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mintmatcha · 8 months ago

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Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

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When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day.

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love.

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin.

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

“Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints.

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly.

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.”

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him.

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point. You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks.

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please," he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is.

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today. “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

“Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind.

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day.

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall, meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.”

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink.

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful.

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers.

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you.

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way.

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too.

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

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inf0dump · 2 years ago

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My Creepypasta AU That I Like Too Much ft. A Block of Text

It's been four years. Four goddamn years since I came up with this concept. That concept being re-designing and re-writing the creepypasta stories that I grew up with, i.e., Eyeless Jack, Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, etc.

It is just now that I know what to do with it, but I don't know how or where to put it. It's difficult to figure all of this stuff out because I've changed so much of it. I've changed last names, personalities, aesthetics, so a name within the fandom doesn't mean the same thing anymore.

I feel like it doesn't belong on fanfiction websites, but it's not my own thing either. I just really hyper fixated on it for many years, taking bits and pieces of information from the first stories and logging it into my really long fanfiction. To the point where it doesn't feel like fanfiction anymore. Has that ever happened?

I don't want to change the names because I love these re-designed characters with these specific names, and I have a hard time with change. It's in my nature. And I also want to express that I love where it came from (but not who it came from, dear god). I love the place and most of the people that are in this fandom because creepypasta people from the late 2000's, early 2010's, are really cool to me.

And I'm very nervous to share what I've made because of experiences in the past with the things I'm really passionate about, because I will sometimes ask stupid questions. At least I've been told they're stupid questions. But I get really invested in the things I really like, and I want to know everything and interact with other people. I'm so desperate to interact with other people and through the things I enjoy is the only way I know how to.

This may be a lot of infodumping, but that's what I'm good at. And we're just getting started. I feel like I should take this blog in the direction of information spilling and infodumping. I changed my name to that and infodumping is practically my love language. I do it to my girlfriend and my family, and if I were to have a group of friends I would also do it to them if they would let me.

ANYWAY, this is about a completely different thing, you're probably not reading this to hear about my social struggles as an autistic (but I will happily infodump about any questions anyone has because autism is a hyper fixation as well), so let's move onto the creepypasta AU stuff, or the title: The Abyss.

The Abyss is a mix of genres. There's a horror aspect, there's comedy (or at least, what I think is funny), there's drama, there's young adult aspects, mature aspects, some romance, there's probably more. It started as an idea for a comic series, and then I realized, I can only draw people and animals. I can't draw backgrounds or architecture. Honestly, I can barely draw a full-bodied person. I've been drawing for a long time, and it's always been living things, so the comic idea was, WOOSH, out the window.

Then I realized that I have been writing fanfiction for seven years and have been told that I'm talented as a writer. Not much of a reader, but I was in grade school, and then I discovered Wattpad in fifth-sixth grade. I write a whole bunch. I wrote a twenty-something page first chapter for a Five Nights at Freddy's universe that I published on AO3, then a month or so later, deleted it because I believed I could do better.

I'm able to write non-fiction pretty effectively, especially when it's topics I enjoy. I wrote a high school essay in my sophomore year about villain archetypes in books and movies and which one was the most realistic to reality. I don't remember the conclusion. I finished the essay a week before it was to be submitted and so I had nothing to do in my English class except twiddle my thumbs.

For this creepypasta AU project in particular, those four years was spent doing various research on race, ethnicity, culture, disabilities, religion, mental health, demonology, and other subjects that would help to make this world and these characters more believable and representative of the world that we live in. Representation is an important factor to me.

I've had multiple experiences with wanting to see my own type of person in what I love, and I know that other people would want to see that too. Especially in creepypasta. A lot of creepypasta is white anime boys.

I was diagnosed with severe Tourette's Syndrome (TS) last year after suffering for a year a with saying things that I didn't mean, or doing things that I couldn't control, and it affected my mental health severely. I couldn't get out of bed and when you act like that, people laugh at you. Sure, it can be funny, some of the things I say or do, but there's a level of anxiety that unrealistically high. Especially when it comes to that Tourettic OCD side of things. When it tells me "You're going to say this" and I have to fight in order to keep words or movements down.

I confided myself in a re-design of Toby. Toby is the problematic Tourettic representation that I had at that point in time. And I hated that. It wasn't problematic for me in the sense that he would swear, or he would do something taboo in front of people. He was problematic for me in the sense that what he had wasn't Tourette's. It was speech impediment. At least, that's how I remember it, correct me if I'm wrong.

If you are a person, you want to be recognized as a person. There are people that are social anxious to the point that they don't want to be perceived, but you still need to treat them with respect. I've always been taught that people will respect you if you respect them. That's not always true, but it's a positive way to live. To think, 'I'm going to respect this person in whatever form their respect looks like.' That could be respecting their religion, their culture, their gender, their sexuality, their form of expression.

Some people may be wrong in the way that they want respect. They could hurt people; they do not respect another person or a group of people. But they deserve respect because they are a human being. If they aren't going to get respect from you, they will get respect from others, that's how it works. If you don't like a politician, don't respect them in the slightest, they are still going to get respect from other people. That's what I mean. You don't have to respect everyone; it is up to you and up to other people who deserves approval.

You don't have to like anyone. For example, the creator of Ticci Toby, Kastoway, does not have my respect. That is my opinion. They don't deserve my respect and support.

That's part of the reason that I re-designed and re-wrote in the first place. I don't like Kastoway. Toby was the first character that I re-designed. I designed him to be my own representation, and then he took over.

Toby has been renamed to: Tobias (Toby) Goldberg (It feels a little strange publishing that name for other people that's not my girlfriend to see). Toby is my personal favorite. Toby is fifteen (15) when the story starts, he has severe Tourette's Syndrome, severe ADHD, OCD, and is autistic. He's the type of autistic that really likes cats and everything to do with cats. Toby is also high-risk to be a pyromaniac, which is an impulse disorder, and he can't be formally diagnosed yet because he's not eighteen (18) years old.

Toby is incredibly tiny for his age (4'9) because of pregnancy complications, underweight because of medication, and he's Jewish-Italian-American. He lives in the Bronx borough of New York City, has a very thick Bronx accent, a mess of freckles, his Italian grandfather thick, too big to fit his face, tortoiseshell-colored glasses, and very thick, curly, shoulder-length red hair that kind of looks like a wolf-cut, but it sticks out all over the place.

I feel like I shouldn't spoil his backstory, but it's very sad and very triggering. Speaking of triggers, there's a whole lot in here because characters need to suffer, but you shouldn't. Take care of your mental health. Mental health is extremely important.

If anyone has any specific triggers I should now about, let me know. This story is both realistic horror and fantastical horror, which basically means there's the fun horror (fantastical horror) and the devastating horror (realistic horror).

If there's any questions about specific characters, or the question 'what atrocities have you done to my favorite character?' comes up, don't worry, just ask me. And if it's a character that I have never heard of, I will do research on the character and maybe your favorite will make an appearance.

Toby's and Cody's (X-Virus) re-designs are maybe the favorites that I have. But now, we move onto the plot of this whole thing. If you've been waiting for the plot, thank you for sticking around!

The plot of The Abyss is very vague, it's more the description of a place. I was originally going to commit to an episodic structure for the comic, but now, if I'm going to be posting this to AO3, then it absolutely has to have a chapter structure. But if I might be posting the chapters only to here, then I might go back to the episodic structure.

The Abyss is about a group, a main cast, of people, featuring Jeffrey, Tim, Brian, Ben, Cody, Toby, and Sally in Book One (five books in total) living in an alternate plane of existence called the Abyssal Plane, or the Abyss, which is ruled over by a demon that they called the Emperor. The Emperor is tall, faceless, and wears the skin of whatever would fool a person the most effectively.

Their job in the Abyss is to provide retribution to those that the Emperor feels deserves it. Retribution means death. Each person has their own style of carrying out their job when they go on missions. We follow each of these main characters throughout their lives and struggles in and outside of the Abyss, so I guess it's also like slice of life in a sense.

The issue I find that I stated before, is that I feel like I've changed the characters too much in order for it to still be considered fanfiction. I fear that no one will be able to recognize these characters, the only thing I have not changed is first name and some design choices. That's why I have labeled it an AU, an alternate universe.

And another thing, I still have some learning to do, especially when it comes to people of whom I do not share experience with. I've done research, but there's only so much research that you can do that is not talking to people of different cultures, different races, different ethnicities, and I am horrible with talking to people. I fake it till I make it.

If anybody has any details with their life that is outside of my experience, I would love to hear about it. I love learning about people, all kinds of people. Even if it's information that I need repeated to me, repetition is important.

Thanks for reading, I would appreciate constructive criticism, feedback, and interaction. This is my favorite thing to do: talk about what I'm passionate about. Please tell me what you're passionate about!

#creepypasta #alternate universe #fanfiction #writerscommunity #actually autistic #actually tourettic #special interest #about writing #character redesign #jeff the killer #eyeless jack #please help #ticci toby

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rurpleplaysmuttingtonac · 2 years ago

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"Morning Benedict" Sophie said after she grabbed one of the plates of pancakes he'd cooked for the household.

"Good morning Soph, did you sleep well?" Benedict asked as he surveyed the paper.

"Eh, as well as I can when it's not in my bus" she said between bites.

"I see you and Jordan are getting on well" he said, keeping his tone neutral. "Is he treating you ok?"

Sophie smiled "You asking that as my friend or adoptive father figure?"

He barked out a laugh and glanced at her from behind the newspaper. "Just wanna make sure he's not being an idiot and using you, is all."

"He's treating me very well and we've got more things in common than I originally realised" she said truthfully. "I mean, we both like art and he owns a houseboat. I mean, that's really cool! I live in a converted bus and he's got a boat!"

Benedict smiled at the excitement in his friend's voice. "You going to go see it when we get out of here?"

"I can't wait!" she said gleefully. "I mean, we're still getting to know each other but...I think I love him."

He set aside the paper and began eating his own pancakes. "You going to tell him?"

She looked down, hesitant. "I don't want to scare him."

"He likes you and he can't leave the house. He's not going to run away."

"But he could avoid me..."

"I'd suggest telling him" Benedict said. "Of course you don't have to do it right now, but when it feels right."

"I'll tell Jordan, if you tell Bea" Sophie said, drawing out her trump card.

Benedict met her gaze and smirked "Touché."

Later on, Lucy was eating some leftover pancakes when Martin walked into the kitchen. "Hey" he said, smiling shyly as he sat down across from her at the table.

"Why are you so shy around me?" Lucy asked boldly. "Did I not make it clear that I like you? Do you not like me?"

"Of course I do!" he hastened to say, almost choking on the bite of his pancake. "I just....I mean I...I don't know how to explain."

She waited patiently.

"I do like you" he admitted, cheeks going pink. "But I'm scared that it's a rebound attraction."

She frowned "Rebound?"

"I was engaged to be married to my long-time girlfriend" he explained, looking down as he twiddled his fingers in his lap. "She wanted to become an actress. And...well she took to her co-star with a bit too much enthusiasm during the opening night of the show she was performing."

"Wait...she was getting it on with her co-star, in front of you?!" Lucy asked, eyebrows raised.

"They were lovers in the play that she was performing in" he continued, winching at the memory. "I knew the guy liked her more than what she thought. But then, on the opening night, it was clear that they both weren't acting during a particularly raunchy scene. I studied psychology and I recognised the look on her face when I saw her afterwards. The guilt, that look that told me she was about to leave me. She knew that I knew she was attracted to him...more than she'd ever been with me. I asked her if she still wanted to be with me...and she handed me back her diamond ring without another word. Told me I was boring...and walked away without looking back."

Lucy's mouth had fallen open as she listened, too appalled to comment.

"It was only a few weeks before we arrived here" Martin continued, looking up to meet her concerned gaze. "I...I really do like you but I don't want to possible treat you as a way to get over my heartbreak. You deserve much better than that. I also don't want to be hurt in the same way I was before...by being told I was boring, and passionless."

There was a few seconds silence before the sound of her chair scrapping back on the lino flooring. "Come here" she told him, leaving no room for refusal.

He looked up, confused but obeyed her request. He walked over to her and when he was close enough, she pulled him to her, mouth on his and hands roaming over his bare back and into his hair.

He gasped, feeling the desire flood through him as he returned her passion-filled kisses.

"I find you irresistible" she panted between frantic kisses. "I find you very sexy and not at all boring."

#Muttington AC #Asylum Challenge #TS2 #Benedict Jones #Beatrice Ramirez #Sophie Edwards #Ricky Brown #Jordan Jackson #Lucy Hernandez #Martin Phillips #Part One

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thegirlwiththestrangereality · 2 years ago

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I went on a rather interesting journey this weekend. My weekend was relatively boring. More boring than I like it to be. But I feel as though I am in this lull of life at the moment. Normally when the lull hits I like to create chaos, to really spice it up - and yet, I don't want to do that. I'd be lying if I said the thought didn't cross my mind, but I don't want to embark on that anymore.

So, my weekend was boring. No one to call, no one to hang out with, just me, my thoughts, my art, my books, and myself. When my weekend got REALLY boring, I decided to make a cake. Mid-cake making my power went out. So that meant no mixer and worse than that no oven. Thank god it went out before I put them in and not during. I don't think that can happen to me anymore - my world is a different vibration now. As I stewed on my power going out, my best friend Amanda told me to get quiet, because perhaps the quiet was exactly what I needed.

I sat in my chair, thinking what could the universe possibly need to tell me, and I began to imagine my next work of art. I envisioned a pair of lips, with fangs, dripping blood and the tongue touching the tooth. I envisioned hearts in the background but I wasn't sure what the BACKground was going to be, but either way, the quiet proved to be of some value.

Earlier that day I had talked to my papa about the scholarship I won to go to Washington D.C. to participate in Latino Advocacy Week at the end of March. He asked if Roman was going to go with me - I said no this was going to be a solo trip. He asked if he bought a ticket to go with me, if he could come. This was such a sweet offer; however, there was this sense of unease that existed between us, the same unease I've felt since I opened the portal that day on my edible. There always feels like there is something lurking in the shadow between us now, like he hurt me but I don't know when or how.

Fast forward to today, Saturday, the same unease was present when I smoked my joint. This joint was half THC and half CBD - a perfect blend of bliss. It allowed me to be physically high without suffering the consequences of floating off in the clouds. This feeling began to consume me as I started drawing the image that existed in my mind from my meditation.

I couldn't shake this feeling so I reached out to Amanda and asked if she was free to talk. After about 20ish minutes Amanda called me and I began to tell her about my fear. I told her that I was feeling this uneasiness and I wasn't sure why. I told her I kept thinking my papa had hurt me and she said he did - but many many lifetimes ago and he's spent all this time trying to fix it. I asked her to remind me that he couldn't hurt me anymore to which she said no, that could never happen again.

I have been caught up on the word special. Special felt like a backhanded compliment, almost like if I weren't special I would never have been hurt. Perhaps if I lived in the shadows no one would ever see me, thus preventing anyone from hurting me again. Oddly enough, I am afraid of the dark. I don't like when the lights go out suddenly. Anytime it is dark I feel this rush to action, to break out of the dark, turn all the lights on and scream so someone knows I am there. Amanda and I talked about the dark for a brief moment and she said cupcake, i love you but i have to go to home depot. but continue to explore this. and she hung up.

I wasn't sure what that meant, other than welp, here I am twiddling my thumbs. lol

I began thinking of my sister's old soccer coach. He was a strange man - I always knew it, I even told my mom one day he must have some weird fetishes. I was right. This soccer coach was a sports better and had an entire company dedicated to the practice. He would get investments from people & have individuals make bets on his behalf. If they won their bet, excellent. If they lost their bet, they would double or nothing the bet about 5 times before it would go to a team captain who would attempt to fix it before it went to the big bosses. There was never anything to lose here, because 1) it wasn't our money and 2) no matter if we won or lost, we got paid.

He got all the soccer moms to join and won them over with his high vocabulary and deep pockets of money. This con-artist and pedophile was no joke. Despite his offhanded comments to the girls every now and again, no one said anything to him, out of fear of losing their money. And yet, everyone knew there was something off about him. And this is when I understood the power of greed. I began feeling guilt in my heart for letting it happen because I was distracted by money. Then she came to me.

My great grandmother Alice came to me and started speaking to me. I couldn't see her like I would a human being in front of me, but I could make out her facial expressions, as well as some scenes she was trying to explain.

She began by telling me that she was too prideful and greedy at the time to ask for help, so she ignored the red flags of the pedophile. I began to realize along the many lifetimes, I have been the molested and the enabler of the molester. I know this sounds strange to the ears of those who are unfamiliar with the concept of multiple lifetimes, then this isn't for you.

She continued sharing with me that she was going through an incredibly difficult time in her life. She didn't go into detail other than the fact, they were poor growing up and all she wanted was to belong. She looked defeated.

She held the belief the secret to happiness was material things. When a man came along with money, he promised her the world and she believed him. But this was at the cost of her daughters. She thought money was loved and ignored the red flags. This is where my nana learned to value money and things. She married someone who would always provide. This ultimately created her obsession with things because her mom taught her that is all men are good for.

This man gave my great grandmother a home with a second bedroom, and he molested my nana. My nana went to her mom and she got mad at her and called her a liar. Her mom turned her back because she didn't want to give up all she had accumulated. This would make her appear a failure to her sisters and to her parents because her mom had warned her about him. Little did she know, this man would leave her after a while, and she would end up with broken daughters, no money, and a broken heart. My nana carried the belief in her life that mom's don't believe their daughters, which is why my nana did not believe my mom.

My nana was molested again by her uncle; but this time, my great grandmother knew of it and had a gang of men beat up her brother for hurting her daughter. My nana didn't tell her mom, but she knew, and she did was she could to make it stop. It did.

My great grandmother explained she had a very hard life and that her soul won't be at rest until my nana passes away and then she can make it right with her. But I can help her transition.

Our line of women had learned to sit in our masculine so the men couldn't hurt us. If we were a giant flame, they would respect us. And by respect us, I mean fear us. We started attracting feminine men because they weren't capable of hurting us. We were too big for them to hurt us physically, but this did leave us open for betrayal because the masculine was weak, and did not have a backbone.

I am unable to fully help my nana yet because I have not tamed the "small" fear within me. The small fear who is afraid of the dark and afraid of men hurting her. The small fear who sits in a corner and cries while the abuse is happening rather than standing up and fighting. This is the other side of the same coin, but a shared core nonetheless.

In order to help humanity I must know the self. And not just this self, but the many selves that have existed before this lifetime. I must understand why people get so lost in the matrix so I can remember to stay out of it.

She let me know I can come to them for happy stories too - that they don't have to be hard work all the time. I can be happy with them as well. She told me I was a brave soul to do this work and that she would be here for me whenever I needed to call on her.

This conversation in my mind took place while I was drawing. I am beginning to understand my art is connected to the spirit realm and I was able to tap into her at this capacity because I got quiet about the art spirit wanted me to draw. The pattern is as follows: it begins with fear, I must ground myself, then I can explore.

This story wasn't one I would feel comfortable sharing with everyone in my life, because it doesn't make sense unless it makes sense and I am ultimately asking some of the people I love to unpack their trauma. That is the equivalent of drugging someone and asking them to embark on the dark night of the soul without their consent.

This information was incredibly helpful and showed me all that I am capable of doing. I am unsure when this will come into play but I do know spirit and I are on the same page.

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razzieswritingspace · 1 year ago

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1st version of a prologue of a novel idea I am putting together

Please let me know what you think! I am open to constructive critisicm.

October 10th, 2000

Celine Dubois. She was a detective from France, and Mama's friend; she was 26 at the time. When she came to our town to hear about the disappearances, it was a wake up call to this place that this wasn’t an ordinary situation.

“Tell me about your little sister, Henry” She asked me softly, in a thick French accent. “What happened the night she disappeared?”

I looked at the grass, every memory, down to the scents of the fresh cut grass and the baseball field, came rushing back. “I was waiting my turn to pitch in the game,” I started, twiddling my fingers together. “I watched her playing near the woods. I took my eyes off her for one second… and she was gone. She wasn’t by Mama. Then I heard Mama scream Sally's name. Everyone stopped, and we all… just knew. Sally was taken into the woods.”

Celine gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure that is hard for you. You’re so young. How are you feeling?”

She was right. I was only 10 years old at the time. At the thought that Sally was missing, hurt or dead, made the tears from yesterday come back in an instant. I couldn’t hold them back.

Celine gave me a hug, and I only cried harder. I could feel her expensive French jacket absorb all the tears I let out. Soon enough I maintained the tears and sat upright again, adjusting my glasses. “I understand,” was all Celine said.

August 27th, 2006

School was awkward for the next 2 years. I was stared at by everyone as I walked down the hall. They treated me like I was Grandma’s vase, like if you poke me the wrong way, I’ll shatter. By the time I was 12, it was gonna make me break more than Sally’s disappearance at this point.

I had no friends until mid-high school, when finally Sally’s disappearance was declared a cold case. My sophomore year, I met Mudvirce. He was actually the daughter of Celine, but he was born and raised here in America. I learned that his name is actually Michael, but he went by Mudvirce because he hated his name; his hair was long, black, and silky, down to his lower back. He was a fellow outcast, along with his sister, Michelle. She had black wavy hair down to her shoulders, and dark brown eyes, just like her brother. She and Mudvirce played in a local metal band; they played in a few basements every weekend. Mudvirce was on bass, Michelle was on drums. I was the opposite of them. I was the art kid, the writer kid, the nerd. I liked to stay home and write and draw at my desk. My room and my clothes looked vintage-esque. But that didn’t stop me, Mudvirce and Michelle from being friends. “Weirdos of any kind need to stick together. We’re all what we really have,” was what Mudvirce told me.

I met Marcus that year as well. He was a very eccentric character: his hair was dyed bright pink and down to his shoulders; and all his shirts were explosions of neon colors on black; he was loud, but not obnoxious; he loved video games and music. He and I, despite not liking the genre, always go to Mudvirce and Michelle’s gigs.

With friends comes enemies as well. Stacienna McRowell was some girl Michelle secretly dated back in 8th grade. They broke up last year, and Stacienna swore to make Michelle’s life a living hell. She made enemies with my friend, she made enemies with me.

Staciella’s boyfriend, Jaxon, is a piece of work, too. He’s like a puppy dog, following Staciella around and doing everything she says. He never knew of his girlfriend’s and Michelle’s relationship, but she doesn’t like her, so neither does he. He’s a clear enabler of her actions and shows no sign of stopping.

This junior year will be the first year in 6 years that I start with new friends, fun experiences, and a secure sense of happiness, and there is nothing now that can take that away from me. Right?

#novel idea #novel writing #novel in progress #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing community #creative writing #murder mystery #suspense #mystery novel #mystery

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elliewlums · 2 years ago

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Hello ♡ if you're taking requests for drabbles then could I please request Eddie and Shy!reader who maybe gets a little anxious around his friends (dustin, mike, lucas, etc) and sorta clings to him? If not then it's totally okay and I love your work !

content warnings; all the fluff, just so much fluff. eddie reassures anxious reader. allusions to some anxiety.

your manicured hand clasps eddie’s own ring clad one tightly, baby pink nails drawing circles across his calloused skin. eddie’s preoccupied in a heated debate with dustin and you use the distraction to worm your way further into his arms, twiddling the bottom of his hellfire shirt anxiously. you don’t mean to be clingy, but the close proximity with all of eddie’s friends causes you oftentimes to retreat back into yourself; you’re not really a people person, and you’re always concerned that they don’t like you. eddie understands and does his best to alleviate your almost constant worry.

he absentmindedly wraps a wiry arm around to waist, tugging you into his lap; you exhale in relief and rest your head against his shoulder. his head dips to come level with yours.

“y’alright?” he murmurs. you nod. his hand grabs your thigh, pulling you even closer. “sure?”

“i’m okay, eds.” your voice is meek and quiet. he presses a kiss to your jaw and then one to your forehead. you circle his neck with loose arms and press your face to his neck, breathing in his oddly comforting scent of cigarettes and awfully cheap cologne; you told him you hated it when he first bought it but you’ve grown to adore it. it’s so him.

“y’know, there’s nothing to be worried about,” he says, not meanly. “promise.” you attempt a smile, lips pulled tight, and the subtle tremble in your hands has eddie stroking over your knuckles and pressing a kiss to each one.

“i know,” you whisper. “you know what i’m like. i get nervous. i’m a total dud.” eddie’s brows shoot up.

“no way!” he exclaims. “seriously, no way are you a dud. you’re just not a people person and that’s okay. doesn’t matter to me.”

you smile for real this time.

“sorry for being so clingy, though.”

“you’re not.” he smooths a hand over your head. “you just like to be close. i like you here, close, as well.” he smiles, pointed canines protruding from his plush lips. you peck him once, twice, thrice. dustin fax gags.

“ugh, get a room!”

eddie grabs an empty water bottle and hurls it in his direction.

“fuck off, henderson. you’re just jealous my girlfriend is so hot.”

“have you seen suzie?”

“shut up, like i believe your fake girlfriend is as hot as my real one!”

“i’m right here,” you laugh, swiping at his chest.

“what? you are hot…”

“oh, give it a rest!”

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smileysuh · 4 years ago

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Baby Face : Frat Haechan

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. You and Haechan have been enemies ever since highschool, when debates between you in class would get heated. Now, you’re in a sorority and he’s in your brother frat, NCT House. Trivia nights are supposed to be fun at the campus bar but you and Haechan always take it personally, and your friends see the sexual tension, even if you and Haechan don’t. Johnny and Jaehyun concoct plans to force you and Haechan interact, frat boys lie, and even if Haechan gets you on your back, you’re never going to stop calling him the nickname he hates so much: “baby face”.

cw/ tw. lots of competition, high key GAMER HYUCK, dom leaning switch Haechan, oral (f/r receiving), pet names, slight degradation, angst, unprotected sex, fingering, BIG DICK HAECHAN, dumbification, body worship, he refers to himself as daddy once or twice, etc..

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 14.4k

🍭 aus. frat, enemies to lovers, childhood enemies, crack, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. find the rest of my frat universe here

“So then we get back to his room-”

“Is he still rooming with Johnny?”

“Yeah!”

“Fuck, I’d climb that guy like a tree.”

“I know right? But we get back there, and he throws me on the bed-”

You close your book loudly with a sigh, drawing the eyes of your sorority sisters who hadn’t even noticed you sitting in the living room by the window, the drapes half obscuring you and shutting you in with the beautiful morning sunlight- which you had been enjoying.

“Oh, hi Y/N.” One says awkwardly.

The man they’re talking about is Lee Donghyuck, notorious roommate of Johnny Suh and renowned “lady killer” of the frat system. Almost as well known as his reputation, or yours for that matter, is the fact that you both hate each other- and you have since high school, where you made a point to personally pick fights with each other in debate team.

“Don’t let me stop the story.” you wave your hand as you head towards the stairs leading up to the second floor of your sorority house, “Ryujin told me her version of it last Saturday,” you wink at the two girls, “and I hear the ending where he kicks you out at two am before Johnny gets home is the best part.”

Fucking Lee Donghyuck, you think to yourself as you head up to your bedroom. When are the girls in your sorority ever going to learn that he’s the worst of the worst?

“Could you just be nice this once?” Jenni sighs as you slide into the booth next to her at the campus pub for Trivia Tuesday.

“No.” you answer, flashing a smile at Johnny, who’s just finishing setting up the projector for the game. He waves at you, grabbing a stack of trivia answer papers to begin handing them out to the tables who are playing.

“You cut it a bit close.” Johnny says to you as he gives you a peice of paper for your answers, checking his watch to see how long he has until he has until it’s 8, and trivia night officially starts.

“I knew you wouldn’t start without me.” you beam up at the tall frat boy. As much as you hate Haechan, his roommate, in fact his entire frat, is pretty cool. NCT House is technically the brother frat of your own sorority, as much as you and Haechan wish this wasn’t the case, and that means that you end up in the same circles as NCT boys with some frequency.

“Who would compete with Haechan if you didn’t show?” Johnny points out, eyes sliding over to his roommate.

Your sorority and frat have two tables you’ve all but claimed on Trivia Tuesdays. Squished up next to each other, the two hour long game from eight to ten gives your houses plenty of time to intermingle and flirt. You’re at the end of one side, and Haechan has his claim all the way at the end of the other table. He has a beer in front of him, and he’s twiddling with a pen, chatting with Mark Lee and Kim Jungwoo.

Johnny heads over to give Haechan’s table their own trivia paper, he does a few errands as a timer ticks down on the projector screen. Johnny manages to bring you a beer, and serve a few others at the table before the clock hits one, then he heads over to the bar, where he’ll be stationed for the next two hours, testing out the audio system.

Taeyong enters the bar, eyes quickly scanning the tables, he makes the decision to join you and Jenni, taking the only free chair across from you. “Hey! You made it!” Jenni beams at her friend. Since they’re both leaders in your houses, they spend a lot of time together. You enjoy Taeyong, he’s a bit quiet, but a genuinely nice guy.

“Happy Trivia Tuesday everybody!” Johnny says into the mic, drawing your attention from the wide eyed frat president, and earning a few whistles from the NCT table next to yours.

“Take it off!” someone bellows, and when you turn to follow the voice you see that Lucas and Hendery are already drunk, happily situated near where your tables are joined. Most of the younger members, with the exception of Haechan, just come to Trivia Night to flirt. You’re not surprised that Lucas and Hendery already each have a few empty shot glasses in front of them.

Johnny grabs the bottom of his shirt as if he’s about to follow through with Lucas’s crude request, only to stop just as the first inch of beautiful skin is revealed, “You wish slut!” Johnny teases Lucas, getting back on track immediately. “I take my job as MC very seriously everyone.” Johnny laughs to himself, “For those of you who are new, the rules are quite simple. There are five categories, five questions each, with a total of 25 fill in the blank answers. The five categories are Art, Movies, History, Music and a Random category. Each category has a theme that changes every week. Every slide will be numbered and you get four minutes per question, with a five minute break between each category, which means we finish at 10:00.” he speaks so quick its hard to follow, “if you didn’t catch those rules, just roll with it. Without further ado, today’s first theme is…” he turns to look at the screen, hitting the next slide button to reveal “classical art!”

Your eyes shift to Taeyong, “We’re lucky you sat with us.” Jenni voices your thoughts. Taeyong might be a business major along with a few of the other NCT boys, but he has a minor in art history.

“Taeyong!” Haechan calls from the other end of the table, “come over to our side!”

Taeyong looks between you and Haechan, but luckily he doesn’t even get a chance to speak or choose who to listen to, because the ever prudent MC’s voice fills the room, “Whatever table you’re sat with is now your group, no changing or cheating, or you’ll be disqualified.”

Haechan makes a big deal out of this, rolling his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air, groaning- you’re surprised he doesn’t full-on throw his drink on the ground like a tantruming child.

“Is everyone ready?” Johnny looks around the room, then he switches to the slide.

“QUESTION 1: theme - classical art - name this painting and the painter (.5 points per answer)”

The picture on the screen is one you’ve seen before, hell, Lucas is so drunk he bellows “Easy! It’s the scream!” Loudly enough for everyone in the bar to hear.

But when Taeyong reaches for your pen- and you allow him to write “The Scream - Edvard Munch”- you realize the two part answer might not be as ‘easy’ as Lucas first thought. Edvard Munch- you’re glad Taeyong is here.

You can’t help but sneak a glance down the table. Doyoung has the paper in front of him, and he’s pressed up to Haechan’s side, both of their heads bowed as they whisper. Jaehyun’s near them too, the final member of the ‘nct competitive trio’ who always does their absolute best to beat you at Trivia Tuesday. The dimpled captain of your university's soccer team throws you a wink, a challenge, and you shake your head at him.

It’s on.

Between you, Jenni and Taeyong, you’re pretty sure you do well in the classical art category. However, Doyoung is a formidable foe, especially where Taeyong’s concerned. They might be best friends, but they compete as if they’re each other’s biggest enemies, and it proves to fuel the energy in the bar.

Category two ends up being Children’s movies. You’re a little nervous when Hendery, Yangyang and Lucas perk up at the first picture, a film you don’t recognize, but Taeyong simply takes your pen and fills in the blank. Again, when the round finishes, you feel okay with your answers.

You and Haechan exchange a look when the History theme ends up being ‘Greek mythology’. You’re in a greek mythology classical studies class together right now, and you’d even had a debate over Hades and Persephone’s love story in high school. “To play the devil’s advocate” Haechan had said, as he began to defend Hades’ actions- the debate had gotten so explosive that your teacher had to threaten sending you to the principal’s office if you didn’t both calm down. Suffice it to say, the entire trivia round is spent with the both of you painstakingly answering the questions, personal investment making your skin flush with competitive anger.

By the fourth round, which ends up being hip hop music, nearly everyone is tipsy. Johnny hums hip hop songs without using the lyrics, and everyone gets really into the game. Entire tables sing out songs to completion, not caring that the answer becomes a given. It’s during this round that a bunch of people leave the bar. A few couples pair off, and you’re a little shocked to see Sweet Baby Taeil leave with one of your frat sisters holding his hand, good for him. Winwin, Yuta, Mark and Jungwoo all clear out as well, and you watch the way the drunken lion hangs onto the small Canadian music theory major.

Johnny comes with a pitcher of beer, filling up the cups of those of you who are left. It’s unspoken common knowledge that the final round is always for you and Haechan to fight it out.

Johnny counts out everyone points, whoever is left in the bar that is, and the top two groups get to go into the final lightning round which consists of abstract questions with no set answers. The two group leaders have to convince two of the three bartenders to their argument to win the game point. With the topic being random, you and Haechan both rely on your years of experience bullshitting your way through debates.

“Okay, as predicted, the two leading teams are ‘NCT House’ and ‘The Sorority gal’s’” Johnny giggles and you nudge Jenni with your shoulder, being late means she gets to choose your team name, and this one is not up to standard in the slightest. “Y/N and Haechan, come on up for the final round.”

Those who are left in the bar are primarily your own friends, however a few other students come to watch the Thursday night trivia takedowns. In fact, the younger members of NCT House have started taking bets on who’s going to win, you or Haechan.

Jaehyun has migrated to a table with a few other frat guys, you recognize his friends Mingyu, Eunwoo and Yugyeom, as well as a tattooed Film Major named Jungkook, who you’ve hooked up with once or twice.

The two bartenders who are on shift with Johnny tonight are Baekhyun and Kai. they’ve acted as the referees for your trivia nights a number of times, and you trust the impartiality of the three men, although Johnny does technically have a bias towards Haechan, he has so much chaotic Aquarius energy that you know he won’t show preference.

“Okay, question twenty one, which doggo is best doggo?” there are four pictures of different dogs on the screen.

“Haechan!” Donghyuck screams his own name, hand raising immediately to signify he has an answer. Haechan’s tactic is always to answer first, so he can choose the easiest answer, or speak first, which he thinks gives him the upper hand. But it also gives you more time to fine tune your answer.

“Haechan!” Johnny nods to the man standing a few feet away from you.

“Doggo number two is the best doggo for three reasons!” Haechan answers, he’s also loved giving ‘three’ examples ever since high school, so none of you are shocked his answer begins this way. Next he’s going to give a logic based answer, then one that makes your heart hurt, and he’ll finish it off by being charismatic and funny. “One, it’s a german shepherd, which are really smart, so smart they’re one of the best breeds for police force work. Reason number two, look at it’s little face and it’s cute little hat. Third and final reason, I used to volunteer waking dogs and german shepherds always attracted a specific kind of girl that was just,” Haechan makes a motion with his fingers, “chef's kiss.”

“Good reasons,” Johnny laughs, “Y/N, rebuttal!”

Unlike Haechan, your strategy is this: know your judges.

“Doggo number four is the best doggo for one obvious reason!” you respond in the same animated manner as Haechan does, mocking him, which you know he hates. “It’s a corgi, in fact, I'm pretty sure that’s Baekhyun’s dog at Exo House’s Christmas party two years ago.”

“What?!” Haechan narrows his eyes at the picture of doggo number four, realizing a moment later that you’re right.

“And we all know that Baekhyun’s doggo is the best doggo.” you conclude, speaking over Haechan.

“And this round's winner is…” Johnny picks up his whiteboard paddle, your name written on the front of it, Baekhyun and Kai following suit, “unanimously Y/N!”

“What!?” Jaehyun yells from the tables, “But the hot girls!”

“The chefs kiss!” Doyoung agrees loudly.

“Excuse me, are you two the judges?” Johnny glares at his friends, “no? I thought so, now shut up and let us work! Remember, there is no right or wrong answer, this is all based on your ability to argue. Next slide… question twenty two! Who’s the hottest?”

Four pictures appear on the board: Taeyong, Doyoung, Jaehyun and Ten.

“Y/N!” you throw your arm up and grab Johnny’s attention.

“Someone’s eager, Y/N!” Johnny points at you to let you answer first.

“The hottest is Taeyong!” You know he’s good friends with not only Johnny, but Baekhyun and Kai as well. “He’s got an amazing jawline, gorgeous big eyes, and he’s just generally beautiful.”

“Haechan, Haechan, Haechan!” your opponent is wiggling with energy, and you turn to watch his rebuttal.

“Haechan go!” Johnny nods to his friend.

“Ten is the hottest! His teeth are perfect,” Haechan begins counting to three with his fingers, “he looks amazing in any style of clothing you throw at him, and look at his nose! I’ve seen girls with nose jobs that aren’t even as pretty! Come on, Ten’s the hottest for sure.”

Johnny holds up the side of his paddle that says ‘Haechan’, and after a moment, Kai agrees with him. To your credit, Baekhyun holds up your name, and he even verbally disagrees with his fellow judges, “Look at him!” Baekhyun points to Taeyong still seated at your table, his ears turning red from the attention, “He’s adorable!”

“If Ten was here you’d say he was adorable too!” Johnny insists, “Haechan wins.” He adds a tally to the board he uses to keep track, hiding the points from you and Haechan until the end of the trivia night. Sometimes, there’s not even really a point to go one versus one because you or Haechan have a five point or more lead, but Johnny likes the theatrics of it all. If he was to tell you that one of your wins is guaranteed, you and Haechan might not fight to the death as you do when it’s a close call, and Johnny’s nothing if not a slut for drama.

“Question twenty three,” Johnny switches to the next slide, “The best category on Netflix to watch when you want to get laid.”

Haechan is quick to throw up his hand to answer, and a moment later he’s going into a full on rant, “horror movies are the best to watch when you want to get laid because the girl will hide on your shoulder and you can cuddle up close-” You roll your eyes and Haechan turns to glare at you, “oh yeah? What's your answer then?”

“Well first, not every girl is going to ‘hide on your shoulder’ because of a horror movie, in fact, Donghyuck, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who screams at jump scares.”

“That was one time in tenth grade-” Haechan glares at you.

Johnny smacks his hand down on the bar top, “order in my court! Y/N, name a Netflix category, other than horror, for when you want to get laid.”

“Yeah babe, what are you going to put on Netflix for background noise when you finally give in and just admit you love me.” Haechan teases.

You scoff loudly, “you know what, Haechan, when pigs fly and I finally decide to graciously allow you to get with this,” you motion to your body, “I’ll be putting on a comedy, that way at least something will be guaranteed to be funny.”

Three paddles present your name and Johnny is still laughing as he gives you the point, Haechan left stuttering with comebacks that fall short. “Question twenty four, name one person to bring to a deserted island with you. Y/N you’re first.”

“The dude from that survivor show, Bear something-”

“Bear Grylls!” Johnny helps you with the name.

“Yeah him, because he’s been doing this shit on tv for years. He would be the best person to bring.” You say, knowing that you answer is falling a bit short, but that’s what happens in the final few questions, Johnny purposefully puts pressure on you and Haechan to answer quickly.

“Haechan!” Johnny points to your debate counterpart.

“If I was on a deserted island I’d bring Y/N, and she’d be the best person because she’d be so fucking annoying I’d have a ton of motivation to build a raft to get the fuck out of there. Worst comes to worst I eat her-”

“Haechan!” Taeyong scolds from the table, “what did we say about cannibal jokes?”

“You said they’re not funny, but they are!” Haechan insists, pointing to Baekhyun and Kai who, unfortunately enough for everyone else, are so immature that they’re giggling.

“Are you two seriously going to vote for Haechan saying he’s going to eat me!?” you ask in shock, gaping at your two trusted bar tenders, “Johnny?! You too?!”

Johnny gives Haechan a tally mark.

“Question twenty five, first answer that comes to your head.” Johnny says loudly, “Name the best song to fuck to.”

“Who even chose these questions?” Doyoung asks, smacking half empty glass of beer down on the table, “these are rigged!”

“What!?” Taeyong argues back, “Haechan just won due to cannibalism!”

“Silence from the peanut gallery!” Johnny screeches. Doyoung lets out a ‘hmph’ sound and crosses his arms over his chest. “Haechan, answer!”

“Uh…” Haechan falters, then he says “Anaconda, Nicki Minaj! Because my anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns hun!”

“Y/N?” Johnny turns to you for the tie breaker answer.

“Or Nah, by Ty Dolla $ign,” You respond smoothly, “because I can lick the tip then throat the dick.”

There's a brief moment of shock and then Jenni and Taeyong are cheering for you, Jaehyun’s frat table bursting out into a fit of giggles as Jungkook nods in confirmation, and all three bartenders show your name on their paddles, signifying another win for you. Haechan is sputtering beside you, “that’s cheating, you’re seducing the judges!”

“She’s not seducing us.” Baekhyun laughs at Haechan’s tantrum, pouring the celebratory winner drink that the bar gives the Trivia Tuesday winner for free.

“And the winner is, drumroll please…” those who are left in the bar follow Johnny’s cue and begin to tap their hands and feet, Johnny coming to stand between you and Haechan, grabbing each of your hands, “coming in first place with 23 points is…” he throws your arms up, “Y/N’s team!”

Haechan doesn’t even take his loss graciously, a groan leaving his lips as he stomps back to his table. You don’t care, you accept the beer from Baekhyun and dance over to your side of the big Greek System table.

“By half a point!?” Haechan’s voice draws your attention from the celebration. Johnny’s just handed him back his score sheet, of course Haechan always goes over it immediately after any loss, just to make sure the marking is correct. “On question one?!”

“The answer is Edward Munch!” Doyoung insists, grabbing the paper from Haechan to inspect it. his pointer finger repeatedly smashes against the name he’d written, and his eyes are wide as he looks up at the bartender and part time trivia judge.

“No it’s Edvard, with a V.” Johnny says, pointing it out to them, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Since when was this a fucking spelling test!” Haechan throws the paper in the air.

“Uh, since always,” Baekhyun calls from the bar, tapping the trivia night poster which clearly says in the rules at the bottom that spelling counts when it comes to names and close call winner ceremonies.

Haechan slumps his head into his hands, “God damn it.”

“No, don’t let her in, she’s not invited.” Comes an irritating voice from over Jaehyun’s shoulder.

“Aw, are you still upset that I beat you at Trivia Tuesday, Baby Face?” you pout at Haechan teasingly, utilizing the old pet name you gave him back in grade eight. In those days he still had all his baby fat, and would get so upset in class arguments that he looked like a baby. He still does the tantruming, but he’s lost the weight, his jaw now nearly as sharp as his frat president’s… he’s not a baby face anymore, but you’ll never acknowledge it.

Jaehyun smirks at you and Haechan bickering, moving out of the way to let you and your friends through the door to NCT House. Of course you’re invited to the party, as the ‘sibling sorority’ to NCT, you and your ‘sisters’ get free access to pretty much all of their frat events, especially their parties.

“You beat me by less than a point.” Haechan rolls his eyes at you, taking a sip from his red solo cup. His eyes are dark and alert, sizing you up. He wonders why you have to dress so- so- revealing! That’s the word. Haechan hates it. You should be in a jacket, it’s cold out. In your outfit right now, well, guys will be checking you out, and for some reason the thought of one of his frat brothers kissing you- it sets Haechan’s teeth on edge.

You grin as you walk past Haechan, “okay Baby Face, keep telling yourself that.”

NCT House is large enough that it’s easy to get lost in the sea of people. You’ve never had any problems avoiding Haechan during parties, and tonight isn’t any different. Three hours pass by blissfully, you bounce around with your friends from the dance floor to various rooms throughout the house, even joining in on a game of beer pong with Jaehyun, Johnny and Yuta. You’ve been drinking on and off, and end up in a happy buzz, looking for Taeyong and Jenni, who you lost a little while ago.

You poke your head into Doyoung’s room, only to be met by Mark, Doyoung and Haechan.

“You looking for someone?” Mark asks, smiling lazily at you.

“Just Taeyong, he’s obviously not here.” you respond, turning to continue your search.

You don’t hear Haechan excuse himself and follow you, the music from downstairs drowning out just about everything as you pass down the hallway in a pleasant half drunken state. You feel good, happy, aware of everything, just tipsy enough to be carefree.

Haechan watches the way you walk, it’s different from normal, your gate is all off. He’s spent years watching you walk away from him, so of course he notices the ‘drunk waddle’ you do at parties. He licks his lips, still able to taste the peach schnapps he’d just been drinking. He’s around your level of tipsy, but where you’re happy and lightheaded, Haechan is determined, with a stubborn set to his jaw.

“Why are you looking for Taeyong?” Haechan asks. The sudden intrusion of his voice on your otherwise happy hallway walk makes you stop and turn to look at him, eyes narrowing.

“What?”

“Taeyong. He’s busy. Why are you looking for him?”

“Stop being so jealous, you big baby,” you roll your eyes at Haechan, turning to continue down the hall- only to be grabbed in a vice grip. Haechan throws you against the wall, the air leaving your lungs from shock more than anything else, eyes blinking away any tipsy haze that your last drink had offered you.

“Call me a baby one more time, I swear to god-” Haechan growls, his face getting close to yours. You can see the deep brown of his eyes, looking rich against the beautiful tone of his skin. His breath smells sweet, like alcohol, but oddly enough you don’t mind, body reacting as it tingles across the skin of your neck and face-

“Woah?” Taeyong’s confused tone snaps you back into reality, and you push Haechan away from you, “am I interrupting… something?”

“She was just looking for you.” Haechan answers smoothly, turning and heading back into Doyoung’s room without another word, foot shutting the door behind him.

“What was all that about?” Taeyong asks you.

Your brows furrow in confusion, “i don’t know.”

By the next morning, you’ve all but forgotten about your little altercation with Haechan. He’s pissed you off enough in your life that the times he’s made you mad at frat parties all seem to blend together, besides, he’s done worse. Like the time he cock blocked you with his friend Jeno… but to be fair, you’d cock blocked him with one of your friends the week before too- in all honesty, your feud has gone on for so long that the scoreboard is marred beyond recognition, who truly started it? You’re inclined to say he did, but if you were to ask him, he’d point to you as the reason the two of you will never be able to get along.

Regardless, your life continues as it is, and on Trivia Tuesday, you find yourself at the bar, sitting opposite ends from Haechan.

It’s nearly eight, trivia starting time, when Jaehyun rolls into the bar. He looks fresh from the shower, hair damp, and you know he’s probably just coming from the gym. Instead of going to sit on the NCT House table, he comes to you, taking the seat across from you and Jenni. The tables do intermingle, a few of your new pledges stuck between Lucas, Jungwoo and Yuta, but to have one of their star players here on your side? If Haechan could shoot laser beams from his eyes, Jaehyun would have been dead the moment he started over to your table.

“You’re playing with us tonight?” Jenni asks in shock.

“Gotta switch it up every now and then.” Jaehyun shrugs, “besides, tonight’s game isn’t going to be that fun anyways.”

“And how would you know that?” You laugh, enjoying the cockiness that radiates off of the gorgeous man in front of you.

Jaehyun shrugs, “let’s just say I have insider’s information.”

Johnny starts the game up a moment later, and when the first Art theme is ‘Van Gogh’, you realize that all the questions are going to be super easy, so much so, that Jenni takes the sheet of paper away from you to answer, leaving you to be able to talk to Jaehyun, who is obviously here to see you, not Jenni.

“So, Spring Formal is coming up.” Jaehyun says, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand, “you guys going as girlfriends again, or are you actually going to allow us guys a chance?”

Jenni giggles next to you. At the last formal, your entire sorority had gone as each other’s dates, to prove to the guys that none of you need them to show up in suits with flowers and a limo- because if they’re not going to live up to your standards, you guys can reach them yourselves. You and Jenni had had a wonderful time at the formal, and only a very select few guys were even able to convince some of your sisters to dance- you know for a fact Jaehyun had gone the entire night without touching a woman, and you’d kind of felt bad at the time. Now here he is, and you suppose as far as NCT House boys go, he’s one of the better catches- despite you arguing for Taeyong’s looks in trivia night last week.

“We’re not going as girlfriends.” Jenni quips.

“Great,” Jaehyun looks to you again, “want to go with me?”

It only takes you a moment to agree, easily won over by Jaehyun’s charming smile and that cute dimple that appears when you say “yes.”

“These questions are too easy!” Haechan whines from the other end of the table, as the category switches to movies and ends up being ‘vampire themed’.

The first picture is of a Twilight movie, and on the other end of the table, Hendery immediately whispers “breaking dawn part 2.”

“No it’s part one.” Xiaojun responds, with just as much ferocity. The two start arguing and Jaehyun laughs, watching as Jenni writes down ‘breaking dawn part 2’.

“Last week’s game was too intense.” Jaehyun says, sitting back in his chair, “everyone wanted something fun.”

You have to admit, now that you’re not on the edge of your seat, muscles tensed with anticipation to answer trivia… well, it is relaxing to be hanging out with friends in the bar. You find yourself leaning against Jenni, laughing at something Jaehyun is saying as question three becomes question twelve becomes question nineteen.

“Okay, final round, the two teams who’ve made it are…. NCT House and Sorority Gal’s 2.0. Please send up a team leader!” Johnny’s instructions draw your attention.

“I’ll go up.” Jenni says, patting your hand and moving out of the booth to go stand next to Haechan by the bar.

“Watching this part is always the most fun.” Jaehyun comes to steal Jenni’s spot next to you, and you can’t help but enjoy the closeness. He smells good, and he’s so big- you can feel his warmth as his shoulder brushes yours, his eyes glued to where Jenni and Haechan are facing the projector screen.

Everyone seems to be a little shocked that Jenni is up there and not you, even Haechan whips around to look at you and Jaehyun. His mouth forms a firm line, and he turns back to the projector screen.

“Question twenty one,” Johnny begins, “If I, Johnny motherfucking Suh, had to dye my hair any colour, which colour would be the sexiest? Jenni, you’re first.”

“Blonde.” Jenni answers, “that way, you can temporarily dye it anything you want, but you need that base blonde level, and I think it would look really good next to your brown eyes.”

“Ok ok, good reasons,” Johnny nods, “Haechan!”

You brace yourself for whatever bullshit answer Haechan is about to give, ready to see him try to decimate your best friend-

“I agree, blonde would be nice.”

You feel your jaw drop.

“Haechan, you’re supposed to argue a different colour, that’s the point of the game.” Johnny says, “Did you hit your head climbing out of our window last night?”

“I’m fine,” Haechan pushes away Johnny’s hand as he tries to assess Haechan’s head, “Jenni’s just right, blonde is a nice colour for you.”

“So I guess… Jenni wins this round?” Sungchan, a new bartender and pledge to NCT House asks. He’s never judged one of these before, and the paddle with Jenni’s name in his hand looks a little out of place.

Next to him, Shotaro, the second new bartender pledge, follows suit, flashing a big puppy dog smile as he shows everyone the Jenni paddle.

“This is bullshit.” you mutter to Jaehyun who laughs, moving his arm around your shoulders to pull you tighter so he can whisper back into your ear. “Just relax and have some fun.”

You take a breath, focusing more on your friend winning than Haechan, who is obviously allowing her to have the upper hand. It irks you the entire night, all the way back to your sorority house, that Haechan would work so hard to beat you, but be nice to Jenni.

You know that Haechan is generally well liked, but there’s something about him rubbing it in your face- the fact that he has the capacity to be nice, but just never tries with you, well, it’s awoken a fury inside of you that you just can’t get a handle on.

“No this plan is genius.” Johnny assures the two people sitting in front of him, “Jaehyun has Y/N, Hyuck will take you-” he motions to Jenni who holds up a hand.

“You still haven't explained how you’re going to subtly pressure Haechan into asking me, of all people, to the Spring Formal.” She says.

“Pff,” Johnny laughs, “that will be the easy part. I can hypnotize him in his sleep.”

“Really?” both of his friends gasp at him.

“No not really, I mean, I’ve considered it, but I haven't tried it-” Johnny waves his hand, “just trust me, I’ll make it happen. Haechan is vindictive, if Y/N is going with Jae, the only possible equivalent is you, Jenni. And then once Haechan sees Jae with Y/N and she sees you with Haechan-”

“They’ll both be so jealous they have to admit they like each other.” Jenni finishes for him. She’s been watching you and Haechan with interest the past few months, having always suspected there were some deeper feelings there, and now, knowing that Jaehyun and Johnny see it too- well, she can’t just ignore the obvious sexual tension any longer, and god damn it, she’ll get the two of you laid if it’s the last thing she does.

“You know Johnny,” Jaehyun stretches his arms behind his head with a smile, “This isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“So…” Johnny collapses onto his bed, eyes moving to Haechan who’s sitting at his desk, headphones half on as he plays online games. Johnny can hear Yangyang’s voice on the other end of the call, yelling something that Johnny is pretty sure is ‘Get Chenle! Get Chenle!’

“One sec.” Haechan madly clicks buttons, letting out a big sigh and taking off his headphones, putting them down, “okay, what’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you’re going to the Spring Formal on Saturday” Johnny says. It’s less than a week away now, and Jenni’s only going to stay single for so long to allow Johnny’s plan to work.

“Of course I am.” Haechan rolls his eyes.

“Who are you taking?” Johnny pretends to be nonchalant, pulling out his phone to scroll through it before he goes to sleep.

“Not sure yet, why?”

“I just thought maybe you’d asked Jenni,” Johnny shrugs, “you were nice to her at Trivia Night last week.”

Haechan’s mouth forms a firm line and he looks for a moment like he’s trying to figure out if this is a compliment or an insult.

“She’s pretty.” Johnny continues.

“She is.” Haechan agrees. “I always thought Jaehyun was into her.”

“Jae asked Y/N.”

Haechan nods, eyes narrowing as he turns to look back at his computer screen, “Maybe I should ask Jenni.”

Johnny smirks to himself. Haechan’s so predictable. It’s about time someone gave him a taste of his own match making medicine, and Johnny’s glad he’s the one who gets to be the mastermind behind it.

At Tuesday Trivia night, Jaehyun comes to sit with you and Jenni. He’s a nice guy, and he’s a good conversationalist, able to keep up with you and your best friend, while filling out the easy trivia questions.

“Why is it another easy week?” you sigh, looking at the paper wistfully. You kind of miss the burn of the pencil in your palm, finger aching from furiously scribbling out answer after answer-

“I think Haechan suggested it.” Jaehyun says smoothly. He’s lying, but the look in your eyes tells him that you’ve bought it and it’s made you mad.

“Why would he want it to be easy?” you cock your head.

“I think he has something planned,” Jaehyun shrugs, “there’s a special girl he wants to ask to formal or something.”

Your eyes immediately move to all the girls at your table. Many of your sorority sisters are gorgeous, and there’s a pang of something like anger in your chest. You ignore the anger, thinking it must be just general dislike for Haechan, you don’t want him dating any of your sorority sisters, that’s for sure.

The game night continues, the three of you spending much of your time talking about extracurriculars. Jaehyun’s the captain of the university soccer team, and it looks like they’ll be doing some traveling soon to play against other schools. Before you even know it, it’s the final round, and once again, Jenni heads up to fight Haechan.

After last week, most people have kind of realized that Haechan and Jenni aren’t as fun to watch as when you’re Haechan’s foe. Conversations continue, all the sparkle lost from the usually fiery final round.

When Jenni comes back to sit next to you, after Haechan won, she says, “he asked me to be his date to Spring Formal.”

“What?” you narrow your eyes.

“I said yes.” Jenni’s words come out quickly, “I know you don’t like him, but you have to admit he’s attractive-”

“Haechan?!” you say it so loudly that you fear he may have heard you, and your eyes slide over to where Haechan is talking with Johnny at the bar.

Jenni shrugs, “maybe it will be fun.” she’s smiling, and it is nice to see your best friend happy- but you just can’t get over the bad taste the news has left in your mouth.

“But why Haechan?” you groan for the umpteenth time, watching Jenni finish the last touch on her hair.

“Honestly?” Jenni sighs, turning to look at you, “you have to admit he’s hot. I know you two have your history of fighting, but come on Y/N, he’s gorgeous.”

“He is not!” you say, but Jenni grins because you’re not fooling anyone.

“Y/N, you’re not blind.” Jenni adjusts her dress, fluffing her hair out, “I know you call him Baby Face and Cry Baby and all sorts of variations on the word baby, but he’s not that kid you debated against in eleventh grade. He’s a hot frat boy now. Maybe it’s time for you both to bury the hatchet.”

“Never.”

“Well, at least try to be civil at the formal, we’ll all be sitting together.” She reminds you and you let out a groan. At every formal you’ve been to, avoiding Haechan has been easy, but now he’s going to be sitting with you? With Jenni? His date?

The frat village holds all the sorority and frat houses on campus, and when you look out of your window, you can see the square is filled with people dressed for Formal, waiting for the big party busses to arrive and take you to the venue.

“Hey, are you into Jae?” Jenni asks as you leave the bedroom, heading to join everyone outside.

“Uh, I mean he’s cute, but I don’t know, I couldn’t ever date him, if that’s what you mean.” you answer, “He only asked me to the formal because we’re friends.” It’s not uncommon for NCT House to take girls from your sorority to the formals, last year you went with Taeyong to Winter Formal and Yuta to Spring Formal.

“Do you have your eye on anyone else then?” Jenni asks, “I know you liked Jeno for a while-”

“No, Jeno wasn’t really my type either.” you sigh.

“True, weren’t you mostly just flirting with him to piss Haechan off?”

Before you can answer- and by answer I mean defend your honour and your hatred of Haechan to your best friend- you bump into a group of boys from NCT House. Jenni smoothly inserts herself into the conversation, slotting between Taeyong and Doyoung while you go to stand near Jaehyun.

“Hey, you look beautiful.” Jaehyun smiles.

“You clean up nicely too.” you grin, nudging him with your shoulder. The two of you begin to chat about the venue, Jaehyun’s pretty sure you’ll end up at the same place as last time, but only frat presidents/coordinators know the location, that way no one can party crash because only a select few have the details.

There’s a commotion from NCT House and all eyes turn to the doorway, where Haechan and Kun have run outside holding something that’s on fire. Haechan throws the flaming piece of fabric onto the grass, stomping it out aggressively with his foot and cursing while Jungwoo follows holding a phone and giggling.

“I told you it was flammable.” Kun is saying as he makes sure the fabric, which you see now is what appears to be a suit jacket, is fully extinguished of fire.

“Everything’s flammable.” Haechan mutters, picking up the black jacket and inspecting it, “well, my bad. Here Kun.” he holds it out for the older man whose jaw drops.

“What do you expect me to do with it?”

Haechan nods, “good point.” he drops it on the grass again, “I didn’t need a jacket anyways.” and then he shoves his hands in his pockets and saunters over to your group, coming to stand next to Jenni who still has a look of shock on her face.

“Haechan-” she begins and he holds up a hand.

“Don’t question it.” he says smoothly, “trust the process.” he rolls up the arms of his dress shirt, exposing the pretty skin and arm veins beneath, and you tear your gaze from him, focusing instead on Jaehyun.

“I can’t believe Jenni said yes to him.”

Jaehyun laughs, “You know, you and Haechan are more alike than you’ll admit.”

“Excuse me,” you scoff, “and when was the last time I lit a jacket on fire?”

“I'm pretty sure you almost lit Johnny on fire at New Year’s actually-”

“We don’t talk about that night.” you interrupt Jaehyun before he can get into the details on how you got so drunk you spilled champagne on Johnny and then proceeded to try to hug him, which made him bump into a table holding a candle… which then rolled to his shirt sleeve, and well- the disaster had been thwarted by the ever watchful Taeyong. “Look, the bus is here.”

Jaehyun’s hand finds the small of your back, and the two of you get onto the bus with the other members of your university Greek System. When you sit down, you look for Jenni, only to realize that she’s dragging Haechan after her. They manage to grab the seats in front of you and Jaehyun, Jenni fully turning around in her seat to begin talking with you and your date, after a moment, Haechan turns too.

You can tell he’s making an effort not to look at you. And you don’t mind, you try to ignore him as well.

Haechan has to remind himself to breathe properly, and his mouth feels dry. His skin is prickling with tension, and it takes all of his concentration not to look at you. He’s seen you dressed up before at formals, but never up this close, no, this close he can see every detail.

This close, his fingers ache to reach out and tug at one of your loose strands of hair, to annoy you- to watch your pretty strands bounce back after a rough tug-

And god, who let you buy your dress? Haechan swears it must be tailored or something because no dress off a hanger could fit you so well. He’s almost angry at the dress, but then he directs that anger at you, and it festers the more people sneak glances your way.

Lucas, two rows back, has his eyes fixed on your neck and shoulders, exposed by the dress, and Haechan grinds his teeth together. Across the aisle sits Mark, and even he keeps sneaking glances at you. But Jaehyun is, without a doubt, the worst. Haechan catches the movement of his hand, and watches with disdain as it finds a home on your thigh.

“Haechan?” Jaehyun’s voice interrupts his younger friend's loathing, and Haechan’s dark eyes snap up.

“What?”

“We asked what venue you think it will be.” Jaehyun says smoothly.

“Does it matter?” Haechan asks, his tone coming off ruder than he intended… ‘but if Jaehyun would just remove his hand, then maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to be so rude now would I?’ Haechan thinks to himself.

“What’s got you in a huff?” Jenni asks, her hand finding Haechan’s shoulder to soothe him.

You watch the motion, the way her beautiful hand rubs his shoulder up and down. ‘Haechan’s being a baby, he doesn’t need coddling right now, especially not from Jenni,’ you fume, hoping Jenni doesn't end up as yet another one of Haechan’s noona hookups who brings him coffee and cuddles him when he should be studying for tests-

While Jenni and Haechan begin their own conversation, Jaehyun asks you about classes, and despite how hard you try, you can’t ignore the mere existence and close proximity of the annoying man sitting in the seats in front of you. It’s as if his voice is an annoying melody, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

The formal had gone well for the first hour. There were some speeches and then food was served, but when dessert rolled out and dancing started, Haechan had decided that the time for pleasantries was over.

“Next week’s Trivia Tuesday,” he says, drawing your attention, “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Oh yeah?” you roll your eyes, turning to look at him, “you keep saying you’re going to kick my ass but most of the time, I end up winning.”

“Most of the time.” Haechan scoffs, “as if.”

Jenni and Jaehyun exchange a glance.

“If you miss getting beaten by me so bad, invite me to one of your video game nights, I’m sure I could beat you there too.” you say, lifting your chin defiantly and crossing your arms over your chest.

Haechan laughs loudly, “are you drunk? Yo must be drunk to say something as stupid as that.”

Jaehyun and Jenni smoothly excuse themselves, but you and Haechan barely even register their exit, too caught up in your own feud.

“I’ll beat you at anything Lee Donghyuck.” you seethe, “trivia night, video games, cards, board games, chess-”

“Ok, checkers, right now, pull out your phone.” Haechan demands.

A minute later, you’re both hunched over your phones at a table in the corner at Spring Formal, dueling it out over checkers while your dates dance and laugh the night away in each other’s arms.

Checkers becomes chess, becomes scrabble- and finally someone approaches the two of you. It’s Taeyong, and he asks you to dance, because he’s requested DJ Johnny plays your favourite song next. “What have the two of you even been doing in this corner all night on your phones?” he questions as he takes your hand to pull you from your seat.

“Been battling to see who’s the best gamer.” Haechan answers.

“And who’s winning?” Taeyong laughs.

Haechan narrows his eyes at you, “it’s pretty even, but we haven't played video games yet.”

This makes Taeyong stop laughing, his eyes widening, “Y/N, you really don’t want to challenge Haechan to video games.”

“Too late, she already did.” Haechan stands triumphantly, “where’s Jenni?”

“Pretty sure I saw her and Jaehyun go to the bathroom together a while ago-”

“What!?” Haechan looks around wildly, eyes searching for one of the two people in question, “THAT ASSHOLE STOLE MY DATE!”

Taeyong smiles softly, “you stole his first.”

You’re whisked away before Haechan can start throwing fists, and Taeyong brings you into the middle of the crowd dancing. It’s nice to be with him, and he’s a great dancer. “How’s your night going?” The soft hearted frat president asks.

“I mean, all I’ve been doing is playing games with Haechan.” you answer.

“Sounds… fun?” Taeyong laughs a little.

“It was, kind of.” you admit, “but enough about him, where’s your date?”

“Look on the stage.” Taeyong twirls you so you can assess the DJ setup. Johnny and Mark are up there, and they’re swarmed by girls, one of whom is pressed to Mark’s side, you recognize her as Taeyong’s date.

“Oh.”

Taeyong laughs, “when do people ever really end up spending the night with their own dates though?”

“Good point.”

Dancing with Taeyong feels easy, and before you know it, it’s nearly midnight and the busses have returned to take you all back to the Frat Village. While waiting to get onto the bus, you look around for Jenni and Jaehyun, with little luck. “They’re probably already on a bus.” Taeyong says, hand smoothing against your lower back to offer some comfort.

“Who?” Doyoung asks, stepping into line next to you both.

“Jae and Jenni.”

“Oh yeah, they’re on bus number one.” Doyoung points to the bus that's closing its doors, fully packed and ready to leave.

“Fucking Jaehyun.” Comes Haechan’s voice as he appears next to Doyoung. The four of you enter bus number two.

“Dibs on Taeyong.” Doyoung says when you find an empty seat, grabbing the NCT president and dragging him to sit down.

This leaves you standing there with Haechan, who grumbles “fucking Doyoung” and then continues down the aisle towards one of the last free seats. You follow after a moment’s hesitation. “Sit.” Haechan says without looking up from his phone, his free hand patting the spot next to him. “I wanna try checkers again.”

Jenni nudges you and you immediately put your phone down, continuing your notes for class. “You’re so distracted.” she whispers when your professor turns their back to you, looking at the projector screen.

“I’m kicking Haechan’s ass at chess.” you mumble, waiting a few moments then pulling out your phone to make your next move. While you’re deciding what to do next, a notification tells you Haechan’s also made his move in checkers, and a few seconds after that, Scrabble as well.

“How many games are you even playing against each other at the same time?” Jenni asks.

“I don’t know, four or five.” you respond, eyes focused on your screen, “he’s beating me at checkers.”

Jenni’s phone dings and she frowns, “no one’s going to Trivia Night tonight, looks like a bunch of NCT have a midterm project due tomorrow and are studying in the library.”

“What? Tell them to bring their books to the bar!”

Jenni types something into her phone then laughs, “Jaehyun says that Haechan suggested the same thing.”

“Okay good.”

“No, they said no to him too, I’m just saying… you and Haechan said the same thing.” her tone is kind of weird, and you can’t help but notice that since Formal a few days ago, she’s been bringing up Haechan a lot.

“Did Jaehyun invite you to go to the library to study with everyone?” you ask, hoping that if you talk about her new crush, she’ll drop her whole weird confusing Haechan obsession.

“Yeah,” Jenni smiles, “I think I will actually, what are you going to do after class?”

“Well… tonight’s Trivia Night.” you frown. You’d been excited for it, excited to go and compete against Haechan.

“Maybe you should go play video games against Haechan instead.” Jenni suggests, “the frat will be mostly empty anyways.”

“What does the frat being empty have to do with anything?” you narrow your eyes at your best friend.

Jenni smirks mischievously, “well you and Haechan can yell at each other all you want and no one will over hear it.”

Haechan: Did you hear about Trivia Night?

Y/N: yeah it’s canceled :(

Haechan: come play video games

Y/N: ask nicely

Haechan: come play video games after class or I’ll come to your sorority house and egg your window :)

Haechan doesn’t even greet you when he opens the door to his frat, waving you in as he aggressively argues with someone over the phone, “No Yangyang, I’m not saying you should climb up to the top of the gym by using the flower thing as a ladder,,” he motions for you to follow him through the frat house with his free hand, “I’m saying that if you did, and you got caught, you could run fast enough that no one would be able to catch you, and if you’re wearing a ski mask- well, i mean, it’s cold out still isn’t it? Is wearing hats illegal now?” You get to his room as Haechan says goodbye to his friend.

You’ve been in Johnny’s room once or twice, but you’ve never spent much time looking at Haechan’s side of the room. He has an entire gaming table, and there are two controllers sitting on his bed, with Call of Duty opened on the screen.

“You just told your friend to climb the gym and take photos at the top.” you say when Haechan puts his phone down.

“Technically I didn’t, I just told him how to if he made that choice for himself.” Haechan responds, jumping onto his bed, “one versus one call of duty.”

“Isn’t it kind of not fair that we’re playing all your favourite games.” you sigh, tentatively taking a seat next to Haechan on his bed.

“We’re playing the ones I don’t use often.” Haechan responds, his eyes scanning the screen, “but if you’re really that worried I’m going to beat you, we can go play some of Yangyang’s video games, or Jaimin’s.”

“Ok, after this.” you watch Haechan customize his gun, rolling your eyes when he goes for dual pistols as a secondary weapon.

Within ten minutes, the game is starting, and Haechan is leaning forward with full focus on the screen. He’s never taken any of your games anything less than 100% seriously, and you don’t think he’s going to go easy on you now just because you’re playing video games, which are his medium of choice.

You notice the way his tongue peaks out, he appears to be almost gnawing on it as the game begins. You also sit forward, figuring that there must be a reason for it, and you notice that closer to the screen, you can be more immersed-

You die.

“Hey! Are you screen peeking!?”

“Maybe.” Haechan giggles next to you and you take a glance at his screen.

“And you’re camping! With a sniper!”

Haechan’s laugh becomes sinister, “you never said there were rules.”

Your jaw drops as you respawn, “i can’t believe you.”

“Ha ha!”

“Well. Two can play that game.” you find a corner and put your controller down, looking at Haechan, who is, of course, still camped out in his one sniper hole.

“Hey!” he protests, “you have to run around or I can’t shoot you!”

“Maybe you should leave your hiding spot.”

“No. I’m winning.”

“By one kill.” you scoff.

Haechan shrugs, putting his controller down, “I’m hungry.” he reaches for a bag of candy sitting by his monitor.

You’re glad that it’s a Tuesday, because Jenni and you stopped at the bookstore for lunch, and you still have a bag of chips from the vending machine. You grab your purse and fish out your treat, Haechan watching your movements and licking his lips. “You have chips.” he says.

“Yeah, and you don’t get any.” you state.

“Well you don’t get any of my candy.” Haechan responds quickly, but his eyes stay glued to you as you plop a chip into your mouth. Haechan licks his lips, “what if, if I kill you, I get a chip.”

“Good luck killing me while camping out with a sniper.” you laugh.

“I’ll come down, I’ll play fair.”

“And if I kill you?”

“Then you can have a candy.” Haechan moves the candy bag in front of your face and you can smell the delicious food inside.

“Fine. You’re on. But you have to come down from your hiding place first.”

You wait until Haechan’s side of the screen shows that he’s in the open, and then you pick up your controller.

“Let the games begin.” Haechan mutters, eyes narrowing as he adjusts back into ‘gamer position’.

A few moments later, you see a flash of movement and then you and Haechan are shooting each other. You almost think you’re going to win, but you die first, and you groan loudly while Haechan cheers, “chips!” he says, turning to look at you expectantly.

You sigh and hold out your food, Haechan grabs a chip, chewing aggressively, then he turns back to the screen, “you should just give me the whole bag now.”

You roll your eyes, “as if.”

Haechan is so cocky, and it pushes all of your buttons, making you extra focused on beating him. When there’s a brief movement, you begin to shoot, and a moment later, you watch Haechan’s character fall down dead. “Ha!” you jump up, throwing your arms in the air, “I got you!”

Haechan groans, watching you sit down, then he fishes a candy from his bag, holding it out, “say ah.”

“What?” you smack his hand away, “you’re not feeding me that candy.”

“Well then you don’t get it.”

“That wasn’t part of the rules.” you glare.

“Is now. Do you want the candy, or are you too chicken?”

You groan loudly but give in, Haechan can’t call you a chicken and get away with it, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get your fucking candy. You open your mouth.

“Tongue.” Haechan watches you carefully.

“I swear to god-” you roll your eyes and push at Haechan, but he simply grabs your wrists, pinning them with one hand.

“Tongue.” he repeats, eyes dark. The tone in the room has shifted, and your skin feels electrified, pulse racing at the sudden situation you’ve found yourself in. You stick your tongue out for him and Haechan places the candy on it. “Good girl.”

He lets go of you and turns back to the tv. If it wasn’t for the fact that he could legitimately find you and kill your character, thereby getting even more of a lead on you, maybe you would have stopped to fight him. But instead, you grab your controller, focusing your attention on the game instead of Haechan’s close proximity to you.

You’re on the edge of your seat now, eyes glued to the game, and you shock both yourself and Haechan when you end up killing him a second consecutive time.

“Bullshit!” Haechan groans next to you.

“Aw, is Baby Face made that I’m beating him?” you turn to gloat, revelling in the feeling of competition-

But then Haechan is grabbing you and slamming you down against the bed, slotting himself between your legs and pinning your arms above your head, “call me baby again, I fucking dare you.” he growls. His voice is low and his words go straight to your core, which comes alive with interest, your legs tightening unconciously around Haechan’s waist.

You swallow thickly and lick your lips, “quit being a baby and give me a candy.” you say smoothly.

Haechan narrows his eyes at you, face getting closer to yours. You can feel his breath against your skin, and his lips look so pretty-

Haechan reaches for something, hand coming back with a candy that he slots between his teeth, holding it just above your own mouth. His eyes challenge you, eyebrow cocking as if to say ‘your turn’.

You lift your head up to try to get access to the candy, but Haechan pulls away, smirking down at you. You groan, rolling your eyes, a rude comment just about to work it’s way up your throat when Haechan sucks the candy back into his mouth and plants his lips directly onto yours. He has the candy wedged in his cheek, but you can taste the sweetness of it on his lips.

Haechan releases his hold on your wrists, which have been pinned this whole time, and now that you have mobility, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. One of your hands moves to his pretty hair, and you get a good handful, pulling lightly and earning yourself a growl from the man who’s kissing you as if his life depends on it.

Your entire body feels on fire, consumed by the feeling of Haechan. You’re not even sure how you’re able to sneak breaths between the kisses- and you gasp when Haechan grinds down, the front of his jeans catching deliciously against your core.

“Whoever caves in first and takes clothes off loses.” Haechan says when he moves his kisses to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin.

You laugh, “and what does the winner get?”

“The winner gets to have her brains fucked out.” Haechan responds.

Her brains fucked out. He’s already declared you the winner. He’s given up. The knowledge that you’ve broken Haechan- he’s going to give up the game- gives you a sense of power that makes your heart feel tight in your chest.

“What if i want to be the loser and fuck your brains out?” you ask.

“Lose the next game.” Haechan responds, hands grabbing at the bottom of your shirt and lifting to expose some of your skin, “you see, I already lost.”

You grasp the bottom of Haechan’s hoodie, but he smacks your hands away, “no, I’m in control.” he tells you, looking into your eyes with a firm expression on his face.

“Prove it.” you challenge.

Haechan scoffs, and the cocky attitude that has for so long annoyed you, oddly enough, sends a shiver of anticipation through your body. Your mouth feels dry from being so wound up, waiting for him to just do something-

His hand wraps around your throat, “I’m about to prove it princess. And any time you call me baby again, I’ll prove it then too. I’ll fuck you anywhere and prove to everyone that you’re mine.”

His grip on your throat is so tight you can’t even respond, so you’re left to fester in the idea of belonging to Haechan, as his free hand begins to undo your pants.

“No fucking talking back.” Haechan growls as he tears your jeans open, “if you do, I’ll have to gag you.”

“Maybe you should make me gag on your cock.” you say the moment his hand moves from your neck.

Haechan pulls your pants and your panties down just enough for him to get his hand between your thighs, which are spread because he’s still slotted between your legs.

“I’ll make you choke on my cock later.” he says, pressing his mouth to yours again as his fingers slip between your folds, “so fucking wet. My little fucking whore-”

You nip at his lip, a warning for him not to be too degrading, and Haechan smirks against your mouth, “aw, kitten doesn’t like being called Daddy’s little whore? Well she’ll have to get fucking used to it.” Two of his fingers glide into your pussy and you gasp when he hooks them up, searching for that spot-

“Fuck, Haechan! Right there!” you pull at his hair, moaning against his lips as his fingers work you up. He’s so good at this- where the fuck did he learn how to do this?

His tongue invades your mouth, forcing another gasp from you, your back arching off the bed only to be pushed back down by the weight of Haechan’s large body, which holds you steady and in place as his fingers continue their assault.

“Cum for me.” Haechan says, voice low and husky.

You clench your eyes shut as your body follows through with his command, it’s not like you can help it even if you wanted to, Haechan’s too skilled. The orgasm slams into you hard, and with Haechan where he is, you can’t even close your legs or get away as his fingers glide in and out of you. You can hear your wetness now, pussy all but squelching, your moans uncensored as you dig your nails into Haechan’s shoulders.

“You like that kitten?” Haechan watches you closely as your face contorts with pleasure, and he all but eats up your sounds, which are music to his ears. When you finally come down, Haechan removes his fingers from your core and pushes them past your lips, watching with interest as you suck him clean. “Bet you taste amazing, I think i’ll have to see for myself.”

His lips move to your neck, and then down, tongue dipping to caress the well of your collarbone. His free hand pushes your shirt up, “take this shit off.” he instructs as he continues his descent, manhandling you a little so you’re now laying with your head against his pillows. The fabric smells like him, and for some reason, you groan at the beauty in being surrounded by Haechan.

The competitive frat boy’s lips leave little kisses on your abdomen and his hands get your pants the rest of the way down while you remove your shirt. Haechan settles between your legs, fingers smoothing over your skin, “so soft.” he coos, teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Tell me you want me.”

“Are you serious?” you almost laugh, only to earn a rougher bite from Haechan, who suckles on your skin after to sooth it, a non verbal confirmation that he is, in fact, being serious. “Fuck, Haechan I want you.”

“How bad?” his breath ghosts over your entrance as he moves to your opposite thigh, and you nearly groan at having been anticipating his lips only to fall short. You lift your head to look down at him as he pulls his hoodie off, revealing pretty shoulders that are shockingly broad.

“Really bad, Haechan please, I need you-”

Your words seem to be enough this time, because Haechan’s tongue finds your clit a moment later. He flicks at it, making your legs shake, before he fully places his mouth on you, lapping at all you have to offer.

You reach down to grab at his hair, loving the way the soft strands feel. Haechan groans at the pain on his scalp when you tug lightly, and the vibration runs through your entire body, your own whimper echoing the sound.

Haechan is practically devouring you with his mouth, and his hands move to grip your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. His lips suction around your clit and your back arches off the bed. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm, and your legs are already trembling on either side of Haechan’s head.

“Haechan-” you pull on his hair to try to get him away, not wanting to cum so quickly- but Haechan has other plans. He doesn’t seem to mind you tugging at his hair, in fact, if anything, you notice that his tongue applies even more pressure to your entrance. Each flick, each sinful slurp, gets you closer and closer to another orgasm until it’s crashing into you with as much ferocity as the first.

His warm hand flattens on your abdomen to keep you still as he works you through your orgasm until your throat feels raw from moaning and your whole body is wrapped in a wonderful afterglow, chest heaving as you try to get your breathing back to normal.

Haechan begins kissing up your body, lips tickling your tummy and making you giggle. You can feel him smiling against your skin, and then he’s pulling your bra away from your skin and watching it smack back down, a mischievous glint in his eyes when you look down at him ready to fight due to the slight pain. “Take this off.” Haechan says, now kissing the swell of your breasts pushed up by your bra.

“Do it for me.”

Haechan sighs loudly but, as is the case with everything, he’ll accept your challenge.

“One handed.” you smirk.

“You think I can’t take off your bra with one hand kitten?” he narrows his eyes at you, “if I can, do I win?”

“Yes, and then as a reward I’ll fuck the shit out of you.” you moan when his lips move to your neck, suckling the spot that sends shivers through your body, your fingers clawing at his shoulders.

Haechan laughs, one hand snaking under your body to unlatch your bra. The moment the tension goes slack and your bra is undone, you shake your head, of course he’d make it look easy as fuck on top of being able to do it with one hand.

He slips your bra off, lips once again moving down. He sucks on your nipple softly at first, but then his teeth graze your skin and you moan, hips buckling up, searching for friction or pressure or something-

“Haechan-” you moan, reaching down between your bodies to try to grab his cock through his pants.

The man sucking on your nipples ignores you, caught up in the feeling of your boobs. Haechan’s always been a boob man, well… he likes ass too, in fact, Haechan’s just a ladies man in general. He worships the female form, and having his face squished up to your breasts is throwing him into overdrive, his mind nothing but a lusty haze.

All those times he wanted you to cover up at parties and bars- it’s not because he didn’t want to see you, he just wanted to be the only one seeing you, and now he is.

Haechan groans and you note the way he grinds his hips down against the bed. the visual is so hot, and if you weren’t so pent up, you think you might enjoy watching him just grind against the bed forever.

You’ve had enough of his teasing, now it’s your turn. You push at Haechan’s shoulders roughly, and Haechan immediately gives you space, eyes looking up at you questioningly. You push him again and Haechan allows you to get him onto his back, a smile forming on his lips when you swing your leg over his waist so you can straddle him. Now you’re the one on top, and Haechan’s view has never been this good in his entire life.

His hands find your waist, eyes glued to your tits as you look down at his form.

You have to admit he’s gorgeous. You think you’ve always been aware of his beauty, but you’ve had this thing where you’ve been so competitive with him that it’s been easy to ignore. Sometimes you still view him as that pudgy faced kid who would fight you over everything in highschool, but the man under you is not the boy you grew up to hate. The man under you is all chiseled angles, and his beautiful dark eyes draw you in like nothing else.

It’s as if you’re seeing each other for the first time. There’s no witty back and forth, no thoughts of competition. No, it’s just you and him, suspended in a moment of quiet and primal pleasure.

Your eyes travel to the beautiful column of his throat, and you decide the skin there has to be peppered in love bites. You lean down, and Haechan sucks in a breath when you grab his jaw, forcing his head to the side to give you better access. His fingers dig into your hips, “don’t forget who’s in charge.” he growls from under you, his hands forcing you to grind down on his length, which is still hidden from you by his jeans.

“I’m in charge now baby boy.” you smirk, suckling on the skin of his neck.

Haechan lets out a groan, his eyes closing as the pleasure of the pet name washes over him. Baby Boy isn’t so bad actually, it’s better than ‘baby face’. His skin tingles with the newfound discovery that he actually kind of enjoys you being dominant with him, or at least challenging him like this. No other girl ever has, usually they just submit to him and be pillow princesses- but you? You’re something else, and maybe the fire in you is something he’s always been addicted to, without even consciously knowing it.

Haechan allows himself to relax a little, giving up control to you as your lips trail down to his collarbones. Your hands brush by the soft ticklish flesh of his abdomen and Haechan jerks under you, making you both burst into giggles. You continue pressing kisses to his skin as your hands undo his jeans.

Haechan lifts his hips and helps you wiggle his pants down, but he leaves his briefs on. Yes, you’re down there, but what if you’re not really ready to blow him? He doesn’t want to just whip his dick out-

You shove his briefs down.

Haechan’s cock smacks up against his abdomen, and you lick your lips at the way the head of his cock glistens with precum. He’s a decent length, but what really catches you is his thickness. He’s big, and the vein that runs up the underside of his cock draws you in for some odd reason. You grab the shaft and position yourself over his cock, kitten licking the head and earning a groan from the man above you. “Feel good?” you smirk, repeating the action.

“Fuck, yes.” one of Haechan’s hands snakes down to your hair, he gets a grip but doesn’t apply pressure, doesn’t coax you to sink your mouth down on his cock. You don’t need any persuasion though, licking your lips one last time before you wrap your mouth around Haechan’s girthy cock, fitting as much as you can.

Haechan moans above you, fingers flexing in your hair. His head falls back into the pillows, eyes clenched as he enjoys the feeling of your mouth smoothing up and down his cock.

“So good kitten,” he groans, hips jumping slightly, cock hitting the back of your throat and making you choke a little, “fuck, just like that- you weren’t kidding at Trivia Night when you said you could lick the tip then throat the dick-”

You work your mouth up and down faster, trying not to laugh or gloat, one of your hands wrapping around the base of his cock where you can’t reach. This better be the best fucking blow job he’s ever had, or you don’t win. You focus more on the head of his cock while your fist pumps his long shaft, using your saliva as lubrication as you twist your hand in a repetitive motion that has Haechan nearly cumming on the spot, “holy fuck-” his eyes snap open and he looks down at you, which is not the best idea, seeing as the visual of you worshiping him- he can feel his orgasm building in the base of his cock, and he’ll be damned if he cums from a fucking blow job.

“Fuck, enough of your mouth,” Haechan pushes your head away.

“I’m in charge.” you pout, looking up at him with a challenge in your eyes as your hand continues to pump him up and down.

“Not anymore.” Haechan smacks your hand away, and within moments, he has you pinned under him again, lips aggressive against yours. His tongue invades your mouth, and you feel something against your entrance- only to let out a disappointed moan when it’s just his fingers again. “Quit whining, I need to stretch you out.” he growls against your lips, opening his eyes to look at you.

He needs to stretch you out. He’s that big. You nearly salivate at the information, pouting up at Haechan, “I need you now.” you whimper, legs tightening around his waist.

“Then get ready to scream for me kitten.” Haechan presses his lips to yours again. You can feel the head of his cock at your entrance, and you smile because you’ve won- and then he starts pushing into you and your nails dig into his shoulder blades at the stretch.

“Fuck- Haechan!” you gasp as he peppers your face with kisses, smirking against your skin.

“Told you.” he says, sliding into you inch by inch, “fuck, you’re so warm and wet-”

He’s fully sheathed in you now, and his breath fans over your neck and face, his kisses softer now as he allows your body to get used to his size. He also just needs a breather, because your blow job got him closer to cumming that he’ll care to admit. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him is cute and he enjoys watching your face, eyes meeting yours every once in a while just to check and make sure you’re okay.

“Haechan, fuck me.” you groan once your body has adjusted to the size of his cock.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Haechan’s hips move fluidly, his cock sliding almost all the way out of your core, only to slip back in, refilling the emptiness he’d left in his wake. A moan leaves your lips, your eyes closing as the pleasure engulfs you. Your fingers find Haechan’s soft hair and a small tug makes the man holding you let out a whimper of his own, hips thrusting even harder.

There’s no need for talking, and even if he was to say something, you’re not sure it would even register in your mind. You’re so overwhelmed by the feeling of him, by the sweet taste of his lips, the soft warmth of his beautiful skin, and the smell of his cologne.

You’re aware of Haechan moving one of your hands, but you don’t open your eyes until his fingers lace with yours and your hand becomes pinned down to the pillow by your head. Haechan is looking down at you, and this close, you can see the rich chocolate browns hidden in the dark depths of his irises. Blue eyes get a lot of love, but you can’t imagine finding anything more beautiful than the soft richness of Haechan’s eyes.

His gaze dips to your lips and you do the same, a flare of envy running through your body when you notice how fucking perfect his mouth is, lips all swollen from kissing-

You press your mouth to Haechan’s, suckling on his lower lip and earning a groan from the man who is literally fucking you silly.

You can feel your orgasm rising in the pit of your stomach, and your muscles cry out from the fact that you’re about to cum for a third time in such a short period. You can’t remember the last time a man made you feel this good-

A whimper leaves your lips when Haechan slips his hand between your bodies, finding your clit again. Your hips thrust up, legs tightening around Haechan, “fuck- Haechan- cum for me-”

He growls against your lips. Usually he’s the one commanding that his partner cums, but to hear those words coming from your mouth- a shiver runs the entire length of his body, his fingers squeezing yours where he still has your hand captured as it’s prisoner.

“Please-” you whine again when he rubs your clit faster.

He can feel your walls tightening around his cock, betraying how close you are, and he knows the moment you cum, you’ll drag him over too, so his goal is entirely on your own pleasure.

His lips move to your neck and he finds that spot again- you’re pretty sure he’s marked it- how else would he be able to find it so easily every time? All you can do is hold on tightly to Haechan as he throws your body into overdrive.

Your grip on his shoulders anchors you a little, and you begin to move your own hips to meet his- something no one’s ever done with Haechan before. The motion takes him back a little, but fuck, it’s so fucking sexy-

“Cum for me baby boy-” you whisper into his ear, and the moan that leaves Haechan’s lips is so sinful and sexy that it triggers your orgasm.

Your pussy clamps down on Haechan’s thick cock, and he swears he’s in heaven You were tight enough as it was, but now that you’re cumming? Haechan cum’s hard, his hips continuing their assault even as you both moan, lips reconnecting so your tongues and teeth can clash, eating each other's sounds as you both nearly vibrate with pleasure.

You’re not sure how long you both ride out your orgasms, only that your bodies are both sweaty and exhausted as Haechan’s hips finally begin to slow down. You try to catch your breath even while kissing. His cock stays buried in you while you make out, and when you move your fingers to Haechan’s hair, intent on tugging, he pulls away finally, “if you tug my hair, I’ll have to fuck you again.” he warns you.

You smirk, “sounds like a challenge.”

“Where are Y/N and Haechan?” Mark asks as he arrives at trivia night, shocked to see neither of the tables regular team leaders are present. In fact, the whole set up is a little odd, both tables firmly pushed together, with members of the frats and sororities more intermixed than Mark is used to.

“We told them trivia night was canceled.” Jaehyun answers from where he’s sitting with his arm around Jenni.

“What? Why?” Mark pulls out his phone, ready to text Haechan to come-

“So they could get laid.” Johnny says, coming to stand next to Mark as he hands out drinks to people, “if you tell Haechan we did trivia night without them I’ll break into your room at night and shave off your eyebrows.”

Mark swallows thickly, knowing that Johnny will for sure follow through with his threat. One time Lucas had pissed Johnny off after a particularly tense game of basketball and that night Johnny had held him down and taken a razor to his brows. Johnny had been nice and just given him two slits, which, honestly, had looked pretty good- but Mark isn’t willing to risk Johnny deciding to go full evil.

“Wait is this why Taeyong sent that message out that said the frat is supposed to be mostly empty today?” Mark looks around.

“Mostly? What do you mean mostly? We told everyone but Haechan that the frat had to be empty because it ‘smelt like there might be a gas leak and someone’s coming to check it out’.” Taeyong leans forward with concern.

“Yeah but… but Yuta’s at the frat right now.” Mark says.

“He’s WHAT?!” multiple men whip out their phones to check their group chats for any messages from Yuta. The group had been studying in the library all day and ignoring their phones.

“Yeah, this morning he said,” Mark reads out the text he received from Yuta before their 10am lecture, “‘i’m skipping classes today, fuck a bad smell, a bad smell can’t kill me, i’m a bad bitch’.”

Mark taps on the group chat, which has come alive since he sat down.

5:13

Yuta: fuck Haechan and Y/N are fighting again

Yuta: wait… they’re not fighting

Yuta: YO HAECHAN’S GETTING LAID

7:58

Taeyong: WE TOLD YOU TO LEAVE THE FRAT

Yuta: YOU SAID THERE WAS A GAS LEAK YOU NEVER SAID I HAD TO LEAVE

Jae: are u still at the frat????

Yuta: maybe

Johnny: have you just been LISTENING TO THEM FUCK THIS WHOLE TIME????

Yuta: maaaaybe

Taeyong:......

Johnny: you fucking dirty psycho

Mark: ooooop

Lucas: are they being loud?

Doyoung: LUCAS!

Kun: LUCAS!!!!!

Taeyong: LUCAS

Yuta: SO fucking loud

After spending most of the day with Haechan on Tuesday, the two of you continued your competitive gaming through various apps on your phone. You knew there would be a party at NCT House on Friday, and as each day passed by, you waited for Haechan to invite you.

You walk into the frat party with Jenni, having not received a specific invite from the boy you’d fucked three days prior. To say you’re on a warpath is an understatement.

“I swear to god if that dude kisses someone else in front of me-” you say as you and Jenni head to get drinks.

“Y/N calm down, A, he’s not your boyfriend, and B, he wouldn’t do that.” Jenni sighs.

“Oh yeah, because your intel from Jaehyun is always one hundred percent reliable.” you scoff.

“Did someone already spit in your drink?” Haechan’s voice comes from over your shoulder, an arm sliding around your waist as he takes his place next to you. “Or is this just your normal resting bitch face?”

You turn to look at the man who’s joined you, glaring, “no one spat in my drink.”

“Well maybe I should fix that,” Haechan leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear as his tone lowers, “are you into spitting, kitten?”

You groan and laugh, pushing at Haechan, who remains firmly glued to your side.

“She’s mad you didn’t invite her to the party.” Jenni says, eyes looking around for Jaehyun, but her smile tells you this is a calculated mischievous plan. Traitor.

“I didn’t realize I had to invite you,” Haechan’s brows furrow a little in confusion, his body angling towards you more so he can face you, hands finding your hips.

“You didn’t have to invite me.” you groan.

“Kitten, you’re a bad bitch, you walk into every frat like you own the place.” Haechan says, “you never need my permission to show up here,” his hand dips lower, grabbing at your ass, “you should know you’re welcome any time.”

His words are nice, and they melt you a little, but you still have a bone to pick with him. “It would be nice to be invited though.”

“In that case,” Haechan’s face is close to yours, lips nearly ghosting over your own, “would you like to come play beer pong with me, and after we kick Taeil and Yuta’s ass, you’re invited to come to my room and get your brains fucked out again.”

You laugh as you look up at the man you wasted so many years hating, “Baby Face, that sounds perfect.”

Thank you so much for reading! oof, this frat univese- it’s my baby

Find the whole masterlist for this frat universe Here

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cal-writes-never · 3 years ago

Note

Hii!! You're writing is so good and gives me the fuzzies! Could I request a Camilo X GN!Reader where the Reader is an artist and gets Camilo to turn into other people for them to paint (for some reason the main thing my brain can think of is like, Jesus Christ if the church wanted a new mural or smth), but one day they ask Camilo if they can draw HIM and he gets caught off guard and flustered because he didn't think the reader would want him, for, well,, him. I don't really mind if it's HCs or a oneshot, whichever you feel works best ^^

muse

thank you so much for this request, it was super fun to write!! i tried a third person pov because i find my writing is so much better quality like that, however i'll leave it up to y'all to decide what you prefer as you're the ones reading it. also i think it's pretty obvious i had no idea who would be on the church mural so i kind of awkwardly winged that part

pairing: camilo madrigal x gn!reader (they/them)

type: mutual pining, oneshot

summary: after helping you paint the mural for the encanto church, camilo feels like he's on top of the world. so how on earth will he manage when you ask to paint him?

word count: 1,385

---

The L/ns were a famous household around Encanto - not so much as the Madrigals, but not too far behind, either. Each child born into the family inherited a flair for art, sparking rumours around the town that there were two families blessed with a miracle, for the obvious talent they presented through their work was truly spectacular. However there had been ties between the two well-known families over the years with friendships and light romances, one of which being the fast blossoming relationship between Y/n L/n and Camilo Madrigal.

An artist and a shapeshifter; it fit together so perfectly, a creator and a muse. It was as if time had just been twiddling its thumbs until the stars finally aligned for this seemingly faultless pair to meet. They’d known one another for quite some time now, teetering between a close friendship and something more, something they both desired yet would never come to admit. Though the days and days of flirting seemed to count for nothing, and even Dolores cringed each time they spoke, complimenting each other in such a way that they must’ve been a couple, yet neither of them would take the necessary step to make it happen.

“¡Solo hazlo, Camilo!” She would whisper to herself each time she listened in on her younger brother, causing her family to exchange worried looks while she sheepishly smiled, quickly exiting the tense situation and claiming her comment to be about another Camilo before they began an interrogation. She didn’t want to ruin Camilo’s reputation in their family like that, they couldn’t know the ever excitable boy who loved to be in the spotlight was nervous, especially when his feelings were clear as daylight.

Camilo had now made it a point to visit the church each afternoon when his (very rushed) chores around the community had been completed, sneaking up behind his friend and tackling them into a hug which they gratefully accepted, always commenting on how nice they looked or how their eyes shone in the sun on that particular day. Y/n’s family had been commissioned to paint a mural on the wall of key figures to the sacred building, yet it was difficult to place how they actually looked without pictures to aid them. They happened to be working on it one afternoon while their family were out to buy more paints and supplies, so thankfully, as much of a prankster he could be, Camilo knew his limits and refrained from scaring them as he always did.

“Hey, Y/n. You look so cute in those overalls, has anyone ever told you that before?” He said smoothly, leaning up against the wall beside the half finished mural, propping his foot up against it and crossing his arms while he watched the artist’s eyes widen as they shot back a response just as smooth.

“No, actually, they haven’t. I’m glad you were the one to tell me, though, because I certainly wasn’t aware,” They responded with a smirk, avoiding eye contact at all costs and instead washing their paintbrush before dipping it in a new colour. “Actually, could you please do me a favour?” They turned to him as they asked, suggesting that they, for once, were not about to make a flirtatious joke.

“Depends what it is.”

“Well,” Y/n began, pulling a piece of paper out of their back pocket and showing it to Camilo. “We’ve been given a list of each person that needs to be on this mural, but I can’t say I know what they all look like. Do you know… him?” They pointed to the second name on the list, watching as Camilo’s face lit up with realisation, immediately morphing into someone they vaguely recognised.

“Yep!” He said with a grin and finger guns, a burst of happiness inside his chest at the thought of helping with the L/n’s highly respected work.

“Oh, great! Thank you! You’re not busy this afternoon, are you?” They asked and Camilo shook his head. “Good, good. Would you be able to stay like that until I’m done? You can move around as much as you like, I just need to be able to see the features.” Y/n spoke as they sorted through the supplies that were messily thrown atop a large paint-covered and ripped towel on the floor, presumably to lessen the consequences of potential spillages.

“Of course, anything for you, darling.” he spoke with a wink which Y/n pretended not to catch, while they both knew the words and actions between them were getting bolder and They continued their work in a comfortable silence, fully aware of Camilo’s gaze fixed on them as they painted a second layer of green onto the piece. Their family returned not too long after the Madrigal had arrived, greeting him and engaging in a general conversation before praising their child’s work and telling them to wrap it up for now as the sun was setting and they needed to be home for dinner.

As they packed their things away they thanked Camilo profusely, to which he said it was no big deal and he was happy to help any time. So they took that seriously, and Camilo became their muse for each person they had to paint on the wall of the church, while Dolores kept an ear out for each small remark that was made during the time they spent together.

It took a little over a week for the mural to at last be deemed complete. Camilo couldn’t lie, he wasn’t all too impressed by this news. Although he’d seen the hard work each member of Y/n’s family had put in (it was evident just by looking at the sheer scale of the project), he was still upset that they would no longer have these afternoons together. Y/n would no longer lean in close to his face to analyse the features, and they would no longer ask him to stand in a certain position so they could see if they’d done a good enough job. He felt like he was on top of the world while they looked between him and the art they had produced, as if he, too, were a delicate collection of paint strokes on a rough canvas, treasured by Y/n. Art was their life. Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could also be a part of this magnificent life.

***

Even though they were no longer seen around the church, Camilo still made the effort to meet up with Y/n each afternoon once his chores were done and dusted. They acted the same towards each other, with the obvious flirting and occasional pranking, though he still missed helping with the mural and being able to show off to them with his gift.

“Cami?” Y/n perked up while the two of them sat beside each other on the grass behind their house. He responded with a hum, encouraging them to continue. “So, you know how you helped me with the mural a couple of weeks ago?” Camilo nodded, still not saying a single word. “Well, would it be okay if I, I don’t know, if I painted you again? But you this time, not someone you’ve shifted into.”

Camilo could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating for a second. They wanted to paint him?

“Of course that’s okay! I’d be honoured, if anything.” He tried to act cool about it while inside he was screaming and celebrating, finally able to intertwine himself with everything Y/n knew.

That night as he walked himself back to casita, he was a dizzy, beaming mess. His hands were slightly clammy and his mind was racing but it didn’t matter because he was happy, he was so incredibly happy that he could get caught in a blaring thunderstorm and still be smiling, even if it gave him the most terrible cold. He was elated.

Needless to say, Y/n continued to create many more pieces of art featuring Camilo, and soon enough they ended up all over the walls of his room. Years later new ones had appeared all over the house, along with a new person; Camilo could not be more grateful that Y/n accepted his proposal. Art really can do wonders.

#encanto x reader #camilo x reader #camilo madrigal x reader

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tswaney17 · 3 years ago

Text

I Do Bad Things with You- Part 31

A very ✨HAPPY BIRTHDAY✨ goes out to @offtorivendell and @nikethestatue! Having your birthday’s a few day’s apart, I’ve officially dedicated this fluffy update to you. You both have been such a joy to interact and become friends with. Thank you for being a huge part of the Elriel fandom 🌸🦇, and just two amazing people in general. I truly hope you enjoy your special day! 💙💜💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, language, NSFW

Word Count: 4,134

Azriel was in his office on a zoom call with his executive team when Elain peeked her head in. He was in the middle of giving his report as she casually strolled in, studying the room.

Her eyes took in his large, mahogany desk. The floor-to-ceiling window lit up the space with natural daylight. She turned, catching the painting on the front wall, and made a beeline over to it, staring at it, hands clasped behind her back. Her head tilted to the side, likely realizing it was one of her sister’s pieces.

“With the finish of The Cadre’s trial period, I believe we will successfully meet our new target market with better-than-expected ROI. But I will let Aelin provide more detail on that.”

“Thank you, Mr. Knight.”

He clicked his video feed and set his microphone to mute as Aelin launched into her pitch. “Elain,” he said her name quietly to not startle her. “Are you okay?”

She twisted to look at him, shrugging. “It was too quiet out there. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I can leave if I am.”

The softness of her voice tugged at his heartstrings. Over the last two weeks, most of their time had been spent together. She had a few bad days—ones he recognized by how quiet she got or when she tended to cling to him a bit more. Az had made sure to combat those with more physical affection. Drawing her in close, letting her rest her head on his chest to let his heartbeat ground her to the present.

They hadn’t gone any farther physically than when he pleasured her with his fingers that first morning, not that he was pushing her for it. Elain, on a few occasions, would turn their kiss more heated, but she would eventually pull back, an apology dancing in her beautiful brown eyes. He would simply press his lips to her forehead and tuck her in close, letting her know that her apologies were unnecessary.

It seemed like today was one of her bad days. “You’re not disturbing me,” he eventually told her. “You are more than welcome to sit in here if you’d like. I’ll be done with this meeting with my executives in a couple of minutes.”

Elain nodded and curled up on one of his leather chairs across from his desk.

He took another second to study her posture—the way she seemed to twiddle her thumbs together in her lap. She needed to get out of this apartment, he realized. Azriel felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

Putting his video feed back on, he finished up his meeting. Once the call ended, he set his hands on his desk and looked over at her. “How about we go out today?”

Elain’s head snapped up at him. “Don’t you have to work?”

Azriel shrugged. “Nothing I can’t reschedule or do later.”

Her brow raised incredulously at that—one of her more signature “Elain” looks. “Very responsible of you,” she teased.

It made the pain in his chest lessen. He grinned at her. “I’m the boss. I can do whatever I want.”

She snorted lightly, shaking her head. “I don’t want to pull you away from anything.”

Azriel pursed his lips. He knew she wanted to get out, saw the slight sparkle in her eye when he suggested the idea. But he remembered how she sometimes struggled with feeling like a burden to others. He wanted to help her grow out of that feeling—so she would know that she was never a burden to him. “Believe me when I say that if there was something on my schedule I could not absolutely miss, I wouldn’t have suggested going out. Everything is flexible.”

Her head cocked to the side as she studied him, analyzing his words in her mind. A soft smile crept onto her face. “Okay,” she breathed.

Az thought his heart might shatter from that smile one day.

He let her run back upstairs to get ready. When she returned, she was wearing a pair of those godforsaken leggings, an oversized sweater, and brown ankle boots—the perfect outfit to fight off the chill from the cool Autumn weather that had sunk into Velaris. She looked stunning; her eyes clearer than earlier.

Azriel shrugged on his bomber jacket, having been dressed in jeans and a white button-down for his executive meeting. “Ready?” he asked, holding out a hand towards her.

Nodding, she laced their fingers together and let him pull her into the elevator. On the ride down, she glanced up at him, her dark lashes framing those beautiful doe-eyes he loved so much. “The night of the fundraiser, what did I do in here?”

He raised a thick brow. “What do you mean?”

“You had asked me if I remembered getting up to the apartment that night a few days later. I’m assuming it’s because I did something?”

Az let his thumb sweep over her knuckles. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he wondered how long the question had been bouncing in that wonderous mind of hers. “I had to carry you up from the car because you couldn’t walk and in the process, you nuzzled into my neck and said I smelt like home,” he finally admitted.

Her cheeks turned beet red and she let out an audible groan, dropping her face into her free palm.

He laughed, bringing their joined hands up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “It made me feel all sorts of things.”

“Oh god, I’m such an awkward drunk.”

Azriel tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re an endearing drunk.”

She peeked up at him through her fingers, her face heating even further though he was sure it was unlikely due to the embarrassment anymore.

When the elevator doors slid open, he tugged her out and over to his car. Opening her door, he helped her slide in, dropping a kiss on her cheek before he made his way over to the driver’s seat.

Even with the cooler weather approaching, Velaris was bustling with vendors and shoppers alike. Small pop-ups lined the streets selling various goods from food, to spices, to artwork, and everything in between. He and Elain strolled through the shops, stopping every once in a while, to look at items for sale. She gripped his hand in hers, her other tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Az stopped them at one street cart to buy a cinnamon roll to share, a coffee for him, and a hot chocolate for her.

Her eyes brightened immediately at the sweets he procured. They munched on their delicacies as they continued their browsing, pausing to watch some street performers. They spent nearly an hour watching the spectacle, both enamored by the presentation and music before they continued their browsing through the popup tents.

Elain stopped to look at a few items along the way, her eyes darting between pieces of hand-crafted jewelry imported in from the Summer Court district. Her fingers brushed over some of the pieces made from sea glass and he made a mental note that it piqued her interest.

They continued their walk, and at one point, she even laid her head on his bicep as they strolled through the end of the market square. It was early evening when he pulled them into a quaint little restaurant.

Azriel had eaten here several times, it was one of his favorite places to frequent. He hoped she liked it as much as he did.

When the hostess saw him, she waved them over and guided them to a secluded table near a window that overlooked the Sidra River.

“The view is beautiful,” she stated, looking out the window before she returned her attention to him. “How’d you manage to snag us this table?” she asked, curiously. It didn’t slip past him that several people were waiting for a spot, one he knew she picked up on too.

His lips quirked up. “I’m on a first-name basis with the owners.”

Her brows shot into her hairline and he knew where her mind was going.

“Not like that,” he laughed. “I helped fund their start-up. They were a street vendor looking to settle into a building but couldn’t get a loan. They didn’t have the business history for a bank to fund them. It was brought up in a casual conversation one day when I was buying something and I offered them the funds to get them started in exchange for ten percent ownership.”

“You own this place?” she said incredulously.

“I own ten percent,” he corrected. “So, about this section of the restaurant, away from the noise and bustle of the main dining area.”

Elain’s crooked smile filled his chest with warmth. “Such an entrepreneur,” she teased, setting her chin on her fist. She flipped the menu open, her eyes glancing through it. After a few moments, she asked without even looking up at him, “Why are you staring at me?”

“Because you’re gorgeous.” That made her head snap up. “And because I never thought I’d get to bring you here.”

Her eyes softened. “You love this place,” she deduced. Like typical, she seemed to know exactly how he felt.

“I do,” he nodded. “The food is indescribable. It was good as a street vendor, but they’ve only expanded since they’ve established their roots.”

Elain cocked her head to the side slightly before she closed her menu. “Since you seem to know what’s best here, and given you haven’t even opened your menu because I’m assuming you already know what you’re planning on getting, why don’t you pick for me?”

He shot her a surprised face. “Fine, I’ll bite. What do you feel like having, protein-wise?”

She shrugged. “You know what I like. Pick what you think I’ll enjoy the most.”

Azriel chuckled. “All right.”

Their waiter came and took their order a few minutes later. When he chose the chicken cordon bleu for Elain, he knew he picked right. Her eyes twinkled in delight. Why he hadn’t suggested they go out earlier was beyond him, but they’d never return home if it kept that lovely smile on her face.

“How are things with Elias?” she asked, finger absently swirling around the base of her wine glass.

He studied her actions, took in the quietness of her voice. “The merger is set to be dissolved by the end of the year.” He wouldn’t lie to her—refused to. This, whatever this was between them, it would not be built on a bunch of lies or untruths. “I’m in the process of partnering with a new supplier from the Summer Court District.”

“That’s a long way away.”

He shrugged. “I already like the owner—Tarquin—so much more than Hewn. He has a lot of the same values as me, and we seem to have built a fairly strong foundation for our partnership already.

Her head tipped sideways in contemplation. “You’re fond of him.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “He’s young. Younger than me. But he’s built a reputable company that does a lot for his community and the environment. I’m not going to knock his ambitions—I once held similar beliefs.”

“You don’t anymore?”

“I am more aware of the world around me and how it operates than I was when I first built my company.” Her brow furrowed most adorably. “Idealistically, I’d love to be able to change the world—but that’s not a realistic expectation or dream, for that matter. I focus my attention and resources where I can make the most impact, no matter the size. Because while it may seem insignificant to some, whoever it impacts is going to feel and see it differently. I see a lot of those hopes and dreams in Tarquin. I admire his drive. And perhaps, together, we can make a real change.”

Elain’s eyes softened as she listened to him. Reaching out, she gripped his hand in hers. “There is much more to you than meets the eye,” she said honestly. “I think you’re making much more of a difference than you realize, Azriel. You have for me.”

He ducked his head to fight off the blush that rose to his cheeks, but he squeezed her fingers. “Thank you, Elain.”

It wasn’t long after when their food arrived. Az watched Elain take her first bite, wanting to see her reaction to the food.

Her brown eyes, glowing golden in the dim, romantic lighting, widened at the first taste. “Oh my, this is amazing,” she said, covering her mouth to speak around her food.

He smiled fondly at her. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like?” she started, after swallowing her bite. “Oh no, we’re way past that. You’ve made a mistake and introduced me to this wonderful food and now I’m going to want to eat here every week.”

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. “I suppose there are worse things.”

She beamed at him.

It was a smile beyond anything he had received since before her kidnapping. And it was devastating. It warmed him from the inside out.

Elain wiped at her mouth with her napkin and took a sip of her wine. He watched her square her shoulders—like she was preparing for battle.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Sensing the seriousness of her tone, he set down his utensils and straightened in his seat. “Go ahead,” he encouraged her.

She nibbled on her full, bottom lip, and he had to rein in his desire to put his own teeth there. The sign of her nervousness made his heart rate pick up.

Finally, she took a deep breath and asked, “What are we?”

That was definitely not what he was expecting. But it was something he had been wanting to talk about—had been waiting for her to bring up. Azriel leaned further back into his seat, folding his hands together on the edge of the table. “That would depend on what you want us to be.” Safe ground, he figured.

“What do you want?” she challenged.

Damn her.

Elain had always been fairly passive in high school, and from what he assumed, most of her early adult life. This new, straight-shooter was a delightful change. One he wanted to continue to coax from her, to help her flourish and bring out.

“I’ll be straight with you, El.” Her eyes gleamed at the nickname. “I would love to be able to call you my girlfriend again—I want us to be an official couple. But I don’t need to if that makes you uncomfortable—”

“It doesn’t,” she interrupted, the corner of her mouth curled up into a small smile. “I think I would like that very much, too.”

Az couldn’t stop the full-on grin. “So, does this count as our first official date?”

Elain took another bite of food, contemplating his question—or, more like making him sweat it out. After what felt like an eternity, she smiled at him. “I think it does.”

He popped another forkful of his pan-seared halibut into his mouth, shooting her a wink that had her ears turning an adorable shade of pink.

And then she laughed. It was such a joyful sound that Az thought his breath was stolen right from his lungs. He loved her laughed. Loved the infectiousness of it.

“You’re so suave,” she teased. “Where was this level of ego-pride when we were dating in high school?”

He chuckled, taking a drink of his whiskey. “Buried beneath eighteen years of awkwardness.”

Elain leaned back in her seat, daintily holding her glass of wine by the stem. “Do you remember our first date?”

Azriel smirked at her. “Where you choked on a spaghetti noodle after we kissed? Yes, I remember that very vividly.”

Her blush moved over the apples of her cheeks. “In my defense, it startled me. I wasn’t expecting that to happen—like straight out of a cliché movie.”

He laughed at her expense, earning a scowl. “I didn’t think that could actually happen, to be honest. I thought the noodle would’ve broken before our mouths touched.” He shook his head, smiling fondly at her. “I still remember the whole restaurant quieting down because of your choking.”

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “That was so mortifying.”

“The waitress thought it was cute,” he teased, taking a sip from his drink.

Elain’s golden-brown gaze cast down to the swirling eddies in her glass. “I haven’t been able to eat spaghetti since.”

His eyes widened. “No?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, something he would’ve done for her if he could’ve reached across the table. “Graysen could never figure out why I always avoided having it for dinner. It reminded me too much of you to enjoy it with someone else.”

Azriel’s smirk fell into something like awe. His chest bloomed with love at her words. To know that he affected her as much as she affected him over the ten years apart. “Would you have it with me? If I made it, one night.” The small part of his Italian heritage preened a little bit closer at her response.

Her mouth quirked up. “Yeah, I would.”

“Good.”

They finished up their meal in delightful conversation. There never seemed to be a dull moment between them. It was as if the last ten years never existed—like they just picked up right where they left off. It was a happy thought, he realized. To know that, even with the time between them, they could still be as comfortable around each other as they were all those years ago.

Azriel paid the bill, much to Elain’s complaints, but appreciation and the two strolled out of the restaurant, hand in hand. The night sky blanketed over Velaris, making the temperatures significantly drop.

Elain shivered, tucking herself closer to his body as she tried to steal his warmth.

He smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Should we mosey on back to the car?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m a bit chilly.”

Az shrugged off his bomber jacket and draped it over her shoulders, then wrapped an arm around her to hold her even closer to him as they walked along the street toward where he parked the car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her and helped her slide into the passenger seat.

On their way home, Elain reached over and took his hand again, her fingers absent-mindedly playing with his, stroking over the scarred flesh in gentle, loving touches.

The feeling of her soft skin sent shivers running down his body. He knew she had always loved and accepted his physical flaws—had told him that his scars were beautiful even in high school. The thought made a blush dust his cheeks.

“What are you thinking about that’s got you blushing?”

He started at her question, not expecting it. “Were you watching me?” he asked, glancing at her before returning his eyes to the road.

She huffed out a breath of air. “So, you’re allowed to stare at me, but I’m not allowed to do it back?”

Az chuckled. “I never said that.”

Elain twisted in her seat and dropped her chin on her fist to purposely watch him.

He laughed uncomfortably at her penetrating gaze. “Okay, okay! You little dork. Stop looking at me like that.”

She giggled, resituating herself in her seat.

He brought their linked hands over closer, kissing the back of her knuckles.

Elain sighed happily. “I’ve missed this,” she admitted, voice quiet. “I’ve missed being like this with you.”

He knew she wasn’t quite finished, so he patiently waited for her to figure out her words.

“Graysen was never really openly affectionate, and I didn’t realize how much I liked having that with someone. How much comfort it brings to have somebody willing to be that person for you.”

Azriel ran his thumb across the back of her palm, a soothing gesture. “I adore you, Elain. I will always show you how much I love you.”

This time, she took his hand to kiss his knuckles, right over his mangled scars. His heart lurched as she opened their fingers and peppered more kisses to his palm. Fuck, he really did love this woman.

They were pulling into the garage under their apartment complex when he asked, “Are you ready to go back to work tomorrow?” They had had their stitches removed at the hospital on Friday by her boss and he cleared her to work starting on Monday. She asked about the residents and work, but he had only told her that she was still out on paid leave and would fill her in when she officially returned. Elain, adorably, pouted the entire way home.

“I am. Though I’ll miss having this quality time with you, I need to get back into a routine. I’m excited to meet the new residents.”

He knew she was, could hear the eagerness in her voice. Azriel smoothly parked in his designated spot, shutting off the engine, and turned to look at her. “I’ll miss it too.” And he would, but this was a good step in her healing and he wasn’t going to do anything to slow her progress. He leaned over the center console, hand cradling her jaw, and brought her mouth against his. He kissed her deeply, letting his tongue trace over her lips until she obliged and opened for him.

Elain sighed from the back of her throat. Her hand managed to find the front of his shirt, gripping it in her fist to hold him there just a few seconds longer. “We haven’t made out in a car in a very long time,” she giggled against his lips.

“We can hop into the back and really make it nostalgic,” he joked.

She laughed, shoving him back into his seat. “So dirty.”

He pushed his luck, sliding over to kiss her again. “Only for you,” he murmured onto her mouth before climbing out of the car.

She had just opened her door when he reached her side and helped her out of the car, shutting it behind her. Azriel wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers settled on the dip of her hip.

They passed the security guard who had leered at her all those months ago and he had to check himself from pulling her tighter against him.

“Good evening, Mr. Knight,” the guard acknowledged, completely disregarding her presence.

Wrong move.

“Her name is Doctor Archeron, in case you were wondering how to address her too,” he snapped, voice cold.

“Az—”

“Ap—apologies, sir,” he stuttered, then fixated his attention on Elain. “Good evening, Mis—Doctor Archeron.”

Elain blinked at the security guard, stunned. “Good evening,” she said back before being ushered over to the elevator. When the doors slid shut, she turned her incredulous stare on him. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes. I will not allow anyone to degrade, ignore, or disrespect you. And him refusing to acknowledge your presence is doing just that. It is unacceptable and I will not stand for it.” He held her gaze, wanting her to understand that this was firm ground.

She raised a brow. “Fine, but the doctor part, though?”

He smiled sheepishly. “That might have been for me. My girlfriend is a doctor—a surgeon. I’ll probably be shouting it from the balcony.”

“I’ll push you off the balcony if you do.”

His grin turned a bit more devious. “Then you’ll just have to come save me.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, but then she was moving, wrapping her arms around his middle, and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He was momentarily stunned but quickly embraced her back, kissing the top of her head. “You don’t have to thank me for standing up for you, Elain.”

“I know, but it’s nice to know that I have somebody in my corner,” she admitted and he knew it was yet another thing that her ex had to have taken from her. How he must’ve broken down every single idea of what a good partner should be doing for their significant other.

Azriel sometimes wished he got more than one shot that night, but knowing he broke his nose gave him some sick satisfaction. And that, in the end, he’s the one that gets to hold her and love her and be with her. So, instead, he hugged her tighter against him, dropped a kiss to the top of her head, and breathed into her hair, “You will always have me in your corner, Elain. Now and forever.”

A promise he would die to protect.

~~~~~

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kookiecrumb · 3 years ago

Text

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

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5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

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ghostadventuresstuff · 3 years ago

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Zak Bagans x Reader

Y/N

When you and your best friend Zak first decided to try the whole 'friends with benefits' package a couple of years ago you came up with rules, but one rule stuck out from the rest. You couldn't develop real feelings for each other because neither of you wanted a serious relationship, that was then but things had changed over the space of a year.

It all started when the two of you got drunk one year at a convention and slept together, the next morning you decided you both liked it but didn't really fancy the other person. You were happy being friends who occasionally slept together, mainly when the two of you were drunk or needed a release after a bad lockdown. Come to think of it neither of you had ever had sober sex with each other, it just wasn't your thing.

The real deal-breaker came when you and Zak attended your sister's wedding and your family fell head over heels in love with him because of his charm. All night they kept coming up to you and whispering that the two of you would be walking down the aisle next and how cute your babies would be. That stung because as much as you wanted a real relationship, Zak just wanted to have fun.

Today you were breaking it off with him; there would be no more sex and maybe no more friendship. It would be awkward still being friends with him if he continued to hook up in front of your face. You sat nervously on his sofa twiddling your thumbs as he got ready for lockdown in the other room, it was now or never for you to make the move.

'Aaron is throwing a party tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me y/n. We can hook up in his room again, except this time we'll lock the door.'

You flinch as he leans over the sofa and starts kissing your exposed neck; all he ever thought about was where the two of you would have sex next.

Zak, we need to talk.'

You stand up and turn to face Zak who looks confused.

'What do we need to talk about?' He asks cautiously.

You motion between the two of you, 'we need to talk about this thing between us, there's no easy way to say this Zak so I'm just going to say it...I can't do this anymore...I'm done...'

What do you mean when you say done?'

You sigh and run your hand through your hair, you had a feeling he wouldn't take this easily, 'at the wedding, it was so hard seeing you get along with my family, they freaking loved you. Do you know how hard it was for them to keep telling me how perfect we are together? That it would be my turn walking down the aisle next, and why didn't I tell them I had a boyfriend. That night made me realise that I want a serious relationship, and I know you're not ready for that Zak so I'm ending this.'

He takes a step forward with some unreadable emotion behind his eyes but you counter his step and start walking towards the front door.

'Don't do this y/n. There has to be another reason why you're suddenly ready to throw 'us' away. Tell me the truth,' he begs.

You freeze as your hand hovers over the handle; he wanted to know the truth. This was how you lost both your relationship and friendship all in one night.

'The truth is Zak I broke the one rule. I fell in love with you. Goodbye.'

As you walked out of the door and out of Zak's life you couldn't help but shed a tear at what you were leaving behind. You loved him but he would never love you back, and he made that clear by not coming after you.

~ 1 YEAR LATER ~

ZAK

The last year had been awful ever since y/n left my life. She really did mean goodbye that night because she made it near damn impossible to track her down. However I knew she still kept in touch with Aaron because they were practically glued at the hip, I told him everything and he called me an idiot for letting her walk out of my life. I was in shock that night, I thought we were having fun but then y/n goes and drops the fact that she had feelings for me and that went against our agreement.

Did I have feelings for my best friend? That first drunken hook-up came about because I was too scared to talk to her sober so I got drunk as did she, and it was my idea the next day to make the rule. She said things changed at her sister's wedding and she was right, her family loved me and y/n looked stunning that night as we danced like goofballs on the dance floor and made good use of the open bar. But I thought she didn't want anything serious as well.

I hadn't hooked up once this past year, no girl could come close to how y/n made me feel and that cemented the fact that I in fact also had feelings for her, but that it was too late and she was out of my life. She stopped being our merch girl and the guys were grumpy without her and blamed me.

We were editing the next season of the show when I decided I needed a coffee break and headed to the local coffee shop. However, when I walked out of the shop I accidentally bump into someone but manage to keep my coffee in its cup.

'Shit I'm sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.'

The girl laughs and there was something familiar that I couldn't pinpoint.

'No it's my fault...wait a second...Zak, is it you?'

Oh great, she was another fan. I was about to make up some lame excuse when she glanced up and both our eyes widened in shock. Stood in front of me was y/n looking as gorgeous as ever. What were the chances of us bumping into each other?

'y/n? Wow, you look good...I mean how have you been? Seeing anyone?'

Wow way to play it smooth Bagans, I sounded jealous about the last part because I had a gut feeling y/n had found Mr right and I wouldn't have a chance to tell her how I really felt. She laughs and shrugs her shoulders.

'I'm good, haven't really been up to much just drawing I guess. And no I'm not seeing anyone. In fact, this is going to sound stupid, but I haven't seen anyone since I left you that night.'

I was taken aback by her honest answer, though a part of me was glad she was still single.

'How are you still single y/n?' I gasp.

'I guess I just kept comparing the guys I dated to you, as dumb as it sounds. But enough about me Zak, How have you been? Is there a lucky Mrs Bagans waiting in the wings?'

I sigh and scratch the back of my head with my free hand. I was flattered no guy could compare to me so it made what I was going to say next easier, 'nope still single, in fact, I kept comparing girls to you and no one could come close. I guess what I'm trying to say y/n is that I was a bloody idiot a year ago.'

She tilts her head as if she was confused by what I was saying. I just needed to come clean about it.

'I shouldn't have let you walk out of my life. After thinking things over and some strong words from the guys I realised that I did, in fact, have feelings for you, I do have feelings for you. I love you y/n and I understand if you don't feel the same way because a year has passed.'

'I still love you Zak Bagans.'

Those were all the words I needed to hear from her perfect lips before I put my coffee down and swept her off her feet. I kiss her and was surprised but happy when she kissed me back. It was as if everything was falling back into place and the two of us could finally be happy.

'Will you go on a proper date with me y/n?' I ask.

She pulls back and grins like the Cheshire Cat, 'of course I'll go on a date with you Zak.'

I smash my lips against hers again not caring about the looks we got from people around us. I had my girl back and nothing was going to come between us ever again.

#Ghost Adventures #ghost adventures fanfiction #ghost adventures imagine #ghost adventures fandom #ghost adventures preferences #zak bagans #zak bagans fanfiction #zak bagans imagine #zak bagans imagines #zak bagans smut #fanfiction #fanfiction blog #imagine #imagines #imagine blog #imagines blog #paranormal

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

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From Friends To This

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom gives you an intimate compliment that makes you question just how platonic your friendship is

Masterlist

Unable to sleep and growing bored with the episode of Grey’s Anatomy he was watching, Tom reached up and knocked the secret rhythm to on his wall. He tilted his chin up towards the wall, waiting for your response. Finally, you finished the knock, letting Tom know you were still awake. Ever since you moved in, you and Tom communicated at through knocking on the wall since your rooms were next to each other. It was reserved for late night messages, usually when one of you wanted a snack but didn’t want to go to the kitchen alone. Tonight, it was a matter of curiously.

“did I wake you?” Tom pulled out his phone to text you, not wanting to keep you up if you had been asleep.

“you know I’m always awake. what’s on your mind?” You texted back in a few short seconds, making Tom smile.

“I’m a few seasons into Grey’s Anatomy and I need to know who I can’t get attached to in case they die.”

“when I tell you you cannot get attached to ANYONE I mean it.” You answered. Toms thumbed danced over the keyboard, unsure of what to say next. He didn’t exactly have anything to talk about, he just wanted to talk to you. His eyes drifted back to his screen and he paid a little more attention, watching as Owen stood behind Christina and smiled for a minute before saying, “You should wear your hair up more. It shows off the back of your neck. I like the back of your neck.”

“Gross.” Tom mumbled as he shifted his eyes back to his phone. That was how he chose to flirt with the girl he liked? Tom continued texting you when what was intended to be background noise caught his eye. He thought Christina would find that comment as weird as he did, but she didn’t. She did the opposite.

She liked it.

Tom stared at his screen with furrowed eyebrows as Christina timidly brushed the back of her neck with her fingertips with a smile, making Tom wonder if that line actually worked on girls. His eyes shifted back to his phone, thumbs dancing over the keyboard as he thought of what to type. Finally, he decided to let Owen do the talking for him.

“you should wear your hair up more” He wrote, heart pounding in his ears as he waited for the bubble to come up.

“why 😳” Your text appeared on his screen and he blew out a nervous breath. No going back now if he was already halfway there.

“it shows off the back of your neck”

“yes and?” You wrote.

Tom twiddled his thumbs anxiously as he typed out the next part.

“I like the back of your neck.”

A bubble appeared almost immediately, then disappeared. Tom almost threw his phone across the room from anxiety as he waited for your response. The clock went up a minute before your answer came.

“aw, really?” came first.

Then, “what about the skin between my fingers?”

Followed by, “or my weenis?”

And then, “do you like the back of my knees too?”

Tom laughed to himself, his chest rising and falling repeatedly at your words.

“fine. I’ll just never compliment you again 😔” Tom texted you back. His plan didn’t end up with you admitted your long held love for him, but it didn’t completely backfire either. He was at a happy medium, and he was okay with that.

“ok, dork.” You sent. “what are you, a vampire? trying to get me to show off my neck I see 👀”

“you caught me. that’s why I’m so pale and moody. I’m tryna bite that neck”. Tom wrote you back. At least you weren’t making him feel bad for what he said, even if it fell a little flat.

“smh. you ain’t slick holland” You texted, making Tom chuckle again. You hadn’t reacted the way Christina had, but you also hadn’t reacted the way Tom had.

In Toms mind, that was a good thing.

Little did he know, that text would forever change the nature of your relation.

Monday

The conversation completely departed from Tom’s mind by the next morning as he put his dishes away in the sink and loaded them in the dishwasher. He rinsed his plate right as you walked by, your perfume wafting his way as you passed.

“Good morning.” You said over your shoulder as you opened the cabinet next to the sink. You began to move the various mugs out of your way until you found the one you were looking for, shaking your head a little back and forth to let your hair move. Tom snuck a glance at you and cocked a smile when he saw what you had done.

You had worn your hair in a ponytail.

“Great morning, actually.” Tom remarked, tilting his head to look at you as he shut the faucet off. “Nice hair.”

You gave him a poised look before ostentatiously shaking your head, letting your ponytail swish.

“Thanks.” You shrugged casually as you poured some hot water in your mug, a coy smile perched on your face.

“You’re welcome.” Tom told you as he leaned on the counter and picked up his own blue mug.

“No, Tom.” You said, looking in the mirror on the wall and adjusting your ponytail before looking at Tom and shooting him a wink. “You’re welcome.”

And then you walked away, your ponytail hitting him when you did.

Tom stared at you as you walked away with a dropped jaw, folding his arms as he thought about what he just witnessed.

“Ponytail.” He mumbled to himself. “She wore a ponytail.”

Later that day, Tom sat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against his cheek as he edited his and Harry’s script when he felt your hair hitting his face. He looked up from his computer as you sat down beside him, a coy smile on your face.

“Oh, Sorry. Did I hit you with my ponytail?” You asked before hitting him with it again. “Sorry.”

And again.

“Sorry. So sorry.” You stifled a laugh as you opened your own laptop and began to type.

“So this is what I get for trying to be nice.” Tom said unenthusiastically. He couldn’t help his eyes from drifting to your ponytail as you typed, smiling a little at the way it bounced.

“No.” You told him. “This is what you get for telling me you like the back of my neck.”

“Is it that weird of a thing to say?” He asked, a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance ringing in his voice. You looked at him Tm out of the corner of your yes, smirking a little at he got riled up.

“Who said it was weird?” You shrugged as you flicked your hair in his face again. “Sorry.”

“I’m trying to work and you’re being incredibly distracting.” Tom grumbled as he tried to focus on his work. However, it was proving to be incredibly difficult since you decided to sit oh so close to him.

“Am I?” You played dumb and twirled your hair around your finger. “What’s distracting you?”

Tom stared at you for a moment, caught up in the way your hair twirled around your finger. He felt an ache in his chest as he fought the urge to replace your hands with his and run your fingers through your hair. He locked eyes with you and shook his head, laughing a little to himself as you teased him.

“You know.” He insisted, eyes going back to your hair.

“Could it be…”, you sassily flipped your ponytail and held you hand over your heart, “the back of my neck?”

You let out an ostentatious gasp as if you just revealed the killer in a murder mystery before letting out a laugh.

“Can you just forget I said that?” Tom whined as you snickered at your own joke. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You told me you liked the back of my neck, Tommy.” You reminded him. “How can that not mean anything?”

“It just doesn’t. It’s just something I said. No harm done.” Tom insisted, hoping you’d let him dismiss it.

“If there’s no harm done in what you said, then there’s no harm in my ponytail.” You shrugged, letting your ponytail sway as you moved. Tom looked at you for a long time and you stared right back, raising your eyebrows to challenge him.

“It was just a compliment.” Tom told you.

“And it’s just a ponytail.” You shot back. Tom squinted his eyes at you but you didn’t budge. Neither of you were gonna break, which meant Tom was getting zero work done, not that he minded.

“Tell me why you wore one.” He said, shitting his laptop to give you his full attention.

“Tell me why you like the back of my neck.” You answered, turned in your chair to face him. You puffed your chest out a little, trying to look tough as you set your focus on him.

“It was just a compliment.” He repeated, narrowing his eyes at you. You cracked a smile before leaning closer, close enough that your breath fanned his face.

“And it’s just a ponytail.” You said breathily. “Bye now.”

You waved flirtatiously at Tom as you sprung out of your seat, letting your ponytail flick him one last time before you left the room. He turned in his seat to watch you as he left, heart still skipping beats from how close you’d been.

“That damn ponytail.” Tom grumbled.

Tuesday

Tom thought the great back of the neck debate would end after one day, but when he watched you waltz into the kitchen the next morning with your hair pulled into a bun, he knew he was dead wrong. You weren’t the one to drop things, and he wasn’t the one to make the first move. As you took your place next to him at the kitchen counter, he knew this debate wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

“I like your hair today.” Tom said slowly as he stirred sugar into his tea. He handed you the sugar, knowing you liked your tea just as sweet as him, and you wordlessly accepted it.

“Thanks. It’s just so hot out, I wanted my hair off my face.” You said causally before looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “And neck.”

“It’s raining.” Tom smirked as he took a sip from his blue mug.

“Is it?” You asked, turning all the way around to look out the window and giving Tom a long look at the back of your neck. You turned back around, rubbing your hand on your shoulder to draw even more attention to that God forsaken part of your body. Tom knew exactly what you were doing, and evidently, so did you.

You looked back at him and shrugged before stirring sugar into your tea. “I guess it is.”

You took a step closer to Tom, taking a long sip of your tea as you held eye contact with Tom.

“I really like the bun, love.” Tom spoke softly in his morning voice. “Looks great.”

“You like it?” You raised your eyebrows seductively. “Tell me Tom, why do you like it?”

“I think we’ve been over this, darling.” He dished it right back, not letting you get the upper hand.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember.” You tilted your head. “Do you think you can back track for a second and remind me?”

Your chests were practically touching now, morning tea long forgotten.

“I like it when you wear your hair up.” Tom said without ever breaking eye contact. You stared back at him firmly until just for a moment, you quivered. You looked away quickly and insecurely touched your hair, letting your fingers slid to rest on the back of your neck.

“I have to go.” You picked up your mug and gave him a tight smile. “See you later.”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows once you left, feeling even more confused than the day before. If he didn’t know any better, you had gotten flustered from your little encounter. In the years Tom had known you and the months you’ve lived together, he was usually the one left with flushed cheeks and a racing heart after a shared moment went from platonic to flirtatious too quickly. He’d never seen something he did have such an effect on you. The memory of your flushed cheeks and wide eyes gave Tom the confidence to navigate the new territory you had entered. Something about his text from that night sparked something between the two of you, a battle that Tom was determined to win.

Wednesday

You had gone out to breakfast with old friends, so Tom hadn’t seen you all morning. It wasn’t until 2 pm that he found you at the kitchen table, leaning on your hand as your eyes lazily scanned your computer. He smirked and laughed to himself upon seeing that you had done it once again.

“Pigtails.” Tom said, alerting you to his presence. You didn’t look up from your computer but a cheeky smile tugged at your lips.

“Sorry, what was that?” You pretended not to hear him as you twirled a strand of hair from your pigtail around your fingers.

“I haven’t seen you in pigtails since Harrison tugged on them so hard you cried in Year 3.” Tom noted as he leaned on the table across from you.

“Well, this is my first step in getting over that tragic day.” You said as you looked at him through your eyelashes, letting it linger before looking back at your computer. Tom gripped the table in frustration, shaking the table a little but you still didn’t look up. Something about the combination of your hairstyle and you refusing to look at Tom was driving him up a wall. He walked around the table, stopping when he was stood behind your chair. He rested his hands on your shoulders, making your body freeze as whatever was on your computer screen completely left your mind.

“I see.” Tom said lowly as his rough hands began to knead your shoulders, paying extra attention to your neck. He cracked a smile when he heard you suck in a breath, swimming in glory at the effect he had on you. Always wanted to push his luck, Tom let his thumb slowly drag down the back of your, neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, and a chill went down your spine.

“Hey Y/n. Ding dong!” Harrison came out of seemingly nowhere and grabbed onto your pigtail, yanking it twice like it was a bell. Tom jumped back and put his hands in his back pockets, feeling his heart about to beat out of his chest. You swatted Harrison’s hands away and stood up, shooting a glance at Tom before turning back to Harrison.

“Very funny. You know who rings bells like that? The hunchback of notre dame.” You shoved Harrison playfully before sneaking another glance at Tom. The tension that had built between you could be cut with a knife, and today that knife was named Harrison.

“Stop flirting with me, Y/n.” Harrison joked as he gave your hair one last tug. You made a face at him before he let the room, his laugh echoing. Your eyes slowly made their way back to Tom, a now awkward silence filling the room.

“I’m gonna…” You pointed to your hair and began to take out your pigtails, needing an excuse not to look at Tom.

“Yeah, good idea.” Tom walked to you and immediately got to work to take down the other pigtail. He was gentle, careful not to tug at your baby hairs as he took the hair tie out. You winced a little as a hair got caught but didn’t make a sound.

“Sorry.” Tom said quietly as held your hair tie out to you. You looked at him as your hand closed around it, blinking a few times as you collected yourself.

“It’s okay.” Your tone was even softer as the tension from before reclaimed its place between you.

“Why do you keep wearing your hair up?” He asked, fingering a strand of your hair as he kept his eyes down.

“Why did you tell me you like the back of my neck?” You asked back.

“I don’t know.” Tom answered, leaning in a little closer.

“Then I don’t know either.” You looked him right in the eyes before turning sharply and leaving, your hair hitting him as you went.

Thursday

“Beautiful day, isn’t it? Gosh, it’s a wonderful day. Why are you all sitting inside? We should go out and enjoy the fresh morning air. Come on guys, let’s get this joint jumping.” You entered the room where the rest of the boys were with a suspiciously chipper attitude. The boys exchanged looks as you stood in the center with a huge smile.

“Did you put crack in your tea instead of sugar this morning?” Harry asked you.

“Again?” Tuwaine added.

It was then that Tom glanced up from his phone only to see you staring right at him with yet another updo.

“Good morning Tom.” You nodded at him.

“Good morning to you too, Princess Leia.” Tom smiled at your hair today, two buns below each ear.

“Just trying something new.” You shrugged and sat down next to Harrison. Tom furrowed his eyebrows, well aware of the empty spot on the sofa next to him where you usually sat. He knew this was all apart of the little dance the two of you had been doing, but it bothered him nonetheless. His eyes burned holes in your like a lit cigarette on paper from across the room as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Hey, Haz.” You said, purposefully loud enough for Tom to hear. He tried to go back to what he was looking at on his phone, but found it impossible to concentrate when you were practically on top of Harrison.

“Hey.” He greeted, having no clue what he was now apart of. “I like the buns. You look like you’re gonna churn some butter.”

You looked at Tom smugly when his best friend complimented you before returning your attention to Harrison. You began to twirl the ends of Harrison’s grown out curls between your fingers, making Toms chest tighten.

“That’s so funny, Haz.” You laughed loudly, too loud to be real. “You’re just so-“

“Y/n, can we talk in the other room for a second?” Tom snapped, practically springing out of his seat.

“Okay.” You looked at him strangely and got out of your seat. As soon as you were standing, Tom grabbed your hand and pulled you into the hallway.

“Your hair is up.” He pointed a finger at you as he whispered sharply.

“I’m well aware.” You scoffed and folded your arms.

“Why do you keep wearing it up?” He asked, losing his mind now. His blood was on fire now after nearly a week of cat and mouse.

“Why do you care?” You answered his question with a question, only making him more frustrated. Tom opened his mouth to speak but found himself with nothing to say. He ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a stressful tug as he fell speechless.

“That’s what I thought.” You laughed, almost sadly. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be ready to listen.”

“Y/n.” Tom began but you were already walking away.

“I gotta go.” You mumbled, barely audible as you turned the corner.

Friday

Braids.

You had two Dutch braids, parted down the middle to give Tom a perfect view of the back of your neck.

You didn’t know this, but Tom loved braids.

Like, really loved braids.

He stared at you for a moment, not sure what your reaction would be to him today. After the weird talk you had yesterday, he thought for sure you’d stop with the hairstyles. You had your back to him and of you knew he had entered the room, you didn’t show it. Tom passed you to get a mug from the cabinet. When you didn’t speak, he didn’t either. He slowly poured hot water into the mug and unwrapped a tea bag, wincing at how loud it sounded with all the awkward silence in the room.

“Good morning.” Your voice cut the silence like a pair of scissors, making Tom turn and look at you.

“Good morning.” He said softly, surprised you were the first one to speak. He timidly held his cup of tea, clutching like a child holding a blanket as he looked at you. You weren’t looking up, but it wasn’t like the day before. You weren’t teasing him this time.

You were upset with him.

The searing tension that had been following the two of you all week had been replaced with an ice that chilled the room.

“It’s gonna rain later.” Your voice was delicate and low as you kept your eyes on the newspaper. Tom knew you. You never read the newspaper.

You just didn’t want to look at him.

“Yeah. I heard.” Tom nodded slowly, aching to reach out and apologize to you. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, he just didn’t know what he was sorry for.

“We should probably put a cover over the chicken coop.” You said as you turned the page, eyes never coming his way.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

The silence crept back in and Tom felt a twinge or pain in his heart. He needed you to look at him so he knew you were okay.

“I like your hair today.” Tom spoke again, his voice weak from not trusting it enough to speak at full volume.

“Thanks.” You said sharply, getting out of your seat and taking the newspaper with you.

“Y/n-“ Tom began, taking a step towards you.

“I’m gonna go feed the chickens.” You stated, leaving out the backdoor and not looking back.

A few hours later, you appeared in Toms doorway wearing one of his hoodies. It was too big on you, covering your body past the little black shorts you had on. You were holding a jar of pickles in your hands and had a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t open this.” You said weakly as you held up the jar. Tom looked up at you from his desk with a small smile. He knew this was your way of apologizing and he doubted you knew what you were sorry for either.

“Come here.” Tom held his arm out and you walked towards him. He took the jar from you and opened it with ease while holding eye contact with you. After you refused to look at him that morning, he needed this.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him as you took the jar and set it on his desk.

“You’re welcome, darling.” Tom nodded, setting the lid down beside the jar. Your face contorted into a pained expression and you looked down, tugging at the strings of his hoodie to distract yourself.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. And this morning.” You spoke. “I don’t even know why I’m mad at you. I had no right to be.”

“That’s okay.” Tom told you. “I’m just glad you’re talking to me now.”

“I’m gonna go eat these now.” You took the jar of pickles and the lid and gave him an awkward smile.

“You don’t have to leave.” Tom said quickly when you were halfway out the door. You turned around and his face flushed, feeling embarrassed for sounding so desperate. “I just, um, I mean you could stay if you like.”

“Okay.” You nodded and took a seat on his bed, setting the jar down on his nightstand.

Tom spun around in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees to face you.

“You’re wearing my hoodie.” He noted, hoping that was a good sign that you were not longer mad at him.

“I was cold.” You shrugged and tugged at one of your braids. You began to play with the hair that came out of your hair tie as you looked around Tom’s room. You were avoiding eye contact once again and Tom was growing frustrated. If he had never given you that compliment, none of this would be happening. He worried he had permanently changed the nature of your relationship all because of some stupid statement.

“You’re being weird.” Tom said, speaking before thinking it through. You were both avoiding the conversation but he didn’t want to do it anymore. If he didn’t fix it now, he feared he never could.

“No I’m not.” You scoffed and took out your hair tie, undoing and redoing the bottom of your braid.

“Yes, you are.” Tom insisted, getting out of his chair to gain leverage.

“No, I’m not.” You stood up as well and looked at him sternly.

“Yes you are!” Tom snapped. “You keep touching your hair. You only do that when something’s on your mind.”

“Nope. No thoughts. Head empty.” You tapped the side of your head and laughed nervously.

“Fine. Then I’ll drop it.” Tom held up his hands in defense.

“Good.” You sighed in relief, taking your hand away from your braid and tucking them into the pocket of the hoodie. Tom looked you up and down, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at your braids.

“You wore your hair up every day this week.” He blurted, making you let out a groan.

“Tom.” You whined. “You said you were dropping it.”

“I will drop it.” He promised. “Just as soon as you tell me why.”

“I don’t know why.” You raised your voice, frustrated with both him and yourself.

“I’m sure you can think of something.” Tom snapped back, not being able to take his eyes off those damn braids.

“Does it really matter?” You whined, rubbing the back of your neck as you looked out his window.

“Yes! It does matter. To me, it matters.”

“Why?” You were both yelling now, not even aware of what was making you angry.

“It just does.” Tom sighed, calming down a little. “It just does.”

“Well I don’t have an answer for you.” You shrugged helplessly. “I can’t help you.”

“Does you wearing your hair up have anything to do with me telling you I like the back of your neck?” Tom asked slowly, taking a sudden interest in the floor as he asked the question that had been weighing on his mind all week.

“Oh my God.” You covered your face with your hands and dragged them down.

“What?”

“Stop saying that!” You pointed an angry finger at him. “Stop telling me you like the back of my neck!”

“Why? It’s a great neck.” Tom defended himself and his compliment, unintentionally making the situation worse. Your eyes widened as you balled your hands into fists and looked at the ceiling.

“UGH.” You gripping the sides of your head and spun in a frustrated circle.

“What is your problem?” Tom asked in exasperation as he watched your freak out.

“You! You’re my problem.” You yelled. “I can’t get you or your stupid compliment out of my head.”

“So that’s what this is about? You’re being weird because I complimented you?” Tom asked, a little hurt but even more confused.

“It’s not that you complimented me, Tom.” You shook your head in defeat. “It’s that you gave me that compliment.”

“I don’t get it. I don’t get what the big deal is.” Tom sighed in frustration. He was at the end of his rope trying to figure out what he did wrong.

“There is no deal. Just drop it, okay? Can we please drop it?” You took his hands in yours as you begged him. Tom could see the desperation in his eyes and as much as he wanted to get to the bottom of why his comment set you off, he cared about your feelings more than his own.

“Fine.” Tom agreed, not wanting to push you if you didn’t want to be pushed. You gave him a appreciative smile, still holding his hands in yours. After squeezing his hands to show you were grateful to him for dropping the subject, you went to leave the room. In the few short paces to the door, you heard Tom sigh. You stopped in his doorway, resting your hand on the doorframe. Tom looked at you longingly as you stood there, eyes landing on the back of your neck. It occurred to you what he was doing, making a compromise for your sake. He wasn’t satiated with your answer but was willing to accept it to make you happy, and somehow, that made everything worse.

“I didn’t know how to react.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could consider the repercussions of this particular conversation. The very conversation you and Tom had carefully choreography your relationship to dance around.

The conversation where you admitted that you both wanted to be more than what you were.

“What?” Tom asked, not understanding your statement. You craned your neck slightly, looking at him over your shoulder as you sighed.

“I didn’t know how to react to your compliment.” You repeated. “That’s why I’ve been weird. And that’s why I’ve been wearing my hair up. I didn’t know how to react.”

Your eyes locked with Tom as you stood on opposite sides of the room, feeling every inch of the distance between you.

“Oh.” Tom spoke softly, eyes dropping to the floor.

“You can’t just tell me you like the back of my neck. You can’t.” You shook your head and shut your eyes, unable to look at him in your vulnerable state.

“Why?” Tom asked desperately, wishing you could just be honest with him, even if he wasn’t being entirely honest with you.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed and turned away again. “I can’t do this.”

“What’s wrong?” Tom pleaded. “We have not been able to act normal around each other ever since I sent you that stupid text. Why did it mess everything up? I can’t compliment my friend?”

“Not compliments like that.” You protested breathlessly. “You can tell me you like my ponytail but you can’t tell me you like the back of my neck.”

“Why? What am I missing?” Tom asked in a forlorn attempt to get some understanding. “Is there some compliment rule book I’m not following?”

“No. It’s just...” You shrugged and you trailed off. “Friends can like my hairstyle, okay? They can tell me my hair looks nice or cute or whatever and that’s fine.”

“Okay.” Tom tried to follow.

“Liking the back of my neck, Tom…”, your sentence tampered off as you nervously combed your fingers through the end of your braid.

“What?” Tom asked. “Please tell me.”

“That’s a boyfriend thing.” You finally admitted, and the air thickened in the room. “That’s something a boyfriend would notice. A really, really good one, at that.”

Just about every emotion hit Tom at once, making him stumble backwards a little as he processed your words. You had just cut the wire you had both been avoiding, and now the bomb had gone off. You would never be just friends again. Even if the conversation ended amicably, your relationship would never go back to what it was.

“Oh.” Tom said, squeezing his eyes shut as he regretted his pathetic answer.

“Look, Tommy.” You sighed and stepped further into his room. “I’ve always put my relationships in boxes. I have friends in one, crushes in the other. That’s how it’s always been. But you,” you shrugged helplessly and folded your arms, “you blur the line. You fall in both boxes. And when you tell me things like liking the back of my neck”, you looked at him in anguish, “you blur the line even more. You blur it so much that I can’t even tell where you fall. I don’t see any boxes. All I see is you.”

The corner of Tom’s mouth twitched, curving into a smile at you admission. He took a step closer to you, taking one of your braids between his fingers and toying with it.

“Have I ever told you I like the bridge of your nose?” Tom began. “I like the way it sits on your face. It’s like the bouquet of flowers in the middle of the table.”

“Tom.” You tried you stop him before he made irreparable damage to your friendship.

“Your collarbones look more prominent when you wear silver necklaces, but softer when you wear gold ones. You only wear gold ones if you’re wearing red or green, though.” He continued. “You love putting highlighter on your collarbones when your outfit leaves them exposed, but your absolute favorite thing to do is put blush on your nose. You never skip that. Even on days when you’re tired.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You shook your head, wordlessly begging with him to stop.

“Your pony tail is always lopsided because you lean on your hand when you write or type, and I think that’s wildly endearing. It also gives me a better view of the back of your neck, but we don’t have to talk about that.” He cracked a smile, and you did too. “You can’t tell jokes because you get too excited and give the punchline away. It annoys Harry but I think it’s adorable. Your socks never match and you can’t sleep unless your closet doors are closed. It makes you too nervous.”

“Please-“

“You pretend to scratch your nose when you’re uncomfortable in a conversation and need a break from making eye contact. You don’t do it with me but you do it with Harry sometimes when you can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic.” Tom recalled. “You always do it when you’re talking to our neighbor to the left because he makes you feel uneasy. Do you need me to go on?”

“No.” You said quickly. “What point are you trying to make here?”

“I’m trying to say that if these are boyfriend things, I’m okay with that. That’s just how I love you.” He said passionately. “I notice things. I notice everything that makes you up. So I’m sorry if that confuses things for you, but I’m also not sorry. You’re too good not to notice.”

Your eyebrows went up as your jaw slacked like your face was being pulled by a string. Your hand went to your necklace, a delicate gold chain with your initial hanging from it. It was a gift from Tom two Christmas’s ago, and you wore it every time you wore red or green. You didn’t have to say it, but both of you knew you were wearing green underneath Toms hoodie. Your mind was an ocean of words but none of them were making their way to your mouth. You stood there in silence and your hand moved to the back of your neck, finding a home there.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” Tom sighed when he gaged your reaction. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You always use the blue mug in the morning.” You said after a beat of silence. “You use it in the morning but never at any other time of the day. I don’t know why you do it but you do. I always thought you never let anyone else use the blue mug until you made me tea in it after my breakup with Brad. I swear, the tears stopped falling right then and I think you noticed that because you always give me that mug when I’m sad.” You laughed softly. “Your hair stylist combs your hair to the left but you like it all pushed back. You always leave two buttons unbuttoned on your shirts and you leave your closet doors open when you sleep. It drives me crazy but you do.”

Toms lips melted into a firm line as tears filled his eyes. He always felt like a book that only he could understand, but you had just interpreted the pages. He was rendered speechless as you revealed all the things you noticed about Tom but never spoke about.

“I notice too.” You said softly. “Maybe not the back of your neck, but I notice.”

Tom smiled brightly at you, feeling his heart swell just from the sight of you. He looked down bashfully and stepped closer to you, your chests touching once again.

“I, uh, I started leaving my closet doors open as a kid so Sully from Monsters Inc would have an easier time getting in my room.” Tom admitted. “I used to wait up to meet him and I never broke that habit.”

“Oh my God.” You chuckled and wiped a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “You’re an adult.”

Tom laughed along with you, a comfortable silence replacing the sadness of the room with your highest hopes.

“You’re my best friend.” Tom said suddenly as his laughter died down.

“And you’re mine.” You told him.

“I don’t want you like a best friend.” He shook his head rapidly as he put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. You put your hands on either side of his face and pulled him impossibly closer, taking the chance to grip the curls on the back of his neck. Tom smiles against your lips and grabbed both your braid in one hand, tugging them firmly to deepen the kiss.

“These damn braids.” Tom groaned, making you laugh into the kiss.

“You should’ve told me you liked the back of my neck sooner.” You said between kisses.

“I hadn’t seen that episode of Grey’s Anatomy yet.” Tom spoke breathlessly as he pulled you in for another heated kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair before pulling away suddenly when you processed what he said.

“Wait, what?”

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