#I don’t even need to fix myself dinner because I’m eating just fine

[fritzmonorail]

Nothing could’ve prepared me for Ramon Salamander.

[lambourngb]

wip wednesday

from "you and i were almost nothing" - a soulmate story based on this prompt: Soulbonds Identity Porn - Soulmate Goes By A Different Name Than The One on Soulmate's Skin

To give Carole credit she at least waited until Goose had drifted away to the diner’s beat-up piano to begin her interrogation. “All right, something is up with you. Tell me everything.”

Short and to the point, Mav wasn’t sure if Carole even knew how to beat around the bush. He nudged the french fries closer to Bradley, it was what passed for a vegetable on a plate full of chicken nuggets and bought himself a few seconds of a reprieve. “Nothing is up with me, unless you’re talking about our chances for the Top Gun trophy.”

Carole gave him the look again, and then, as if in sync, Goose started up with the slow tune that Maverick instantly recognized from his faded memories of his childhood. They were working together against him, using their mysterious Soulmates connection apparently to outnumber him. Mav held firm, until Goose tipped his head back to look at them with a saucy wink, “These… arms… of … miiiinnne-”

“Carole.”

“Mav.”

“Carole, stop him-”

She held up her hands in a faux show of powerlessness, “I don’t have any control over him, Goosey is his own man. I mean, just look at that mustache and shirt, do you think I’m involved in that decision makin’ process?”  She smiled wider as Mav glared across the table at her. Like it wasn’t a planned ambush.

In the meantime, Goose kept singing to the nearly empty dinner with a gusto, “These arms of miiiiinnnnne, they are yearning, yearning for wannnnting you-” From the front counter, their waitress was smiling at the display and everyone knew, Goose needed no encouragement to continue his ridiculous act.

Traitors, both of them. Mav realized he should have never shared his childhood connection to Otis Redding with them, and caved. “Okay, fine, there’s this guy-”

“You found him!?” Carole cut him off with joy and excitement.

“No,” he answered firmly. For as maddening as Tom Kazansky was, he wasn’t Avnotom. “Nothing like that. He’s in our class and he just pisses me off.”  

“Keep eating, baby,” Carole said gently to Bradley, nudging him away from playing with the nuggets on his plate, and then fixed an eye on Mav, like a drill sergeant during inspection. “And you, keep talking, you’ve dealt with assholes before, what makes this guy different?”

“Nothing.” Maverick winced at the frankly blistering look Carole sent him, and amended it, “It’s a competition, of course, guys are going to be into it,” another look, even more narrowed, “Okay, I’m into it, I know I push things to the limit but the safety of my aircraft and crew comes first. I might have been a little too aggressive chasing down the CO, but I apologized to Goose about it. But this asshole, Kazansky, had the nerve to imply that I was in it for personal glory, that I only care about myself, that I don’t know what side I’m on out there-”

“And you’re mad because he’s wrong?”

“I’m mad because-” Mav broke off, unable to finish the sentence to its conclusion. He was mad because Kazansky had taken something he had learned in a vulnerable moment and had broadcast it to the whole class. He was mad because he had thought they had reached a new understanding after that volleyball game and he was apparently wrong. He was mad because he wasn’t mad at all, he was hurt instead- 

After leaving his aunt’s house as an adult, he had made a vow to never let someone hurt him again like that, and Kazansky had just brushed right past that wall. His words had cut deeper than Viper’s after that failed hop.

“I’m mad because he doesn’t seem to get it.”

[allthewriteplaces]

A Magnolia In May: Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Summary: An enchanting moment between Thomas and Jessie elicits new emotions between them. Chapter Warning(s): This chapter is a little spicier than my other chapters, but don't worry, it's not explicit. It's also my first time writing something remotely spicy, so if it's cringey, I apologize. Word Count: 3367

Chapter Eighteen

Every last cookie had been eaten and now the four of us were sitting around the living room on various pieces of furniture wondering if eating them so close to dinner time was the best idea. In the end, we decided some soup and a few slices of bread would be just fine. It was shortly afterwards, as the children were reading their new books, that Lizzie announced she was going to see a film with Ada, and Linda and she needed about an hour or two to be able to get ready.

It was planned in advance, and while both ladies assured Lizzie that they could reschedule on account of her past lover returning home from the hospital, she said that as much as she loved and adored her children, she had also been looking forward to seeing this particular film because she was familiar with one of the actors who was starring in said film.

Being a member of the Shelby family did have its drawbacks, that must be said when it involves dealing with unsavoury individuals, that, my dear reader, could be a chapter in this story all on its own, but it also has its perks, such as being acquainted with well-established and even famous people.

According to Lizzie, he was quite charming, both on camera and off camera, and he wasn’t seeing anyone romantically, at least no one that she knew of.

“Sounds like you’re quite fond of him,” Thomas said, taking another drink of the milk in order to hide the almost Cheshire Cat-like grin on his face. Normally, he’d have a bottle of whiskey nearby, but apparently he’d learned the hard way not to mix cookies and whiskey, so he decided to have milk instead.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Lizzie replied without missing a beat, which both surprised and amused him. He was probably expecting her to get all flustered and try to deny it. But Miss Lizzie Stark was a smarter woman than anyone gave her credit for, and she was one of the few people who could keep up with Thomas and his … Well, I suppose at this particular moment, one would call them antics.

“Does he fancy you as well?”

“I shall invite him to dinner after the film and we shall see,” she grinned, standing up from the sofa. She had her head turned, possibly to hide the hint of blush that was creeping up uninvited onto her cheeks.

“I’m surprised you don’t just skip ahead to dessert,” he chuckled.

The cheeky remark caused her to turn right around again. I was certain that she would have scolded him for talking in such an improper way in front of the children had they been listening in on their conversation, but fortunately, it went right over their heads. They were far too interested in their books than a boring conversation between three bickering grown-ups.

Or maybe they were listening, but chose not to acknowledge it.

“You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you, Jessie? Keep him out of trouble?”

“You have my word,” I answered, fixing him with a playfully scolding look.

“Don’t worry, Lizzie, I promise I’ll behave myself,” he confirmed whilst draping one of his long arms over my shoulder. The tone in his voice suggested he was not making any promises.

“I commend you, Miss Bennett, for having so much patience for him,” she added, rolling her eyes a little. She walked over to Charlie and Ruby, kissed their heads and then went out into the hall to grab her coat. Both of them set their books on their chairs and followed her, since they felt they should give her a proper goodbye.

I could hear them telling her that they would miss her. I also heard Ruby say that they couldn’t wait to see her for their dad’s birthday party — which Charlie shushed her.

Thomas looked over at me for an explanation, but all I did in response was shrug my shoulders and make a ‘zipping up my lip and throwing away the key’ motion, indicating that I was sworn to secrecy.

The door soon closed and they came running back out into the living room, where the four of us all stayed, listening to the quiet tapping sounds of the rain outside. We also talked about the upcoming music recital and of course they were very excited to show us everything they’d learned and how hard they’d been practising.

“I remember when I first learned how to play the piano,” I said, “When I was a little girl, I sat on the wobbly wooden stool in my aunt and uncle’s living room and would start banging on the keys.”

“Like this?” asked Ruby, using her hands and making dramatic motions with them, pretending she was playing the piano.

“Exactly like that,” I answered with a laugh. “It’s a wonder my poor aunt didn’t leave the room, but she’d been teaching music to children when she was a young girl.”

“She had the patience of a saint, then,” said Thomas, smiling.

“Trust me, she did,” I answered.

Charlie looked my way. “You’ll be coming to our recital, won’t you?”

“Save me a seat and I will,” I replied. “When is it again?”

“Two weeks from Sunday,” he answered.

“Two weeks! Goodness me! Won’t be long now, will it?”

He turned to Thomas next. “And you’ll be coming, too, won’t you, Dad?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said.

He was silent for a while and when he spoke up again, something in his voice changed. It was more serious, more quiet, lacking the light-heartedness that he’d always used when speaking to his children.

“I’ve come too close to death far too many times and I’ve realised I have been taking them for granted. Life is too short for me not to spend as much time with the people I love as I can. Arthur will see over the company for the time being and meanwhile, I will be home with my children.”

“You don’t have to go to work tomorrow, Daddy?” asked Ruby, her eyes lighting up like stars. She got up from the table and sat down in his lap, wrapping her little arms around his shoulders. He smiled and brought one of his hands up to stroke her hair.

“Not for a while, little duck,” he answered.

“Does that mean you’ll be telling us a bedtime story, too?” Charlie said hopefully. Most boys his age had grown too old for bedtime stories, but not Charlie, he loved it when one of us would tell him a story, and it didn’t matter who told it or what it was about, he loved every second of it.

“Of course I will, my boy,” he promised, placing his other hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you as many stories as you want.”

“A hundred!” Ruby exclaimed.

“No, a thousand!” Charlie put in.

“A thousand!?” Thomas gasped, “No, that’s far too many. How about instead of a thousand stories, we have two. Once we finish our dinner and get ready for bed, that is.”

“Remember to take it easy on your voice, Tommy,” I advised.

“I’m fine, darling, don’t worry about me,” he assured her.

I sighed, brushing aside the fact that he just called me ‘darling’

“Okay, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said. I could hear him laughing as I made my way to the kitchen to start making the soup and I shook my head and sighed again.

It was strange not having Lizzie around. We’d spent a lot of time together over the past couple of weeks and she’d become one of my closest and dearest friends.

Which was strange since she was Thomas’ past lover and I was — Well, I wasn’t sure what I was, to be honest, but she knew the extent of our relationship slash partnership or whatever you want to call it went well past mere friendship.

Friends may have slept in the same bed if the other person was having a nightmare. Sometimes my younger cousins would come into my room and I would let them stay with me when they had bad dreams and were too frightened to stay in their own rooms, but I highly doubt that even close friends would pin each other against a wall of a house and then end up kissing passionately.

In the pouring rain, no less.

It sounded like something straight out of a regency romance novel.

No matter how hard I tried, neither my mind nor my body would ever forget that kiss. Whenever I thought about it, whenever I would think back to when his lips met mine or when our hands touched, my heart would start beating a little faster.

Perhaps the fact that I’d almost lost him made me want to look at him as if it were the last time I would ever see him. I found myself paying more attention to those subtle gestures, the smiles and the glances he threw my way and the way his eyes sparkled as he interacted with his children.

Almost losing him also made me realise that it was a lot better to take a chance, to take a leap and allow myself to fall in love. I made up my mind that tonight, as soon as dinner was over and the children were asleep after their two bedtime stories, I was going to tell him how I felt. Even if he didn’t return my sentiment, at least then I would know for sure.

I volunteered to clean up the kitchen after dinner since I was feeling a tad anxious and didn’t think I could sit still for a moment longer. I figured that if I could do something with my hands, it would stop them from trembling so badly.

Suddenly, Thomas’ arms wrapped around my waist and he buried his nose into the crook of my neck. It took me by surprise and I nearly dropped the plate I was washing into the sink, but it didn’t take me long to recover and once I dried the plate and put it away into the cabinet, soon I was leaning into him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, giggling nervously.

“What do you mean?” he asked coyly.

“You know what I mean, Thomas,” I said.

“Do I?” He left a trail of kisses along my collarbone and I could feel him smiling against my neck as I laughed.

“Yes,” I replied. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“If you want me to stop —”

“No!” I said, a little too quickly. “I mean, I don’t want you to stop.”

He lifted his head to look into my eyes. He tucked my hair behind my ear and moved it away from my neck. The feeling of his fingertips sent pleasant shivers down my spine and my eyes fluttered shut.

I turned all the way around. Our chests were pressed together, his breath fanned my lips, making them tingle. The electricity buzzed between us and the only way to kindle that spark was for one of us to give in, but just as I was about to lean forward, he brought a finger to my lips.

“Not here,” he said.

He took my hand and like two mischievous children who were definitely up to no good, we made our way up the stairs as quietly as we could, trying our best to hold in our laughter so we didn’t wake the kids. It was a lot harder when I stepped back and my back bumped into the door.

Reaching behind me, my hand found the knob. I turned it and we both stumbled through the door.

His hands found my waist and as he lifted me off the ground and carried me on his hips, my arms went up to wrap around his broad shoulders. I kept my hands there, even when he tossed me unceremoniously onto the bed. He leaned over me.

“Now what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Miss Bennett,” he said before bringing his lips to mine, sealing our souls together in a searing, passionate kiss.

Briefly, we pulled apart. My hands unbuttoned his shirt and I didn’t waste any time tossing it to the ground beside the bed. At the same time, his hands reached for my blouse and I watched with saucer-like eyes as he slowly undid all the buttons. He watched my expression and I could tell he was doing it on purpose. He wanted to make the moment last.

Soon enough, every piece of our armour had been shed and we were sitting across from each other, completely vulnerable and open and once we joined each other again, he smiled. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re even more beautiful,” I said, crawling into his lap and placing my hands on his shoulders. His hands moved up and down my waist and sides and I exhaled.

This was the first time I’d ever experienced the true high of being young, impulsive and in love.

Oddly enough, it was better than anything I expected.

My aunt had told me about this particular part of the courting process, not sparing a single detail, once I was old enough to start searching for potential husbands, and two of the things that scared me, was the pain that would come. It was short, she’d said, and would quickly go away, but it would still feel odd at first.

The second thing was the image of us being so wrapped up in our passion, that we would be too blissfully unaware of the almost unholy sounds that would escape us, which for your sake, dear reader, I will not delve too far into because one, it is improper to discuss such things with a stranger, and two, I doubt you wish to know the details anyway.

However, there was no pain and no awkwardness.

It was actually quite peaceful.

Our hands and our lips moved in sync, exploring every inch of each other, sending more sparks and shivers throughout our bodies. It was a feeling I didn’t know I’d needed, and I yearned for him to continue.

The kiss we shared in the rain was incredible, but this kiss?

It was indescribable!

What followed our passionate endeavour, was a long, solemn silence in which we laid side by side, with the blankets wrapped around us and my head resting on his chest. I could hear his heart beating against my ear and it had slowed down to a nice steady rhythm, much like my own, whereas before it was pounding as though it might jump right out of his chest.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I opened my eyes again, it had gotten darker outside and the moon was shining brighter through the window.

We weren’t face to face or nose to nose anymore, but Thomas’ arm was still wrapped around my waist. His head rested in the crook of my neck, and when he exhaled or softly hummed in his sleep, I felt his warm breath on my skin and shivered.

I also had to bite down on my lower lip lightly in order to keep myself from laughing and waking him up. At the same time, I could feel him smiling, which meant he mustn’t have fallen asleep all the way and also that he knew exactly what he was doing. I turned over until I was nose to nose again and smiled.

Smiling back, he reached up and tucked a strand of my hair away from my neck and kissed the spot below my ear. Once, twice, three times, and with each kiss, the air left my lungs and my heart beat so wildly I could feel it in my throat, just like before, when we’d been in the heat of our amorous affair, we’d neglected to close the curtains, but seeing the moonlight shining on his face and in his eyes, I didn’t regret my neglectfulness one bit.

My one hand found its way onto his cheek and he placed his own hand on top of mine, while the fingers on my other hand traced the scars and tattoos on his bare skin.

“So beautiful,” I whispered.

“No, you’re so beautiful,” he replied, his voice just as soft. His fingers trailed up and down my back. The only thing that we could hear was the rain against the roof and the gentle rumbling of thunder in the distance, which I must admit was the perfect ambience for our evening. “What I mean is, you’re even more beautiful than I am.”

“More beautiful?”

“Yes,” he said, without a second of hesitation. He kissed the tip of my nose and I scrunched it up and his warm, adoring smile turned into a cheeky grin. “I love that cute face you make when I kiss your nose.”

“You mean this one?” I scrunch it up again.

He laughed. “Yes, that one. I love everything about you. Your tender heart, your smile, your laugh, and I missed looking into those eyes every night as we sat across the table from one another.”

“I missed you, too,” I said, “While you were away, I just kept praying that you would come back home safely, and then when you did come back and you were hurt, I was so afraid that I was going to lose you and —”

“Hey,” he took my face between his hands, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I’m not planning on going anywhere. Not until I have the chance to marry you, and even then, I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Every word he said was filled with love and it looked as though there were tears coming into his eyes, meaning he truly meant every word he was saying to me. And the fact that he’d told me he loved me as we laid beside each other on the bed, it was almost like a dream, or that we were in a secret corner of the universe. Just the two of us.

“If I had a ring in my hands right now,” he continued, “I would open the box right now and propose to you with those exact words — better yet, I would sit down at my desk, write a nice, romantic poem and read it to you, or maybe I’d recite a line from your favourite book. I just want to give you the best.”

Thomas ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“Unfortunately for us, I don’t have a ring to give you. Not yet anyway.”

“I don’t need a ring, Thomas,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “All I need is you, right here beside me.”

“And here is where I’ll always be.” He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” I said.

“I missed you more.”

“No,” I argued, “I missed you more.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you most.”

“Fine,” I said, turning onto my back. “You win. Does everything have to be a competition with you?”

Grinning, he propped himself up on one arm and leaned over me. “When it comes to who missed who or who loves who more, yes, it does.”

“And what if,” I paused and sat up. “What if I was letting you win?”

Thomas considered this for a moment, and then got up on his knees, taking my hips. “Well, that wouldn’t be fair now, would it? It would seem I have to, as they say, up my game. Improve my tactics, find what makes you tick and use it to my advantage.”

I gripped his shoulders once again as a loud crack of thunder sounded from outside and the lightning flashed, making everything look as though it were the middle of the day.

If this was what it truly felt like to love and be loved in return, I didn’t want it to end.

To Be Continued. Taglist: @zablife @sherbitdibdab @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick

[juniormint1125]

It's All For the Best - Part 2

It’s All For the Best - Part 2

Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Summary: Reader and Hongjoong are in an established relationship when something unexpected tests the strength of their bond.

Word Count: Part 1 - 1,628 / Part 2 - 3,894

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings/Contains:

Part 1 –allusions to sex

Part 2 - unplanned pregnancy, mention of abortion

Part 2

A few days before Hongjoong is set to leave again, the two of you have the rare chance to spend the evening together. He wants to stay at home, so you order in. After dinner, he puts on a movie and you curl up beside him, laying your head on his chest. You're ecstatic to be able to spend this precious time with him but can't stop thinking about his imminent departure. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks uncontrollably. You wipe them away, but not fast enough. Hongjoong pulls back, looking at you.

“Are you crying, love? What’s wrong?”

You refuse to look him in the eye, afraid you won’t be able to stop your tears. His hand touches your chin softly. You close your eyes and try to turn away. You hate that you’ve lost control when you promised yourself that he’d never see your disappointment.

“Please don’t hide from me,” he begs.

The urgency in his tone pulls at your heart and you bury yourself in his chest. His hands are firm on your shoulders as he forces you to face him. He won’t let you hide and you’re too exhausted to keep resisting.

You finally look him in the eyes, tears flooding your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“Don’t apologize for how you feel. But you do have to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s broken.”

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” You try to make your voice strong to convince your heart that you’re fine. “I shouldn’t be crying because you’re leaving. I’m used to you being away.”

His shoulders drop and you know he’s beating himself up inside.

“No, Joongie. I know what you’re thinking. Don’t blame yourself. I’m sorry for saying that. I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional…” Your voice trails off and you hang your head.

“I know how much it hurts you that I’m not always around, Y/N. You have no idea how much it kills me to leave you alone and to not be there when you need me. It’s agony to not be with you whenever I want to.”

You berate yourself for not keeping your mouth shut. Now you’ve hurt him and made yourself feel worse, not better.

“I miss you every second that we’re not together, Y/N. When something wonderful happens, I miss you because you’re the first person I want to share my happiness with. When something’s sad, I miss you because you’re my comfort and my solace. There isn’t a single moment that I don’t miss you. You never leave my mind, even when I have a thousand things to think about.”

He pulls you back into his arms. Your head rests against his chest, the erratic pounding of his heart thrumming against your cheek. The ticking of the clock echoes in the darkness.

“When we’re not together, every part of me aches for you. You’re missing from me; I’m not wholly myself.” He pauses, sniffling, and you know he’s on the verge of tears too. “Come with me this time, Y/N. I should never have left you alone to begin with. And I won’t leave you again.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I’ll make it possible,” he assures you. “We won’t be separated again.”

And somehow, Hongjoong gets what Hongjoong wants. You’re sitting on the plane next to him when it takes off for America. He beams as he holds your hand during the flight. Kissing the top of your head, he whispers, “Why did it take us so long to think of this?”

You giggle and smile at his sweet words. You have no idea either.

You find out quickly that being on tour is not your cup of tea. The schedule is grueling. You're traveling nearly every day, staying up late and waking up early. The food is mostly awful, that is when there is time to actually eat.

But you wouldn't trade the experience for the world. Being with Hongjoong feels like home. He's warm and soft, like your favorite blanket in winter. His charming smile is disarming, greeting you each morning. His serene tenor lulls you to sleep at night, whether he's singing to you or chewing over some profound subject that's piqued his interest. The tender moments you've been able to share make all the suffering worth the price.

Your only wish is that you could stop the nausea that's been constantly overtaking you. One night, after the concert, everyone is gathering their things when you're overwhelmed by another bout of queasiness. You rush to the nearest bathroom, barely in time.

When you return, Wooyoung asks, “Y/N, what’s wrong with you? It’s like you’re pregnant or something! That’s the hundredth time you’ve been sick since we’ve been on tour.” He laughs at himself, some of the other members joining in. You can feel Hongjoong’s stare burning into you.

“Ha-ha Woo.” You roll your eyes. “I’m just not used to the tour life like you guys are. It's a little rough.”

Hongjoong squeezes your hand. “She’s right. So, we’re going to leave first.”

He wraps his coat around your shoulders, drawing you close. You say goodbye to the members, happy that he's taking you home. You feel awful and just want to be in bed. He holds you close, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you walk the short distance back to the hotel. In the room, you quickly shower and change into your pajamas, ready to crawl into bed. Hongjoong is sitting in a chair by the window when you come out of the bathroom, staring into nothing. You call his name, but he doesn’t answer, lost in his own world. You climb into his lap, and he faces you, his far-off look turning to a smile when you run your fingers through his hair.

“Thank you for getting me out of there.” You nestle into the crook of his neck, and he begins idly twirling strands of your wet hair. He’s uncharacteristically quiet.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Love.” He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Do you think…” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Never mind. It’s ridiculous.”

“Joongie, what is it?”

“Do you think Wooyoung could possibly be right? Could you be…pregnant?”

“What?!”

“What he said,” Hongjoong continues. “It seems possible. You’ve been sick since we started the tour. And before we left, you were so emotional…” His voice trails off as you narrow your eyes at him, daring him to keep talking.

“Joongie, I’m not pregnant,” you reply sternly.

“Couldn’t we just take a test? Just to see? I mean, if you are, then we should be certain, and you’ll need to see a doctor and…” He’s rambling nervously so you cut him off.

“Fine.”

He doesn’t respond but takes out his phone and quickly sends a series of texts. You can’t see who he’s texting, and his nervousness is starting to rub off on you. He fidgets with his bracelets, staring out the window again; you assume he’s waiting for a response. You start to get up, but he tugs on your shirt, pulling you back into his lap. He wraps his arm around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder, still quiet. You can’t resist his tender side, so you relax into the chair, letting him snuggle against you.

A few minutes later his phone buzzes and he jumps so hard he nearly knocks you out of the chair. He fumbles to retrieve it and when he reads the message he sighs.

“The manager will be here in a few minutes with the test,” he says.

“Joongie!” You push him away. “I didn’t think you meant right now! Are you serious?” He’s like a child when he looks into your eyes. His bottom lip juts out, his eyes widen like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I just thought…”

You shake your head and sigh. “Okay Joongie. If it will make you feel better, then I’ll do it.”

His smile is small, but it’s a smile none the less. He cuddles back against you, and you sit together, holding each other in silence until the doorbell rings.

“Stay here and rest,” Hongjoong orders. “I’ll get the door.”

I’m not an invalid, you mumble to yourself once he’s left the room. You sit waiting and pouting, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. You can’t believe you’re doing this; the idea that you’re pregnant is ridiculous. There’s no way. As you’re cursing Wooyoung under your breath, Hongjoong comes back into the room, a small bag in his hand.

He puts it on the table and sits down on the ottoman in front of you. He pries your hand from your crossed arms and sighs.

“The manager said we should wait until the morning to take the test.”

You feel relieved. You hope he’ll wake up tomorrow and realize that this is a ridiculous notion. Then you can forget the whole thing. Squeezing his hand you ask, “Can we please go to bed then? I’m exhausted.”

“Yes, my love. You go ahead and lie down. I’ll shower quickly.” He kisses your forehead and heads for the bathroom.

A short while later, he slides into bed behind you, tucking his arms around your waist. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep, weary but unable to rest without him next to you. You've already gotten used to having him by your side each night. He plants soft kisses on your neck, and you hum in satisfaction. His arms are your safe place; there’s nothing that can hurt you, and nothing you can’t face.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he whispers into the darkness.

You smile to yourself. “Tell me?”

He lets out a hushed laugh and kisses the back of your neck.

“I’ve searched for you my whole existence, Y/N, and when I found you at last, I had no choice but to love you. In every other time, in every other place, in every other life, I’ve loved you. Our souls belong together, and no matter the obstacle, no matter the distance, we’re destined to be one. You have always and always will belong to me.”

Tears pool in your eyes and you turn to face him. Your voice falters, so you draw him to you instead, your lips colliding, melting into each other. He holds you tight against his chest, as if afraid to let go. His breathing begins to even out, but his grip remains firm. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, his words slow and heavy with sleep.

“If you are pregnant,” he mumbles. “I would…be…”

His voice fades, a muffled snore replacing it. You whisper his name, but he’s sound asleep, the rest of his words left unsaid and hanging heavily in the darkness. If you were pregnant, what would he be? Elated, ready to start a family and settle down? Or suffocated and tied down, your child a burden to his blossoming career?

The words he didn't say play over and over in your mind as you stare at the ceiling. You imagine the worst. Of course, he'd be devastated. His career would be over if someone found out he was going to be a father. Everything he had worked so hard for would be destroyed in a second. There’s no way he wants a child now. That has to be why he’s acting so strangely. Wooyoung’s terrible joke must have troubled him, and that's why he’d been in such a hurry to confirm it with a test.

You eye the bag on the table. What if Woo is actually right and you are pregnant? What will Hongjoong do? And how will you face him if you're viewing the results together? You won’t be able to stand his devastation.

But you could take the test now while he’s asleep. There’s really no way that you’re pregnant anyway. You’ve let Wooyoung’s words bother you for no reason. There’s nothing to be worried about. You might as well get it over with so you can feel better and get some sleep.

You carefully pry yourself from Hongjoong’s arms and slip out of bed, tiptoeing to the table. Once you have the negative test in your hand, you can happily tell Hongjoong that you’re not pregnant. Then he won’t have to worry, and his career will be safe. Your relationship will be safe too. Hesitantly, you pick up the bag. Before you can change your mind, you dash for the bathroom.

You sit with your back against the bathtub as you wait the three minutes for the result. Your heart is pounding and you’re certain the whole world can hear. You glance at the door, double checking that it’s locked. You feel almost like a criminal, sneaking around behind Hongjoong’s back. But once he sees that you’re not pregnant, you won’t feel guilty.

The timer on your phone makes you jump.

You dart to the sink where you’ve laid the test. You’re anxious to see the result. When you pick it up, the two bright pink lines burn a hole in your chest and your heart drops to the floor. Groping for the instruction booklet, you’re sure you’ve made a mistake. You must have read the directions backwards. Scanning the print, you see that there’s no mistake. Your knees buckle and you sink to the floor. There are clearly two lines, and two lines mean…you’re pregnant.

Your stomach lurches and you crawl to the toilet just in time. Your insides heave until there’s nothing left to expel and you’re choking on air. Tears burn your eyes as you curse out loud. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and stand. Splashing water on your face, you try to gain control. You shove everything back into the bag and tuck it under your arm then turn out the bathroom lights. In the bedroom, you bury the bag at the bottom of the suitcase full of dirty laundry. You’ll be the one to do the wash, Hongjoong will never look there.

Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself that everything will be okay in the morning. When you wake up, you’ll know what to do. Hongjoong stirs and you recoil, ashamed of yourself, ashamed of what you’ve done in secret. He instinctively reaches for you, awakening partially when he doesn’t feel you beside him.

“Love?”

His voice is sleepy. You don’t want him to awaken the rest of the way and see you like this, so you climb into bed and curl up next to him.

“Is everything okay? Where were you?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lie. “I was just using the bathroom.”

He hums in reply as he pulls you close. “Good,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble. You wonder if he’ll still feel that way when he finds out the truth.

You sleep fitfully, drifting in and out of nightmares. In one, Hongjoong’s left you alone to raise a monster, both of you hated by the world. When you wake, you’re frightened. The Hongjoong that you know would never do that, but you wonder how something like this might change him. Could it turn him into someone you don’t recognize?

You’re still awake when the sun peeks over the horizon. A tear rolls down your cheek. And you quickly wipe it away. You were sure that once the sun came up, everything would look brighter, you’d know what to do, you’d be able to handle the situation. Even though bright rays are glaring at you through the window, dark clouds still hang over your head. You’re no closer to a solution, still unsure of what to say or do.

Hongjoong stirs beside you, and your heart thumps in your chest, bile rising in your throat. You fight against the urge to vomit. He leans over you, planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning, love,” he whispers, his voice sexy with sleep. He envelops you in the warmth of his arms, pulling you to his lips. You feel a pang of guilt as you melt into his kiss. He’s gentle, brushing the hair from your face, tenderly caressing your cheek. You lay together as the rising sun makes the room glow.

“Do you want to take the test now?” he asks quietly. He doesn’t seem as anxious as the night before, but you’ve more than made up for it. You’re certain he can hear your heart pounding; to you, it’s the only sound in the room.

“Love?”

“I…uh…no. I mean…uh…I already took it.” Your voice falters.

He sits up, his eyes wide. “You already took it?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And I needed to use the bathroom anyway,” you reply quickly.

He’s looking away from you as he asks what you’ve been dreading. “Are you…”

“No.” You silently pray he didn’t hear the crack in your voice.

He looks back at you, but you can’t read his expression. “You’re not…pregnant?”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes as you lie to his face. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t say anything else, only stares past you. You want to ask him if he’s relieved, but you’re frightened you’ll say something to give yourself away. Faking your happiest voice, you finally say, “So there’s nothing to worry about.”

He mumbles back. “Nothing to worry about…”

The rest of the tour is tense. Thank God Woo has enough sense not to make any more jokes about pregnancy, but things are far from back to normal. One night before the concert, Seonghwa pulls you aside.

“What the hell is going on Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“You and Hongjoong. Neither one of you is acting like yourselves. Did something happen between you two?” He stares you down, waiting for an answer.

You can’t handle it and break down into tears.

“Oh, Y/N. What’s wrong?” He pulls you into a hug, letting you cry on his shoulder.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper.

“What?!” His voice is loud enough to draw attention from those nearby. You grab his hand and pull him away from the crowd of people. When you’re alone, he freaks out.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeat. Your words are barely audible. He looks shocked and your heart drops.

“Wait. Does Wooyoung know about this?” he asks, confused. “I thought he was only joking when he said that.”

“No one knows except you.” you sigh. “Hongjoong doesn’t even know. I lied to him.”

“What exactly did you tell him?” Seonghwa asks.

“He was acting strangely after Wooyoung’s stupid joke, so I agreed to take a test.” You bow your head, ashamed. “But I was scared, so I did it while he was asleep. And when he asked me about it, I panicked. I had no choice but to lie. I told him the test was negative. Hongjoong doesn’t want a baby. And I don’t blame him. It would end his career.”

“Did he say that? That he doesn’t want a baby?”

“He didn’t have to Hwa. It was written all over his face. If he knew the truth, it would be devastating. You know that it would ruin his career, probably all of your careers. Fans wouldn’t forgive something like this. And he would end up hating me because it’s my fault.” You can’t stop yourself from crying.

“You’re not the only one at fault Y/N.” Seonghwa tries to comfort you. “You didn’t make this baby by yourself. I know Hongjoong, and he would never leave you because of this.”

“You don’t know that!” you spit back. “You don’t know how this could change him. It’s for the best if I don’t tell him. I can just take care of it by myself, and no one will be hurt.”

You don’t know why you’re yelling at Seonghwa. You’re not angry, you’re terrified. You think about the nightmares you’ve had since finding out you’re pregnant. The ones where the baby is a monster. The ones where Hongjoong leaves you. The ones where you’re devastated and alone.

Seonghwa takes your hand. “Do you mean an abortion? Would you really do that Y/N?”

“I don’t know if I have any other choice, Hwa. I can’t do this to him. And I can’t lose him.”

Yunho calls Seonghwa from across the room. It’s time to get ready for the show.

“Please don’t make any decisions yet, Y/N. Wait for me after.” He hugs you tight and squeezes your hand as he walks away.

You look past Seonghwa, and you’re surprised to see Hongjoong watching you. He looks upset. You call out to him, but he turns away. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You turn away too, wondering if those were tears you saw glistening in his eyes.

You’re pacing back and forth as you wait for Hongjoong after the show. His performance was off, something distracting him and keeping him from giving his all. Most people wouldn’t have noticed a difference, but you did. You know Hongjoong inside and out.

You’re anxious as he comes off the stage. Putting on your best smile, you reach for his hand, but he walks past you. You call after him, and he finally turns to look at you. He crosses his arms in front of himself and stares at you.

“Where are you going Hongjoong?”

His look turns angry, but he doesn’t reply.

“Joongie, what…”

“What were you doing with Seonghwa earlier, Y/N?” His voice is tense.

“I…what do you mean? We were just talking.”

“Why were you crying? And why did he hug you? Is there something going on?”

“What? No! There’s nothing going on, Joongie. We were just talking.” After a minute, his look softens, and he steps toward you.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean it.” He hangs his head and sighs. Hesitantly, you reach for his hand. This time he lets you take it. He pulls you to him and envelops you in his arms.

“Let’s get out of here,” he offers.

He’s quiet on the way back to the hotel, and you decide it’s best to follow suit. Even though he isn’t talking, he’s your Joongie again, not the distant, brooding Kim Hongjoong. He holds your hand tenderly, running his thumb over your skin absentmindedly, a path he’s traced a million times before. In bed, he holds you tight against him, twirling strands of your hair around his fingers as he hums quietly.

Your sweet, loving Joongie is back, you tell yourself. Everything is almost back to normal; you just need to be brave enough to take the final step. But despite your hopeful outlook, you can’t sleep. You watch the clock, minute after minute ticking by. Your mind just won’t quiet.

You suddenly remember Seonghwa asking you to wait for him after the show. You send a text to apologize and tell him you’ll talk to him another time. He might try to talk you out of your plan and that’s something you aren’t sure you can resist. You have to stand firm. You curl into Hongjoong’s arms, finally feeling sleepy. As he pulls you close in his sleep, you smile. Everything is going to work out.

Read Part 1 HERE

[vintage-brass-tc]

July TC Challenge Days 21-31

Band camp had started so my posts came to a standstill! I’ll finish up this challenge and try to make more brief but occasional posts since so much has happened since my previous one. ❤️

~~

21. if you had the chance to go anywhere in the world with your tc, where would you go? what would you do?

I really don’t know…I guess it would be nice to go to an expensive hotel really high up in the sky, in a luxury room, like one of those pictures you’d see on Pinterest, and just spend time together up there. Maybe eat an expensive dinner, watch some movies, cuddle up in bed together, read a book. Just be. That would be amazing.

22. does your tc have any nicknames for you?

U used to call me “kiddo” all the time but he hasn’t called me that in so long. I don’t have a nickname from them, but M called me “sweetie” while reassuring me once when I was upset, and U called me a “doofus” and lightly tapped my head with his fist when I had made a silly mistake. I love it when they say my name but having a nickname would be cute too. ❤️

23. have you ever cried in front of your tc? why? how did they react?

I have. To summarize, two years ago I was really upset after a marching band rehearsal because there was a dot in our drill that I could never get perfect. I would try my best to backwards march as far as I could on tempo, but I would never reach the spot in the form…and the people around me were constantly giving me the same feedback. I was frustrated that my efforts were in vain, and stayed after rehearsal to rep it some more. I even tried to march differently, but during a rep, I had fallen with my sousaphone on, and I guess that was the last straw for me, so I started crying.

My section leader was worried, but they let me walk back to the band hall alone to have some time to myself. Once I walked inside, I tried to get everything together as quick as I could and once I did I quickly made my way to the door. As if it was fate, U was just making his way TO the band hall as I was making my way OUT of it. He was in a good mood, so when he was passing me, he said “Bye [R]!” and I responded “See ya.”, but my voice broke. This made him stop immediately and turn to me with a look of genuine worry on his face. 

He asked me if I was okay, and I shook my head. He then told me to come with him and he walked me into his office to console me. Once M saw me enter and noticed how distraught I was, he dropped everything he was doing previously to listen to me vent. Both he and U listened to me so patiently and they had nothing but good and reassuring things to say to me. U had to help another student out about ten to fifteen minutes into talking, but he did everything so well, and M took over just fine. I’m really grateful for both of them, and this moment will always mean the world to me.

24. have you ever walked/drove to/from school with your tc?

I WIIIISHHHH. Aside from on the band bus for games or comps, I have not driven with them. I would like to, though. It would be nice.

25. do you know which teachers your tc is friends with at school? if so, do you like those teachers?

They basically just talk to each other, I think, and other fine arts teachers. I know them and think they’re pretty alright too!

26. why does your tc’s voice sound like?

Uhm… I literally could not explain that to you. If I find people that sound like them in a video or something I’ll link back, but right now I’m just not sure how to explain it.

27. do you like your tc as a teacher? are they a good teacher?

M can get very carried away sometimes as he is a perfectionist, but he is good at making points and good at addressing music in different forms. He is very intelligent when it comes to music and how things should sound, and though he can be nice about it at times, he kind of tends to focus on the things we need to fix more. He makes the same jokes and tells some of the same stories as he did in middle school…. but he has his moments.

In concert season, U is a little bit more chill with his teaching, at least in the sense that he takes some time off sometimes to joke around with his students or tell a story. He teaches in a way that’s easier to digest and has a more tolerable demeanor, though he can get onto the finer details sometimes, but I believe since he gives his kids the occasional mental break, that information gets taken in easier. 

In marching season, though…. U pushes and pushes and tries to get as many reps as he can. He holds us accountable and will compliment us when we do good, but he will always challenge us to push us to our full potential. He loves to make fun of people during marching season as well, and joke around with us, but makes sure we can get back into an serious mindset immediately and do what we’re more than capable of doing. We cannot waste time.

28. does your tc prefer books, shows or movies?

I’m pretty sure M prefers movies, but he could prefer shows. I believe U is more of a show enjoyer though, maybe.

29. is your tc stern or easy going, in class?

It depends on the day, but they can be pretty stern.

30. how would you describe you and your tc’s relationship?

We find each other trustworthy. I’m very fortunate to say that I believe they trust me, and they see me as a good kid and a good example for the band. They’ve told my parents they love me lots so that’s probably good as well. They’re comfortable with talking to me and joking around with me too, which is so much fun. 

31. do you address your tc by their first or last name?

Last name!!! I could never call them by their first name, at least not to their face. Haha.

[another-dr-another]

fte w kizuna!!! give her the pink glow sticks :D -iris

Maeda, narrating - …Well, need to face todays events at some point or another;

Maeda - Might as well show her that I’m normal and fine early on.

Maeda - Would she still be in the cafeteria?

Maeda - …Even if she’s not, I’ll find her.

~*~

Maeda - Hey, Tomori.

Tomori - Hello, Maeda!

Tomori - Anything I can help you with?

~*~

Ask Tomori to Hang Out?

[Yes]

{No}

~*~

Maeda - Are you free? Just to hang out with.

Tomori - In fact I am! It’s always great to talk with you, Maeda.

~*~

Would You Like to Give Tomori a Gift?

[Yes - Pink Glow-Sticks]

{No}

~*~

Maeda - Here, I thought you might like these.

Tomori - Oh! This is nice, thank you Maeda!

Tomori Likes this Gift!

~*~

Tomori - So, Maeda, how are you?

Maeda - I’m… fine as you can be, in a situation like this.

Maeda - Which… sometimes it feels like I’m handling this worse than everyone else, if that makes sense?

Maeda - Everyone always seems so composed…

Maeda - Which- I’m just saying this to explain how I’m doing, that’s all.

Tomori - I mean, I get that…

Tomori - I don’t think you’re alone? From an outsiders point of view, you seem just as well-off as anyone else.

Tomori - And personally, it’s not like this isn’t affecting me, I just know that acting happy- smiling, telling myself it’ll be okay- 

Tomori - Has been found to have positive effects on people, improve their mental health.

Tomori - To a degree of course- not like it fixes everything, and I’m being honest with myself about how I feel, I just try to keep optimistic about our prospects.

Maeda - Mhm…

Maeda - Hey, how did the baking thing go for you?

Tomori - Oh!

Tomori - It went well, actually.

Tomori - I… kinda got hit by homesickness because of it, but it’s important to let yourself feel things,

Tomori - And I think it ultimately helped me;

Tomori - Little slice of home, y’know?

Maeda - …Did you bake a lot with your family?

Tomori - Not… a lot of baking with, but there was definitely a ton of baking, cooking, et cetera for other people back home.

Tomori - It was kinda our way of showing love- I like the five love languages conceptually,

Tomori - But I think they serve better as a baseline of sorts to show love.

Tomori - Like, making things for other people can be an act of service, or gift-giving,

Tomori - And I definitely have fond memories of sharing food between its creator and its recipient.

Tomori - Like… my sister and I picked up that show of affection from our mom, right?

Tomori - I remember taking the bus home from cheer meets, and getting home so late-

Tomori - I mean, you know how public transportation is-

Tomori - And my mom would be just getting home from work, and even though she was taking on two jobs to keep us afloat,

Tomori - She’d insist on getting me something to eat, even if I told her no, that I was fine, to go rest.

Tomori - I think… she felt bad. Felt bad that I had to take the bus instead of getting picked up like others,

Tomori - Felt bad that I didn’t come home to a stay-at-home mom who’d been playing housewife all day…

Tomori - Which, I never wanted anything different. She loved me, and she took care of me, which was all I could ever ask for, but y’know.

Tomori - Uhm, anyways…

Tomori - …Right! So, my sister, Kumiko, she started taking on what she could, and a lot of times,

Tomori - That looked like bringing dinner home, or making something if we had ingredients and she had time.

Tomori - Just something to take off Mom’s plate, show she wasn’t alone in this.

Tomori - Which… kinda torn between wishing Kumiko didn’t feel she had to be the second parent, and feeling bad I didn’t do more myself…

Tomori - But! 

Tomori - There’s no sense in beating myself up for not playing the role of an adult, and I’m there for Kumiko- and my mom, of course-

Tomori - As much as I can be. 

Maeda - …Well, it sounds like things are all working out okay, so yeah, I wouldn’t feel bad.

Maeda - It seems like your sister and your mom are really great, Tomori.

Tomori - They really are!

Tomori - Just… for comparison’s sake…

Tomori - My dad wasn’t all that great- it’s why he’s not around anymore, he was… that bad.

Tomori - I never really got hurt by him, but that’s just because I was still little when he was around.

Tomori - He really hurt my mom, and in turn, that messed with Kumiko to see.

Tomori - Hence my mom feeling so stressed and all…

Tomori - My grandparents- her parents -were there, but my mom can be stubborn, and didn’t want to accept too much help.

Tomori - But… just goes to show how strong she is, and how much love she has, if you ask me.

Tomori - Growing up, I always knew that no matter what, so long as she was there, I’d be loved, and have somewhere safe to go.

Tomori - …

Maeda - …?

Maeda - Is… something up?

Tomori - No, no, everything’s good.

Tomori - Uh…

Tomori - Got way off subject, but back to baking!

Tomori - It helped a lot, reminded me of nicer times, and gave me an extra little boost to keep going.

Tomori - It’s important we find reasons to stay happy and hopeful. 

Tomori - Along with past memories, there’s the people we have here, now.

Tomori - It can be sad to remember we can’t go back to what we’re used to, but finding things that help us keep going will make you feel better.

~*~

Maeda, narrating - …

Maeda - I just asked about her baking…

Maeda - …But no, it’s nice to hear things like that.

Maeda - Even if I can’t really recall any happy memories, I’m glad Tomori’s got something nice to remember.

Maeda - She’s a good person, she deserves to have had a nice life, and to have people who make her happy now.

Maeda - Should I go hang out with someone else?

[Free Time Event - Iranami]

{Head to Your Room}

[kinetic-elaboration]

March 25: Varied Day

Today was kind of proof that work days don’t need to be more than 5 hours long. I came in, did some work, briefly freaked out about Friday’s oral history, watched the problem basically fix itself, did a few more tasks, and then left at 12:30 for my optometrist appointment. That wasn’t until 2 but like… the bus, you know? So I had like a full half hour to fuck around the World Market. This is a dangerous place for me in the same way that any office supply story is: gets me thinking about my ideal habitat and the way I’d furnish a house but like I’m a millennial so lol. I lusted after a weird little teal mushroom stool, and looked at all the cool mugs that I do not at all need because my mug shelf is at capacity.

The actual appointment was very easy. My prescription is almost exactly the same, as I was expecting, and my eyes are good. No long waits, nothing weird, got that out of the way. Then I went to Trader Joe’s because I have zero food to eat for lunch left. There is no way to just ‘pop into’ Trader Joe’s, first because I don’t know the layout, second because there’s all this weird stuff to look at, and third because the atmosphere does not encourage the sort of aggressive shopping I do at the Walmart. But I still had plenty of time to catch a bus that would get me home a solid two hours earlier than usual. So I was able to do everything I would usually try to do after work on a good day and instead of finishing at 8:30 I finished at 6:30. Then I sort of sabotaged myself a little, just a tad, because it was so early and I didn’t know what to do with myself that would be good, productive, or fun. But the point is that in a span of less than 12 hours I did work for which I was paid (because I was focused, probably about as much as I get done on some days I work 8 hours ngl), ran errands, went to the optometrist, did some cleaning, did some relaxing, did some reading, and then still had a whole evening for, if I were a better person, eating a reasonably timed dinner and going to bed at a good time. Like. This is a good day. This is a fine day. The University has not been harmed by this day.

Ugh. I haven’t done anything creative really but that would require me, like, sweeping aside an entire afternoon just to gear UP to writing, so it’s okay. Tomorrow I have to work a full day of work (UGggggggggggggggggh) and then go grocery shopping (boo).

[t4tstarvingdog]

having a normal one

[canirove]

Red & Blue | Chapter 28

Author’s note: This is a chapter sponsored by me struggling to find photos of Mason with good hair 😂 And I promise that interesting things are coming and that they will start doing more than just being all over each other. Soon 😅

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"I can't believe we just did that."

"Have sex in the garden of a villa in the middle of nowhere in Italy?" Mason says, his head resting on my chest.

"Exactly that, yes."

"I don't think anyone cared. Well, maybe the dog that started barking like crazy when you..."

"Mason!"

"What?"

"There is no need to explain the details."

"How long have we been dating?" he asks, lifting his head to look at me.

"Almost four years."

"Almost four years. And you still go all shy and blush every time I talk about our sex life."

"Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No, nothing. Just thought that by now you'll be used to it."

"I don't know if that will ever happen."

"Good. Because you look really cute when you blush" he says, kissing my cheek. "Very..." he continues, now kissing my neck. "Cute" he says, kissing my collarbone and going down to my chest.

"Mason..."

"What" he says against my skin.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm kissing you. Slowly. Making all the way down to my favourite place."

"Again?" I chuckle.

"Again. I still am hungry." Though I would have known just by the way he looked at me when he said it.

"What about the dog?"

"He'll probably start barking again."

"What if..." I say, Mason's tongue already at work. "What if someone hears him, goes check why is he barking, and then comes here?"

"No one is coming. No one but..."

"Don't. Not again."

"Ok" he says with a cheeky smile before disappearing between my legs again.

"You need a trim" I say, my fingers playing with his hair.

"You can cut it later."

"Really? Are you gonna let me cut your hair?"

"Anything so you let me eat you out in peace."

"Ok" I giggle.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"I think this is a bad idea. A very bad idea."

"But you were right, I need to do something with this" Mason says, running a hand through his hair. "It's starting to look wild."

"But I don't have the proper scissors for this. I'll probably hurt you."

"You won't, I trust you."

"I don't trust myself" I say, looking at the scissors in my hand. I found them inside a sewing kit in the living room of the villa where we are staying, and they cut paper perfectly. But hair...

"I trust you. And besides, there are many tutorials on YouTube. You'll be fine."

"Yeah, I probably will. You, on the other hand..."

"It's just hair, it grows back."

"Ok then" I say, taking a deep breath. "Are you ready?"

"Ready."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"I told you it was a bad idea."

"It doesn't look that bad..."

"Mason, it looks horrible. It is even worse than the atrocities you used to get done when we started dating."

"Rude" he says, checking himself in the mirror.

"Tomorrow we are driving into town and looking for a hairdresser that can fix whatever it is I did."

"There is no need, love. Who is gonna see me looking like this?"

"Me!" I say, trying not to cry.

"Hey, hey, it's ok" he says, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer to him. "It's just hair. We'll get it fixed, and then eat our weight in gelato."

"I don't think our managers will like that idea."

"Then we'll go for a run and then do some swimming to burn it all."

"Sounds like a nice plan."

"I know. It is my plan" he smiles, that dimple of his showing and making me already feel a bit better.

"This also was your plan, and look how it ended" I say, pointing at his hair.

"Gorgeous..." he says, letting out a big sigh.

"I'm sorry. Sorry."

"It's ok" he says, caressing my cheek. "But is there anything I can do right now to help you forget about it?"

"You could make me dinner."

"Sexy dinner?" he smirks. Sexy dinner, or cooking just on our underwear.

"Yup."

"Ok. Would the lady want anything special?"

"Surprise me."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

"It isn't that bad, is it?"

"It still is very soft, so that’s something" I say, touching Mason's very short hair. We are on a little boat we've rented, soaking in the Mediterranean sun. Or in my case, trying to. He's decided to lay on top of me, resting his head on my chest with the excuse of "you are too hot already, you don't need the sun."

"I like the way it feels when you touch it" he murmurs. 

"I feel like I'm petting a cat" I chuckle.

"Meow" he says, biting my boob.

"Mason!"

"I'm sorry, I had to. Have I ever told you how comfortable your boobs are?"

"A few times, yes."

"Well, just in case you forgot... You have really comfortable boobs."

"Thank you. And I was thinking... Will our families miss us if we stay here for the rest of the summer? It feels so nice, just doing nothing but chilling… And they’ll probably want us to go on trips with them, out for dinner and all that.”

"Probably not. They seemed to have lots of fun last year without us."

"They did. So what if we stay here a few more days? Then we could go to Rome. I’ve always wanted to go and do proper touristy things. We could get a little apartment and a vespa to move around."

“Am I driving?”

“Of course you are. I want to be like Audrey Hepburn. I may even get myself a similar outfit to hers, which means that you will have to wear a suit.”

“On this heat? I think not.”

“Says the person who plays with long sleeves all year around... Ouch! Why did you bite me again?”

“For being rude. But I like how everything else about your plan sounds. And when we do the touristy things, I want to also buy a magnet for the fridge and matching Rome t-shirts, the ugliest ones. I want us to be proper tacky tourists even if it is just for one day."

"Ok" I laugh. "Are we going to Rome, then?"

"We are going to Rome."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━         

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[erodasfishtacos]

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on. 

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon. 

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!” 

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

**

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

**

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

**

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

**

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.  

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous. 

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

**

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub! 

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

**

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself. 

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him. 

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

**

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed. 

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen. 

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N. 

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl. 

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

**

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body. 

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

                                  -- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her. 

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips. 

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

[hollywoodxwhore]

wanted - part 7

Colson Baker x Original Female Character x Pete Davidson

Warnings: swearing, alcohol usage, angst, discussions of mental illness (specifically bipolar), blood, facial injury, hospital visit, stitches

Word Count: 4081

Find parts 1-6 in my masterlist!

More Colson. Pete will be returning soon, I promise!

I’ve decided that I need to avoid feelings for both Colson and Pete.

I love this group of friends, but I’ve already been hurt by both of them, and it’s no one’s fault but my own for catching feelings or giving into my attraction. Either way, this is my friend group. Not a group where some people are my friends and I like some of the others more than friends. I need to continue to protect myself.

Sure, I’ve been lonely forever, but rejection hurts worse than longing. I can deal with loneliness but I can’t deal with the pain of rejection again. After being rejected twice in such a short amount of time, I’m stung. 

So when I go over to Pete and Colson’s house for dinner with everyone, I strategically place myself between Slim and Baze. I love these guys, but I don’t have feelings for them, and they don’t have feelings for me, as far as I know. Immediately, Slim starts asking me about my week and I’m able to relax. 

“What we getting into tonight, Kells?” Justin asks. We’re all sitting around the living room eating pizza while the guys take turns playing each other in Mario Kart. It’s a Friday night, and last weekend’s show went so well that everyone is still on a high. 

“I say we invite people over and party,” Colson says, eyes fixed on the TV screen as his character fights neck and neck with Rook’s. “Call everyone you know and tell them BYOB.”

“Okay, bet,” Justin says. Everyone takes out their phones and starts texting. I relax even more. It’s even easier to avoid the guys when a ton of people are at the house. I’ll hang close to others in the group, avoiding Colson and Pete. 

Within two hours, the house is packed and overflowing into the yard. I’m on the back deck with Baze, who’s trying to teach me how to play bass, but I’m drunk enough that my fingers are slow moving and lazy. He keeps laughing as I slaughter the songs he’s been trying to teach me, and finally, I shove the instrument back into his arms. “I give up!” I say, slurring slightly. 

Baze laughs. “Maybe we’ll try again when you haven’t won three shotgunning contests,” he remarks.

I smile, proud. I beat Alicia, Sophie, and Logan in a shotgunning contest, and chugging beer that quickly, coupled with a few mixed drinks has me feeling good. So good that I don’t notice Pete coming over until he’s right in front of me. Much to my dismay, Baze is already walking away, talking to someone across the deck. 

“Hey,” Pete says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He’s his usual cozy self in a zip-up hoodie, hood pulled over his head, and jeans. He looks sheepish as he leans against the deck. 

“Hi,” I say, looking everywhere but him. I realize all at once just how angry I am with him for ghosting me, for getting me to trust him and then pretending it never happened. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive or maybe I was bad, but it doesn’t give him the right to do what he did. 

“Everything okay?” he asks. I finally meet his eyes, and the look I give him must bear my entire soul because he takes a step back, almost as if he’s startled. 

“Everything’s fine,” I say sharply. “I need to pee.” With that, I push past him and disappear into the house. Despite all the alcohol in my system, I don’t have to pee. I just needed an escape. The bathroom door is cracked, so I push it open but stop cold when I see Colson bent over the sink, blood gushing from somewhere on his face. 

“Holy shit, what happened?” I ask, startled, rushing over to him. 

He doesn’t have toilet paper, paper towel, or anything, and I see all at once that the blood is gushing from the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. I find a washcloth in a cabinet, soak it in water, and grab gently at his wrist. “Move your hands,” I command gently, feeling sober already.

Colson does as he’s told, and his brow is knit together in pain as I press the washcloth right to the wound. Colson hisses and his hand covers mine as I hold the cloth. There’s blood all over his face and down onto his shirt. 

“What the fuck happened?” I ask, heart thumping wildly in my chest. 

“I broke a glass on my face,” Colson mutters as if it’s no big deal.

I blink, startled. “Christ, Colson. You’re not in Motley fucking Crüe.”

“Hey, me and Tommy Lee are the same person, just different ages,” he insists, and I shake my head. 

I remove the cloth cautiously and wince. “Colson, this needs stitches,” I say. “Come on. We’re going to the ER.”

Colson groans. “I don’t need stitches, Alex,” he insists, turning to look in the mirror. After a second, he winces, looking at me sheepishly. “Fuck. Maybe I do need stitches.”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” I say, grabbing a dry washcloth out of the cabinet and handing it to him. People barely notice us as we weave through the crowd and down to the street where my car is parked. 

“Alex! Colson!” a voice calls. We turn around to see Sophie jogging over. “What the hell happened?”

“Rockstar smashed a glass in his own face,” I say, shooting a look at a sheepish Colson. “He needs stitches.”

“Are you okay to drive?” she asks me. 

“Yes,” I say honestly. It feels like all the alcohol has left my system. 

Sophie nods worriedly, glancing at Colson. “Okay. Keep me updated,” she insists. I nod and help Colson into my car before hurrying to the driver’s seat.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Colson asks once I’ve pulled onto the highway. “Weren’t you shotgunning beers?”

I snort. “I can hold my alcohol better than you must think,” I say. “Besides. My mom instinct kicks in and I don’t even feel the alcohol.”

“Mom instinct?” Colson asks.

I nod. “When someone I love is hurt or sick, I immediately hyperfocus on helping them.” The words are out before I realize I’ve used the word love. “I wouldn’t drive us if it weren’t safe,” I add. “I wouldn’t risk that.”

“Okay,” Colson says, seeming to accept it. 

“Keep that cloth on your face, okay?” I tell him. Then, we’re quiet for a long time. I’m almost to the hospital when Colson speaks again.

“I think something’s fucking wrong with me,” he mutters.

My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I just get so high and low all the time,” he says. “Like I know smashing a glass in my face is dumb, but it’s like I get so excited I can’t stop myself. I’m so impulsive.”

I pause. “Does anyone in your family have a history of bipolar disorder?” I ask. 

“I don’t know,” Colson says. “Do you really think I’m bipolar?”

“Oh, Colson, I am in no way, shape, or form someone who can diagnose shit like that,” I tell him, veering into a parking spot. “But the high highs and the low lows can be an effect of bipolar disorder. Not saying you have it at all.”

Colson sighs. “Maybe I should talk to someone,” he says, slumping in his seat.

I bite my lip and get out of the car. He follows me and I hold his arm just in case he gets dizzy. Who knows if he hurt himself worse than a cut? I lead him inside and we check in, going to the waiting room to sit. By some miracle, we’re some of the only people there, so it shouldn’t be too long until we’re seen. It’s after midnight at this point. 

Colson’s been given a new cloth to hold to his nose and he leans forward, sighing. His t-shirt is stained with blood and some has even gotten on his jeans. I feel bad for him. It must be uncomfortable. “Do you want to go clean up in the bathroom?” I ask.

Colson shrugs. “I can’t take this off my nose,” he says, and I nod.

We’re quiet for a few moments before I speak again. “If you’re concerned,” I say, “I could ask my therapist if she can recommend someone for you to talk to.”

Colson is quiet for such a long time that I almost think he hasn’t heard me. “Yeah,” he says finally, nodding. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

We’re quiet again. This time, for a long time. I’m starting to doze before he speaks again. “Alex,” he says but he’s cut off when a harried looking nurse comes into the waiting room, calling his name. We hop up out of our seats and follow her back to a room. 

Colson sits atop the bed and I take a seat in the little chair against the wall. Before the nurse leaves, she hands him a new cloth for his nose, which is somehow still bleeding. The room is small, but I’m glad to be out of the waiting room and relieved that we’re already being seen.

“The doctor will be back soon,” the nurse says, then shuts the door and leaves us alone. 

My legs jitter nervously and I twist the rings on my fingers. “How are you doing?” I ask quietly, looking up at him.

Colson shrugs. “Fine,” he says. “I don’t even really feel the pain.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding. “That’s good.”

Colson nods. I wonder what he was going to say to me in the waiting room, but we’re both silent until the doctor comes in. Colson explains what happened and the doctor is kind and nonjudgmental about it. He explains to Colson that someone will be back to stitch him up soon and then he leaves. 

“Are you okay about the stitches?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Colson sighs. “I’ve had them before. Believe it or not, I’ve hurt myself a lot.” He gives me a wry look and a laugh bursts out of me, surprising me. Colson grins too, tiredly, and studies me for a moment. My smile fades and I watch him back, wondering why he’s looking at me like that.

“What?” I ask after a moment. 

His Adam’s apple bobs. “In the hotel,” he says, eyes locking on mine. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything. I just didn’t want the guys saying shit about us.”

I nod, looking down at my lap. I don’t want to admit how much it hurt when he pulled away from me like he’d been burned. Like I was something that hurt to touch. I remind myself silently that my walls need to stay up. “It’s fine,” I say. 

“Sounds like we need some stitches in here,” says a cheerful voice as the door opens. A lady bustles in with a cart and pulls it up beside Colson’s bed. “Lie down for me, sweetie.” Colson does as he’s told and wordlessly, I get to my feet, going to his side. I know he said he isn’t worried, but I would want someone to hold my hand while I got stitches, so I set my hand over his, silently offering. I’m slightly surprised when his hand turns over and he laces our fingers together.

“Okay, here comes the shot so that you won’t feel the stitches,” she says. “This will sting a bit.” Colson is silent as she carefully injects the area. I would be crying and squirming. It worries me how little pain he feels. “Ready?” she asks Colson, tools in hand for the stitching. 

“Ready,” he says, closing his eyes. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and I squeeze back, watching in fascination as she sews his skin closed expertly. She cleans up his face and the wound quickly, then smiles. 

“All set,” she says. “Be careful, honey. Your paperwork will let you know when to go to your physician for stitch removal.”

“Thank you,” Colson says, and she leaves. 

“You okay?” I ask.

Colson nods. “Just starving, tired, and need a shower,” he says. “You?”

I wasn’t even thinking about myself, but now that I am, I realize just how much is wrong. My head hurts, my eyes hurt, I’m starving, and I need to pee. “Also starving,” I say. “Let me just go to the bathroom and then we can go.”

“Okay,” Colson says. “Thanks for going with me.” His eyes catch mine and he smiles softly.

“Of course,” I say, letting go of his hand to sit down again.

We’re discharged pretty quickly, and after a trip to the bathroom, we find the car. We don’t talk on the way home, opting to stop at Taco Bell. When we pull up outside of his house, Colson lets out a disheartened “Oh.” There are still tons of cars and the sound of music is muffled but loud. I can tell Colson wants nothing more than to just shower, eat, and sleep. 

“Hang on,” I say, texting Rook. Within five minutes, Rook jogs out of the house with a bag in hand. I roll down Colson’s window so Rook can pass the bag through. “Thank you,” I tell him.

“No worries,” he says, looking at Colson. “You alright, dude?”

“What’s this?” Colson asks, confused.

“Clothes. Shower stuff,” Rook says.

Colson looks at me, surprised. “You texted him for that?”

“Yeah. You can stay at my place,” I say.

“Oh,” Colson says, looking between me and Rook. “Okay. Thank you.”

Rook salutes us and jogs back to the house. I put the car in drive again and take us to my apartment. We go inside and eat our Taco Bell in my kitchen over the sink so as not to make a mess. When we’re finished, I lead him to the bathroom, pulling a clean towel from the cabinet.

“Take your time,” I tell him. “Feel free to use anything you want, okay?”

Colson’s hands twitch at his sides as he turns to face me. “Thank you, Alex,” he says quietly. 

“It’s no problem,” I insist. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.” I close the door behind me and go to the living room, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh. So much for avoiding Colson. Here he is, about to sleep at my apartment. I go into my room and gather up some blankets and my pillow, making a little bed for myself on my couch. 

I’ve changed into my pajamas and washed my face in the kitchen sink by the time he exits the bathroom, smelling and looking amazing. Rook was not helpful in packing him a pair of gray sweatpants and a tank top to sleep in. Colson himself isn’t helpful in having the tank top slung over his shoulder instead of on, and I’m all too aware of the band of his Ethika boxers sticking out of his sweats. His hair is wet and drips onto his shoulders and he smells minty from brushing his teeth. 

He eyes the couch. “Thanks for setting that up,” he says.

I shake my head, getting to my feet. “Oh, that’s not for you,” I say. “You can sleep in my room.”

Colson immediately protests. “Oh hell no, I’m not putting you out of your own bed,” he says, shaking his head.

“Please don’t argue,” I insist tiredly, grabbing his hand and tugging him down the hall to my room. “There’s a glass of water and some ibuprofen next to the bed. Fan on or off?”

Colson looks at me, his expression pained. “I will never be able to fall asleep knowing you’re on the couch.”

“And I’ll never be able to fall asleep knowing you’re on the couch,” I insist.

We stare at each other for a few moments.

“Then sleep here,” Colson says. “With me.”

I stare at him. The pull is so strong, the desire to do just that. To snuggle up to his warm body again, to wake up next to him looking all soft and sleepy and vulnerable. I remember that from the hotel. But I shouldn’t. “You’ll fall asleep,” I insist, and before he can stop me, I walk back to the living room. 

“Alex,” Colson calls in protest, but I ignore him, opting to curl up under my blanket on the couch. My eyes burn, and I know I’ll fall asleep just fine out here. Before I know it, I’ve done just that, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up, blinking against the sunlight streaming through my window. I groan at the headache thumping against my temples and trudge over to close the curtains. A glance at the clock on the wall tells me it’s just past seven thirty, way too early to be up on a Saturday. Then I remember that Colson is asleep in my bed. I tiptoe down the hall and push open my door, freezing. 

The idiot is asleep on my fucking floor. 

Huffing in irritation, I shake my head and go into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, I come back into my room and bend down to shake him. He sucks in a breath and opens his eyes, looking confused. Then, he groans, hand coming up to touch his nose gently. “Ow,” he croaks, and god, I did not need to know what his sleepy voice sounded like. 

“You’re so annoying,” I say. “Get up. We’re going back to bed. In an actual bed this time.”

Colson blinks, then slowly gets to his feet and stumbles to my bed. I pull back the covers and climb in, and he follows. “This is so much better,” he says, closing his eyes.

“Thus the reason I wanted you to sleep in it from the start,” I mumble, irritated, but it’s hard to be irritated when he looks so cute, hair messed up, lines and creases on his face from sleeping on the floor. 

“It wasn’t right to sleep in your bed while you were on the couch,” he says firmly, clearly trying not to leave room for an argument. I’m too tired to argue anyway, so I shake my head and close my eyes. I’m almost back asleep when I hear his voice saying my name. I pop my eyes open to see him looking at me.

“Hm?” I ask sleepily.

“I’m cold,” he says. 

“I’ll get an extra blanket-”

“No,” Colson interrupts.

I lift a brow. “No?”

“No,” he says, teeth worrying his lip. “Just…come here?”

I hesitate, but he looks so damn sincere that I give in, scooting closer. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest, and god dammit, it feels good. He’s so warm, and the steady thump of his heart could easily lull me back to sleep. I stifle a yawn as my arm drapes over his waist, feeling his soft, warm skin. Only then do I fall back into a deep sleep.

When I wake up hours later, Colson is gone. I let out a soft sigh, settling my palm onto the mattress where he lay earlier. But then, I hear something in the kitchen and I tense up. Someone is in my apartment. 

I quietly get out of bed and tiptoe down the hall, only relaxing when I see Colson’s bare back to me as he cooks something on the stove. “Colson?” I ask.

He glances over his shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “I’m making breakfast. Well, brunch,” he corrects, and a glance at the clock tells me it’s past noon. 

“Jesus, I slept late,” I remark as I sit at my island. “Did you fall back asleep?”

“Yeah,” Colson says as he pours some cheesy scrambled eggs onto a plate beside sausage and buttered toast. “You were right. I slept so much better in your bed.”

I shake my head. “You’re an idiot. You should’ve just-”

“Stop,” Colson says, setting the plate before me. “We’ve established this. So shut up and eat your food.” His voice holds a teasing tone, and he smirks at me a little as I shake my head, digging into my breakfast. 

“Thanks for this,” I say between bites. “It’s good.”

“Least I could do,” Colson says as he wolfs down his food. 

“How are you so skinny but can put so much damn food away?” I marvel, and Colson laughs.

“It’s a gift,” he says. 

We both laugh some more and then sit in a slightly awkward silence as we eat. My relationship with Colson couldn’t possibly be more confusing. Sometimes, he acts like he can’t stand to be around me and avoids me. Other times, he’s all over me or complimenting me or acting like I’m his best friend. Sometimes, we argue and sometimes we cuddle. 

The common denominator is that, when no one else is around, Colson and I are great. 

And that bothers the shit out of me. 

Annoyance flares within me and I look over at Colson sharply. He blinks, surprised, and chews slower. “What?” he asks around his mouthful of food.

“Why do you only treat me well when it’s just the two of us?” I ask. My heart is racing, but he deserves to be called out for it. 

Colson blinks and swallows his food. He scrubs his hand over his jaw, eyes glazing over in thought. Finally, he looks at me. “You…you really think that?” 

I let out a little frustrated huff. How can he not know that? “Well,” I say, setting my fork down, “we just cuddled and slept in my bed together. You were cuddling me before the guys came into the hotel room. You were all over me in the water where no one else could see.” Colson’s mouth opens but I just keep going. “But when we’re around others, you straight up ignore me. You don’t even look at me, Colson.”

He watches me intently, a fierce look in his eyes, but I continue, determined. “I’ve spent so much of my life feeling unwanted and disliked. So many times I’ve had friends who were one way with me and another way when others were around. I’m too old for that shit now. So you need to decide if you want to be my friend unconditionally. I’m no longer having friendships that are conditional.”

My hands are shaking when I finish my monologue and I press them between my knees so he won’t see. My mouth is dry and my heart is racing. It’s not often I stand up for myself, and it makes me incredibly anxious to do so. But I can’t keep doing this with Colson. I’ve started to develop feelings for him and I refuse to let him hurt me. 

Colson is quiet. Maybe the silence should feel uncomfortable but it doesn’t. I refuse to let him make me feel uncomfortable, especially in my own goddamn home. If he feels awkward, he can leave. I prepare to tell him as much, but then he speaks.

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “You’re right. I have been doing that.” I stare at him expectantly. Colson’s throat bobs and he doesn’t meet my eyes. I can tell he’s considering his words carefully. “I don’t know why I do that. I guess you…you intimidate me.” 

My response is a snort and an eyeroll. “No, seriously,” Colson says, finally meeting my eyes. “You seem so confident and our group loves you. I’ve never seen them take so fast to someone before. I don’t know if it made me feel threatened or what.” He shakes his head, rumpling his hair. “I just…” He pauses, running both hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I’m more confused than I was before, but I believe his apology. “I forgive you,” I say. “But maybe you should go.”

Colson nods. “I’ll call Rook.”

“I can take you home,” I say, getting to my feet. “Grab your stuff.” Once he has everything, I take him home. We don’t talk the entire drive. I park in his driveway and fiddle with my fingers. 

“Thanks for everything,” Colson says. 

I nod. “It’s no problem,” I say softly. “Talk to you soon, okay?” Colson nods, watching me for a second, and then he gets out of the car and lopes inside without looking back.

Jesus. I’ve never met a more confusing person than Colson Baker.

[weirdos-am-i-right]

Fuck Traveling// Pete Davidson x reader

Request from @annalayton19

Hi! I’m a new follower and I really like your stuff! Could I request a Pete Davidson x reader (angst to fluff) where Pete is on tour or filming away from home and the reader is left behind. After like 6 months of being apart Pete starts to get tired of the long distance and basically like done with it. And then he realizes his mistake and comes home to make it up to her! I’m sorry if that’s super long! Also if this imagine doesn’t interest you, then no sweat! Thank you so much in advance 💕

A/n: This took so much less time then I thought it would. Anyway, here you go, I really hope you like it!

Warning: angst, swearing, like one cigarettes

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

Six months. Six months was an extremely long time to be away from someone you loved.

Y/n sat on the couch, a small pout on her lips. She looked at Pete—her boyfriend of a year—and frowned. “I wish I could go with you.” Pete frowns too, and sits down next to her.

“I know. I wish you were coming with me too. But hey, it’s only a couple of months, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek.

“I just wish my contract would let me. You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to do things because of freaking Marvel.” She groans, falling on her back with a slight ‘plop’.

“Well, because of freaking Marvel, you are one of the best actresses out there. And I know you’re going to kill it with filming. My tour isn’t even that cool. It’ll broke you to death.” He jokes, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

“Babe, you’re a comedian.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He grabs her arm, and pulls her up into his chest. “I love you, okay?” He lifts her chin up, and kisses her. “So fucking much. We’ll face time everyday, I’ll call you every evening and wish you goodnight.”

“Okay.” She looked over a the clock, and sighed. “We have to go. Your flight is leaving soon.” He brushes hair behind her ear, bringing her eyes back to him.

“I love you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I love you, too.”

********

The car ride to the airport was long, and quiet. Pete was driving, he had one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on Y/n’s leg, rubbing small circles into the center of her thigh.

She knew she was going to miss him so much, but she also knew she was going to be extremely busy with filming, so it wouldn’t be as bad.

Once they were at the gate, they tearfully hugged, and she kissed him. “All right, now get out of here. We’re not doing that rom-com turn back at the last second goodbye.” She laughed at him, tears steaming down her face a bit. He wiped one with his thumb, and kissed her again. “Love you. Now go, so I get to watch you walk away.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She turns around, and starts walking back to her car. She knew he hated leaving her too, but he was a lot better at hiding emotions then she was, that was one of the only things she learned while dating him.

She got in her car, and put her head on her steering wheel.

She groans, and leans back. Starting her car, she pulled out of the airport, and drove home.

**********

The first few months were the worst. Y/n hated going to bed alone, the left side of the bed always cold.

She was filming almost every day, and seeing her co-workers and friends always cheered her up, after all she had been working with the same people for quite some time now, so she felt comfortable around them.

The fourth month was slowly becoming easier. She got use to coming home to no one there, and making dinner for herself. She still talked to Pete every day, texting him good morning, and Goodnight, and FaceTiming him a lot during the day.

Though she knew he loved her, she felt as though he was slightly pulling away. The FaceTime calls were short, and he never texted her back right away like he use to.

“And so, we we’re almost done with the shoot, so close I could practically taste the coffee in my trailer waiting for me, and then Kevin calls cut, and he makes us do the whole scene over again! I swear, I was about to strange that man. Ugh, I can’t wait til you come home. Only two more weeks, I can’t believe we made it.” Y/n rants, talking to Pete on the phone.

“Uh huh. Cool.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead his attention was somewhere else. Y/n frowns, tilting her head a bit.

“Pete…are, are you okay?” That seemed to catch his attention, and he finally looked at the screen.

“What? I’m fine.”

“Okay…you just seem so…different lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you seem like you don’t have time for me anymore. Or if you do, you don’t like talking to me.” Pete scoffs.

“Of course I don’t have time for you right now. I’m in between shows, I’m driving to one as we speak. I mean, god forbid I get a minute to myself without my agents or you calling me.” Pete snapped.

“Wha-I’m just talking to you. If you didn’t want to, you could have said something.”

“That’s bullshit you would have thrown a fucking hissy fit or something.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true. I understand when people are tired, believe me I would know.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” She had tears stinging her eyes. “Of course I do, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I work from 6 am to whenever we finish which most of the time is in the middle of the night. I have to re-do the same scene about ten times because RDJ won’t stop making jokes in the middle of the scene!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about your super-star actress life.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I was only concerned about you.”

“Mean? What are you, five? I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“What do you talking about? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Wh-”

“Because then fine. If you don’t want to be with me, I don’t have to take this shit. I’ll be with someone who, oh, I don’t know is actually here.”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, you know I can’t be there, don’t even do that.” She scoffs.

“I don’t care. You want to act like a petty bitch, I have no problem doing it right back.”

“No, I think you’re just a petty bitch.” She wipes her eye, and he laughs dryly. “Oh of course you’re crying.”

“Shut up. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. Go enjoy your show, Pete.” She hung up the phone, and turned off the ringer. She plugged it into her charger, and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

********

Pete rubbed his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her, it wasn’t her fault he was cranky, and needed to take it out on someone.

“I’m a dick.” He mumbles to himself, and bangs his steering wheel.

His phone rang again, and for a good second his heart leaping out of his chest, thinking it was his girlfriend, calling him back. He checked the phone, seeing it was Colson. He answered the call.

“What’s up, man?” Pete asks.

“The shows starting soon. You almost here?” Colson questioned. Pete looked at his google maps, seeing he was supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“I’m a good ten minutes away. I’ll be there.”

“You sound weird. What the fuck did you take without me?” Colson asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh…Y/n and I just broke up. I think.” The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Why the fuck would you do that, you idiot? Are you kidding me?” Colson scoffs. “Man, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, man. I can’t stand talking on the phone with her. I’m busy, she’s busy, she plays a superhero for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even expect it to last this long to be honest.”

“Man, you fucking dumbass. That girl was probably the only good thing you had going for you. Get her the fuck back.I thought you loved her.”

“I did-I do. I do love her. I’m just so stressed right now, and excuse me for not wanting to hear about fucking Kevin Feige being a shitty director.”

“Hey, fuck-shit, you ever think that maybe this is more hard on her? Acting is fucking hard, you should know that, especially for a company like Marvel.

“Man, who’s side are you on?” Pete turns into the parking lot, and grabs his phone.

“You think I’m on your side here? You’re forgetting that we were friends before I met you. I can not believe you just fucked up the best thing in your life. Fix it, man. You’re going home in a week, fucking fix it.” And with that, Colson hung up, and put his phone away.

He kicked a rock across the pavement, and cursed under his breathe.

********

The worst thing about breaking up with someone you live with, who so happens to be long-distance is that their stuff fills the apartment with an existential amount of regret.

Y/n laid on her couch, flipping through the channels of the TV. She had called off work for the next few days, not feeling up to put on a performance for anyone. She knew she would get shit for it later, but she didn’t care.

Her head perked up when there was a knock on the door. She sighed, and got up, going over to the door. She really didn’t feel like company at the moment, and was sure she was going to send away whoever it was.

When she opened the door, her breathe caught in her throat. Pete stood in the doorway, looming over her. He looked like shit. She could tell he hadn’t slept, and probably didn’t eat anything, but she knew he didn’t look much better.

“Why-why didn’t you use your key?” Y/n asks, opening the door a bit for him.

“I uh, didn’t want to barge in on you. You also probably weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you didn’t get back until next week.” She says. It took every ounce of her not to jump into his arms, and kiss his face until she was sure she kissed every part of it.

“I took off early. Can we talk? Please. I was a dick. I was such a dick. I’m sorry, I know we grew apart in the last few months, and I promised we wouldn’t but we did, and I’m so sorry for that, baby.” He grabs her hand, and she slightly pulls it back, but let’s him grab it. “Please, forgive me. I love you, so much, okay? So fucking much, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she looked away from him. “What you said really hurt.”

“I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you.” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck traveling.”

“Fuck traveling.”

.

[tojiot]

ooh have about the main three with the fake dating trope :D

fake dating the main three

gn!reader, cursing here and there, typos and grammatical errors to be edited, past tense - present tense swerving to be fixed.

note: i was on vacation for 2 days without internet and i have bakugo's done in my notes but my phone died before i can even save it :D this will be kinda long because i went ahead of myself and detailed it exactly how i want. this is not betaed. please do tell me if there's a non they/them pronouns in here. hope you'll enjoy this!

requests are: open!

ㅡ bakugo

i spent the whole day thinking about how he'll agree to fake date. let's just say he's the one in need.

his mom has been bothering him for a long time now. she wants to see katsuki bring home a partner for them to meet.

it's a pain in the ears and he's very TIRED so he decided to just fake date somebody.

the only person he can tolerate in class a aside from kirishima is you. he doesn't care about the other extras.

he'll search for you in the heights' lounge area and ask to talk.

"hey, can we talk?" he grumbles, "uhh, sure? do you want to talk here or somewhere private?" "somewhere private."

when you guys are in a more private area, he'd glare at you for a minute, it'll make you wonder if you did something wrong, before finally speaking.

"date me for a fucking day."

you'll snort at what he said and laugh thinking it was a joke but the annoyed and impatient look on his face says otherwise.

"wait.. are you for real?" "what do you think, shithead?"

bakugo trusts you so much that you have this significant role to play in his life.

you agreed, of course. it's the bakugo katsuki asking for your help. a once in a lifetime chance. (you just like him, stop making things up)

he brings you to the bakugo household the day after and his house is BIG big.

mitsuki, his mom, welcomes you with a big smile and a hug. he then glares at his son, "WHY ARE YOU ONLY BRINGING THIS PRETTY LITTLE CREATURE NOW, YOU BRAT?" "SHUT UP, OLD HAG! BE NICE OR I AIN'T BRINGING THEM HERE NO MORE."

masaru, who's just sitting there at the couch like nothing's happening, gives you a wave.

the dinner was good. his mom's a great cook, his father's a chatterbox. what surprised you the most was how quiet katsuki is. you're not sure why. maybe he's like this at home? quiet, calm, just serene.

"it's not everyday i see a person who can tame my brat of a son. i can see why he likes you, (y/n)." his mom beams at you, "you're pretty, a kind little one too. take care of my son, will ya?"

not knowing what to say, you smiled at her and said what's currently inside your mind, "if he'll let me, i'll take care of him for the rest of my life." you looked down, "but knowing katsuki, he doesn't need anyone to take care of him. he's strong and independent and he knows it. it'll hurt his pride if someone helps him without him asking them to." you smiled to yourself, "i just hope he knows that when he needs me, i'll always be here for him."

mitsuki smiled at you in awe. you have the mother's approval, congrats!

katsuki just stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, masaru pats his back, "good job, son. i'm happy for you."

he then murmured a protest before drinking his water.

time passed by and it's eventually your time to say goodbye to the bakugos.

mitsuki hugs you for the last time and ask you to come have dinner with them again, masaru pats your head and thanks you for being there for his son.

both of you were in a car provided by the school for safety protocols when he spoke, "did you mean it?"

you looked at him, confused, "mean what?" "what you said earlier to my mom, shithead. did you mean it?" "well, yeah. i mean it when i say i'll always be here for you."

he wore this unreadable and unclear expression on his face. he looks mad? confused? no one knows.

"why?" he asked, "why what?" "WHY DO YOU KEEP MAKING ME REPEAT MYSELF. WHY DID YOU SAY IT?" "YOU'RE A FRIEND OF MINE, THAT'S IT."

he chuckled bitterly, "a friend. that's fucking funny. i literally though you also like me for a second."

huh.. what does he mean? also? you laughed nervously, "hey, did i hear you right? thought i heard 'also' there."

"you're fucking dense, aren't you? do you want me to scream it straight at your face? i fucking like you."

you froze. yes, but embarrassment caught up and you covered your reddened face, "WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY CONFESSING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SAY?"

"I AIN'T EXPECTING YOU TO SAY ANYTHING, SHITHEAD!" "I LIKE YOU TOO!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY OF A CONFESSION." "IT'S NOT A PITY OF A CONFESSION BUT FINE! I DON'T LIKE YOU." "OKAY THEN. I'M BRINGING SOMEONE ELSE NEXT DINNER AND TELL THE OLD HAG WE BROKE UP." "NOOOOOOO!!"

ㅡ todoroki

i was contemplating whether to have him help fake date or have him need help. it's fitting if he's the one in need so i decided just that.

he might seem dense and clueless most of the time but he's the epitome of evilness.

he talks about you all the time that's why fuyumi has taken a liking to you and asked shoto to invite you to dinner with them.

shoto sees this as a chance. he'll take advantage of the situation because he knows you won't say no.

he goes to where you are sitting, "i apologize but my sister, fuyumi, she thinks we're dating. she wants to invite you to dinner at our house later." he said that with a straight face but this mf is smirking on the inside.

"uhhh, okay? sure? but uhm, why would she think we're dating?" "she thinks everyone close to me is dating me. she's like that.. yes. fuyumi likes you the most, i think. that's.. uh, that's why she's inviting you to dinner." (I HC HIM AS A BAD LIAR)

sounds suspicious and weird, but okay? you have a lot of question in mind.

"i would go. but how should i act? why didn't you tell her we aren't dating though?" "i don't want to disappoint my sister. you can act like you're dating me, if it's fine with you. just for a day."

"sure, sure! just tell me where and what time. i'll be there." "no, you can come with me. we'll go there together."

he brings you to the todoroki household after class. their house is soooo pretty. it's a traditional japanese house.

fuyumi was the first one to greet you, with her sparkling eyes and bright smile, she held both your hands gently and said, "i'm so glad you came! i've been wanting to ask shoto to have you come eat with us. thank you for coming!"

natsuo jogged from the back and gave you a cool wave, "hey, (y/n). how was it dealing with shoto?"

you faked sighed, "awful. how did you deal with him for the last 16 years?" "we never did." "oh.... OH NO I'M SORRY!" "HAHAHA. it's fine, i'm just kidding. no biggie."

enji won't be home for the day. he's busy doing number 1 hero works.

the dinner was fun. it was the funniest dinner you have ever had.

shoto's quietness is the exact opposite of natsuo's talkativeness. that man is talkative and funny as fuck. throwing jokes everywhere. it was entertaining.

all shoto did was take care of you. he serves you all the food you point at, gets you water, he even went too close for comfort and wiped a stain just above your lips. it made you blush, yes. you don't know why but it left you lightheaded. (you're in love with him, that's why)

fuyumi.. our beautiful and beloved fuyumi.

she exposed his brother's ass.

"aww. you guys are so cute together. ah! (y/n), do you remember that time when.. uhm, kaminari was it? i forgot his name but do you remember that time where he told you, midoriya, and the girls to wear a maid costume for the festival because your class is having a maid cafe booth? shoto told me you were so pretty that time! he hated how the boys in your class looked at you like you were some sweet treat, isn't that right, shoto?"

"and do you remember when you fought bakugo at the sports festival? where it was a close fight and you gave him a hard time? shoto said you won if the decision was up to him and that you were so cool!"

and she went on and on.

shoto was red as a tomato (or even redder) beside you. he was clutching his pants as if he was asking the floor to just eat him up.

you decided to ask him about this later to not uncover the fake dating plan.

dinner ended after a little talking, fuyumi gave you leftovers to take home which you will not reject because her cooking is divine, and asked you to come again after giving you a big and warm hug.

natsuo gave you a high five and thanked you for coming. he also thanked you for laughing at his jokes. he feels like he's very funny now.

both said goodbye to shoto.

the journey back to the heights was quiet but not awkward. it seems like shoto knew you have a lot in mind.

you spoke when he's about to open the main door. "what was that?" he looked at you with a confused expression, "the one at dinner."

"ah, if it isn't obvious yet after my sister opened her mouth, i like you. i have been for a long time now." he said that with a deadpan expression, "it annoyed me at first, it annoyed me that you're in my mind whenever i try to sleep, you're in my mind everytime i wake up. it annoyed me that i want nothing more than to hold you near me, hold your hands, warm you up with my fire everytime you feel cold, hug you, kiss you." he sighed frustratedly, "i just want to do everything with you... i'm sorry. i'm not good with words."

WELL YOU DID NOT EXPECT HIM TO BE THIS STRAIGHTFORWARD.

but again, this is todoroki shoto.

"..what? shoto... i didn't know you felt that way. why didn't you tell me?" you asked him concernedly, you lifted your hand to hold his face but stopped halfway thinking maybe he doesn't want to be touched.

but then he held your hand and guided it to hold his face, "i didn't actually plan to confess but when people started talking about how good of a hero you'd become in the future and when everyone started saying they all want to date you, that's when i decided it's now or never." he looked at your eyes, "i don't want to lose this chance. that's why i started telling fuyumi stories about you and asking her what to do."

"is that why your sister thought we were dating?" "yes. she knows about how i feel for you. she told me to confess and i told her i did and that it went well. i lied to her. i don't know why."

you coughed, "so, she doesn't really think everyone close to you is dating you?" "yes." "you lied to me?" "yes, i apologize."

"you could have told me you like me too!?" "it's not that easy to confess. plus, i really wanted to know how everything will go. it went well, i'm satisfied. you like me too, right?" "i do, shoto. i like you so much." he smiled at you, that rare fucking smile he knows is pretty, "that's enough for me."

"BUT YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF EVERYTHING?" "yes. yes, i did." "WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU!!?" "date me, (y/n)" "OKAY!"

ㅡ midoriya

a lot of guys from the other class have been bothering you. they kept on asking for your number and stuff. one even sent you flowers and a box of chocolates.

you appreciate it if you're being honest. what you don't appreciate is them sticking to you the whole lunch.

you told mina what's happening and she told you that the best shot of getting off those admirers of yours is to date somebody.

you don't wanna to that though. aside from focusing on studies, you have feelings for this certain someone with green messy hair and freckles. you don't want to date someone just to use them and lie to them.

"you know, what if you just get your shit together and confess to midoriya?" "MINA, BE QUIET! SOMEONE MIGHT HEAR YOU!" "confess to midoriya!" she whispired.

"or just ask him to date you until your followers stop following you around?" kaminari interjects, "what, you mean like, fake date him?" "yeah. something like that." "you're really useful sometimes, aren't you?" "shut up, mina."

you've thought about it all night. would izuku think i'm using him? would he reject the idea? would he be mad about it?

after contemplating, you finally went out of your room and walked straight at his door. he opened it with a smile after 3 knocks.

"hey, (y/n)! how can i help you?"

you looked at him nervously. what you were about to ask is a big part to act. "i will get straight to the point. some people from the other classes have been bothering me for a while now. they keep on following me and asking for my number even though i rejected them all the time. i want to ask you if you could date me? IT'S FAKE! OF COURSE. will you please fake date me until they get off me? i, uh, i'm not taking advantage of your kindness. i promise. right?" you said with a shaking voice.

he laughed at your rambling, "no need to be nervous, (y/n)! i would love to do the honors and fake date you! it's like an undercover hero mission. it's so cool! when do we start?"

you smiled at his enthusiasms. izuku is really the kindest person here on earth. you told him what to do, who those people are, etc. your fake dating starts tomorrow.

izuku was waiting outside your door when you opened it, he has his usual beaming smile when you saw him, "hi, (y/n)! ready to start our mission?" he's surely so into this whole thing.

you both walked down the lounge area holding each other's hand. everyone was gaping at the sight except todoroki who remained munching on his sandwich and bakugo who, well, "fucking finally you idiots." he said.

izuku let go of your hand and held both his hands up while shaking his head in a panicky manner, "no, no! we're just fake dating. i'm helping (y/n) get rid of their admirers! they said it was bothering them!"

"okay. but (y/n), why deku?" the motherfucker was smirking at you. todoroki, bless him, caught the panic in your eyes and called bakugo off. "that's enough, bakugo. leave them alone." "tsk! fucking icyhot a fucking killjoy."

most of your admirers stopped following you after they saw you holding hands with izuku. he's been doing a lot for you. he tried to tie your hair at training and brought you water. nothing much happened inside the classroom because everyone knows it's just a show. lots of outsiders believe you're dating izuku. some still bothers you from time to time especially at lunch.

you were sitting with bakugo, todoroki, kirishima, and of course, izuku, when a group of 3 went to your table (they're brave. no one would come bother bakugo's table because everyone's terrified of him.)

"hey, (y/n). can you give me your number now? i just wanted to get to know you better." "(y/n) give me your number! i'll send you lots of chocolates. i promise!" "they're liars but i'm not. i'd take you to your favorite movie this sunday of you'll give me your number?"

you pursed your lips in an annoyed manner, your friends are here and they're embarrassing you. you were about to speak when izuku beats you to it, "please stop bothering (y/n). it's obvious that my partner doesn't want to give you their number."

the group stared at each other with bewildered expressions on their faces, one looked at izuki and asked, "partner? you mean, combat partner or boyfriend? (y/n)'s dating someone?"

izuku wore a prideful expression on his face, "yes, i am their boyfriend and they're dating someone. that's why with all due respect, please leave them alone."

the 3 backed out and apologized. not everyone has the same personality as mineta. the person who seemed like their leader walked forward and bowed, "we're so sorry. we should've stopped when they rejected us the first time. they're just so intriguing that's why we wanted to know more about them. we're really sorry." with that, they left.

you faced izuku and thanked him. it was nice to finally walk and look around without seeing unfamiliar faces follow you. "thank you so much, izuku! you saved me. really."

he smilled at you, "it's nothing! i'd do anything for (y/n)." izuku froze at what he said and started chuckling anxiously, "i.. i didn't mean it like that! hahaha! but if you need anything, i, uhm, i'd always be glad to help." you stared at him and said, "me too, izuku. i'd always be glad to help you! you can come to me everytime you need something." he blushed at what you said.

"FUCKING IDIOTS JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY! I'M TIRED OF HEARING BOTH YOUR SHIT! CONFESS TO EACH OTHER GODDAMNIT!" "oi bakugo. that's not how to do it." "SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR!" "bakugo, you're too noisy." "YOU HALF AND HALF BASTARD I'M TIRED OF YOU TOO!"

izuku coughed tensely, "(y/n), can i talk to you outside? i just need to tell you something." you nodded, "of course!" you both stood up and left the table of wild animals.

when the two of you got outside, izuku's hands were obviously shaking so without a thought, you held it. "are you okay?" "I AM... i am." "why are you acting like this? did something happen?" you asked worriedly.

"no, everything's fine. i just.. i don't know how it started but i just woke up one day thinking how i'd love you to be mine. i want to walk you to school, i want to tell everyone i'm your boyfriend, i want to kiss you good night. haha, is it to much to ask, (y/n)? i like you a lot." he told you that nervously, the boy was shaking and sweating.

"i can't believe it... izuku, i like you too. oh god, are you serious?" "i am, haha! i didn't know you feel the same. i'm really happy!" "i didn't know you feel the same too! half of our classmates knew that i like you. katsuki's just too noisy. he literally told everyone when you did extra training." "(y/n).. kacchan also knows about my feelings for you! he told todoroki and kirishima. is that why he's so persistent in getting us together?" "i don't know. that's just how he is."

you both were awkward as fuck but izuku asked if you'd like to date for real and you said yes.

when you came back to the table, it was bakugo who spoke first, "are you idiots finally together?" you replied to him with a middle finger which aggravated the blondie, "YOU FUCKER!"

[endlessnightlock]

You don’t have to since I’m 4 days late 😭😭😭 but if you wanna, keep this prompt next time you feel up to writing?

"Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you."

Thanks again for the prompt @katnissmellarkkk, I’m finally getting around to clearing out my inbox :).

In-Panem a/u. No Trigger warnings, just domestic fluff.

Prim leans over the porch railing, supporting herself on her long, slender arms, looking like a queen ready to hand down a royal judgment on a lower court member. “Get in here. Where have you been?” 

I pause, taken aback at the reality of how grown up she seems to me today. Prim finished school a few months back, and now she’s on the cusp of adulthood, dying to launch herself into a life made by her own choices. 

We’ve had so many more options since the end of the war, with Snow’s restrictions on the districts gone. Things are slowly changing, although I spend my days much the same as I always have, hunting, gathering, and trading. The difference is that I’m no longer afraid of facing the whipping post if I’m caught with a rabbit or turkey. 

To everyone's surprise, I’ve slowly become less reticent with people. I even have a boyfriend if you count spending time with Peeta Mellark at the back of the bakery once we finish trading as seeing someone. We’ve gone on walks in the woods, and he’s been to dinner here a few times, but that’s about it. There isn’t much to do if you aren’t into drinking and hanging out at the slag heap at night.

I’m looking forward to the festival tonight—there’ll be music and dancing, food and drink stalls.

My sister has a pale gold flower print dress on, one from Mother's Merchant days, and her thick blond hair worked into a wreath of braids curled around the crown of her head. It’s a good look for her, showcasing her slender shoulders and neck. On her feet are primrose-pink slippers, another of Mother's treasures from her merchant days. Those might be a bit snug on Prim since she is taller than Mother or me. I can tell she’s itching to get out of here and head into town for the mid-summer festival. Prim’s probably been ready for hours, if I had to guess, and spent her time staring out the window, waiting to ambush me the moment I came into sight.

Prim huffs, and I try not to smile at her impatience. “Stop poking around down there. You’re going to make us late!”

As far as I know, there’s no set schedule for tonight. I decide against reminding my sister that while, yes, the Mid-Summer Festival is something we’ve all been looking forward to, I still have work to do. The three of us need to eat. 

Instead of arguing with the blonde hurricane, I meekly climb the front steps and follow Prim inside our house, taking off my boots at the door and balancing my bow and sheaf of arrows in the corner. After leaving my game bag on the kitchen counter, I follow Prim to the small washroom at the back of the house.

Mother’s blue dress and shoes I wore for my sixteenth reaping, the last one held before the revolution, are waiting for me to put on after I wash the day’s grime off. 

“The water’s cold,” Prim warns in a way that judges me, again, for getting home late.

“It’s fine,” I say, stripping everything off and climbing into the tub. There are worse things than a cold bath in the middle of summer.

The water in our large tin tub is downright frigid, but I don’t complain. Instead, I wash my hair and myself quickly before climbing back out. Prim hands me a clean towel, and I take it gladly, drying myself off. My hair is soaked, dripping down my back, and the towel is wrapped around my body when Prim points to our commode and orders me to sit. “Give me the brush. I’ll fix your hair for you.”

One of the many reasons I wear my hair in a braid is to keep it from tangling as I go about my day, and I’m glad of this, mainly because Prim is merciless in tearing through my hair. Only the occasional wince slips out once she gets to work on it. I’m proud of myself for my restraint. 

“I’m going to do yours like mine,” she tells me when I feel her parting my hair at the scalp into sections. Prim is at her happiest when she’s making things beautiful. I feel like she has her work cut out for her with me, but she'll only laugh me off if I say that to her.

Once Prim has braided and wrapped and fussed and pinned everything to my head the way she wants to, I start to rise, but she tells me to wait. “I have something else for your hair,” she explains, rushing out of the washroom. 

I roll my eyes once she’s gone and slip on my underclothes, dress, and shoes while I’m waiting for her to return. 

When fully dressed, I look at myself in the mirror and admit Prim’s done a nice job of dressing me up. I do look pretty tonight.

It’ll be fun to see what Peeta thinks of me this way. The idea makes me smile. He has to work at the bakery stall but promised me we’d have time to dance, too.

When Prim returns with sprigs of flowers to thread through the braids in my hair, I think about protesting but decide against it. If it makes her happy to doll me up like this, I’ll let her.

[angelsxbelle]

how they push you away vs. how they make it up to you.

my first hurt/comfort scenarios let’s go😀

headcanons on how haikyuu boys cause stress on your relationship and how they fix things afterwards ~

note: shirabu’s and hirugami’s take place with them as adults, iwaizumi’s takes place as third years in high school

warnings: angst to fluff, timeskip occupation spoilers, swearing, iwaizumi’s ended up being a little long oops

pairings: shirabu x reader, hirugami x reader, iwaizumi x reader

shirabu, KENJIROU

to put it lightly, shirabu is  s t r e s s e d  af

medical school is already hard enough, but taking care of another person is even harder to do at the same time

he just wants to crawl underneath a blanket and not have to think about anyone else’s feelings for a while while he lets everything out

he appreciates that you want to take care of him, but he doesn’t want you to hover over him and distract him while he’s trying to focus

this one day he’s studying for an exam and when you come home from work you come over to where he’s sitting and ask him how is day was

no response.

you ask again, nudging him a little bit to get a response

his eyes squint the tiniest bit, and what comes out of his mouth next is worse than yelling, screaming, or even just saying something flat out mean

“can you go away? you being here is messing up my concentration and this is more important”. he says, in a cold tone

“this is more important”. so that was it. so that was how he felt about this whole thing. you walk away, dumbfounded at your realization of how he really feels, not hate, not disgust, just nothing. 

nothing.

you go to bed alone that night, an empty space in your bed where he used to sleep when he still cared

later in the week, after the exams are over, you’re sitting at your dining room table, and you look up as you see him coming towards you, gingerly sitting down next you with a soft expression on his face

“i’m sorry” - he says as he hands you a note, folded neatly between his fingers like the ones he used to make for you in high school

as you open the note, your eyes scan down the page

it’s a long letter, one that obviously took him a long time to make

you start reading and you see a list of all the things he loves about you, and how he wishes he could treat you better and how he’s sorry about how he’s been lately and he wishes he could take away the pain he’s given you

tears well up in your eyes and threaten to spill down cheeks, you squeak out “thank you jirou”, and look down

he tilts your chin up to look at his face and you look each other in the eyes

“i love you”, he says

hirugami, SACHIROU

as a a veterinarian, hirugami encounters all sorts of different situations with animals brought into the clinic

some of them not so good ones

one day you get a call from one of the people he works with, saying that that day a dog was brought in that they almost couldn’t save and that hirugami probably wouldn’t be in a great mood when he got home

you sat in the living room for while, a little nervous of the state he would be in when he got home 

when you hear his key click in the lock of your front door, your heart skips a beat and you get up to go greet him, not expecting to see the dead look in his eyes as you looked up at his face

“hey, how’s everything going? are you oka-”

“can you just leave me alone please. i’ve had a long day.”, he interrupts you 

“are you sure? they said something happened at the clinic-”

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

“but-”

“ oh my god can you please stop talking? somebody’s dog almost fucking died because of me, i don’t want to hear you yammer on about whatever right now. just go away.” 

he slams your bedroom door behind him, latching it shut with a click

ouch.

 you walk away to go eat dinner alone, feeling like someone just stomped on your heart, chewed it up, and spat it out

the next day you wake up having slept on the couch, and go get ready in the bathroom and eat breakfast before getting ready to to work

as you’re about to walk out the door, you feel a hand gently grab yours, stopping you from leaving

you whip your head around to see your boyfriend with a remorseful expression on his face, a different hurt in his eyes this time 

he pulls you closer and kisses you forehead, saying how sorry he is for hurting you and how he didn’t mean it, how he let his feelings get the best of him

a little apprehensively, you bury your head into his chest and cling into his shirt so he knows you accept his apology

later that day, he takes you to your favorite restaurant and sits you down at a table close to the big window outlooking the scenery below

as snow drifts past, softly twinkling from the lights illuminating your view outside, but he’s looking at you instead

he knows he never wants to let go of you, maybe he’ll tell you that soon as he slips the ring in his pocket on your finger :)

iwaizumi, HAJIME

iwaizumi had never had any problems with jealousy in your relationship, or even just problems in general mostly

he trusts you, and he knows how much you love him

but recently you and oikawa had gotten paired together for a group project, and you had been spending more and more time together as a result

it wasn’t really a problem at the beginning since iwaizumi knew it was just a class project, but as time went on he couldn’t help but feel his stomach twist every time he walked by the library to see you working away happily, you laughing at something oikawa had said

he didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt seeing you like that with pretty boy oikawa.

pretty boy oikawa that all the girls he had ever liked liked him instead.

pretty boy oikawa that got all the stares as they walked by.

pretty boy oikawa that probably looked better with you than he did.

he walked away, knowing he shouldn’t feel defeated as his eyes droop and he looks down at the ground

he has trouble sleeping that night, his head full of thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking, images he doesn’t want see of you with him

the next day, you’re eating lunch together, and you notice he looks a little off, so you ask him if anything is wrong or if he needs to get something off his chest

“i’m fine”, he says with a flat tone

“are you sure? you don’t look okay, you know you can always talk to me right?”

“nothing’s wrong.”, he says again

you pester him again, as he starts to look more annoyed in the process

“why don’t you just talk to oikawa if you need to bug someone that bad, i’m sure he’ll love the attention from a little whore like you”

both of your eyes widen at what he said, not believing it fully

even iwaizumi knows that was completely out of line, even as someone who likes to tease to show affection

“fuck you hajime” , you say, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as you walk away from where you were sitting together

hajime feels like crying.

the next day he’s nervous to see you, knowing you’re probably still hurt from what he said, but still searching for you anyway

as he walks sheepishly up to you, you ask what he wants after the painful exchange you had yesterday

“i’m so sorry. nothing i said was true, and you didn’t deserve it at all. i got jealous of oikawa and i know it’s my fault and i want you to please forgive me because i can’t lose you and hate myself for letting it get the best of me.”, he lets out

“it’s okay hajime, i understand and i love you, but please don’t say anything like that ever agiain, it really hurt”

his heart breaks a little bit at hearing that, but he’s happy you still want to see him

“i love you too. more than anything, i promise i’ll never hurt you again.”

he wraps his big arms around you and holds you tight

you know he doesn’t want to let go, even when the bell rings letting you know you’re late for class

he doesn’t want to let go of you ever

the end :)