. when you’re this close, touya can see the different colored specks in your eyes, the pale dusting of freckles that have faded along your nose. when you’re this close, touya hopes you can’t hear how his breath hitches at the proximity or the roar of his heartbeat in his throat.

“i’ve got a paper to write,” you murmur, the teasing smirk you were wearing now fading to a fond grin. your eyes roam the length of him, taking in the fact that even though it’s somewhat chilly out; he’s in the thinnest hoodie from his wardrobe and yours is thick enough to rival the michelin man.

touya hates how his heart falls at your words. his eyes fall downwards, his tone almost brooding in a way. “already ditching me for some damn paper?” his words are light and teasing, his expression is not. “you’re breaking my heart.”

“you,” touya’s brain spins as you lean in even closer when you speak, your tone dropping an octave. your finger reaches out and hooks underneath his chin and touya’s brain lags when you pull him ever so slightly closer. “are too much of a distraction.”

fuck. fuck. fuck.

touya freezes. his eyes are laser focused on yours, and he’s pretty sure his lungs have checked out from his body entirely.

this teasing is normal between the two of you. the both of you are always this affectionate. he curses the day his brain subtly switched from finding this kind of banter amusing to making him want to kiss the everloving shit out of you.

somehow, he forces himself to speak. his voice is shaky, quieter than normal. “am i, now?”

he hates that he’s close enough to see how your canine digs into the plump flesh of your lower lip. the color of the skin changes due to the light pressure you put on it. he barely registers how your thumb drags along his lower lip before your hand retracts from his chin.

“yeah, you are.”

touya knows he’s fucked– completely and utterly screwed when you use that tone. you don’t even know that you have him wrapped tight, and at this point he’s too embarrassed to confess it either.

“you’re teasing me and you know it,” touya murmurs, his voice bordering the line from flustered and frustrated.

your head tilts. of course you are. it’s your favorite game to play with him, to see who backs down first. usually it’s yourself– you’re always a sucker for touya’s intimidating and soft dominating aura– so it’s a small, but not unwelcome surprise that he’s waving the flag right now. the corner of your mouth curls and you lean in once again, your finger pushes into the plane of his chest where you know his favorite dogtags rest.

“i’ll text you after i’m done, yeah?” the smirk grows wider when you feel touya’s lithe fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you closer. “we could grab dinner at the dining hall… or hit up that frat party…”

you’re evil, touya’s thinking to himself. so fucking evil. your lips have just barely grazed his with that offer, and despite how soft and gentle your voice sounded; a shudder ran down his spine. he always imagines this tone of yours well and late into the night, whispered into his ear as the two of you settle into his mattress–

touya wants to kiss you so bad.

it’d be so easy too. all he has to do is lean forward ever so slightly and his lips would be flush against yours and the two of you wouldn’t be playing this stupid cat and mouse game anymore. it would cross a line, yes; he’s aware of that, but he’s tired. he wants to give in so fucking badly.

but all he can do is stutter in response. “yeah, that sounds good.”

your finger travels up the firm expanse of his chest before curling under his chin again. at this point, you’re taunting him to cross the line. your lips are so close to his that they are dancing that dangerous edge of making contact with his own.

“i’ll text you,” you murmur, your eyes bounce between his lips to his sharp sapphire gaze.

his hand tightens ever so slightly around your wrist, head tilting as his eyes roam your features intently. “fucking cock tease,” touya mutters before he can even think about the words coming out of his mouth.

that makes a laugh bubble straight from your chest. it stings in ways that touya doesn’t like, his expression melting to a small scowl. you act like this is a harmless game– it is, to you– and that only causes touya’s chest to squeeze tighter. you would not be treating him like some toy if you knew there was something deeper than what touya let on. “lewd,” you reply, your tone light. “cock tease, really?”

touya let out the smallest breath he would allow himself to take and lifts his other hand to grasp your chin. his touch is gentle, but firm– it keeps you locked in place. the pads of his fingers are warm, calloused; you wonder if he’s picked up the guitar again in the times that you don’t spend with him. “stop teasing me,” he practically hisses, “just kiss me already.”

would touya believe you if you told him you’ve been wanting to since second semester of freshman year? probably not. he prides himself in being observant, but he’s oblivious to certain signs when it comes from you.

“you’re so demanding,” you giggle. to him, the noise is soft, low, alluring– teasing– it makes him grit his teeth. but to you, it’s a way to satiate the bundle of nerves that had been festering in your gut the moment you leaned in.

touya is so close to tasting you. he can feel your lips part against his, ghosting over his own in some sick way of further testing his patience. he can feel the warmth of your breath mixing with his, causing his eyelids to flit shut.

and then his phone rings.

and you pull away.

he’s so stunned from the whiplash that all he can do is stand and watch you bound up the steps toward your dorm building, waving your fingers in that stupid little flirty wave you do. touya finds new swears as his phone continues to ring in his back pocket, but his eyes do not leave your form until you’re passing through the front door. you call out a final time that you’ll text him, and all he can do is produce a weak wave in response.

touya’s never really put much effort into how he’s dressed before. he knows he’s somewhat decent looking– i mean, you do sound genuine enough when you flirt with him, that has to count for something, right? but he decided normal attire isn’t going to cut it tonight. he wants to impress you. make you come crawling to him and hang onto him like always do when you drink.

he changed his outfit four times before ringing the dumb blonde he calls his friend– keigo always had better style than him surprisingly– which led to the discussion on why touya was so hellbent on looking good for the night. “you’re gonna ditch us for your little secret girlfriend, aren’t you, ‘roki?”

touya’s lip curls at the nickname but doesn’t correct him on it. keigo uses it regardless of the hundreds of times touya has told him he hated it. “we aren’t dating, you know that,” he scoffs. there’s a twinge inside of him that soars at the idea of you being his girlfriend.

“right, right,” keigo muses on the other side of the phone. “you aren’t official,” and at touya’s scoff in response; keigo argues back, “what? you go see her every day, you bring her little gifts, take her out to lunch… i’d say that’s some boyfriend level behavior right there, touya.”

touya is thankful that he cut the videochat a while back ago. a flush creeps up his neck and he curses internally. “you’re the worst,” he mutters, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

keigo laughs. “i’m right, aren’t i? you definitely like her.”

touya wanted to snap back and say he didn’t, but it’s not that he wanted to deny it. he’d been pining over you for almost two and a half years now, is it really honest to boil all of that down to a simple… like? touya has to be honest with himself. he loves you.

the revelation makes him want to vomit and throw his fist into the wall.

keigo continues to ramble on. “why don’t you just make it official at this point?”

he scoffs in response to that. “it’s complicated.”

“what, is this highschool?” keigo laughs. he sounds mocking and condescending, but touya knows he’s right. “how is it complicated? you’ve known her for years. she likes you too, idiot. pretty sure she’s just waiting for you to ask her out at this point.”

it feels like keigo is giving him false hope. he wants to believe that your flirting is a genuine show, that you’re taunting him into taking the first step into new territory. he wants to believe that if he does take that first step that you’ll be by his side the further he dives in. he wants to believe it. he craves it.

“she is coming tonight, isn’t she?” keigo presses. there’s shuffling noises from his side of the phone, it sounds like he’s also in the process of getting ready as well.

you had texted him a bit ago, letting him know when you finished your paper– as promised – and he had offered an invitation to the party tonight. it was an open event, he didn’t need to invite you— but it felt so much more intimate and personal when he asked you to come himself. he practically leapt out of bed when he got your confirmation, as embarrassing as it is to admit that to himself.

“yeah,” touya assures quietly, “she is.”

keigo responds with a click of his tongue, a low chuckle echoing out through touya’s receiver. “that explains it,” he muses, “explains it a lot.”

touya fiddles with the chain at his hip– a pick from keigo that he went along with just for the hell of it. he had nagged at the blonde for helping him choose an outfit that looked a bit darker than his normal attire (touya wasn’t trying to go for the emo look) but he does look good. with his hair hanging past his ears and the dogtags around his neck, he still has the touches that make it distinctly him– but he clearly looks like he put in effort.

“explains what?” touya’s lips purse.

“you actually called me for advice,” keigo laughs in response. “you are clearly trying to score tonight.”

touya doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed or not that keigo calls him out on it.

from the looks of it, you like touya’s choice in clothing. you haven’t said a word to him, but he can feel the lingering stares– he knows you can feel his eyes on you as well. the two of you haven’t been subtle about it at all. it’s getting to the point that keigo rolls his eyes, nudging touya’s leg with his foot with a scoff. “quit eye-fucking her already.”

touya scowls at that comment and swats at the blonde’s chest. he’s nicely faded at the moment, a couple drinks deep and he’s been taking healthy hits of the dab pen he brought with him– for confidence or comfort, he’s not sure what for quite yet. his body feels warm and heavy and light all at the same time.

in the back of his mind, touya is itching to dance with you.

he keeps stealing glances. you look so carefree, so happy and relaxed– though part of it is most likely due to the alcohol. your cheeks have a subtle flush to them, a rosy pink that’s visible to him even under the dim house lights. the more you move around, the more sweat clings to your skin and to the fabric of your clothes; it makes the loose strands of your hair stick to your forehead and causes blood to run south in touya’s body.

he takes several gulps of his beer to calm down. it does not help at all.

he manages to catch you later in the night. he’s on his way back from the kitchen, a fresh cup of whatever mixture keigo and rumi convinced him to drink– it’s fruity and sweet, its a drink you would like more than him– when he catches you leaning against the wall that overlooks the rest of the larger room where a crowd has formed in front of the mock dj stand.

touya’s chest squeezes at the sight of you. even from behind, you look stunning– your ass looks amazing in those jeans you’re wearing, but he tries to ignore that– and he struggles to keep his eyes off of you. maybe it’s the intoxication, maybe it’s both making the emotions and feelings rush to the surface so suddenly.

he slides up next to you, a comfortable but intimate distance between your shoulder and the plane of his chest. touya’s a couple inches taller, tall enough that he can peer over and see just how much is left in your cup. he nudges your shoulder gently, soft enough as to not startle you– you get extremely jumpy the more you drink.

your head tilts and a lazy smile spreads onto your lips when you register his warmth beside you. “hey,” your voice is low, slurred and incredibly affectionate paired with the way your eyes immediately lock onto his. if touya were sober he would’ve frozen like a deer in headlights at the sight of you.

but touya is comfortably drunk. comfortable and confident– even if that confidence is a front. his chest still feels tight and his hands shake a little, but if you bring it up he can just blame it on the alcohol.

“havin’ fun?” he asks, leaning in a bit so you could hear him over the music. you nod slowly, your lips never parting to speak but touya knows you’re feeling good. he juts his chin toward the cup in your hand, “what’cha drinkin’ sweetheart?”

his heart flips at the immediate smile the petname pulls onto your lips. “jack ‘n coke,” you mumble, holding the cup out towards him. the smirk on his lips falters just the slightest bit when the two of you swap cups. you’re drinking his usual. and he’s drinking something you would usually drink.

touya takes a sip from your cup and immediately feels the familiar burn of whiskey climb down his throat and settle into the bottom of his stomach. he knows you don’t like whiskey. dark liquor makes you do strange things, he remembers. that’s why you stick to clear alcohol, the cocktails and fruitier flavored drinks.

but instead of you doing something odd, it’s touya. your attention is back on the crowd when he opens his mouth. “how come we’ve never hooked up?”

touya doesn’t register the words until you’re practically spitting your drink out into your hand with a baffled expression. “touya!”

his eyes are wide, and he can’t help the little tingle that runs down his spine at the way you say his name. he coughs a little, trying to ease the awkwardness as best he can. “you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it at least once.”

“have you?”

his heart is in his throat. yes i have, he wants to confess, multiple times. i think about you in my bed almost every night, and not just being naked and panting after i’m done with you, but just laying next to me while we listen to my noisy ass neighbors as we try to fall asleep. i think about holding you in the middle of the night to keep warm because my heat sucks in my dorm room. i think about telling you i love you while holding you under the blankets you always steal from me when you come over to hang out.

instead, he does something even ballsier. “c’mere,” he murmurs, tugging on your wrist. he doesn’t expect you to follow him, considering he just implied sleeping together but when he looks over his shoulder you are trailing behind him, peeking at your feet as you walk as if you don’t trust your footing at all. he remembers you hide your soberness well when you’re still.

in a swift movement, he tugs you to the left; towards a bathroom that’s hardly ever used. your vision goes fuzzy with the sudden jolt, but touya’s hands are there on your hips before you stumble over completely, which gives him the perfect opportunity to place you ontop of the sink countertop. his hand is firm as he lets it rest on your thigh, leaning over to flip the lock on the bathroom door.

that sound has a sobering effect on your conscious. “touya–” you suddenly blurt out, your nerves clenching tight in your gut and a heavier flush spreading along your cheeks. “i don’t want to hook up–”

you see touya tense visibly in front of you. his fingers twitch along your thigh, and his head doesn’t lift for a couple of moments.

you realize how it sounds, after following him to a secluded area when he challenged the idea of you two getting more intimate. it sounds bad. your hands slap over your face, covering the rosy tint that has spread to the rest of your face with an anguished cry. “that’s not what i mean! not like that– i just–”

touya snorts in response. he can’t help it really, seeing you rattled when you’re normally so calm and collected around him forces a laugh to bubble from his chest. “why are you so flustered right now?” he teases, feeling a small flow of confidence enter his bloodstream. his hands glide along your thighs until they rest comfortably on your hips. “we’re just in a bathroom.”

“i panicked,” you whine a little. your hands lower so your eyes could meet his. your lower lip juts out and touya’s smirk grows wider. “don’t laugh at me.”

“i can’t help it,” he chuckles, the sound low and it vibrates down to your chest. “it’s too cute seeing you all shaken.” his thumbs dig into your sides as he leans in, caging you on top of the sink with his arms. “what’re you panicking for?” he murmurs, his tone gentle and surprisingly soothing given the shit-eating grin on his lips. he lifts a hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“i thought we were…” your voice trails off, but your eyes are locked onto his. touya’s being bold, strangely affectionate– for him, that is– and it causes something to settle in the bottom of your gut. his hand lingers around your jaw, so you take it as a green flag to lift your own palms to his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt with shaky fingertips. “i didn’t want to… do something… stupid. to us.”

oh.

touya feels that confidence in his bones get ripped straight from under his skin. his heart skips a beat and his eyes flicker from your own to your lips. “what do you mean, ‘something stupid’?”

he thought he would be more prepared if this conversation were to ever happen. hell– he thought he’d be sober when you two finally delved into what exactly the two of you were. he hopes you can’t feel how fast his heart rate is behind his ribcage.

“do you think we’d mess up our friendship if we… did do something?”

you head nods almost automatically– albeit slowly, due to your foggy brain due to the alcohol– and something in touya’s expression falls. its subtle, but you know touya. you saw it even through the swimming lines in your vision.

your teeth catch onto your lower lip, a nervous habit that you have never been able to break. touya’s hand lifts and cups your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lip. “stop biting.”

the action and command sends a shiver down your spine. your lips press together and you try hard to resist the urge to continue chewing on your lip. “touya…” his name is a barely audible mumble coming out of your mouth, your eyes stay locked on his.

you barely hear the hum that echoes out of his chest. you can’t get over how… softly he’s looking at you. you’ve known touya todoroki for all of three years– since freshman year of uni– he’s never looked at you like this before. it’s different from the usual looks he gives you when it’s just the two of you, different from when it’s those late nights out at the park when he actually shares a blunt with you. he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon– like you’re the stars and he’s witnessing them for the first time.

that aloof facade is breaking more and more the longer your eyes don’t stray apart from one another. “why are you so nervous?” you don’t have to dig deeper to know he’s not just talking about having sex with you. he’s talking about the relationship.

“pretty sure i’m in love with you,” your voice is a whisper, barely audible. your head leans in and your forehead rests against his and his nose is warm against your own. you can smell the sweetness of the drink he shared with you on his breath and it’s intoxicating enough to make your eyes flutter shut to say the least. you loved sweet drinks. “i– i think i love you– i…”

for touya, the world stops. the noise of the party fades, he doesn’t even hear the roar of his blood pumping in his ears. his hands tighten their hold on your hips, tugging you ever so slightly closer towards him and he closes the distance between your lips.

his hands slide under your shirt, resting on your bare waist and the small of your back, his touch searing against the chilliness of your skin. he pours so much emotion into this kiss, saying the words he’s been too afraid of saying for months now with the touch of his mouth against yours. he can feel the blood pumping again when he feels your arms sling around his neck, returning the kiss just as eagerly.

it’s as if simultaneously the both of you have said; no more teasing, no more games– no more playing around.

touya groans as he feels you melt against him, the sigh you let out against his mouth probably the hottest thing he’s witnessed from you. he needs more. he’s allowed to be greedy now– he’s waited long enough.

one of his hands leaves your waist to tangle into your hair, tugging and smirking at the soft gasp it elicits from your mouth. it angles your head back and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss further.

“does this mean,” you’re mumbling against his mouth and touya wishes you’d stop talking so he could focus on just kissing you– “that you… you–” your hands delve into his hair, unable to finish the sentence. you try to speak, but everytime you find an opening to say words, his hands or lips move in a way that make your knees weak.

“if you can’t finish the damn sentence, i’ll do it,” he speaks through kisses, his hands roaming your skin under your shirt. “yeah, i love you too. obviously.”

you’re impatient by now, tugging the front of his shirt as you huff against his lips. your hands slide down his shoulders to his back, digging your nails into his skin just enough to where it bites and feels good. “we’re gonna talk about this more when we’re both sober.”

“you’re so cruel,” he grumbles against your mouth, groaning at the sting from your nails. he pushes further into you, catching your lower lip and biting it. he lifts a hand and moves it to rest at the base of your throat, his fingers splaying across your collarbone.

the action causes a gasp to leave you. your eyes flutter and he takes the chance slip his tongue into your mouth, humming when yours moves against his. “i don’t want to forget if you drunkenly ask me on a date right now,” you mutter against his mouth.

the kisses are growing more heated, more insistent. your legs spread more involuntarily to accommodate his body in between them and touya doesn’t need to be told twice before he settles in between them. he keeps a hand firm on your thigh and the other at the base of your neck, continuing to angle your head back.

“you’re cruel,” he repeats, breathless as he continues to kiss you. “you’d really deny your poor drunken boyfriend a date?”

if the bathroom door shutting didn’t fully sober you up, the word ‘boyfriend’ coming from touya’s mouth certainly finished the job. it short-circuits your brain– causing you to pause and dig your nails in sharply to the skin of his lower back. you let out a shaky exhale that’s easily swallowed by his mouth, your eyes roll backwards from his touch. “no– no, not denying–”

that’s when touya pulls away. there’s a satisfied chuckle that starts in his chest and rumbles past his lips– clearly he used that word on purpose. a cocky smirk spreads onto his lips for a split second before he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your jaw. “then go on a date with me,” he mumbles against your skin. “a proper date, not that stupid ‘hanging out’ bullshit we always do.”

your breath hitches at his tone and the feeling of his lips. “where are you gonna take me?” you ask coyly, your hands dip to his waistline, grazing along the button of his jeans and tugging.

it’s a dirty trick to distract him.

it works, but it also doesn’t. his head drops to watch you tug at his jeans and a strangled groan leaves his mouth. when he lifts his head his eyes are shut so tight you think the skin around them has gone white and his teeth are digging into his lower lip. he’s trying very hard to hold himself together.

“we’re gonna go out for dinner,” he starts, his voice low and strained. ��somewhere nice and fancy. then we’re gonna go for a walk–”

“a walk?” your eyebrow lifts, skeptical but when touya shoots you a sharp glare you shrink back ever so slightly with a small, awkward giggle.

“a walk. a nice, long walk where i can put my arm around you without you running off before i can.”

his statement makes you swallow a lump that’s formed almost too quickly in your throat. your heart beats wildly, jackhammering against your ribcage it’s a wonder he can’t hear it or even see it bouncing against your chest. “‘m not gonna run this time,” you find yourself whispering.

your nose brushes against his when you lean in once more and you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. you pop the button on his jeans without another word and touya melts. the sound that leaves his mouth is a mix of a sigh and moan but it’s so low and hot it sends scorching sparks down your spine. your breath stutters in your throat the noise.

“jesus christ,” he hisses, but there’s no venom to it. his hands latch around your thighs and he tugs you closer towards him. being this close to him, you can feel the way his jeans strain against his body now that you’ve unbuttoned them and the heat is sweltering between the lower half of your bodies. he grips your thighs even tighter, his thumbs bruising into the flesh. “when i said ‘dinner and a walk’, i did not mean ‘dinner and a quickie in the bathroom of a frat party’.”

his voice shakes ever so slightly and it causes the corner of your mouth to lift. “tell me to stop,” you mumble, your breathing heavy against his jaw. you litter the skin with heated kisses, your fingers hesitant as they inch the fabric of his jeans down his hips agonizingly slow. “we can go to dinner and a walk tomorrow after we wake up–”

one of his hands grips the sink next to your thighs, his knuckles are white. he knows he shouldn’t push farther with you– even if it’s something the both of you want. but both of you are drunk, so fucking drunk and in the bathroom of a frat party for fucks sake and he was hoping his first time with you would be so much more intimate and special– “damn you,” he whispers, letting out a shaky exhale. “stop. stop.”

it takes a hell of a lot of restraint to pull away from him.

but you do. you withdrawal your hands, letting them hover around his hips before the settle onto the sink on either side of your hips. one hand clasps over touya’s and you give him a reassuring squeeze– trying to say the words you can’t voice at the moment.

a breathless ‘fuck’ falls from touya’s mouth the moment you pull away. his cerulean gaze finds yours again– studying your expression for several beats of silence before he steps closer again. “you don’t know how hard it was to have to tell you to stop,” he grouses, using a hand to yank his jeans back over his hips, securing the button clumsily. his chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. “you better hope noone finds out we’re in a bathroom together. we’re never gonna hear the end of it if they do. especially if they find out we did anything.”

your cheeks burn a little at touya’s rambling. “what,” you scoff, playing it off as a laugh, though your eyes refuse to meet his. “embarrassed to get caught in here with me?”

touya mocks your scoff in return. he can’t help the sass in his response, not caring about how it comes out of his mouth. “more embarrassed to get caught in you,” he muttered, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “do you know how embarrassing that would be?”

Your eyebrow lifts. Your head tilts, expression almost incredulous. “haven’t you hooked up with girls at parties before?” your eyes scan his expression, eyes narrowing into a glare almost. “what’s so embarrassing about me?”

shit.

touya’s words get caught in his throat. his heart feels like it’s leapt out of his chest and is doing freestyle dance moves on your lap just to taunt him. he feels like an idiot, he sounds like an idiot. he knows just from your expression.

“it’s… it’s different,” he says after an awkward bout of silence. “you’re you.”

i’ve been crushing on you since freshman year, and i don’t want to get caught in here and people assuming that i’m taking advantage of you because we’re both drunk–

your tongue presses between your lips and your eyes finally meet his. a single finger of yours reaches out, tugging the hem of his shirt to pull him closer and touya follows willingly. he’s close enough that your faces are inches apart again, your nose knocking against his and lips brushing against his with each word. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you murmur lowly.

he swallows visibly. he takes a minute to take in your features– to really look at you. your eyes are still the same shade, but they have a glaze from the alcohol. it makes you look softer– more vulnerable. a side he sees every so often, but he knows the sober sight of this side is something you save just for him. your cheeks have a specific shade of pink when you blush.

“it means you’re not just some girl,” he eventually mumbles. “a random girl that i can go and hook up with at a party and just forget about.”

there’s a tense silence between the two of you as you mull over his words. your eyes flick over his lips– swollen and wet from your kisses– before they meet his eyes, swallowing the lump that forms in your throat. “what am i to you?” you ask, your voice low and it’s the first time touya’s heard you be completely serious the entire night. “and don’t just say i’m different or your… girlfriend, touya– what are we?”

touya’s always loved the way you say his name. your voice is so soft, so light and tender, like you’re breathing out clouds or something. his breath stutters and his jaw clenches, tight and tense. his hands find your waist again, and when his eyes find yours he hates just how weak he is for you. how fast and easy you can get him to crumble with just a look. “you’re trying to get me to say something.”

“i said i loved you, touya,” your head tilts back in exasperation. the grumble that leaves your mouth is irritated and strained and your head tilts away from him to avoid the kiss he so desperately wants to press to your lips. your eyes shut and you mumble; “of course i’m trying to get you to say something.”

touya’s shoulders dip forward a bit when he hears the aggravation in your tone. “i said it back,” he retorts quickly, defensive. “i said i loved you too, do you not believe me?”

his eyes are sharp as they scan over your expression– trying to determine what exactly is going through your brain at the moment. he knows you’re still intoxicated, hell– he is too– but he can’t help but feel like he’s trying to break through a wall that truly doesn’t exist.

“why is it so hard to put a label on what we are then?” for the first time in a while since the two of you have met, this is the longest the two of you have held direct eye contact. touya’s eyes are still piercing, still intimidating, but they don’t scare you as much anymore.

for a few moments, the two of you stare at each other. touya can’t help but admire you, since he’s already so close. he still thinks you’re beautiful as the day he met you, and you can’t help but scan the slope of his nose or the curve of his lips.

when was the last time the two of you truly looked at each other?

“what do you want me to say?” touya speaks after a couple more beats of silence. his brows pinch together. “that… you’re my girlfriend?”

you can see how he hesitates with the word. it’s not that he didn’t want to say it, but it feels weird on his tongue. he’s never really had a dating life the entire time you’ve known him at uni, so you assume he’s rarely ever used the word. it’s not a word he thought he would be saying. girlfriend. “is that what you want?” his tone drops an octave, softer– he leans in to press a kiss to your lips and you don’t pull away from it.

“i just want to be yours,” you sigh against his mouth.

he lets his lips linger on yours for a couple more moments, stealing a few more kisses with gentle hums. his breath is steady and warm against your lips, your words make his chest twist and he doesn’t try to hide how it makes his heart skip. “you’ve always been mine. since freshman year.” his hands travel from your hips to rest at your sides. his touch is tender, his skin warm through the fabric of your clothes and you can’t help the wide smile that spreads onto your lips.

you’re his. you’ve always been his. even without knowing it.

“it’s not like i’m good at this relationship crap,” he adds after a moment. his eyes flit between yours and you can see the slightest bit of hesitation behind them. “there’s a lot of things i’ve never done before… but you already know that.”

you do. you know touya like the back of your hand, just like he does you.

“there’s things even i don’t know how to do,” you mumble back in reassurance. it’s your turn to steal a kiss from his lips, your skin is soft against his. “but i want to learn them. with you.”

touya melts willingly against your lips. he doesn’t hide it anymore. he loves how soft and addicting your lips are and how gentle the pressure of your mouth is against his own. he returns your peck, brushing past your mouth to press an affectionate kiss to your cheek. “anything you wanna do, i’ll be right there with you.”

you blush like a fucking school-girl at that. the feeling is so refreshing, the softness from touya is something unexpected but is oh so welcome.

a small chuckle leaves your mouth, your eyes dropping from his and taking in the scene around you. “so…”

touya is already a couple steps ahead of you. “cuddle at my place?” when you laugh in response, touya doesn’t hide the wide smile that spreads across his mouth.

#cache money!#happy birthday touya <3 #he's such a loser in this #need to eat him bad #also suck his di-#okay.#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi bnha #dabi mha #dabi x reader

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endearng · 5 months ago

Text

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the good things, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

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karinasbaby · 8 months ago

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PARK SUNGHOON — I WISH SUNGHOON WAS MY BOYFRIEND.. (A VERY SHORT SUNGHOON SMAU!)

✶ IM JOKING THO! .. maybe not.

SYNOPSIS.. when the wonders of the modelling world and photographing world get clashed lots of secrets get revealed, lots of enemies are made and lots of friends are lost. so how will your story, an upcoming photographer unfold when entangled with seoul’s infamous supermodel park sunghoon?

⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ ──── PAIRING, FEM!PHOTOGRAPHER READER X MODEL!SUNGHOON. (17+) | WARNINGS, fluff, weird. just weird stuff. swearing, um cute stuff too? will eventually contain smut, idk this is all pre planned i’m posting this after i finish all the chapters so i’ll update then if not hi i forgot :D ! (update i am NOT posting this with all chapters finished.) | A,NOTE. my first smau series kinda nervous kinda about to kms but we ball this is for chels HAPPY BIRTHDAAYYYYY

ꕤ ... this is basically me making up for the distress, annoyance and dramatic-ness i’ve made chelsea go through for the past 5 months, happy birthday chelsea i love you !! <3 (even tho i’m like 3 months late 😞)

WARNINGS: (will contain) swearing, suggestive themes & smut (17+), angst, fluff, questionable scenarios.. it’s gonna have a lot of lore (updating this like three weeks later to confirm that this smau is going to be nowhere near short. i’m stressed.) thanks to my beloved nia i’ll probably finish this in the summer of 2025 but! i’ll try my best i promise, lots of characters r just. horrible. asshole sunghoon obv, mentions of toxic work environments & (modelling) industries, more will be added as we move forward 🙂‍↕️

UPDATING SCHEDULE: this smau will be updated every friday & sunday from september till oct-nov (for now), some chaps may get delayed as im also a uni student so pls bear with me 🙏🏼 other than that i hope u enjoy :3

CHAPTER INDEX!

♡ .. PROFILES

• 1.. sprinkle of asshole-ness 😥

• 2.. odd atelierian triplets

• 3.. CRAZYDOGSLEEVES!

• 4.. top secret secret top secret?

• 5.. suspicious as fuck..

── MORE TO COME!

a,note. really stepping out of my comfort zone with this smau 😓 but i’m really excited for everything :3 !! anyways, i’m exactly 23 days late from chels’ birthday as i upload this masterlist but hey! we have till summer of 2025 to celebrate her birthday now w this smau :D ! anywho happy birthday chels @ak4e7a !!! i love u !!!

#park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon texts #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon smau #sunghoon smau #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enha smau #enhypen social media au #sunghoon social media au #park sunghoon social media au #park sunghoon texts #enhypen texts #enhypen fluff

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ingydar-phan · 9 months ago

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Ok I do want to chime in on the convo but actually this is gonna be really long because I’ve been planning to make a huge post about this since the tour trailer came out. Like genuinely I messaged some people asking for tips on how to make a big conversation post weeks ago and then just never did it. So here goes I guess.

I am a firm believer they are going to hard launch soon. In some way shape or form. Before tour starts. That is a stance I have held ever since I watched pizza mukbang 2. And I have explanations.

My main points come from the coming out parallel surrounding Dans internalized homophobia and trauma responses and fear of rejection (more on that later), and also my hypothesized “3 stages” of the gaming channel revival.

I believe that when the gaming channel was revived, starting with the Heartthrob video, they entered stage 1: experimenting with audiences desire for a return to content. This was a phase they themselves discussed in Dans Birthday Stream and in Pizza Mukbang 2. The first few months were experimenting with what a new audience would look like and how much they were wanted, in what contexts, and what kind of content. I also think this wraps into the dynamic difference between Dan and Phil as people. Note, I love them both dearly and want nothing but the best for them both. It has been made clear that they did very different things during the hiatus, with Phil initiating the gaming channel comeback. Before Dan came out, he was under an immense feeling of guilt and pressure, even by his own mind. He had the option of leaving the internet forever, and he certainly considered it. Finish off the gaming channel, go on one last tour, and leave. Never having to adress anything again. But he didn’t do that. He came back. He came out. And he was greeted with the kindest, warmest, most accepting response. And he did work! He wrote a book! He went on a solo tour! And to echo both Dan himself and all of the community, he needed this. He needed this time of healing and this era of self discovery. He wouldn’t be who he is today without it, and I’m so proud of him.

But Phil? Oh Phil was just cruising along. That’s not at all to discredit any form of hardship Phil went through, but it certainly wasn’t the same. Phil was making content before Dan was, back in 2006. In uni, Phil was comfortable in his sexuality (or some form of queerness). But he waited. He waited to come out until Dan was ready. Because he’s a wonderful partner. He was happy continuing Amazingphil regardless of hiatus, of Dans needs, because he knew he didn’t have to pressure Dan into anything he didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. And then, presumably when Dan was ready, Phil proposed a gaming channel comeback. Just try it out, just see how it feels, low commitment. And what happened? Once again, they were showered with love and adoration and support and acceptance. Was the fandom different than how it used to be? Absolutely. But it was beautiful and loving. So that’s stage 1. Experimenting with content and viewership and re-entering the branding of Dan and Phil (Games).

Then, I believe after stage 1 came stage 2. Experimenting with audience reaction to Dan and Phil as a couple. I want to stake my claim here that everything they do is meticulously curated. Sure, Phil’s toe popping out of his sock wasn’t purposeful, but it was certainly handled intentionally. They’re extremely seasoned creators, and everything they do is for a reason. (That’s why I love rpf hehe). This, my “stage 2”, is when they were dipping their toes more into phan stuff. The orange heart. The “gay” community tab. Using the “ph-“ prefix THEMSELVES a lot more. Dab and Evan comparisons. This was the middle ground. How would people react? Would they turn away because it’s too much? Would they begin stalking and creeping all over again? Or would they accept these people for what they are. As much as people like to think Dan and Phil are just silly whimsical guys who are perfect no matter what they do (which is accurate as well tbf), they also know what they’re doing. They do these things on purpose to gauge audience reaction, to see how people feel about it. As others have said, what we see publicly is just a tiny sliver of their real life. Yea, even the domestic videos. It’s curated. And it’s wonderful. It’s so endearing they choose to share these things. Even in times of uncertainty. But that uncertainty was met with absolute acceptance.

Which is how we get into stage 3. I think “stage 3” started developing around the time of Dans Birthday Stream, but really actually started when the tour trailer was posted, and then all the videos after that (pizza mukbang, dressing each other, chained together, tiktoks, etc etc). So, very recently. But something shifted. Maybe it’s in the air, maybe it’s just me, maybe we all need to go outside. But something shifted. Dan and Phil, but especially Dan, saw how they were being accepted and took that as an affirmation. An affirmation that everything is going to be okay. They can commit now. They can go full on. Full hard launch.

I think everyone has a different definition of hard launch, and even I think it varies by context. But what I mean here is not necessarily them making some video called “Dan and Phil are romantically together” and staring at the camera with a gun to their head. It doesn’t, and shouldn’t, have to be that.

Straight people get this privilege of being assumed straight without having to “come out”. They get this comfort of having relationships without having to scream it in everyone’s faces.

And I do indeed agree with what people mean when they say they have already hard launched. They’re husbands, soulmates, 4000 year old tortoises, “basically any other gay couple”, more than just romantic, yea. I get it. But people are fucking stupid. Non-queer people don’t understand nuance, and need everything handed to them on a silver platter. Dan and Phil are together. People who try to twist and turn to try and “prove” they’re anything but a committed romantic and sexual relationship are ignorant at best, but mainly using homophobic wishful thinking. However, there’s more to go. There’s a reason we’re all “terrified” for what is to come. Because everything, the past 15 years of all of our lives, of their life, is coming together. It’s genuinely beautiful.

So what do I mean by hard launch then? Well, I mean a lack of censorship (besides what’s reasonable. Though we’d all love to see them fuck on YouTube, I’m not sure that’s happening any time soon). I mean a lack of shame. A lack of hiding. And it’s already begun. That’s what I feel stage 3 to be and have been. In pizza mukbang 2, they say things such as “cheers dear”, which is intentional. The “gay uncles” and the “kneeing” is all intentional. It’s not just throwaway jokes, it’s them looking us in the eyes and saying “we see you”. I have a whole list of stage 3 things. The intentional Incohearant cards. The “my face hurts from smiling” comments. THE HANDS ON THE SHOULDER TO THE HAND ON THE KNEE. Them being so open about their secluded romantic holiday. The relentless Phil bottom jokes. The yaoi day tweet from the outfits video. The “who would jump for you like that dog jumped for that man” “you”. It’s all there. It’s all intentional. And I’m so grateful for it.

One of my mutuals who I talked about this with (not gonna name cuz idk if they want me to) talked about their theory that DNP have given barely any info about tour because it requires some form of hard launch to preface it. And honestly? I didn’t even realize that was a theory. I sort of already accepted that as fact. How open IS the door gonna be?

So yea, I hope this makes sense. Please feel free to respond with or send asks of any nuances or questions or theories you’d like to add. I don’t intend this to be shaming anyone who thinks differently. Even if I may vehemently disagree with someone in my head, I don’t think these people are evil or malicious or objectively bad or deserving of hate. These are just my thoughts. I’ll likely be adding more. Thanks for reading.

#dan and phil #phan #dnp #dan and phil games #phil lester #dan howell #dnpgames #amazingphil #d&p #daniel howell #three stage theory

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