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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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alyss01 · 4 years ago

Text

Studying for finals headcanons:

Corpse x GN!reader, Sykkuno x GN!reader, Toast x GN!reader

Word count: 1.5K

Requested: no

Synopsis: How Toast, Sykkuno and Corpse would be with a S/O studying for finals. Headcannons and fluff.

Warnings: none

A/n: Do I have more than enough requests? Yup! Should I probably work on those? Most likely. Basically wrote this during / after the most intense two to three weeks of studying I’ve experienced in at least a year. I needed some comfort so i provided myself with it, hope it can do the same for others even though most people have most likely already finished all their exams, tests, finals and all that already. Enjoy! (This was also mostly written at like 2AM the day of my last final, but it is proofread)

Masterlist

Corpse:

Let's be honest, he would have no idea what exactly it is you're studying

He knows some basics that are common sense and bits and pieces that he's collected while you were rambling about the topics to him

Generally though, he has no clue what's going on and certainly will not be able to help you do the actual studying

However if it helps for you to explain the topics to him instead of reading the books for a hundred times with seemingly no pay off, he'll gladly listen

Allows you to rant of about the intricate details as he fakes an understanding and nods his head along

Don't get him wrong, he loves to hear you talk and is genuinely interested in what you're saying, but you might as well be speaking a different language cause he cannot understand a singular word that passes your lips

If you're a night owl, that's great! He'll love to bring you midnight study snacks and bring a glass of water every so often

He definitely stays up with you and likes to just hang around the room where you study in the background and vibe to some music

Every so often he will walk up to you for head pats

The screen in front of you shone brightly, lighting up the room. The only thing telling you the time and date was your laptop. With the curtains permanently shut and having lost any sense of time you did possess over the past days, you wouldn't have a single clue how much time had passed otherwise.

Music comes through your headphones in attempt to keep you focussed on the matter at hand, a word document that is much longer than you would've liked containing all the summaries you had made over the past days.

The music however also deafened you from the sound of the door opening and closing, as Corpse stepped into your room with a white plastic bag containing some snacks and a cup of your favorite drink in his other hand.

As he set the objects on the desk beside you, you realized he had come in and pulled one side of your headset off your ear.

Corpse's arms wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your head as you nuzzle yourself closer in his embrace. His eyes lazily trail over the text on the screen for a moment before they narrow and turn away.

Tilting your head back, you look at him from underneath, chuckling as you catch his confused look at the screen.

"when did you have this exam again?" The question escapes his lips almost with a hint of pity within.

Sykkuno:

Honestly I think it really depends on what you're studying if he will understand it or not

No matter what it is however, he is proud

When he has a chance in any conversation he'll casually bring you up and proudly explain what kind of complicated things you have been studying and how smart you are

He is so encouraging, no matter if he quite understand what it is you study or not

He probably would leave you interrupted while studying, but if you come out of your room to seek his attention out first he'll be so happy

If something bothers you or frustrates you about the material he's waiting with open arms to take your mind off it

If you're studying for long times he'll come to crave some affection so he'll either be glued to your side when you do finish or he will come and seek you out first

Will provide you with snacks, your favorite food, smoothies, coffee, tea, whatever you prefer while studying, he'll get it for you

Will want to spent time together once the stressful period is over, catching up to affection he may have missed during it

I think he'd definitely keep quite a careful watch over you in terms of rest

He will drag you off to bed at 2AM if you're still studying demanding you get some proper rest

"you know staying up this late is bad for your health, right?" The worry was evident in his voice as he leant against your desk as he stood beside you. His back was turned to the furniture and his eyes were glued to your tired face.

"it'll be worth it once summer vacation hits." You shoot Sykkuno a tired smile, making him turn his head to where your mug dutifully stood, as it had been for the past three days, half filled with your favorite study drink which had turned room temperature by now.

He raised his eyebrow in question, watching as you turn back to the screen that lights up your face with white light, the page's reflection in your eyes, "rest is important if you want to do well on the exam."

"so is knowledge and caffeine," though your words may be harsh, the tone with which they leave your lips easily tell him it was a joke, "besides, I'll just need to finish this last part."

His hand finds your hair, and you lean into his warm touch as you shut your eyes for a moment, taking in the moment. A small smile formed on his lips at the sight, his fingers threading through your hair.

"promise this is the last part?" He speaks up as you open your eyes once more, looking up at him as you give him a small smile.

The bags under your eyes paired with the exhausted look on your face had noy been as clear in the past days as they were currently. He admired you for your willpower to study these amounts, but you worried him sometimes with your behavior.

Your voice pulled him back to the small smile that played on your lips, "I promise."

Toast:

He's knowledgeable, not on all topics and subjects, but he's definitely knowledgeable

Start ranting to him about topics and he'll genuinely become interested and follow along, asking some questions here and there

If you ever need to write some sort of paper or essay, he'll gladly read it over for you for any mistakes or things to change

He won't admit it, but if you start explaining some of the things you're studying to him, he'll love it

Especially if it's something you're passionate about, he'd love to watch you explain stuff to him

The way your eyes shimmer, and how excited you look to talk to him about it all, he loves it

Forehead kisses while studying and will order food for you and bring drinks

Probably won't hang around too much in the room you're studying in to give you privacy and peace, but will come in and ruffle your hair before placing his lips on your head momentarily and wish you luck when he passes your door

In these moments often likes to sneak a peek at your papers or computer screen, just to see a glimpse of the topic you're working on

He doesn't mind if you stay up longer than him to study but will definitely drag you to bed for rest when he's decided you didn't give yourself enough rest

"I'm ordering take out, what do you want for dinner?" Toast is quick to poke his head around the corner of your door, phone in hand as he walks in and leans against the doorframe.

Pulling your headset off, you rotate your chair to the side, facing him as you question where he is planning to order.

He walks over to your desk to hand you his phone so you can scroll through the online menu, his hand quick to brush your hair back. Instead of pulling his hand away, he lets it stay in your hair, brushing through it a few times with his fingers.

While you were invested with the online menu, his eyes scan the screen, where you were working on the introduction to a paper.

He recognized the material, the day before you had trailed off on a small explanation that ended up much longer than intended when he asked what you were currently working on.

When you finish looking through the menu and having filled in your order, you catch his gaze glued to your screen.

Before he leaves your room he gives you some slight advice, offering to replace some words with others before wishing you good luck and leaving your room for the time being. At least until the food arrives.

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Caught Red-handed

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Struggling with migraines

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having suffered from migraines all their life, Y/N knows better than to give them much attention or let them hinder their work too much. However, their boyfriend is a lot more worried than they are and has taken it as his personal duty to ease their pain as much as he possibly can.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to it, write and post it, but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it! I’ve never experienced migraines nor have I known someone who has so if I’ve misrepresented or written any misinformation, anyone who catches it, feel free to let me know either in the comments or in my inbox/messages! Love, Vy ❤

The first time I got a headache was in the middle of math class in eighth grade. I remember it so distinctly because I had never before experienced such sudden and such intense pain. I got to go home early that day and spent a good portion of the day trying to sleep it off but to no avail.

Since then I’ve grown used to having to deal with a pain so strong it renders me unable to function for a whole day about two times a month. Sometimes, I even try to be stubborn with it - I try to push through as much work as I can despite the migraine, but that never works out for a long time considering it ends up crippling me in the end. That’s never kept me from trying over and over again though!

Now, to contrast my nonchalance and even annoyance with these pesky attacks, is my boyfriend Corpse’s concern over them. I’ve tried explaining to him that I’ve grown used to them and that I try not to let them bother me and that he shouldn’t stress over them so much but I may as well be talking to a wall because all he has to do is see me squint my eyes or cringe and he enters concerned-mother mode. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it to no end, I just don’t want him worrying over something so small. Also, a minor convenience: if the migraine doesn’t hinder me from tending to my tasks, Corpse will. He’ll make sure I’m off the task I’m working and transported into bed in an instant.

That’s why I’m now clenching my jaw, struggling to maintain a poker face as I work on an important project I have to send to my boss by the start of next week. I’ve got plenty of time, but I like to stay on top of my work so it doesn’t pile on top of me, you know what I’m saying. Corpse is sitting on the couch next to me, casually glancing at me every now and then while remaining quiet as to not disturb me. So far so good, he hasn’t noticed anything and, if I didn’t know any better I would sigh in relief. There’s nothing to trigger the pain to arise any further - the lights are dim, I’m staying hydrated, and I downed two painkillers in the bathroom about an hour and a half ago - so I’m sure I’ll be in the clear at least until dinner.

“Wanna watch a movie when you’re done?“ Corpse asks, “Unless you’re tired or anything...“

I flash him a grateful smile, giving his knee a squeeze of reassurance, “I’d love to, babe. But I can’t promise that I won’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I know you’ve got a tendency of doing that.” Giving me a side-glance he adds, “It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes, already sensing a blush creeping up on my cheeks and neck which I hide by turning to face my laptop screen. One thing I can’t hide though is the wide grin that’s spread across my face as I mutter: “Shut up.”

Just then, a particularly sharp jolt of pain courses through my head, testing that ability to maintain a resting face. Thankfully, Corpse is turned in the opposite direction, searching for his phone, so I allow myself a brief cringe at the discomfort.

Guess the painkillers are dying down on me, I think to myself, a second away from sighing exasperatedly at the thought that I have to down two more. It was wishful of me to think I could enjoy the luxury of a dull ache until dinner, now the migraine is straight up mocking me.

I quietly stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom so I can take another dose of aspirin because I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on my work for very long if it keeps hitting me with this intensity. Opening the door to the small cabinet above the sink, I automatically reach out for the bottle of pills but stop when I see a surprise.

Directly in front of the bottle stands a note written in, you guessed it, Corpse’s handwriting.

‘Already losing effect, huh? When are you thinking of coming clean?‘

Well shoot, am I that transparent?

I sheepishly exit the bathroom, walking back into the living room where Corpse greets me with the same stance as a parent greeting their kid who’s gotten home past curfew: legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised, the whole nine yards.

“Yeah, they’re already losing effect.“ I admit, a small apologetic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush. “And I wasn’t gonna tell you at all.” I hurry to add: “Please don’t be mad though.“

Corpse shifts slightly, his gaze giving me a onceover as he contemplates how to pursue the case. I’ve already got several arguments/defenses ready - the perks of working for a lawyer - but I know he’ll dismiss all of them no matter how strong they might come off as in court. Bottom line: even statements that would fly in court can’t fly with Corpse sometimes. Especially when my health and well-being are the topic of observation.

“What have we said about lying?“ He finally asks, causing me to cringe and ball my fists in guilt.

However, I still have my arguments ready: “You never asked me so I never technically lied.” One might say I have quite the audacity to plead not guilty right now, even though I’ve been caught red-handed, but what can I say, I’m stubborn in nature. And Corpse knows this, he’s just testing me for his own amusement.

“Poor excuse, Y/N.“ He says with disapproval, shaking his head and fully embracing his disappointed parent persona. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. So, as punishment for hiding the truth from me, you are to ditch that project you’ve been bugging yourself over and come cuddle and watch a movie with me. Bonus points for you if you fall asleep.“

I needn’t be told twice - not only will it wipe that look off his features but it’ll also get earn me a movie night with the additional benefit of cuddling with my boyfriend? - how could I refuse?

I can’t help it, I just gotta push my luck here and poke the bear with a stick, “If the punishments are so sweet I might start being dishonest more often.“

Corpse rolls his eyes, scooting on the couch and tapping the space he’s freed up for me, “I said I was feeling generous, don’t bet on it happening often though.”

Alright, enough luck-pushing, I should be grateful for this generosity instead. I should be using it to the max.

So, what’s stopping you from doing just that?

Good question, brain, good question.

Head still pounding just not as intensely, I slip under the thin soft comforter to find myself not only wrapped in it but also in Corpse’s arm, his warm embrace bringing me instant comfort, walking me on the tight-rope of falling asleep right away.

“Sneaky bastard.“ I attempt to mutter, yawning halfway through.

I feel his lips on the top of my head, placing a quick and gentle kiss in my hair before he says, “You’re welcome, babe.”

Count your lucky stars, Y/N. You’ve got one of the good ones.

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1kook · 5 years ago

Text

hulu & woohoo

summary: But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings: slight feelings of insecurity, smut; fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, handjobs, unprotected, riding, slight praise kink misc: if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read wc: 6.3k

[ this is a sequel to netflix & chill !! ]

started off silly then I was like 😳what if we sprinkled in a dilemma™️😳 anyway here’s the kook i imagined for this fic <3

Contrary to popular belief, Jungkook does in fact have his own paid subscription to Netflix. He doesn’t ride on his family account anymore, nor does he swindle his friends into sharing their passwords ‘just once.’ Just like everything else about his mature persona, Jungkook is adamant on paying those ten and something dollars for the streaming platform.

However, his fall into capitalism doesn’t end there.

Among other things, Jungkook also pays for Hulu, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus, HBO, as well as a couple indie stuff you’ve never heard of in all your years. He’s a bigger nerd than you originally thought, with an incessant need to watch every single piece of media available.

Frankly, you don’t see the need to own so many different streaming services, especially not when pirating websites exist and you could so easily watch Jersey Shore for free, if you’re not too concerned with infecting your laptop with every software virus known to humankind. Luckily for you, your app developer boo with his—admittedly tiny—knowledge in computers can iron out those issues for you.

It’s moments like these, Jungkook fiddling with the internal system settings of your laptop to the best of his abilities, that you find yourself grateful for having met Jungkook, and even if it’s been a little over two months now and he still hasn’t popped the question (“Will you be my girlfriend?”), you’d still kiss him silly.

He sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes as he stares at the same system warning on the screen. “Babe, just pay the six bucks for Hulu and you can watch all the Jersey Shore episodes you want,” he says, leaning back in his chair as he stares at you from across the dining table.

You scoff, almost scandalized by his suggestion. “You think I have the resources to hand over six bucks every month?” You abandon your homework in front of you, the one you had so dutifully been working on before your computer was flooded with about a thousand Hot Moms in YOUR Area! notifications before abruptly shutting down. “Buddy, that's lunch at Starbucks.”

Jungkook clicks around a few more times, round glasses sliding down his nose which he will occasionally scrunch up to save from falling. “First of all, lunch at Starbucks sounds sad,” he retorts, and you kick his shin from beneath the table. He doesn’t even flinch, the damn muscle bunny, instead leveling you with an unimpressed glare. “Second of all, I told you I’d give you my passwords but you said—“

“No!” You exclaim.

Call it what you want, but that rose-tinted image of Jungkook being a saint in this world, too sweet and naive for his own good, never faded. Your brain saw it that night of your first date and ran with it, never mind the fact he was quite the devious scoundrel, gentlemanly perception be damned the way he’d tug at your skirts and your hair in public like you were on the playground, always teasing, always playing with you, so discreetly no one would ever see it coming from him, of all people. Your brain saw all that too, the little childish streak he’d get sometimes, but your heart stomped it out, wrapped up in the image of Jungkook being your golden boy, and you couldn’t possibly take advantage of such an angel’s kindness to mooch off his streaming services.

From across the table, Jungkook gives you a pointed look, as if he knows you’re trapped in that brain of yours again. Unlike you, Jungkook was easily able to pick apart your true personality, and the way the devil on your shoulder spoke more often than not. He knew you were prone to outrageous schemes and evil villain monologues, and he still kept you around. Let you linger around his home in his big shirts and eat his healthy breakfasts with him. Jungkook liked you, as silly and mean as you were, and he was very obvious about it.

“The password—“

“Is none of my business,” you halt him with a tone of finality in your voice, gesturing for him to slide the beat up laptop back over. Jungkook sighs, runs a hand over his face like you’ve worn him out, but relents.

Taking it with a triumphant grin, you settle back into your seat, nudge his foot with yours beneath the table. Jungkook nudges you back, the adorable fuzzy socks he was wearing making you giggle, a sound that finally brings a smile to his face. “Y’know…” he says, “if you’re gonna be the Disney villain you claim to be, you might as well just take all my passwords.”

Rolling your eyes, you focus your attention back on copying some notes for class, falling back into the rhythm of glancing at the screen and back at your notebook. “You’re cute,” you mindlessly hum, taking great pleasure in the rosy hue that rises to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by coughing into his elbow. You set your pencil down, watch him squirm under your gaze like he always does, blushy and shy like he hadn’t had you twisted like a pretzel beneath him an hour ago. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching over to place your hand over his, where it’s idly tapping over some textbook he’s got out. Immediately, he turns it over, squeezes your palm in his. “I don’t mind getting thirty two viruses an hour.”

The reluctant worry in his gaze remains, sweet puppy eyes flickering over you as if trying to catch a hint of a lie. He was so adorable, you could kiss him silly. Finally, Jungkook gives in, though he does so with a lot of effort; letting you fool around on pirating websites truly was the bane of his existence. “Just bring it to me if it breaks down again, okay?” He settles, and you nod.

To your surprise, he brings your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, holds your gaze like he absolutely adores you.

He was so handsome, so caring, and so blatantly not yours.

—

“Not heading to your boyfriend's house today?” Doyeon asks the second she steps into your shared dorm, fighting with the boots on her feet. In the last two months of knowing Jungkook (everybody say thank you, Kim Namjoon), it’s become rare to see you home for more than two nights in a row. Jungkook was irresistible in more ways than you could count. If you weren’t falling into bed with him, you were smothering his cute face on the couch, or hovering behind him in the kitchen.

“Not my boyfriend,” you deny, huffy, and she knows how you feel about the subject, which is why she only prods more.

“Wow,” Doyeon drawls, glancing over your shoulder where you’ve got Jersey Shore playing on one half of the screen, an essay document on the other. “The man you see every other night, who looks and fucks like a god, who buys you a shit ton of presents, and treats you like you’re his world… is not your boyfriend?”

On screen, the toxic couple of the century is engaged in another screaming match, the reality tv show quickly spiraling as dramatic music takes over the speakers.

You scratch the back of your head. “Yeah. Well.”

Doyeon almost combusts at your response, flinging herself onto her twin bed in disgust. “He is a fool, a court jester if you will,” she seethes. “You're the hottest babe in a fifteen mile radius chasing after him and he still hasn’t asked you?”

Deciding you can’t comfortably watch the toxicity on screen with Doyeon talking so loudly, you slam down on the spacebar to pause the show. The fickity website, set out to ruin you since you first discovered it a few weeks ago, crashes. It takes your half-assed essay with it as the whole computer suddenly blacks out. You sigh.

“And on top of that,” she’s still going, “you’re hot and evil. Like bro. Come on.”

“Yes, I’m sure every man dreams of getting with an evil seductress,” you sarcastically reply, reaching for your phone to text Jungkook for help, when you suddenly remember why exactly you’re not with him right now. He’d gone to Busan to visit his family this weekend, a quick trip, he’d told you with his tongue down your throat. You shiver at the memory.

You still really want to watch Jersey Shore, though. Almost desperately. It’d been a long time since you watched it, and you honestly forgot the pivotal role that and a bunch of other reality shows had played in shaping you into the conniving woman you were today.

Doyeon seems about done with her tirade against Jeon Jungkook, dramatically storming into the en-suite bathroom you share with your neighbors.

Tapping your phone against your lip, you carefully consider your options. You could just boot your laptop back up, pray for the best and move on. But the 240p episodes were doing a number on your eyes, and for a moment you considered handing over those six bucks to pay for a Hulu membership.

It’s short-lived, and eventually you settle on calling Jungkook.

He answers on the fourth ring, and wherever he is is insanely loud. There’s voices shouting, lots of bustling, until eventually a door closes and Jungkook’s silky voice oozes through the speaker. “Baby? What’s up?”

“Hi,” you respond, feel something disgustingly sweet settle in your chest. “Is this a bad time?” You ask tentatively.

Jungkook laughs, low and raspy. “No,” he tells you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Never a bad time for you.”

You could lunge through the screen right now, rain kisses down on his face until he’s giggling, telling you it’s too much. The feeling in your chest tightens, and you almost blurt out something embarrassingly cheesy, but a voice in the background calls for him, and Jungkook’s voice responds, “In a sec, mom. I’m talking to a friend right now.”

The glass roof shatters.

Even though you’d just told Doyeon you two weren’t a thing, despite all the coupley things you did, something about Jungkook telling his mom you’re just a friend isn't right. You frown, listen as his mother, a voice just as delicate as his, asks him to grab something from inside. With each second that ticks by, the discomfort you feel grows tenfold, until you’re barely holding yourself together.

Eventually, Jungkook returns. “So what’s up?” He asks again, and you remember what you initially called for. Putting on your big girl pants, you brush your uncalled for insecurities to the side, making sure he can’t detect anything in your tone.

“Your Hulu password. Can I have it?” You say, realize how robotical your voice sounds and belatedly throw in a, “please.”

Jungkook laughs, loud and boyish. The sound almost makes you melt, makes you fall for him even more. The niggling doubt in the back of your head still rings, but it’s temporarily washed away by the man on the phone. “Finally giving in?” He chuckles, doesn’t give you time to respond. “Sure, babe. I’ll text you the login stuff.” You hum, twirl your pencil idly as Jungkook announces he has to go, something about his family waiting on him. You bid him adieu, send him a halfhearted kiss over the phone, and only hope he feels half as content as you do when he does the same for you.

You don’t want to be dramatic about it. In your heart of hearts, you know Jungkook is just more reserved when it comes to dating. He wants to be one hundred percent sure your heart is in the same game as his, tied to the same rules, and putting in the same effort. But there’s a seed of insecurity that plants itself in the back of your head, tells you the reason Jungkook hasn’t asked you out is simply because you’re not good enough.

Jungkook was as rich as they come—not in money, but in personality. (Well, with the way he was advancing through his career, you get the sense he’ll be rich rich in the next few years too.) He had a huge heart, so caring and supportive of those around him, and an even bigger moral compass—hence the ridiculous amounts of streaming services he paid for—and you strongly believed no one was worthy of standing beside someone as wonderful as him.

Sadly, that meant you too.

Jungkook was your dream lover, and with every passing day, you were beginning to think you weren’t his. It had been two months since your first date, and realistically speaking, you know it’s not weird for people to casually date for such a time. It hadn’t been that long, truthfully, but the way you and Jungkook had clicked made it seem so.

He treated you like a queen, pleased your heart and body like no other. None of what Doyeon said earlier was a fib—he picked you up from school in that classy Benz, let you stay the night and sleep in his clothes, ate you out in the morning like you were his breakfast. You acted like you were in a relationship, but what exactly were the two of you?

Were Jungkook’s feelings even at the same level as yours?

Some days, you couldn’t fathom the idea of being so far away from him, texting him incessantly to feel a semblance of his presence. There was always a metaphorical elephant sitting on your chest, the weight of your unlabeled relationship, your insecurities, waiting for him to finally cut you off, decide you’re not what he wants. You wonder sometimes if he sees you out of convenience, but you always remind yourself Jungkook was too emotional and soft to drag someone around like that. (Or was he?)

Realizing how deep you’ve fallen into your spiraling pit of uncertainty, you shake yourself of those thoughts, mindlessly typing in the Hulu login credentials Jungkook texts you.

—

You’re in the student center when Jungkook comes home, laptop and books spread out over a circle table to stop anyone else from coming up to you. You’ve got your headphones in, the background sounds of late 2000’s club music from a Jersey Shore episode drifting through your ears.

A hand suddenly grabs onto your shoulder, and you send nearly half the table’s contents onto the floor when you screech, leg blindly kicking the table. “Woah, woah,” Jungkook calms, pulling out an earbud for you, and the sight of his face makes you relax again, before you’re striking his chest.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you warn, shooting daggers at him as he pulls a chair close to you, plopping down beside you. Jungkook laughs, kisses your temple.

“You doing okay, beautiful?” He inquires, and your heartbeat, which had only just begun to settle from your fright, lurches at the hooded gaze he sends you.

You nod, unconsciously lean closer to him. Jungkook smiles, cheeks pulled tight when you plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Glad to hear it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

You never thought you’d be one of those people. Y’know, the couple shoving PDA down everyone’s throats in a very crowded place. But you can’t help it with Jungkook, gaze honed in on the mole beneath his lip as he recounts his trip to his family’s place. His hair is fluffy again, parted a little to the side to show his forehead. He’s got that big dark hoodie on, the one you love. Your love-addled brain thinks, I could give you a family, but you quickly shut that thought down.

There was no need to think as much for a man who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Before you can spiral, there’s a set of fingers brushing over your neck, almost casually. You return your attention to Jungkook, watch him leisurely gaze over the bustling students around you. “Missed you,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Hell, if your eyes hadn’t been trained on his face, you don’t think you would’ve.

Finally, he glances back at you. He says nothing, his eyes dipping down to your mouth. He leans forward, presses a smooch to your lips, only to smile at you afterward. “Come over?”

The difference between you and Jungkook is that you were very obviously, outwardly evil. You were not embarrassed to admit you were scheming, or that you had ulterior motives behind doing something. You used what you had to your advantage, mastered all types of expressions to get what you wanted.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a subtle schemer. In fact, he was so goddamn subtle, you doubt he even knew he was a schemer.

But he definitely was one, and your experiences with him were enough to convince you so. There were times he’d stare at you longingly, like a puppy, until you’d do something for him. Times he’d use his demure face to lure you into going to the hardware store for him, into watching some boring documentary with him. Times, like now, where his voice was a little too smooth and low to be considered his normal pitch, clouded gaze sweeping over your features until you understood what he meant by come over.

Numbly, you nod, watch the quirk of his lips as he kisses you once more before gathering your things for you.

The car ride passes by in a flash, Jungkook’s hand on your knee, your head in the clouds. You imagine how easy it would be to just lean over right here, tug him out of his sweats and get that super suck 5000 on him. But Jungkook’s shy, the devil on your shoulder croons, he’d like it better in the backseat, where no one can see.

Your bag hasn’t even touched the floor yet when he pushes you against the door of his house, shoes and coats half off as he envelopes your lips with his.

His hands are warm, cupping your neck to guide you through the kiss, blindly pulling you down the hall. You feel him falter by the stairs, torn between just throwing you on the couch and ravishing you there or making the trip upstairs to the comfort of his bed. You reach up, run your fingers through his hair. “Wherever you want, baby,” you reassure him, and become consumed with glee when his hands grab into the backs of your thighs, hitch you into his arms as he rushes the two of you up the stairs.

The bed is as fluffy as you remember it, and you bounce up towards the pillows after he drops you on the end. He tugs his shirt over his head, chocolate strands coming out a mess afterwards, before crawling up your body. Jungkook’s hands are incessant, grabbing onto every inch of you he possibly can. He kisses up your tummy, pushing your shirt up as he goes, hikes it over the swell of your breasts to gently fondle them in his palms.

When he’s just about suffocated himself between them, he pops back out, catches your gaze with a twinkle in his. “Hi,” you squeak, and Jungkook grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he returns, let’s your tongue slide into his mouth, sucks on the appendage teasingly. You whimper, and Jungkook releases. “You miss me?” He asks, and if you hadn’t been well-versed in the art of Jungkook’s sexy talk, you wouldn’t have noticed the tingle of nervousness that curls around the question.

You placate him, “always.”

It’s all Jungkook needs as he wiggles you out of your clothes, shucks them off somewhere to the side. His hands trail over your body, massage your breasts and pinch the nipples. You sigh, melt into the sheets as he runs his palms over you. He rolls you over, pulls your hips up and carefully pushes your face into the mattress, pushing your hair to the side to peck your neck when he leans over.

“So soft for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands slithering around your waist, down your abdomen until the tip of his pointer finger is idly swirling over your clit.

You whine, clutch the comforter beneath you at the touch. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, push your hips back against him. He’s still got his sweats on, and you want desperately to turn around and rip them off of him, feel the press of his cock against your ass.

As if sensing your urgency, Jungkook calms you with kisses trailing over your spine, hot breath fanning over your neck. His fingers slow, just barely grazing over your clit. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asks, and you struggle to choke out a response when he presses his finger down against you.

“No,” you eventually gasp, jolt when his hand reaches down, glides through the swollen folds of your cunt.

As if content with your response, Jungkook lets his fingers caress you for a few beats, laps against the side of your neck as you whimper, beg him to continue. When he does, it’s with no ounce of his usual gentle attitude, two fingers shoving forcefully past the tight clench of your pussy lips, deep into your cunt. You shudder, gasping into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises, flutters a kiss right below your ear. Your neurons are working overtime, unsure of what to do as he explores your cunt, fingers dragging against your walls. You want to close your eyes, bask in his touches, but every brush of his fingers has them rolling back, fluttering open. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

His fingers curl, briefly brushing over your soft spot. But it’s enough to make you cry out, pant against the sheets. “Yours,” you choke, push back against him like he’ll do it again.

A thumb circles your clit, and the tight feeling in your belly snaps, has you crying out his name as your first orgasm in a few days washes over you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, nearly sob when his hands pull away, letting you flop down onto the mattress in a boneless heap. Your thighs feel sticky, and you watch blearily as Jungkook hovers behind you.

“So quickly?” He chuckles, turning you back over. He spreads your legs, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the room, and you shiver. A lone finger drags over your cunt, collecting the glossy substance on the tip, before Jungkook is sucking it into his mouth.

He had an affinity for this kind of stuff, you’ve learned. Like he genuinely thought your cum was the most delicious thing in the entire world. That being said, you’re not surprised when he ducks down, pushes your legs to your chest as he begins devouring your pussy.

“Slow down,” you gasp, hand curling in his hair as he spares you not, sensitivity be damned. He was gonna lick you clean. He groans, tongue shoved into your cunt, cute nose brushing against your clit. “Kook,” you warn, though it’s more of a shuddered cry. “I-I’ll come again.”

He pulls off with a wet smack, licks over his tongue as he narrows you with a daring glare. Gone was your sweet Jungkook, replaced with this cum-eating heathen who only purrs, “in my mouth” at your warning.

You scream when the second orgasm hits you, pushing his face against your cunt as his tongue continues, lapping at your folds and your hole as a gush of wetness spurts out of you. For a second, your vision pales, soundless cries caught in your throat as you come all over his face. When you touch down on earth again, your body feels featherlight.

Jungkook is watching you from between your thighs, his face, hair, and chest glistening. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, shit-eating grin slowly consuming his features. “Did you just.”

You groan, cover your face with your palms as Jungkook settles over you, beaming excitedly at your newest ability. “No,” you whine, pushing him away from where he’s basically glued to your cheek. “That’s so weird.”

He laughs, cute and airy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you squirted all over me,” he sighs, cuddles against you, and you wrap your arms around him only to hide your face in his shoulder, also glistening with your pleasure. He shifts closer, and the hard press of his cock rubs along the inside of your thigh.

“Can we take a break?” You murmur quietly, hesitantly. “I can’t feel my legs.” Jungkook nods, presses a kiss to your temple as he gets off the bed, tossing his t-shirt over to you. He stumbles towards the en-suite, comes back with a dry face and chest; his hair is still damp. He tugs the sheets out from under you, cuddles close. He’s got the two of you wrapped up in no time, your head cradled against his shoulder as he reaches out blindly for the tablet he keeps on the side of his bed, the Hulu app already open.

“Any requests?” He hums, scrolling through the multitude of movies and shows. You wiggle closer, stop his finger when he returns to the home page, and Jersey Shore is the first thing to appear. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a good show!” You defend, click on it before he can argue. You press closer, throw a leg over his waist where you can feel his still rock hard member hiding beneath his sweats. Poor guy, you think, he must be suffering. But you have to rest for a moment if you wanna ride the shit out of him and knock him breathless like you’d planned.

Jungkook doesn’t comment on the erection he’s sporting, instead choosing to criticize everything wrong with Jersey Shore. You’re not surprised. He’s an avid film nerd, obsessed with ‘real’ storylines, not whatever reality tv shows were.

You’ve seen this episode about a hundred times, so you don’t really mind that he completely ruins it for you with his nitpicking. It’s cute, listening to him ramble about television integrity while you listen to the subtle thudding of his heart beneath your ear.

He’s on his fifth slandering of DJ Pauly D when you decide you’ve had enough, muscles in your legs feeling rejuvenated as you wiggle into his lap, toss the tablet off to the side as you straddle him. “That show makes you hard?” You tease, let your sensitive folds settle over the bulge in his pants.

Jungkook combusts, cheeks flushing at your jab. “No,” he huffs, “my pretty girlfriend’s boobs pressed up against me does.”

You short circuit.

“Huh?” You blurt dumbly. Jungkook rolls his eyes, too concerned with guiding your hips over his crotch to realize you’re having a complete meltdown in your head. An airy moan leaves his mouth, head lolling back against the pillows, when he moves you just right, grinds against you perfectly. But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. “Kook,” you say, cup his face in your palms to force him to look you in the eye.

Jungkook huffs, pointedly looking down at where you sit on him, “babe, gonna need you to—“

“What did you say?” You interrogate, press your foreheads together until he has no choice but to look at you.

Annoyed with your act, he groans. “Babe, your hips,” he urges, almost desperately.

“No,” you retort, “not until you say it again.”

“Say what again?” He cries, lips twitching in irritation, and you’re about two seconds from behind shoved into the mattress, pounded into from behind like he’d done the last time you teased him a little too much.

“That I’m your girlfriend!” You exclaim, heart hammering in your ears.

Jungkook seems to finally halt at that. “Oh,” he responds, leaning back to scan over your expression. “You are?” He says, unsure of what point you’re trying to make.

Your brain fizzes at the news. “Since when?” You cry, suddenly feeling dumb for all the time you spent moping over this perfect boy you thought didn’t want you. “You never asked!”

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed stare, reaches over for the iPad you tossed to the side, some dramatic fight scene on a boardwalk taking place on screen. You wanna scream. Why is he so concerned with Jersey Shore now of all times?

Before you can rain down your displeasure on him, he’s turning it around and showing you a bookmarked email.

It’s from you, apparently, sent a few weeks back at exactly two in the morning. You glance at the date received. It’s from Doyeon’s half birthday, when the two of you had drunk yourselves silly on wine. The title is some mix of dashes and exclamation points, but that’s irrelevant when the contents of the email come to view, some stupid slur of beeee myyy boyfrienderdd????? ;))((;;; that has your jaw dropping in mortification.

You glance back at Jungkook, who seems just as confused as you. “What the hell?” You shriek, snatch the tablet from his hand to see that not only was it a single email, but a thread of emails all asking the same question—there’s even a three stanza sonnet detailing your love for the mole on the side of his neck. You could die. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?! I was so drunk— how could you even take me seriously?”

Jungkook shrugs, almost amused now as he watches you scroll through the twenty emails you sent him. “The next day you told me you really liked me over lunch, so I didn’t mind. Besides, drunk words are sober thoughts, y’know.”

You stare in disbelief. “You told your mom I was your friend,” you whisper.

The blood rises to his cheeks quickly. “Babe,” he sputters. “I’m not exactly introducing her to every girl I date after three weeks.”

It makes sense, and you hate how much it does so. Pursing your lips, you look away, focus on the bedside table and hope he doesn’t see the tears that threaten to spew out of your eyes. He does, he always does. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hums, sits up to pull you into his arms. One hand brushes over the back of your head, gently. Softly. “Did that upset you?”

You shake your head no, can’t help the ugly Kim Kardashian sob that rips itself from your throat. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you sniffle, covering your face with the iPad when he tries to duck closer and get a look at you. “Because it’s been two months.”

Jungkook shushes you, hugs you close to his chest as you cry like a baby over some apparently unjustifiable doubts. “That big brain of yours,” he sighs, kisses the frown of your head. “Too busy being evil to be logical.” You whine in protest, and Jungkook chuckles, carefully laying back with you clinging to his chest.

He lets you cry it out, palms rubbing over your back, listens to the annoying Jersey Shore opening song playing when the episode ends. When you’re done, you sit up, try to pretend your eyes aren’t swollen and puffy. Jungkook smiles. “All good?”

You might love him.

“I’m gonna ride you,” you announce, and he chokes in surprise, and before he can try to convince you it’s okay, you’re wrestling his sweats and boxers off, taking his half hard cock into your hand. Jungkook flounders, tries to calm you down, but you’re on a mission, working your hand over him until he’s fattening in your hold, melting into the pillows.

“Baby,” he grunts, rolling his hips into your palm. You lean over, pucker your lips and let a thick drop of saliva fall onto the tip of his cock. It trickles over your fingers, makes it easier to run your hands over him. Jungkook groans, reaches down to cup his hand over yours, urging you to squeeze tighter.

When he’s finally as hard as you want him, tip engorged and angry, you sit up, place your palms on his chest as you scoot over him. Jungkook watches you with dark eyes, skin flushed as you line him up. His hands reach for your hips to steady you, tiny gasps falling from his lips at the first prod against your folds. You’re wet from watching him squirm beneath you, from feeling the heavy weight of his cock in your hand, and you hope he feels how much he excites you.

“That’s it,” he croons as you slowly sink down on him, whimpers catching in your throat from the stretch. “That’s my girl.”

Jungkook is purposeful with his words, smiles at you when the muscles in your thighs jolt at the term. When you’re seated to the hilt, folds brushing against his pelvis, Jungkook ruts experimentally. “Fuck,” he chokes breathlessly.

You let your body adjust, spine tingling with every subtle shift from the man beneath you, still so sensitive from your two orgasms from before. Jungkook waits, even though you know all he wants to do right now is fuck up into you like a madman.

When you’re relaxed enough, you begin to move, pushing yourself on your knees slowly, hissing at the drag of his cock against your folds. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, fingernails scratching against where you’ve got them on his chest still. Jungkook grips your hips tightly, and you unconsciously reach for his forearms to steady yourself instead.

“There you go,” he purrs as you slowly pick up the pace, cock sliding inside of you rougher, faster. You know it’s mostly him, muscles in his arms flexing as he moves you up and down, but you don’t care—it feels so good, the upward curve of his cock brushing against your soft spot with each drop of your hips.

He holds you down on one thrust, grinds you over his cock until your clit is rubbing against him roughly, and you cry out his name. You want to kiss him, so very badly, but your position makes it hard. Besides, the sweat beginning to pool in the deep of his collarbones hinted at his oncoming orgasm.

Still, you can’t help the way your eyes instinctively go to trace over his mouth, pouty lips pushed out even more in exertion, teeth grinding together every time your pussy swallows him anew. “Kook,” you mewl, hips bucking forward.

He hums, plants his feet firmly on the mattress as he begins fucking into you. “What is it?” He grunts, pistons into your dripping cunt as you whimper, pleasure crawling up and down your spine. “My pretty girl needs something?”

You wail, nod your head as he continues fucking, ramming his cock into your quivering hole, precum dripping over him. “Yours,” you gasp, mind stuck on what he’d said earlier. “‘M all yours,” you sob, body finally giving out, and you barely catch yourself from falling into him with a palm pressed flatly against his chest.

Jungkook smirks, bucks into you brutally, like he wants you to fall into a boneless heap on top of him. “Yeah, you are,” he groans, as you finally give in, lips brushing against his ear when you flop down on him. “My pretty girl,” he huffs, and you nod, muscles pulled taut as your orgasm begins looming over you. “So cute and mean,” he rambles, lips pressed to your temple. His hips are beginning to lose their rhythm, thrusts growing stilted as he chases his high. “But you know what?” He murmurs, and you whimper. “I like her just like that.”

If his words don’t knock the air out of your lungs, your orgasm surely does. It makes you shudder, the way his hands run over your body, cock ruts into your heat, and you almost cry when the pleasure gets a hold of you. Your muscles tighten, and then loosen, melting into his chest. You’re trembling in his arms, like a leaf holding onto a branch for dear life, choked gasps of his name muffled against his neck.

Jungkook pistons into you, rounds the final corner in his race to orgasm, and eventually spurts his hot cum into you, coats your walls as another reminder that you’re his. He’s a silent orgasmer, sounds catching in his throat as his body twitches beneath you, silent even afterwards as he regains his senses.

A few moments later, you’re shifting out of his hold, pushing yourself onto your elbows to glance down at him. Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but, as if sensing you’re looking at him, he flutters them open, chocolate irises softening at the sight of you.

“Holy shit,” he groans, rolls you off of him carefully. His hand brushes over your thigh, like he’s contemplating licking you clean again, but you stop him with a pointed raise of your brows. “Fine. Pass me the tablet.”

You do, and it’s almost unnerving how easily the two of you slip back into comfort, Jungkook changing into some shorts and handing you your discarded panties, before climbing into bed to watch Jersey Shore. You’ve missed about an entire hour-long episode, so you end up rewinding until the point you last saw.

“You and your Netflix and chilling,” Jungkook snorts, head nestled against your breasts. You roll your eyes.

“This is Hulu,” you point out.

“Oh yeah,” he hums, snuggles closer. His body feels so nice and warm over yours, hands wrapped around you like a lifeline. You end up positioning the tablet off by your hip, supported by a pillow so the two of you can watch properly.

You’re still processing your new title, your new boyfriend, when he perks his head up suddenly, solemn gaze catching yours.

“Hulu and Woohoo,” he says, ever so seriously, and you understand why Doyeon thinks he’s a fool.

[ part three ; imax & climax ]

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #mine

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migilini · 4 years ago

Note

Hiiii! I liked how you did the road trip one shot and was wondering if you could do a request for Charlie Gillespie where the reader and Charlie are dating but have been living in different states due to COVID and the boys do an Instagram live and the reader wants to be on the live with them and Charlie gets so excited and it’s fluffy?

So far apart - Charlie Gillespie

A/N: ofc i can! Thank you so much, hope you like it :) I will proofe read it tomorrow.

Words: 1.5k

Masterlist

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Tiredness was your new default state. College alone was stressful and hard enough plus it didn't help that you had to do it online from your little NY appartement that you shared with three other roommates. But you had too. You were in your last semester ever! That was motivation enough to pull through.

Currently you were trying to facetime your boyfriend Charlie. You haven't seen him in about four months but if someone would ask your roommates, they would say it felt like an eternity of you moaning and pouting about not seeing him. When COVID started, the two of you seriously debated about moving in together. However, at that time, your classes were not online yet and you couldn't move away, he also couldn't move to New York with you because he still had meetings with the JATP Cast.

You stared at your ringing phone, desperate to hear his voice. You knew that he should be awake, you had the time zones imprinted on your brain.

Sorry babe, have a meeting in 5… Will call you after okay? <3 the message that just popped up on your screen made you frown a little. You weren't mad, you just had a really awful week and missed him like crazy.

Sure thing <3 yout texted back and threw the phone onto your bed. Deciding that instead of waiting for him to call back, you could use the time usefully and start studying for your next test in two days.

It was an hour later, you were completely engrossed in the textbook, so you barely heard the ringing of your phone. Maybe a bit too quick, you tossed all your books to the ground and launched yourself on the bed to find your phone.

His pretty face filled your screen “Heyyy!” “Hello beautiful!” You two grinned at each other.

“How are--” A knocking on your door interrupted your question. “Yes?” The door opened and revealed one of your roommates Alexis with a sheepish look on her face “I’m really sorry to interrupt but Tara just broke off with her boyfriend and she needs a hug.”

You looked up at your red haired friend “She broke up with Tom?!” Alexis nodded “It's an emergency” she claimed. Charlie understood this as his clue to end the call saying a quick goodbye and a don't worry about it, when you shot him an apologetic look.

This is how it went nearly every time. Something always came up, either you were studying non-stop and he didn't want to distract you or he had actor things and meetings going on. It was truly tiring. The last time you really had the opportunity to facetime was a couple weeks ago and even then you fell asleep inert 15minutes. When Charlie accidentally lulled you to sleep with a song he's been working on.

Still the two of you made it work. Charlie had started writing you weekly letters with his perfume on it. And you being your crafty self, sent him a little care package with letters, some self made food and paintings, every now and then.

You just finished all your tests and essays for this semester and you felt free again. Taking a deep breath, you opened your bedroom window and put your school books away. Sinking down on your bed, you closed your eyes temporarily, enjoying the moment. You got up again to get yourself something to eat and a coffee. Your roommates were currently away, probably getting groceries or books at the College Library.

You mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, the sandwich you made yourself still laying next to you on the nightstand. Ever since Julie and the Phantoms released, the cast's accounts blew up like crazy and Charlie always showed you off like a queen so of course people found your page as well. You didn't mind though. Most of the people were really nice and respecting, protecting your relationship from all the not so nice guys

You just answered some DM’s, chuckling at a meme that Maddie had sent you, when you got a notification that Owen was live. Naturally you clicked on it, knowing that Charlie most likely will be in the live as well, due to the fact that he was currently at Owen’s with Jeremy.

You were one of the first ones. Owen grinned when he saw your name come up in the chat.

“Guten Morgen everybody.” You chuckled when you heard your boyfriend singing in the background, writing in the chat that Owen should say hi to Charlie. “Are all of you streaming JATP?” he asked the live audience while you nodded to yourself, your laptop open beside you. It was a bit embarrassing to admit how often you saw the show, but every time you felt lonely you watched it. It had some really cute guys in it after all.

He read the chat “Do you like watching the show you participated in? Thats a good question. Charlie, Charlie! I have a question for you.” The camera turned and it showed the canadian boy you fell in love with.

“Eh…” he said as he walked into the kitchen, Owen following close. “It was very weird at first. Guess I'm more used to it now.” he answered honestly. You weren't even listening, you just stared at your phone in trance, the light making him look so incredibly pretty.

Suddenly you got an invitation to join the live from Owen. You sat up a bit straighter and blinked a few times before accepting.

“Helloooooo!” he screamed, making you laugh. “Hi Owen. Yall are up early.”

“Yeah… you know Char. That dumb early riser.” he complained. “Yeah I feel you. Though he lets me sleep so he must love me more than he loves you.” you teased making Owen pout in a childish way.

“Charlie! Who do you love more, me or y/n?” the statement made your boyfriend laugh and for a moment your breath hitched, it was music in your ears and once again you realised how much you missed it.

“I’m really sorry bud, but definitely y/n…I want to...” Charlie just wanted to explain why when he heard your chuckling from Owen’s phone. “See told ya.” It was truly a blessing that the camera was still turned to your boyfriend, making it easy for you to see his reaction. He nearly let the fork he was holding fall out of his hand, his eyes widening while his mouth grew into a big grin. “Is that y/n?” he asked cautiously. Apparently Owen nodded, because before you knew, the camera turned and you were face to face with your boyfriend.

“Baby!” he screamed, a wide, toothy smile on his lips. “How dare you go on live with Owen but not with me!” he jokes. “How was the history test? As hard as you thought it would be?” you cut off his rambling “Hi! Nice to see you too. No, it was way harder than I expected. Let's hope for the best, I get the results sometime next week”

“I bet you killed that test baby! No, Owen you don't get the phone back… I don't care that it's your live.” The chat was freaking out over Charlie's happiness by just seeing you, talking about how they want love like that.

“Little explanation for everybody. Me and Charlie haven't really been able to facetime so were just really excited right now. Sorry if it's boring.” you explained to the chat.

“Don’t ever say that ever again.” he said in a serious tone “it's not boring.” you held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry sorry. Can I talk to Owen again? I mean he is the one who invited me.” you teased, poking your tongue out. With a pout he gave the phone back to Owen.

“Are you also streaming the show today?” he asked you. Charlie was in the background, looking at you over Owens shoulder, making silly faces. “Of course! Who do you think I am? I’ve been watching it everyday since it came out.” Owens' face fell “You're kidding… that doesn't… that doesn't seem healthy.” you shrugged “Well i don't really care. I have this massive crush on someone from the show, just can't get enough of him.”

The camera shook and a couple crunts later you were once again faced with Charlie. “I sure hope it's me or you're not allowed to wear that shirt anymore.” he pointed to the shirt you were currently wearing and that was in fact one of his.

“Not gonna tell you babe. My mouth is shut.” you winked, making him blush. “I miss you.” he blurted out with puppy eyes. “I miss you too. Can’t wait to see you.” he grinned at that excited for the surprise he had planned.

“I think i'm gonna go, let you guys actually comment on the show. I love you Charlie.” You sent him a kiss and he pretended to catch it with his free hand.

“Eww that's so cheesy.” Owen muttered from somewhere in the back.

“I love you too.”

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie images #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x oc #jatp fanfic #jatp

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ninzied · 4 years ago

Text

a kiss to wake up.

for @myletternevercame. and for @superrpowerlesshuman because reasons.

They’re working late again.

Their caseload has grown since their practice expanded to three, and with it, the longer hours that occasionally bleed into weekends. Not that he minds it. It does mean that Foggy gets to spend less time with Marci than he likes, but at least they live together. She makes him grateful, every day, that he has someone to come home to, to love.

Matt, for his part, puts in his nine-to-five and then takes to the rooftops at night. Sometimes, Foggy can’t even be sure his friend manages to make it home at all, but he’s learning that they all have their own needs. Their own ways to process, live, and grieve.

Karen is strong. Foggy thinks she might one of the strongest people he’s known, for what she has gone through, what she has survived. But more than that, though, she seems happy – in a way that he’s never seen her before, and maybe that’s not entirely to do with finally putting Fisk away for good.

Sometimes, Foggy will catch her smiling down at her phone in the middle of the workday, and he’ll wonder what, or who, that smile is for.

After Fisk, they relocated to a nicer building. They’ve also taken the time – well, Karen has taken the time – to redecorate. Their office has a homey vibe to it now, so at least when they are here, it’s comfortable. Cozy. They even have a mini-bar, and their own bathroom and shower – which Foggy suspects Karen insisted upon for Matt’s benefit, on those nights that never quite end for him.

They’d splurged on a common area, too. It has a TV that they don’t really use, and a couch that Karen is currently half-passed out on, reading through dozens of applications for their new office manager position. They’ve been trying to split up the duties, and they’re starting to feel the strain.

“That bad, huh?” Foggy asks sympathetically. “Hey, it’s not their fault you set the bar so high.”

“I have a friend from Florida who’s been looking for a fall internship in the city,” she muses. “Maybe we can work something out.”

“I defer to your good judgment,” says Foggy.

“Mmm.” Karen’s eyes drift closed for a moment. “I’ll ask Matt about it tomorrow, make sure he’s okay with it too.”

Foggy finishes his prep for court tomorrow and checks his watch. It’s just past late enough that the thought of Karen taking the train home makes him a little uneasy.

“Can I give you a ride?”

“Already got one on the way,” she says, lifting her phone.

“Okay,” says Foggy. “I’ll wait and walk out with you.”

She gives him an amused kind of look, which she doesn’t bother explaining before leaning all the back into the armrest. Her computer is still propped open on her lap, and she shifts a little to keep it from sliding off of her. “Can you let him in when he gets here?”

“Sure,” says Foggy, then blinks. Let…who? He’d assumed she’d called an Uber or something. Maybe it’s the friend from Florida? He starts to ask, but she’s nestled even deeper into the couch, if that’s possible, eyelids growing heavier.

Foggy waits until her breathing has evened out, then carefully extracts her laptop and stows it into her workbag for her.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

Foggy’s dimmed the lights in the office, so when he goes to answer the door it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light spilling in from the hallway. And for him to realize Frank Castle is standing in front of him.

Frank reads the shock on his face and says, in that gruffly direct manner of his, “Karen not tell you I was coming?”

“Um,” says Foggy. “Yeah. I mean – sort of.” He steps back. “Come in. She fell asleep on the couch.”

Frank strides into their office, and though he’s not an absurdly large specimen of a man, his presence immediately takes up the entire room.

He pauses when he sees Karen, curled up on the couch.

“Hate to wake her,” he murmurs. “She hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Foggy lets his jaw drop, just a little. Frank’s back is turned to him, so he wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

He watches Frank approach Karen, bending over the armrest.

“Hey,” he says gently. And then he leans down, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Foggy is – definitely not seeing things. Right?

Karen stirs, and stretches. Blinks up at Frank with a soft, sleepy smile. “Hi,” she says. She lifts a hand to cup the side of his jaw for a moment.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses the inside of her hand this time. “Ready to go home?”

“I am now.” She retrieves her workbag, slinging it over her shoulder. Frank’s arm goes around her waist as she comes up to his side. She kisses his cheek, and he leans into it, the smallest, infinitesimal amount, but it’s enough to make Foggy wish he’d thought to look away.

He takes a step back, and wonders how feasible it would be to just disappear into the shadows. Matt and Frank always make it look easy. Foggy still needs to get his bag, though, which would require walking right past Frank and Karen and making his presence very obvious to them again.

But then Karen, still looking at Frank, gestures over at him and says, “I was telling Foggy – that position we’re looking to fill, maybe we could make an internship out of it instead.”

Frank seems to consider this.

“What do you think?” asks Karen.

“Wait,” Foggy blurts out. “Not – for you, right? You’re not—”

Frank gives him a look that says he’d rather eat glass than work at Nelson, Murdock & Page. Nothing malicious about it, only matter-of-fact. Then he turns back to Karen and says, “It’s not a bad idea. Kid thinks the world of you, so.”

Was Foggy the one who’d fallen asleep, only to wake up in some alternate universe just now? One where Frank and Karen went and had a whole kid together without him even knowing?

“Mm. Wonder where she gets that from,” says Karen, lightly teasing.

Foggy’s not sure if he’s imagined it, but Frank looks almost bashful as he ducks his head for a moment.

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” he says, taking Karen’s hand in his.

And the way he’s looking at her, Foggy realizes, is the same way Frank has always looked at her – unblinkingly intense as ever, but also like he’s just a little in awe.

Foggy knows he’s not imagining that.

“Hey, that gets the kiddo a gold star in my book,” he says. “Can’t wait to meet her.” He holds Frank’s gaze, to make sure he knows that he’s being sincere.

Frank gives him a nod.

Karen turns to Foggy too. “Walk you out?” she offers, not without a twinkle in her eye.

Foggy can’t help it. He laughs. “Walking with you two, I will either be in more danger than I’ve ever been in my life”—he pauses as he gathers his things—“or I’ll never be safer.” He tilts his chin. “It’s really a toss-up, which is more likely.”

Frank holds open the door for him. “Guess we’re about to find out,” he says, utterly deadpan.

Foggy squares his shoulders. “Guess we are,” he says, meeting Frank’s eye with mock solemnity, and if Frank cracks a brief smile at that, well – Foggy could pretend he saw otherwise.

Instead, he grins back, and offers to lock the door on their way out.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #froggy

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wroteasongabouther · 4 years ago

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 3

a/n: we love a little throwback with this gif, my heart 😭 again, i can’t thank you all enough for the love you’ve shown my writing it’s truly the sweetest thing and i’m happy you guys are liking the story so far! this was is the longest part so far with a lot happening, so happy reading! remember to leave some feedback and reblog cause it’s always appreciated.

and as always, thanks to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading ❤️

word count: 19k

warnings: mentions of a partner cheating (f*** mark), minor mention of drugs (aka weed lol), alcohol consumption (tequila anyone?), and serious! sexual! tense!

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Y/N didn’t realize she had left Harry’s apartment the other day with his hoodie on until the next morning when she had woken up to the sweet smell of faint lavender and laundry soap. She didn’t return the hoodie, though. In fact, she shamelessly slept in the hoodie for three more nights; it was just really comfortable, she tries to convince herself that’s the only reason she’s wearing it to bed each night. It wasn’t because the smell that calmed her, reminding her of that dimpled smile and dazzling green eyes that would wander into her dreams every night now and then. And it was especially not because she found herself falling for those same pair of eyes, no, not a shred of feelings besides friendship there.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Sammy deadpans.

“What are you talking about now?” Y/N questions, keeping her eyes on her phone as she texts back Harry.

“You and your little affair,” Sammy quips back. His choice of words causes Y/N’s head to quickly snap up and look at her friend. He’s giving her a bored look, a smug little smile on his face that makes Y/N narrow her eyes.

“I am not having an affair, Sammy, so let’s not start that rumour around the office, please,” Y/N says to him in a hushed voice. “Plus, Mark hasn’t bothered to call or text me in almost a week now. So, I’m pretty sure the next time we do talk it will be to end things officially,” Y/N explains, her voice falling flat as she feels her heart rate pick up just thinking of her and Mark breaking up. Regardless of the fact he’s hurt her feelings, annoyed her and so on - it’s still a break up, and they really freaking suck.

“I sure hope so,” Sammy says. “You know I’m team Harry all the way,” he gives Y/N a wicked smile which she only rolls her eyes at.

There were no teams to be on, she thinks. She was just becoming friends with Harry, and yeah, she found him ridiculously attractive and really sweet too, but she wasn’t dumping Mark for him or anything. If she was dumping Mark it was because of how their relationship turned out, without Harry’s help, and how neither of them are benefitting from being together anymore. Hell, they didn’t even have sex last time he was in the city. It also didn’t have to do with the fact that Y/N would be nervous that Harry could hear them. Nope that thought didn’t cross her mind not even once - Y/N finds herself biting on her bottom lip as she’s deep in thought and trying to convince herself certain things.

Her phone buzzes where she left it on her desk brings her back to reality. She picks it up and swipes up as the face ID recognizes her, opening up the messages, between her and Harry, that she was previously on. Y/N can’t help it as a chuckle leaves her lips. She notices how Sammy leans back in his chair and raises a brow at her, but she chooses to ignore him and instead keeps watching the gif Harry sent on loop over and over again.

It was a cartoon Santa, dabbing. Yes, Harry used a gif that had to do with a trend from the world's youth. Y/N never would have guessed Harry even knew what dabbing was. She holds back another chuckle and looks up a gif to respond to his. She goes for one that’s a cartoon of Rudolph, his nose lighting up like a strobe light as he dances on two legs. It’s silly, but she’s enjoying this back and forth texting of stupid Christmas themed gifs. It’s been going on for about five minutes and she doesn’t even know why or how it started, but she loves it.

How’s work so far today? Harry texts after sending a gif of the Olaf the snowman from Frozen, dancing in the field of flowers. Y/N tilts her head to the side and leans further back in her seat, stretching her legs under her desk. The work that was on her desk was long forgotten when her and Harry began texting earlier.

It’s good, I finally have a few moments of downtime at my desk. We had like four clients in this morning for some fittings for the many Christmas parties going on next week. Y/N sends that off before typing, How’s your day? Write anything good yet?

Glad it’s less busy now, don’t let me distract you with all these amazing Christmas gifs though. And I’ve got a few things written while at the cafe, finally found the right melody for another song I was working on last week. Harry types out to Y/N, biting on the nail of his thumb after hitting send. He’s been leaning on the guitar in his lap for the past twenty minutes. That melody was found, but pushed away after he got into texting Y/N.

Not too distracting, although I think Sammy is jealous no one’s sending him any silly gifs. A second text shows up only seconds later, Harry’s sometimes surprised at how fast Y/N can type. And that’s good though! Will I ever get to hear you play in person besides through the wall our apartments share?

Harry smiles over his thumb at the first text but then is biting at his nail again as he reads over the second bubble a few times. He isn’t too surprised that she can hear him play from her apartment, but he is surprised she’s asking to hear him play. He doesn’t think he’s all that great of a guitar player. It’s kind of hard to think when he’s best mates with one of the best guitar players in the industry; Mitch could outplay him any day. Harry stops biting on his nail and hovers his thumbs over his keyboard. Although he’s usually too nervous to just sit and play for someone, he finds himself imagining playing for Y/N.

Tell Sammy I’ll send him some gifs too if he wants. And as for playing for you, maybe... if you catch me on a good day. Y/N shakes her head at his response, somehow not too shocked that’s what he says. She recalls him not telling her what popular songs he had written, how his cheeks grew a shade of pink at the mere idea of Y/N knowing of his work. So, she’ll take her odds and pray that someday soon she gets Harry on a good day and hears him play something.

“Y/N,” Amanda’s voice calling her name causes Y/N to jump, sitting straight up in her seat and nearly dropping her phone. She shuts off the screen and feels the vibration from her Apple watch, a notification reading that it was time to head into the conference room to interview new interns with Amanda. Y/N looks over her shoulder to see Amanda standing behind her with her eyebrows raised and her lifeline of a notebook in hand. “You alright?” She asks, slight concern in her tone.

“Yeah,” Y/N clears her throat and stands from her desk, wobbling on her heeled boots as she gathers up her laptop and cell phone. “I’m all good, ready to find us some new interns,” she states with a smile.

Amanda gives her a look as if doubting her, but then nods as Y/N steps in front of her and they move into the conference room. It’s not until their third candidate that Y/N thought of her boyfriend. Her watch buzzes, flashing up at text from Mark, then one from Sammy right away. She ignores them and tries to focus on listening to yet another fashion student talk about their love for the industry and the company. She was once just like them, sitting on the other side of this conference table and grinning ear to ear from just being in the building. She still felt excited to come into work every day and she feels very grateful to still feel that way. So, therefore she doesn’t hate sitting there for a few hours and having a handful of first impressions with girls that she once was. But, in the back of her mind she’s wondering what Mark could have texted her. It’s been five days since the phone call she ended up hanging up on him. What could he possibly have to say?

“Thank you for coming in today,” Amanda says with a smile to their last interview of the day. The small blonde stands up as the two of them do, and reaches across the table to shake both of their hands before saying short goodbyes and letting one of the receptionists walk them out.

“I think I liked her the best,” Y/N comments, writing a quick note beside her resume.

“I agree. We’ll email back and forth a bit more about it. I’ve got another phone meeting with a few clients for the new year first,” Amanda explains as she’s reading over her planner before snapping it shut.

“Sounds like fun,” Y/N nods before walking separate ways from Amanda and heading back to her desk. As she gets closer, she can't help but notice the oversized bouquet of flowers on her desk. Her eyebrows pinch together as she slows her steps, taking in the beautiful pinks and oranges in the bouquet before reaching for the card that stuck out of it. Sammy pops up then, right by Y/N’s side almost breathing down her neck.

“Did you not get my text? These showed up like halfway through your interviews,” Sammy states, trying to read the card before Y/N can. She shields it’s away from his eyes and looks at him over her shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologizes and takes a step back.

Y/N reads the printed out note and finds herself sighing as she reads it over again. I’m sorry - Mark. Y/N shakes her head and rolls her lips into her mouth, staring at the bouquet again. That’s it, just sorry? She thinks, but then remembers that he had texted her too. Maybe there’s something more there but Y/N finds herself doubting it.

“Who’s it from?” Sammy questions. Y/N ignores him and pulls out her phone from her back pocket. She unlocks it and taps on her messages app, having to back out of her conversation with Harry in order to open up Mark’s text from earlier.

Did you get the flowers? The company sent me a notification saying someone signed for them. Y/N rolls her eyes at his careless text message; not an ounce of emotion behind any of his words, through text or on the note. She doesn’t find herself smiling at the flowers, thinking how it’s a nice gesture, but instead finding it ridiculous that her boyfriend missed the whole point of the fight and just thinks some random bouquet of flowers will fix everything that she’s feeling. Is he even bothered by the fact they fought and haven’t spoken in five days? She wonders as she shuts off her phone screen without responding.

“Mark sent them,” Y/N finally tells Sammy, turning around to hand him the card. After he grabs it, and Y/N turns back around and places a hand on either side of the vase. She turns on her heels and walks around her desk to the left, moving Sammy’s chair out of the way and placing them on his desk instead. “You can have them, they look better on your desk,” she stays in a flat tone of voice, feeling indifferent about if she should just throw them out or not.

“Are you going to break up with him?” Sammy asks, his voice is quiet and soft - sounding like a caring friend instead of a gossiping coworker.

Y/N bites down on her bottom lip and nods, “yeah, I think I am going to. I just don’t know how, breaking up with someone on the phone feels so shallow and I would hate to be broken up with over the phone.” She explains, turning back around to look at Sammy again. He’s frowning, a look of pity in his eyes.

“But it’s unfair to you both to keep this relationship going on like this, Y/N,” Sammy says, letting out a deep sigh and tosses the card in the garbage bin by Y/N’s desk. “You’ll know what to do, you always do,” Sammy adds on with a smile.

Y/N tries to mirror her friends smile but feels it fall flat on her lips. She’s doubting herself, doubting her choices with Mark these past four months, and she keeps doubting herself all day till she’s walking into her apartment. She closes her door and slips out of her coat. Y/N sighs and pulls out her phone while walking to her bedroom, taking a seat on the end of her bed before pulling up Mark’s contact.

Her fingers hover over the call icon, her heart beating a million miles an hour as she imagines how this phone call is going to go. Should she really break up with him over the phone? She thinks, yet again doubting herself. This was really the only way to do it, seeing as he won’t be in the city for who knows how long. Y/N didn’t want to be in this relationship anymore, especially since it started to feel less like a relationship as the days went on this past month. Y/N inhales deeply just as her phone begins to ring, Mark’s contact picture of him kissing her cheek fills the screen in her hand. Y/N exhales before tapping the green icon on the phone and bringing it to her ear.

“Hi,” Y/N says softly into the phone.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my text earlier,” Mark starts off the conversation with a hard tone of voice as if he’s annoyed. Y/N licks her lips and nods, even though Mark can’t see her.

“Yeah, um, sorry, work got busy,” she lies. She had the time to text him back, she just didn’t know what to say as her thoughts were clouded with how to break up with him.

“Did you get them?” Mark asks.

“The flowers? Yeah, I did,” Y/N sighs. She’s racking her brain on how to do this. How do you break up with someone over a phone call? She shakes her head and brings a hand to her forehead, pushing her fingers through the roots of her hair. “Mark, we need to talk,” she says, feeling that’s the best she can do - the good ol’ classic line.

“Yeah, we do,” Mark agrees with a sigh from him now. Y/N listens as it’s like something shuffles on the other end of the phone, as if Mark switches his phone from one ear to the other. “Look, Y/N, you’re a wonderful girl, truly, you are. But we’re not really benefiting from this, are we?” Mark says, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as her brows pinch together.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N questions.

“Uh, yeah-”

“No, no, I’m breaking up with you. I have thought long and hard about this for days now, and I don’t think we should be together anymore, Mark,” Y/N blurts out quickly, feeling as though her moment that she’s been talking herself up to all day was being taken away from her. She releases the grip she had on her hair and stares straight ahead at the painting on her wall, waiting for Mark to say something.

He lets out a long breath, “then I guess this is a lot easier for the both of us then, huh?” He says. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief.

“I guess so,” she mumbles.

“I’ll uh, I’ll send my assistant over soon for any of my things I’ve left at your apartment. She’ll bring the few things of yours that are at my place too. Are you available tomorrow?” Mark explains, asking the question so casually too. In fact, he sounds like he’s distracted with something on his end of the call too.

“Have you had this planned for a while now or something?” She asks, her eyebrows only pull together tighter in confusion. How can he act so unbothered only seconds after breaking up with her? She thinks. Sure, it’s a mutual break up, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t bothered by it still.

“Uh, no,” Mark mutters, not sounding convincing at all. Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at herself - how did she even date this guy?

“You know what, whatever,” Y/N breathes out as her eyes close and she runs a hand through her hair, “I’ll be home from work around five in the evening tomorrow for your assistant to come by. Tell her to be on time, please,” she tells Mark.

“Alright,” he says. There’s a couple beats of silence between them, and she doesn’t feel upset over it at all. In fact she feels at peace with this breakup. She supposes that they didn’t date for long, and they never said I love you to each other and really didn’t spend too much time with one another the past two months. Maybe that’s why she’s not bothered by this break up at all.

“Well, it was fun, Mark,” Y/N says, “I wish you the best,” she adds.

“You too, Y/N,” he replies. And with that, Y/N brings the phone from her ear and ends the call. Staring at the screen that was on Mark’s contact info for a few minutes as she lets herself fall into her thoughts.

That was a lot easier than she imagined it to be earlier today. Y/N falls back on her bed, her hair fanning out around her as she holds her phone to her stomach and stares up at the ceiling. Did he have this planned though? She finds herself thinking. She imagines that he sent those flowers earlier to butter her up, maybe, before he called to break her heart only hours later. And having already made plans for his assistant to go through his apartment and bring her things to her. Maybe he already had gathered her things beforehand, meaning over a week ago he would have packed it up - only to come over to her house and fight with her for days on end before making her drive him to the airport. Y/N just shakes her head as her thoughts run wild.

Y/N knows exactly what she needs to do to get out of this overthinking stage that she’s got herself into. She gets up from her bed and opens her closet, her figure skates sitting on the bottom of the closet leaning nicely against each other. She finds an empty tote bag and tosses them inside, then quickly gets dressed into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a plain white turtleneck long sleeve, and then layering by putting on a dark grey crew neck that has ‘LA’ in white writing across the front.

After making sure she has her wallet, phone and keys, she puts on a black puffer jacket and heads out her front door. Harry’s walking out of the elevator just as Y/N is locking up, he’s got a Starbucks hot drink in hand and a smile on his face.

“Hey,” Harry says, but then his eyebrows pinch together as he realizes the time, “where are you off to?” He wonders. Y/N brushes her hair from her face and lets out a small sigh.

“It’s, like, two weeks till Christmas and I haven’t gone skating yet, so I just got up and grabbed my skates to go out,” she explains, lifting her shoulder that her tote bag was hanging off. Her skates are poking out the top slightly, Harry notices the white figure skates with a pair of matching light pink guards on the bottom.

“Oh, fun,” Harry nods, meeting her eyes again.

Y/N doesn’t even think twice before she’s asking, “did you want to come with me?”

Harry smiles, causing Y/N to mirror him, before he takes a few moments to nod in response. “I would love to, yeah,” Harry clears his throat, noticing how overly excited he may have sounded. “I should dress a bit warmer, though, it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he tells her, motioning to his apartment door down the hall.

“Good call,” Y/N says, following him to his doorway. Harry holds open his door for her after unlocking it, then letting it close softly behind them as he takes off the lighter jacket he had on. Y/N smiles at the decorations around his apartment, loving how the glow from the lights of his tree filled up the space around them before he can turn on any lights.

“I don’t have my own skates, suppose I’m not a real New Yorker like that,” Harry states as he opens the closet beside his front door and starts ruffling around in order to find where his scarfs were hiding.

“That’s fine,” Y/N says with a soft chuckle, turning around to watch as he sticks his head into the closet and pushes things around. “They have rentals at Bryant Park,” she tells him.

“I’ve never been,” Harry admits. He finally gets a hold of the long burgundy scarf with a brown leaf pattern on it, his mum had gifted it to him a few years back. Harry pushes the doors of his closet closed and puts the scarf down for a moment, hanging it on the door handle before he grabs his long black coat to slip it on. Once he’s got that on, he wraps the scarf around his neck, fixing the collar of his coat and the scarf so it’s comfortable.

“You’ve really never been to Bryant Park?” Y/N asks surprisingly. It wasn’t Central Park by any means, but anyone who lived in the Manhattan area typically had walked through Bryant Park.

“Nope,” Harry says, grabbing for his forgotten Starbucks drink, bringing it to his lips for a quick sip. He looks up at Y/N to find her smiling at him. “What?” Harry questions.

“Nothing, I’m just excited for you to see Bryant Park. It’s beautiful during the Winter,” she states.

“Well then, let’s not waste any time, come on,” Harry nods his head to the door and gives her a smile while holding it open for her. She thanks him, waits for him to lock the doors before they fall into step with one another to the elevator. Harry beats her to hitting the button, literally leaning in front of her in order to push the down button before she can. Y/N shakes her head at him, smiling.

“So how was your time at the cafe earlier?” Y/N asks Harry, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“It was good,” Harry says, tilting his head to the side so he can look at Y/N, “wrote another song about love,” he adds with a smile. Y/N chuckles and raises her eyebrows.

“Never would have guessed,” she teases him.

The whole walk to Bryant Park, all Harry can think about is when the hell was the last time he skated? That and how good Y/N looked, which is a thought that’s always going through his head, to be honest. But he’s stressing himself out, hoping and praying that some sort of muscle memory clicks in and he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of Y/N. God, maybe he should have just saved himself the embarrassing situation and declined her invitation. Harry knew the moment he looked into her eyes there was something a bit off with her; how her smile didn’t quite reach its full potential - so the moment she asked if he wanted to come along with her, he didn’t even think twice before saying yes. The girl has her own figure skates, Harry wouldn’t doubt it if she’s about to skate circles around him.

“All black outfit,” Y/N comments as she watches Harry pick out a pair of black skates in his size, “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear all black before,” she adds with a smile.

“I used to only wear all black,” he admits, “back in uni, I really didn’t venture out in fashion and only wore black jeans and black t-shirts basically all year,” he explains to Y/N, letting her lead the way to the area for skaters to sit on the many benches and do up their skates.

“I truthfully can’t even imagine that,” Y/N replies, taking a seat on the bench right by the open door to the ice rink. She looks out at the about forty people on the ice, lit up by the many Christmas lights hanging over it and a few light posts in each corner too, as the sun has fully set now. The city around them is still hustling and bustling as it always is, which makes her smile.

“It was a tragedy, but I got older and realized that fashion can be fun, especially after moving to New York, seeing what people wear out for some innocent ice skating,” he mentions, taking in Y/N’s fashion forward outfit. The style was very trendy these days, he had noticed - online and in the streets.

“I would be an abomination of a former FIT student if I just walked around New York City in leggings and a hoodie,” Y/N states, “if I’m going somewhere, with someone, I always feel the need to look good.”

“And you do, by the way, look good,” Harry says, his words coming out quick and in a bit of a stumble. Y/N can feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ before she begins to lace up her skates.

Y/N has her skates done up before Harry, so she has an extra minute to take out her phone and open her Instagram app. She checks out her newest comments, liking a few, before she finds herself aimlessly scrolling through her feed and liking some posts there. Checking up on Harry, she notices he’s almost done doing up his skates, so she stands up and grabs her tote bag that now holds her skate guards and chunky black boots.

“Did you want to lock anything up?” Y/N asks Harry, motioning to the small lockers to their left.

He shakes his head, “no thank you,” he says before his attention is back on tying his skates. Y/N smiles at how his tongue pokes out just slightly passed his lips before she turns around and walks over to lock up her tote bag, making sure everything but her phone is inside.

Once the small locker door is closed, she walks over to the wall of the ice rink and opens her Instagram again, putting on a quick filter that makes it look like it’s being filmed with an old film camera before she pans her camera around while holding down the button on the screen. As she turns to face where Harry is, she cuts off the video and double checks he’s not in it. With having so many followers, she always makes sure that her friends and family are comfortable with being posted before doing so. Y/N adds a quick caption of ‘first skate this season’ with a white heart emoji before she posts it to her story, then she slips the phone into her back pocket and walks over to where Harry sat waiting for her.

“Ready?” Harry asks, smiling up at her.

“Yup,” she nods, smiling back at him. Harry nods, muttering ‘alright’ under his breath, and then stands up on wobbling legs. Y/N chuckles and reaches for his elbow, helping him stand up straight. “You’ve skated before, right?” She asks, realizing now that she only assumed that he had.

“Uh, it’s been a few years,” Harry admits, flashing another nervous smile her way. All he can think about is her hand on his arm, and how she hasn’t let go of him yet. Harry hadn’t even thought about the potential arm holding, or hand holding maybe, they could get into here. She has a boyfriend, he reminds himself over and over again as he watches her lips tug up as she smiles back at him again.

“Alright, we’ll take it slow then,” she assures him, pulling at his arm gently to get them moving forward on their skates.

Y/N takes the first step onto the shining ice, letting her blades slide over the top slowly before she takes a sharp turn and is in front of Harry in an instant. His eyebrows fly up his forehead as his eyes fall down to her skates again, noticing how worn out they look now, her left foot lifting up as she sticks the toe of her skate blade into the ice - her whole stance made her look like some sort of professional. Harry’s head snaps up and he meets her gaze, lips now smirking at his stunned expression.

“You’ve been skating a lot before then, hm?” Harry gulps, looking back down at his feet as he inches slowly to the ice.

“Since I was a kid,” Y/N reveals. He’ll touch more on it later, but first he wants to get himself onto the ice and get this embarrassment over with. Harry sighs and starts to place his right foot into the ice, letting out a deep breath as he does but just as quickly as he makes the move he’s slipping. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, ready to fall before he even has both feet on the ice. But both of Y/N’s arms fly out and grab a hold of his forearms, causing him to wrap each of his hands around her much smaller forearms.

Harry shakes his head and just decides to get it over with, pushing both skates onto the ice in a quick motion. Y/N is fully prepared for his sudden movement and skates backwards, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure she doesn’t get in anyone's way. She keeps a tight grip on Harry’s arms and smiles as she looks up at him and sees the stressed out look on his face.

“You’re doing great,” Y/N assures him, her voice causing Harry to look down and meet her soft eyes. “We can move a bit closer to the wall so you can hang onto it for the first bit?” She suggests, motioning to the wall beside them.

“Probably for the best,” Harry agrees, nodding his head and finally taking his eyes off Y/N’s in order to make his way to the wall. The few movements on his part aren’t as hard as he thought they’d be to get over to the wall. He thinks his muscle memory for skating will click in soon, hopefully.

Y/N takes it slow beside Harry, waiting for him to get comfortable enough to only need one hand on the wall before she lets go of his arm. She already misses the warmth from his touch. Not even one day into her and Mark’s break up and she’s already feeling touch deprived. To be fair, her and Mark hadn’t so much as given each other a few quick pecks and barely snuggling on the couch the last couple days they were together. Y/N shakes her head slightly at her thoughts of Mark.

“So how did you get into skating?” Harry asks after a few moments of them finding a slow pace.

“Um,” Y/N pauses as she thinks of how to explain how her parents didn’t want to spend much time with her, so they stuck her into many different hobbies to fill the void. “I was into a lot of the typical little girl hobbies, dancing, gymnastics, art, but figure skating was something that just really stuck with me as I grew up. Probably in connection with my obsession with the holidays, and the winter season,” Y/N explains, noticing already how Harry’s pace on his skates is picking up.

“Are you, like, really good?” Harry questions. Y/N chuckles and looks away from the ice below them to meet his gaze before he’s glancing down at his skates again in order to keep upright.

“Yup,” Y/N nods, rolling her lips into her mouth to hide her grin.

“So humble,” Harry jokes with a chuckle. “You could probably skate circles around me, huh? Do those little twirly things too?”

“I could do a few spins, yes,” Y/N says and nods her head. “I’ll let you get used to the ice first before I throw out any big moves,” she adds, looking down at how Harry’s feet were moving on the ice. Every minute he is getting better, soon enough he’ll let go of that wall and be able to skate in slow laps around the rink with her.

“How very considerate of you,” Harry notes, causing the both of them to chuckle again.

They do another two laps with Harry’s hand just inches away from the wall, hovering over it just in case he made the wrong move. But then soon enough, they’re mixed in with the other skaters and making strong, smooth strides across the ice. Y/N is laughing at something Harry says about how he must look like Bambi on ice, head thrown back and eyes crinkled up, when Harry just about falls. She catches him gasping and opens her eyes quickly before catching his hand in hers.

“You okay?” She asks, clear concern in her voice as she moves in order to meet his eyes. Harry knows this isn’t the first time they’ve sort of held hands, but it still feels like her skin is too warm for his cold touch and butterflies erupt in his stomach as she cards their fingers together so effortlessly. Damn Styles grow some balls and don’t let her make all the first moves, he thinks to himself.

“‘M alright,” Harry mumbles and nods, completely losing focus on the world around them as they float across the ice looking into each other's eyes and holding hands.

Y/N licks her lips, blinking up at Harry in what feels like an innocent way but realizes the moment his gaze drops to her lips that maybe it isn’t. Clearing her throat, she squeezes Harry’s hand and then slowly lets go. Harry can’t help but feel disappointed by how short they’d held hands for, he was hoping it would at least last a whole lap around the rink. Y/N shivers and sticks both of her hands into her coat pockets, playing off letting go of his hand with being cold, but in reality touching Harry’s skin made her feel like she was on fire.

“Tell me what your favourite colour is,” Harry blabs out loud suddenly.

Y/N furrows her brows and looks up at Harry. He’s no longer watching the ice with each stride of his skates, instead his posture is completely at ease almost as he seems much more confident on the ice now. Something tells Y/N that Harry is stupidly good at pretty much anything and if he doesn’t get it right the first time it would only take a few more before he masters it.

“It changes almost every other day,” Y/N admits, biting down on her bottom lip - which causes Harry’s eyes to flicker down to her lips yet again. “Lately it’s been green,” she exclaims, as she speaks Harry’s gaze falls back to her eyes.

“Like my eyes?” Harry teases, batting his eyelashes.

There’s suddenly a group of teenagers in their way, causing their conversation to pause as they have to maneuver around the few bodies. Harry finds that he doesn’t struggle at all with the quick movements he has to make with his skates in order to get around them. He smiles to himself, proud of how fast he’s picked up skating again. Maybe he’ll try the little twirly spin around Y/N to impress her. Too bad she’s much more talented on skates and is picking up speed before making a quick turn and is now skating backwards in front of Harry with her eyes narrowed and a tight smile on her lips.

“Firstly, that was a poor set up to try and get a compliment out of me, I’ll just tell you that your eyes are very pretty,” Y/N states. Harry smiles at her words, those pesky butterflies back in his stomach once again. “And second, my favourite green is more like a dark, rich, forest green,” she explains, quickly looking over her shoulder as they turn the corner of the rink. Harry notices how effortlessly she picks up her skates and crosses them over each other to smoothly take the turn.

“Like a Christmas tree?” Harry wonders.

Y/N smiles and nods, “exactly, like a Christmas tree,” she says, a beat of silence between them before she asks, “what’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink,” Harry answers without missing a beat. It’s been his favourite for years now, since he was just a young lad.

“Like my lips?” Y/N teases, her voice dropping down into a low and soft tone that causes a fire to spark in the pit of Harry’s stomach. His eyes drop to her lips at the mention of them, which Y/N notices and smirks at him before she’s turning on her skates and facing forward again. They both don’t say anything as they skate around the other turn of the rink, avoiding an older couple that has slowed down in front of them. Y/N still has a smug look on her face when Harry glances to his left where she skates beside him. Obviously, yes, exactly like the shade of your lips, Harry thinks and wishes he had the guts to say aloud.

“More like,” Harry pauses and then smiles, “like the Pink Panther,” Harry jokes.

“You know what, fair enough,” Y/N chuckles and shrugs her shoulder.

The two of them continue to ask each other more random favourites, getting the basics down with favourite foods, favourite alcoholic drinks, and favourite word too, of course. In fact, they are just skating at a leisurely pace for quite some time. Y/N notices that the number of people on the rink dwindles down to a mere twenty and she lifts her Apple watch up, so it lights up and shows her the time. Bryant Park should be closing within an hour or two, depending if they’re on holiday hours yet, meaning that Harry and her have spent nearly two hours out on the ice together.

“I think it’s time you bust out some of those fancy figure skating moves,” Harry suddenly says unprovoked. Y/N furrows her brows and shakes her head, watching a young couple, just a few people ahead of them, holding hands, like how she wishes her and Harry could have been this entire time. But it’s too soon, she thinks.

“I don’t know,” Y/N mutters under her breath, her eyes still on the couple as they’re laughing together - much like how her and Harry have been. Did these strangers around them think they were a couple?

“Fine,” Harry huffs and starts to skate a bit faster to be a few strides ahead of Y/N before he comes to a wobbly stop a bit more into the middle of the rink out of everyone's way. Y/N comes to a much smoother stop in front of him. “I’ll give it a shot then, how hard can it be to spin around a few times.”

Famous last words, Y/N thinks as Harry tries to whip his body around to try and attempt to do a spin. She can already see how he’s lifting the toe of his left skate, the small ridges getting caught on the ice while his body is still trying to spin around. Y/N’s eyes widen as she suddenly tries to stop him, her hands just barely getting a hold of his arms before he can fall. But his weight is too much and her skates slip out from under her. A small screech escapes her mouth as the two of them begin their fall to the ice - for surprisingly the first time tonight. Harry turns them both so he gets the worst of the fall, moving Y/N so she falls more on top of him rather than on the ice. Y/N notices and quickly moves her hand to the back of his head to ensure he doesn’t smack it against the hard surface. Her fingers card through his hair, while her other hand is clenching into a fist around the fabric of his coat.

“Shit,” Harry groans as the bodies fall to the ice. Thankfully, he tries to sit up a bit during the fall, so he doesn’t hit his head but instead he feels immediately pain shot up his elbow and backside.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasps, blinking several times as she takes in what had happened. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asks Harry in a rush of words.

“I’m okay,” he nods, which causes Y/N to realize her hand is still brushing through his hair. She rubs his scalp a few times with her thumb before removing her hand and quickly lifting her body off of Harry’s. “I’ll probably have a bruised ass, but I guess that’s karma,” he tries to joke.

Y/N frowns and smacks his arm gently, “don’t pull that shit again, oh my god, I thought we were going to end our night in the ER.”

Harry chuckles and sits up, taking in how Y/N has sat up on her knees with both her hands resting on her thighs. Her hair is a bit of a mess and her eyes wide and wild with emotion - but otherwise she looks alright. Thankfully, Harry did good and kept her safe in their fall.

“Just need a few ice packs and maybe a joint before bed to ease the pain,” Harry says, only half joking.

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyebrows pinch together, “do you smoke weed?” She asks. To be honest, she couldn’t imagine Harry as some pothead. Not that there was a true look to a ‘pothead’ these days. Hell, she’s had her fair share of joints and edibles while in college. Even afterwards too, Sammy loved to roll a joint or two towards the end of their wine nights.

Harry shrugs and begins to get up from the ice slowly. “Not really. It makes me a bit sleepy, truthfully,” he tells her.

“I get that,” Y/N nods, “I don’t smoke often, but when I do, I typically fall asleep within the hour after smoking. It annoys the crap out of Sammy.” She tells Harry truthfully. Harry nods as well, only a little bit surprised to learn that Y/N didn’t say no to drugs in her youth. Not that he was judging, far from it really cause he had no room to judge, but he just simply didn’t imagine her consuming anything more than a bottle or two of wine.

The two of them get up off the ice now, finally getting back on their feet. A sigh leaves Y/N lips as she brushes her hands on her jeans. “I think you falling is our cue to get out of here,” she suggests, skating slowly backwards towards the doorway where the benches were.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agrees and begins to follow her, trying not to whine with his movements as a sharp pain stings his bottom with each stride of his skates.

Y/N leaves Harry to sit on the bench they had used before and goes over to unlock her locker and get her tote bag. Harry’s lucky no one stole his shoes he had just left under the bench with no care in the world, she thinks as she walks back over and sits beside him. She unties her skates and is slipping on her boots before Harry can even untie one of his skates. Y/N puts the guards on her skates and places them into her tote bag before turning to look at Harry, noticing the pained look in his face as he bends forward to work on the laces of his other skate.

“Did you need help?” She asks him.

“No,” Harry pauses to hiss in pain, “I’m fine,” he adds, but Y/N just rolls her eyes and scoots over on the bench till she’s nearly pressing right up against Harry’s side, leaning down in order to work on his laces.

Harry watches her nimble fingers untie and loosen the laces, noticing how her hair falls as she bends down further. A faint smell of roses hits him with the movement of her hair as she pushes it back away from her line of sight. Harry looks away, glancing around them to see if anyone’s watching them because from any other view it may look like Y/N is giving him-

“There you go,” Y/N says with a smile and sits up again. Harry looks at his skates to see them completely loosened and ready for him to slip off easily.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile.

After Harry has his trusty not-so-white vans on, they walk over to return his rentals and make their way out of the ice rink area of Bryant Park. Harry notices the shops around the park, the painted white frames and clean windows were rather pleasing to look at while the inside glows with soft yellow lights. He wonders what they sell, but notices Y/N hiding a yawn behind her hand and decides it’s probably best they just head home. Also, his ass really did hurt with each step he took.

“Would you like to get a hot cocoa before we walk home?” Harry suggests, pointing to the small shack that was open and looks like it serves hot drinks and a few treats maybe.

“I would love that,” Y/N answers with a bright smile.

Her heart can’t help but burst at the thought that Harry knows her so well already. Not even a month of knowing one another and he already is so much better than Mark ever was. He would never go skating with her or buy her a nice warm drink afterwards either. It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend anymore, Y/N finds herself reminding herself, which causes her heart to pitter patter in her chest again. This time thinking about how maybe Harry could maybe be her boyfriend, one day.

“Hi,” Y/N gives the small brunette at her front door a tight smile.

She’s almost thirty minutes later than Mark said she would be. But to be fair, the subway was later than usual on her way home so Y/N had only just gotten home ten minutes ago. She had texted Mark to let him know and relay the message to his assistant, but he didn’t answer, no surprise there. So, in hindsight it wasn’t the biggest deal that his pretty little assistant was late.

What the big deal was the way she just strolled into Y/N’s apartment and set the box of her things on the couch. Y/N is standing by her door still in disbelief, mouth hanging open and eyes wide at the girls behaviour. When she turns around and gives Y/N a funny look while pointing around at her Christmas decor.

“It looks like Mrs Claus threw up in here,” she says.

“Thanks,” Y/N mutters and walks over to where she stood by the couch. Mark’s assistant steps back, pulling out her phone and tapping away at the screen as she seems bored to be here. “I’ll go get Mark’s things,” Y/N says, but then just as she’s about to walk away her eyes catch something red near the top of the box of her things that Mark had packed up.

She pushes her favourite Eagles shirt out of the way and hooks one finger around the lacy red fabric. The Victoria’s Secret label sticks out of the barely there red thong that’s hanging off her index finger. Y/N doesn’t recognize the underwear, she thinks as her head begins to spin. How the fuck did a pair of woman's underwear get into this box of things Mark packed up? Why would he have a red thong at his apartment that wasn’t Y/N’s? What the actual fuck? Another round of questions are about to spew in Y/N’s head as her heart beats out of her chest but then suddenly Mark’s assistant is reaching for the lacy fabric and taking it out of Y/N’s grasp.

“Oh, those are mine. Must’ve slipped in by accident,” she stammers out the words. Y/N’s head is spinning, her heart is beating out of her chest, as she puts the pieces together.

“Really? A thong just slipped into the box?” Y/N urges, narrowing her eyes at the young brunette standing in her living room. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?” Y/N asks and raises her voice, the anger filling her whole body now.

“Ex boyfriend,” the brunette has the guts to utter out.

“Answer the damn question,” Y/N snaps back at her.

Her face is turning red, to match the stupid thong in her hands, “uh, it’s none of your business-”

“Just tell me!” Y/N shouts, feeling like she deserves some truth in this moment. Mark’s assistant visibly gulps, avoiding Y/N’s eyes and looks all around the room.

“Like, a few months,” she mutters under her breath, still not meeting Y/N’s burning gaze.

Her whole body is shaking with the anger coursing through her. She should have known. How could she be such an idiot? She thinks while shaking her head. Of course, Mark was cheating on her during the entirety of their relationship. They were only dating for four months, meaning that for at least half of it, he was busy screwing his fucking assistant - how unbelievably cliche of him, but also how unbelievably naive of her to not guess. Y/N brings a hand to her forehand and rubs at her temple as a headache begins.

“Can I just get Mark’s stuff and go-”

“Get. Out.” Y/N spits out the words, glaring at the brunette who has the audacity to be so nonchalant about being the other woman.

“What about his things?” Mark’s assistant all but winces out the words, her dark eyebrows pulling together.

“Tell Mark to eat a dick,” Y/N sneers, taking a step towards the girl which causes her to step back. She can’t deny the bit of joy she feels at the sight of fear in the girls eyes. “And get out of my apartment, now!” Y/N shouts at the woman.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, turning around and walking to the front door.

Y/N is hot on her heels, making sure to slam to door shut behind her. The moment she’s left to herself, her apartment falling silent around her, she feels the pain settle in. Mark cheated on her with his assistant that he then had the nerve to let come over to her apartment. The realization of how embarrassing this whole situation is hits her, along with the hurt too. Regardless if it was a mutual break up, being cheated on does not feel good. Y/N sniffles, bringing a hand to her mouth as she suddenly is holding back sobs. Tears fall down her cheeks while her brain runs wild thinking of how many times Mark could have fucked his assistant and then just waltzed into her apartment and then they-

Her thoughts are cut short as she’s bolting to her bathroom, throwing the door open and bending down in front of the toilet. She lifts the seat and empties her stomach into the bowl. After a moment she’s coughing, lifting her head out of the toilet and reaching for the lever to flush away any contents that were in her stomach. Y/N grabs the hand towel to her right and brings it to her mouth, wiping away the bit of drool at her lips.

Y/N can feel the vibration from her cell phone after a moment of sitting on the bathroom floor, zoned out on the shower and thinking about how stupid she could have been to trust Mark. She lets out a short sigh and reaches into her back pocket to find her buzzing phone. Her eyes roll on instinct of seeing Mark’s contact photo taking up her screen. A part of her wants to answer, to yell and to scream at him. But a bigger part of her feels sick to her stomach again and just tired, honestly. So, she ignores the call and opens her phone to her contacts and deletes Mark all together. She goes into her photos and does a quick sweep of any photos of them together. It was something she was going to do eventually anyways, but after the news of him being a cheating piece of shit she couldn’t waste another second before getting rid of anything involving Mark.

Mark is a fucking asshole. His precious little assistant came by to drop off my few things and one of her thongs was in the box, so she spilled the beans that she had been sleeping with Mark for months. Meaning that piece of absolute trash was cheating on me like the entire time we were together. Y/N types out the message to Sammy, making sure that he knows the drama first - but also just simply because he’s her best friend.

Sammy is typing back a response as Y/N stands up from her spot by the toilet, flushing it again due to her spitting a few times into the bowl, and then she quickly washes her hands and looks up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are red, her hairs a bit frizzy and out of place from the perfect curls she had earlier today, and her makeup is ruined. She decides to wash her face, drying it with a clean towel as her phone vibrates on the counter.

Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m going to kill him. Please tell me we have a murder plan, I know where we can hide the body. Did you want to talk about it? I can come over and bring a big bottle of tequila? Sammy sends each sentence as a separate text, adding a few choice emojis too. The knife is used many times. His enthusiasm makes Y/N chuckle but then she’s frowning again while walking out of the bathroom and to her bedroom.

Honestly, I just want to curl up in bed and cry it out some more while listening to some sad music. But I’ll keep you updated on any murder plans I think up. Y/N sends back her texts before throwing her phone down on her bed.

Letting out another sigh, Y/N strips out of her tight fitting pants and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants. Next, she takes off the collared button up shirt she had worn tucked into her pants today, hanging it back up in her closet to prevent it from getting wrinkled. Her eyes wander around her bedroom, a certain article of clothing was on her mind to put on and snuggle into bed with. Y/N smiles as she sees Harry’s black hoodie on the top of her laundry hamper. To be honest, it needed to be washed, but she needed the comfort of his oversized clothing more. So, she tugs it on, puts her hair into a messy topknot bun, and tugs down the hood before lifting the blanket and getting into bed.

Not even three songs into her ‘depressed? yeah, me too’ playlist of sad songs, there was a knock on Y/N’s front door. At first she thinks of ignoring whoever it is, but then her music is cut off as a phone call comes through. It’s Mark’s number, regardless that she just deleted his contact, she still knew his phone number. Y/N groans and gets out of bed. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she imagines Mark or that little assistant of his having the balls to come to her apartment again and demand for his few things he had left around here. Y/N narrows her eyes and unlocks her door, ready to glare at her sad excuse for an ex boyfriend - but her face instantly softens at the sight of Harry standing there.

“Nice jumper,” Harry comments. A smile on his lips as he takes in how Y/N looks in his clothing, days after he had lent it to her. But that smile vanishes when he notices the redness in her eyes and her pouting lips. “What’s wrong?” Harry asks, his voice full of worry as he fights back reaching for her and bringing her in for a hug.

Y/N sniffles, “um, I thought you were Mark, sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Oh, sorry, is he coming over?” Harry questions. Suppose it made more sense for her boyfriend to comfort her during a bad day, he thinks although it tears him up inside that it can’t be him.

“No, no, he’s in Arizona, or somewhere. I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs, her voice sounding brittle, like it’s about to crack at any second, as she tries to keep herself composed in front of Harry. “I don’t really care actually, we broke up,” she reveals, her gaze down at the floor. Harry’s wearing those dirty white vans again, she wonders if he wears anything else.

They broke up, holy shit don’t freak out Styles, keep it together, Harry’s thoughts are all jumbled up at the news of Y/N and her boyfriends break up, which she is clearly very upset over, judging by her appearance and how she’s sniffling every second - bringing the sleeve of his Columbia jumper to her face to wipe her nose. Harry frowns and adjusts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Harry says softly, “break ups can really suck,” he adds - knowing from experience just how terrible break ups can leave a person feeling.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathes out and looks up at Harry now, “but he’s kind of a trash human so it’s for the best, honestly,” she tells him, letting out a breathy chuckle while shaking her head. She shouldn’t be crying so damn much over the guy, she thinks.

“Oh, well then, fuck that guy,” Harry agrees with a nod of his head.

Y/N lets out a genuine chuckle at his words. She brings a hand, that is covered by the cuff of Harry’s hoodie, to her forehead to swipe back any crazy wispy hairs that are in her face. “So, what brought you to knock on my door?” She asks, smiling as Harry realizes he had gotten distracted by her state and forgot why he knocked at all.

“Right,” Harry chuckles, “um, a few friends of mine are in this band, it’s nothing crazy they just play at the pub a few blocks away. And I was wondering if you weren’t busy if you wanted to come with, thought it could be fun. But if you’re not in the mood to leave your home I understand,” Harry explains to her.

“No, I would love to come with,” Y/N insists. She lets out another chuckle and motions to her current appearance. “Just not looking like this, and as long as you promise there will be liquor involved in this Saturday night out.”

“I’ll buy you as many drinks as you need,” Harry promises with a smile.

“Then count me in,” Y/N says, mirroring his big dimpled smile. “Just give me some time to get ready?”

“You’ve got plenty of time, we don’t have to leave for another hour and a half,” he tells her. “I’ll let you get to it,” he adds, throwing a thumb over his shoulder as he takes a step away from her doorway.

“Oh, I’ll wash the sweater and give it to you soon, by the way,” Y/N says, lifting both her arms before letting them fall to her sides. Harry just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Keep it as long as you need, it’s no problem, honestly,” Harry tells her while flashing a grin her way, hoping that it makes her feel even a little bit better. And it does, his casual response to her wearing his hoodie and then those dimples - it had her stomach fluttering. She gives Harry a small timid smile, tucking her chin down slightly into the collar of the hoodie as she watches his walk backwards down the hall to his door. “I’ll come knocking again in a bit,” Harry adds before he’s out of her sight and she’s closing her front door shut once again.

Y/N absentmindedly brings her hand to her mouth, biting on her nails as she stares off at her Christmas tree - though the lights are blurry due to her zoning out. You can do this, Y/N thinks and begins to give herself a pep talk of getting out of the sad break up phase and going out with Harry and his friends. Oh my god, Y/N’s eyes widen at her thoughts, what am I going to wear?

Y/N felt overdressed.

After twenty minutes of ripping apart her closet and tearing items out of her dresser drawers, she was truly tempted to just keep on Harry’s hoodie, pair it with some good jeans and some red heeled boots and call it a day. But that would be weird, showing up to hang out and meet Harry’s friends while dressed in his clothing. She was sure they were already going to assume things with him just bringing her along. Y/N didn’t need them thinking they had sex before too.

The thought had made Y/N blush like crazy as she tore off the stupidly comfortable hoodie and grabbed a silky white top that plunged low in the neckline, tying off just at her belly button, and then had long flowy sleeves. Pairing this with her trusted pair of light blue jeans, and for accessories: some chunky gold hoop earrings and layered gold necklaces to fill up the amount of skin she was showing at her chest. To top it all off, she slipped into her go-to black Balenciaga boots and long brown jacket to keep warm. After heading into the bathroom quickly, she brushed her hair through again and restyled the curls, put on a touch of light makeup, and then made sure to stick her lip gloss in her small black purse just as Harry was knocking on her door again.

Harry was dressed in a grey t-shirt with a large yellow smiley face, brown trousers and a blue and cream plaid jacket that quite literally made chills wash over Y/N’s body when she saw the whole fit - but that jacket, it made her head spin with some rather inappropriate thoughts. She’s a fashion major, can’t blame her for thinking clothing can make someone even more attractive. But even then she should have gotten the vibe of this evening and changed into something more casual.

But she didn’t, so now as she’s walking into a dive bar a few blocks away from the apartment building, she feels very out of place. Everyone’s wearing t-shirts and jeans, it smelt like cheap beer and cigarettes, and was definitely not the place to wear a silky white top that cost about five-hundred-dollars.

“You alright?” Harry's voice is soft and closer, as he steps directly behind Y/N after walking into the bar.

He notices how she crossed her arms at her chest and seemed to tense up almost immediately after walking in. Y/N shivers at the feeling of Harry’s breath falling over her exposed neck, having pushed her hair to lay on her left shoulder while he stood over her right. Y/N is still looking around the bar, trying to put together who may be Harry’s group of friends in this crowded bar.

“Y/N?” Harry tries again, this time placing a delicate hand on the small of her back - barely touching her, that he’s not even sure she’s noticed through her thick jacket. But she does, and she feels dizzy at the sweet gesture.

“Yeah,” she sighs, blinking a few times before looking to her right shoulder at Harry. He’s lips are so close, she thinks while trying her best to keep her eyes on his eyes. “Just feeling a little overdressed,” Y/N admits with a tight smile.

Harry shakes his head, “you look fine, better than fine actually. You look amazing,” Harry watches as Y/N’s eyes flicker to his lips for just a split second. He smiles but clears his throat, finding that they’re both blushing at his comment now. “As any FIT student in New York City should, of course,” he adds on to try and make his compliment a little less obvious.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/N smiles.

When Harry saw Y/N for the second time that evening, it was like day and night from the hour before when she answered her door in his hoodie. She looked incredible, and was so out of his league. Dressed like she was going to a photoshoot, hair flowing down her back perfectly, and accessories that made him visibly gulp - he was a sucker for some gold jewelry on a girl, it was a weird weakness of his. And now, standing in the dim lighting of this dingy dive bar, she did look a little out of place, but in the best way possible, like she shined too bright to be in just a dark and depressing place.

“This way,” Harry says, leading the way to where he notices his friends are sitting at a table. They thankfully got his texts about him bringing Y/N with him and had two seats open for the both of them.

“Should we stop at the bar and get a drink?” Y/N asks. She’s honestly unsure how the service works at a place like this. To be honest, she hadn’t been in too many dive bars in her years.

Harry stops, looks behind him at her, and shakes his head. “We have a waitress that works basically every night my friends play, so she’ll come by and get our drinks for us,” he explains to Y/N. She nods, giving him a tight smile, and Harry can’t help but notice how she’s still got her arms crossed at her chest. Is she uncomfortable here? Maybe he can make some shit excuse after the first few songs and get her home.

Harry notices as he’s turned towards Y/N just how much attention is on her. He’s not surprised, seeing how he already realized how much she sticks out in a place like this, but he doesn’t quite enjoy seeing every male’s - and a few girls too - eyes in this place on the girl he’s brought with him. So, he makes the quick decision of holding out his hand for Y/N to take. She looks at Harry’s outstretched hand and feels her breath get caught in her throat. Playing it off, she smiles and reaches forward, watching as his much larger hand envelopes hers and tugs gently to get them moving again. Y/N’s stomach is already full of butterflies and her head is spinning at them holding hands for all of ninety seconds it takes to get to his table full of friends - she needs a drink, stat.

Harry lets go of Y/N’s hand as he approaches his friend's usual table and has to bring his arms up in order to hug Adam, who’s throwing himself into Harry at the sight of him. Harry huffs out a laugh, making a comment about how drunk Adam must be already, to which he responds by smacking Harry’s back a few times and laughing with him. Y/N can’t help it as the corners of her lips turn up into a small smile at the sight of Harry engulfed in a hug by a man bigger than him. As she’s watching their interaction, she notices how everyone else is watching her. Y/N’s smile falls right away and she finds herself crossing her arms at her chest again.

“Everyone,” Harry speaks a bit louder in order to get everyone's attention as he turns around and holds his arm out to Y/N, which she takes as her singal to step forward for an introduction and smiles timidly at the group of four others at the table. “This is Y/N, Y/N, this is everyone,” Harry announces, smiling at his friends - catching Mitch’s smug look in return.

“Hi,” Y/N says, her voice that soft and gentle tone that he had grown to like, quite a lot, actually.

“I’m Tom,” he’s the first to speak up, offering a hand to Y/N to shake, which she turns just a bit to her left in order to properly greet Harry’s friend. Tom’s got bleached hair that’s not styled and laying flat on his forehead, his roots are a dark brown that match the mustache and bit of bread he’s got. Y/N notices the few different necklaces around his neck while he’s wearing a simple outfit of a black long sleeve and black jeans.

“Jenny,” the woman sitting to Tom's left reaches over the table in order to shake Y/N’s hand. She’s also got bleached hair, and a dazzling smile too. Y/N notices the equally dazzling ring on her finger and she glances down at Tom’s hands to see a wedding band, assuming they are married due to them sitting so closely.

“Mitch,” a long haired young man speaks up just as Y/N and Jenny drop their hands. Y/N meets his gaze and blinks a few times, feeling slightly intimidated by him. Regardless of how he seems like the scrawniest at the table, his eyes just sort of bring Y/N to a stop, but she recovers swiftly and gives him a smile, returning the wave he gives her as it’s too far of a reach to shake hands. Mitch raises a brow at Harry, to which Harry is quick to return. Catching the interaction, Y/N imagines they are the closest of the group. Suppose he’s just a bit protective of his friend bringing a random girl around, Y/N thinks to herself before her attention is grasped by the last person sitting at the table.

“And I’m Adam, the only name you need to remember, obviously,” says the man who had hugged Harry upon their arrival. He’s smiling so widely there’s crinkles near his eyes, which make Y/N feel all warm inside as she stares into his big brown eyes. He’s got a full bread, like Mitch, and matching brown hair that looks like it may need a bit of a trim but he styles it well. Y/N likes his button up shirt that’s a dark navy with little white stars all around it, paired with some plain black jeans.

“It’s really lovely to meet you all,” Y/N says after shaking Adam’s hand, “thank you for letting me come crash your night,” she adds with another timid smile.

“Nonsense, it’s nothing special,” Jenny assures her, waving her hand too before wrapping it around her half full glass of what Y/N assumed was alcohol - or hoped, because she really didn’t want to be the only one drinking tonight.

“Ouch,” Adam scoffs jokingly, “guess your husbands best mates playing is nothing special then, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hurt, Jenny,” Mitch nods, bringing his glass up to his lips to take a sip of the dark yellow foaming liquid in his tall glass - beer, okay, sweet, so we’re all drinking, good, Y/N thinks. She also notices that Mitch is the only one with an American accent. She wonders how this group all became friends, being from different parts of the world, where did they all connect?

Harry chuckles and shakes his head at his friends, looking to Y/N to find her smiling at his mates too. He places a hand on her elbow, causing her to look at him. He nods his head to the open seats on the other side of the table for them. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and begins to walk around the table, stepping behind Tom and Jenny’s chairs before stopping at the first one on Jenny’s right. Y/N catches Mitch’s stare, now ignoring the conversation at the table to instead watch Harry and her, but she’s quick to look away from his intense gaze and focus on taking her jacket off. Just as she tosses her jacket over the back of her chair, fixing her top in a discreet manner too, a red headed woman steps up in between her and Harry who is also slipping out of his jacket.

“Hey, Harry,” the woman greets him in a sultry tone. If Harry notices the obvious show she puts into her voice, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey, Amy,” he says quickly, looking at his chair as he pulls it out and takes a seat.

“Running a bit behind your friends tonight, huh? What took you so long?” She asks. Seems she's rather observant of Harry’s presence, Y/N thinks, while she takes her seat and looks anywhere but to her right where the red head - fake red dye too, it was so obvious - back was mere inches away from her.

“I love your top, it’s so stylish,” Jenny comments, causing Y/N to look to her left at Jenny’s dazzling smile again.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “this may not be the place to wear it, seems more like a casual band tee kind of place,” she notes, narrowing her eyes while looking around at the bar around them. Noticing now just how many neon signs there were in the dark space. The biggest was on the wall behind the small stage, which every table was facing. The bar was at the back of the bar and there were booths lining the wall closest to the door, then a couple of pool tables and gambling machines in the far right of the bar. Y/N had spent too much time in high maintenance bougie bars to find any of this remotely normal - but she didn’t hate it.

“Rubbish, you look hot, definitely got people in here questioning their wardrobe,” Jenny states, gaining Y/N’s attention again, “hell, next time I’m stepping it up to match this energy,” she adds, waving her hands at Y/N’s outfit.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “well thanks, but you look incredible already! There’s no need.”

“Y/N,” Harry interrupts the girls suddenly.

Y/N lets out a small breath before turning to face what she’s been ignoring. The flirtatious red head and Mitch’s strong stare. Y/N raises her eyebrows at Harry. She completely ignores how the waitress now stood facing both their chairs, but she did notice how her hand was resting on the back of Harry’s.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Harry asks her, lips turning up into a smile. He can’t help himself, he finds himself smiling so much around her he’s sure he has wrinkles already.

“Oh,” Y/N says, finally looking at the waitress now. Her dark makeup made her blue eyes pop, it was a bit smudged but Y/N assumes she’s too busy working to notice. The waitress, Amy - Y/N reads her name tag, pinned on her tight black v neck shirt that has the bar's name on it - is staring at her, clearly forcing a smile while waiting for Y/N’s answer. “I’ll have tequila and soda water, bring a few lime slices on the side too,” Y/N orders, knowing exactly how Upper East Side she sounds, “please,” she adds with a forced smile that she mirrors from Amy.

“Coming right up,” Amy nods before turning away, not without a lingering gaze on Harry though.

Her obvious fake customer voice was rather annoying, Y/N thinks as her eyes follow her walking back to the bar. She takes note of the crowd around the bar, many waving at the one bartender stationed behind the bar. He looks older and is struggling to keep up with the rush of people. When Y/N turns back around, to face the table again, she catches Harry eyes on her. She scrunches up her nose at him and he chuckles before their attention is taken away by Adam’s deep voice.

“So, Y/N, you're this bloke’s neighbour, huh?” He questions, nodding his head to Harry. Y/N smiles and nods, sitting back in her chair while folding her hands between her thighs.

“Yeah, we just met in passing and ended up becoming friends,” she states, catching Harry nodding in the corner of her eye while he rests an arm on the table and faces towards her as he leans slightly into Mitch. To which Mitch responds by pushing his shoulder gently, making Harry’s smile widen at how he manages to bother his friend so easily.

“Give us the tea. How shit of a neighbour is he?” Adam asks, causing everyone at the table to chuckle.

“Hey,” Harry playfully whines at his friends.

“He’s fine, great even,” Y/N tells them, earning another smile from Harry as he watches her.

“Surprising considering he’s a shit roommate,” Mitch comments after taking another long sip of his beer. Harry turns in his chair and glares at Mitch, earning a smirk from him in return.

“I am not,” Harry grumbles.

“When were you two roommates?” Y/N asks, finding herself bringing a hand up to adjust her necklaces. Anything to keep her nervous hands busy. Suppose making new friends wasn’t her biggest strength, it was a rather nerve wracking experience to be honest.

“We just room together when we travel for any work stuff,” Harry answers, meeting her eyes for only a brief second before he’s looking back at Mitch. “Mitch here just likes his beauty sleep, while I have a pretty set morning routine I like to stick to,” Harry explains, looking back at Y/N as he finishes talking.

“Yeah, that starts at like six in the morning like a crazy person,” Mitch huffs jokingly.

“Six is way too early,” Y/N agrees, nodding along with Mitch. “At least give the man till nine,” she adds.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Harry states. Mitch mumbles something under his breath before taking another sip of his beer. Sounded a bit like “say’s the drama queen himself” but Y/N isn’t sure. Regardless, the interaction makes her smile. Just as she’s about to make another comment, Amy returns with hers and Harry’s drinks. Setting his down first with a smile before turning to Y/N and placing the glass of tequila and a small dish of limes too.

“Thank you,” Y/N says. Doesn’t matter if she thought Amy had an attitude problem, Y/N had manners.

“Anything else for the table? Another refill for you boys before you head up on stage?” Amy asks, ignoring Y/N completely and instead turning her back on her and looking at Mitch and Adam. Y/N notices how she leans her body into Harry a bit, her arm resting on the back of his chair again. If Harry notices, he’s oblivious to her motives. It almost makes Y/N laugh at how Harry’s ignoring her.

“Please,” Mitch nods, lifting his glass to finish off the rest of his beer. Y/N tries to hide her facial expression as she is impressed with how Mitch manages to gulp down the beer so fast, instead bringing her focus to her own drink - which she was looking forward to downing herself honestly.

She picks up a lime wedge and squeezes it over her glass, watching the juices squirt out and into her glass. After she stirs it with her straw, she brings it to her lips and gulps back nearly half of it. Y/N suddenly feels her phone buzzing in her jean pocket. She sits up slightly in order to slide it out of her pocket and looks at the screen. It’s Mark’s number again. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she declines the call and sets her phone screen down on the table before grabbing ahold of her drink again and having another sip. He sure has some nerve to continue to call numerous times, Y/N thinks as she zones out from whatever Harry and his friends were talking about.

“Y/N grew up in the city, actually,” Harry states. Y/N raises her eyebrows and looks around the table to see everyone’s looking at her now. She’s missed what they were talking about prior so she just spit balls it here and smiles.

“Um, yeah, born and raised,” she nods, “I noticed you all have quite a jumble of accents, where are you all from?” Y/N asks, looking towards Tom and Jenny as they begin to explain where they were separately from before meeting in London.

Harry watches Y/N while his friends speak, mostly because he already knows everything there is about their lives, but also because he likes watching Y/N. Taking in her small mannerisms like how she talks with her hands quite a lot, and how she rubs her ankles together under the table as she listens to Adam talk about his wife and kids back home. They all chat amongst themselves, making jokes and laughing too, for nearly thirty minute before Mitch and Adam are whisked away to the stage. Harry feels his chest bursting as he sits back and watches Y/N interact with his friends as if they are her own. He smiles when she looks his way, her cheeks howling as she sucks on the straw of her second drink - nearly finishing it while staring at him. Harry has to break the gaze as his thoughts run a different less innocent route, causing him to readjust how he’s sitting and clearing his throat just as the lead singer of the band introduces them.

“So, why aren’t you in the band?” Y/N asks as the beginning chords of their opening song play out. She’s leaning her elbow on the table, resting her head in the palm of her hand while turning her head to Harry - shutting out Jenny and Tom completely but they’re too busy watching the band to care.

“Bold of you to assume I have enough talent to be in a band,” Harry says with a smirk. Y/N rolls her eyes and reaches for her glass, bringing the straw between her lips and finishing off the tequila and soda water with three squeezed lime slices in it - Harry watched her prepare her drink both times, finding himself intrigued by her drink of choice.

“You are definitely talented enough,” Y/N says, “from the bit I’ve heard through the walls, you’re great with a guitar and I’m assuming I’m right considering that your job revolves around music.”

“Well, they already have a guitar player,” Harry notes, nodding his head towards Mitch who’s strumming away on his guitar. “And he’s one of the best in the business so if I did have any talent, he wipes me out without a question,” Harry insists.

Y/N is about to respond but then the band is starting to really get into the song. She turns her head, sitting up straight again, and watches the band perform. They’re really good, she thinks and starts to bob her head along to the song. Harry tries to not be obvious, but he stares at her for a few moments before facing the stage to watch his mates as well. He smiles as he watches her get into the music, nodding along with the bass line and tapping her foot to the drums. They’re performing one of Harry’s songs. He had written it a couple years back when he had finally settled into New York, hence the title ‘Ever Since New York’. He didn’t sell the song to any big artist, instead he kept it within his personal folder and when Mitch asked if his and Adam’s band could borrow it Harry said yes. It was one of the few personal songs he would let his friends borrow, others were too much of him to let someone else sing.

Y/N is seriously enjoying herself. The tequila has hit her, settling into her body with a constant buzz, and this band was so good. She’s shamelessly swaying her body in her chair and nodding her head back and forth with the beat. To be fair, so was everyone else at the table. Jenny matched her energy perfectly, even throwing an arm around her shoulders as the course of their third song picked up - Jenny knew the lyrics and sang along, causing the two of them to erupt into laughter afterwards. After Jenny turns her attention back to her husband, Y/N looks at Harry and notices him lightly singing along while bobbing his head too. She smiles and ends up watching him instead of the band for maybe a little too long. He turns his head and catches her stare, raising a brow but she just shakes her head and leans closer to him to ensure he can hear her before speaking.

“They’re really good,” she compliments, “like a lot better than some of the mainstream artists I’ve seen recently,” she adds on just as the band finishes up another song.

“Yeah, they are,” Harry nods in agreement, “but the bands really just a hobby for all of them since they are all involved within the industry already.”

“Oh, that’s sick though,” Y/N says, “not everyone’s hobby includes filling up a dive bar in New York City every weekend with people singing along to your songs,” she exclaims. She had looked around the room earlier during the last song to see it wasn’t just the bandmates' friends that knew the words to their songs. Majority of the people in the bar were singing too, clearly being regulars to their sets.

Amy arrives at their table again, setting down everyone's refills in a rush, thankfully being too busy to stop and flirt with Harry. Is that jealousy, Y/N? She questions herself in her head. She ignores her thoughts and brings her new drink to her lips, not even bothering with the lime slices this time as she’s feeling a bit drunk now and honestly could care less. As the band opens their next song with some strong drums and an incredible electric guitar melody, the crowd goes a bit crazy. Y/N furrows her brows and looks at the people at her table, Tom and Jenny are also hollering at the band while Harry is chuckling. He meets her eyes before echoing the crowd and cheering on his friends. Y/N’s eyes widen and she huffs out a laugh before she grabs her phone quickly and opens her Instagram.

Just in time, she opens her Instagram stories as the song picks up and the small crowd that had formed overtime at the front of the stage starts to dance around. Everyone is cheering and singing along, causing Y/N’s jaw to drop in pure amazement. She holds down the button to record and gets a quick ten second video of the band rocking out while the bar sings and goes nuts as the bass line played by Adam kicks in and their drummer flings his body around to play one of the most addicting beats they’ve played so far. Y/N shakes her head and swipes a filter on before tapping on the screen, turning to face Harry - who’s already watching her, of course.

“Does the band have an Instagram?” She asks. To which Harry just shrugs in response, because he really isn’t too sure - he’s not hugely into social media himself.

“They do!” Jenny says with excitement, Y/N turns in her seat and grins at Jenny as she spells out the bands Instagram handle. “I keep trying to get them to stay active on it but they barely do,” she states.

Y/N slips her drink that she holds in one hand and taps ‘post to story’ on her phone that in her other hand. “Well, they might get, like, a few notifications flood in since I tagged them in my story,” Y/N tells her.

“Oh yeah?” Jenny questions. “Are you big on Insta?”

“It’s kind of grown over the years, I just hit half a million last week actually,” Y/N states. Her words cause both Jenny and Tom’s jaws to drop. Suppose it’s quite a big number, Y/N thinks.

“That’s insane, oh my god,” Jenny says, “is social media like your job then?” She asks. Y/N notices how both Tom and Harry are more interested in hearing about her Instagram than the band’s next song, to be fair it is a slower tune, but still it shocks her a bit.

“Um, not really,” Y/N licks her lips, “I have a career at a fashion studio in the city, we style the city’s elite and some celebrities, do their personal shopping and all that. But the social media thing is really just a little add on, I guess,” Y/N explains, pausing a few times as she feels a bit nervous telling them about her following. Some people saw it as a clout thing, asking for shoutouts and tags so her followers would get their follower count up. While others thought it was childish and weird that she was kind of like an influencer in a way.

“Wow,” Harry says, his voice gets Y/N’s attention as she looks towards him now, “how didn’t I know this?” He questions with a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “it’s really just like a hobby, barely even that.”

“Like how the band is for Mitch and Adam,” Harry nods.

Y/N smiles and nods with him, “exactly.”

“You’re definitely the coolest girl Harry knows, by the way,” Jenny states, bringing Y/N’s attention back to her left where she sat. Y/N laughs and brushes her hair back over her shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N disagrees and shakes her head, reaching for her drink again to take a few sips.

“No, you definitely are,” Harry corrects her, having a sip of his own drink as well. Y/N puts down her glass and smiles, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, if you say so,” she says in a joking tone. Jenny, Tom and Harry all chuckle, which makes Y/N laugh along with them. The band is talking to the crowd now, mentioning that their weekly gig will not be happening next week due to the holidays. Then they’re explaining something about their next and final song, thanking the crowd before the song starts up.

“This was their first song as a band,” Tom tells Y/N. She smiles and nods, appreciating the insight from him.

The song is catchy, still fitting the bands vibe but definitely isn’t as good as some of the other songs they had played already. Y/N decides to take a final snap of the band on stage on her Instagram story. Mitch’s head is down, his hair falling forward that she can barely tell that it’s him, while Adam is grinning at the crowd which makes Y/N smile as she swipes on a filter to lighten the picture some and types out ‘new fave band alert’ as her caption, finding a red siren gif quickly before posting it to her story. As the song comes to an end the bar erupts into a roar of cheers. Y/N brings her hands to her mouth and hollers along with the bar, grinning as she watches the four boys of the band come together and bow. As they bend down Harry whistles, having both his hands at his mouth, to show his support to his friends.

Y/N widens her eyes and turns quickly to look at Harry, surprised by the loud whistle that came from him. He matches her look, widening his eyes and playing dumb as he slowly lowers his hands from his face. Y/N laughs, slapping a hand on his arm and leaning back, immensely entertained by his actions. Harry laughs along with Y/N till they both calm down and shake their heads. Just as Y/N is about to say something her phone starts to buzz on the table from an incoming call. She looks down at the screen and sees it’s Mark - again.

“Ugh,” Y/N groans and hits decline, unlocking her phone to go to her phone app. “How the hell do you block a phone number?” She asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Is it Mark?” Harry questions in a low voice, leaning towards Y/N to keep his words between them. Y/N frowns but nods her head once. The tequila in her system starts to mess with her, her screen becoming fuzzy as she thinks about all the crap she learnt about Mark earlier today. And now he was ruining her fun out with Harry and his friends.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Y/N asks, turning to Jenny since she would know the location of the women's bathroom over Harry.

“Down the hall in the back corner over there,” she points in that direction and before anyone else can say something Y/N is on her feet with her phone in hand and heading to the bathroom.

Harry looks over his shoulder as he monitors Y/N’s move across the bar. He’s worried about her, obviously, but he’s also watching to make sure no douche bag makes a grab for her. Although he is sure that she could handle it herself. As he turns back to the table he sees both Tom and Jenny staring at him. Harry furrows his brows and brings his drink to his lips, having the final sip of his third drink tonight. Jenny just shakes her head and looks down at her phone, he’s pretty sure she’s looking up Y/N’s Instagram. Tom’s still staring at Harry though.

“What?” Harry finally asks, setting his glass down with the few other empty ones at the centre of the table.

“So,” Tom pauses, “what’s going on here?” He questions, being annoyingly vague.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, trying his hardest to not roll his eyes.

“Well you just show up with this bombshell of a woman, who is beyond anything you could’ve described her as by the way, and we’re all just supposed to forget she’s in a relationship?” Tom questions, tilting his head just slightly to the side as he stares down Harry.

“Firstly, I’m insulted you don’t think we could just be friends,” Harry says, he’s about to continue but Mitch and Adam join the table again. They get a round of ‘good job’ from everyone before Mitch is turning to Harry and furrowing his brows.

“What were you saying before?” He asks.

“That it is just possible for Y/N and I to be friends, but also not that it’s any of your guys business cause it’s not even mine, but her and her boyfriend broke up, like, recently,” Harry informs his friends, dragging his fingertip along the condensation of his empty glass in front of him. He feels silly, having to explain himself for simply bringing along a friend to hangout tonight. But he can’t deny it feels good to know that she is single now. Only to feel bad a second later as he knows that Y/N must be hurting, judging by her drowning herself in tequila drinks and getting upset over Mark calling her.

“Well, shit,” Mitch breathes out. Harry lifts his gaze to find his best mate with his usual smug look on his face. “What are you waiting for then, loverboy, make a move,” Mitch coaxes him.

“Did you not hear me when I said they broke up recently? As in maybe I should just let that settle for a while before I try and make any sort of move,” Harry says.

“Well if you don’t eventually and you let this one go, then you’re a bloody idiot,” Adam resorts, “Y/N is a prize, one evening knowing her and I understand your little crush, H,” he adds with a smile.

“Trust me,” Harry huffs out a breath and shakes his head a bit, “I’m well aware. But seriously guys, I’m just going to let it play out and not force anything. I’m happy to just be her friend, honestly,” he explains. Everyone nods, seeming to understand where Harry is at now with Y/N. Perfect timing, Amy shows up with refills for everyone to get the attention of the group off Harry.

“So, Harry,” Amy says after setting down everyone glasses, turning her body away from Jenny and the empty chair for Y/N to completely face him - her boobs practically in his face. He gives her a polite smile, leaning back in his chair in order to get some distance from her. “Who’s this new girl you brought with you? A cousin or something?” She asks, her body seeming to lean even further towards him as she speaks.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to let Amy know her ridiculous assumptions were wrong. When he hears Y/N’s voice from behind where Amy stood. “Classy,” she mutters under her breath.

Amy rolls her eyes rather dramatically before she turns away from Harry and looks at Y/N as she’s pulling out her chair and returning to her seat. “What did you say?” Amy asks, her voice rather snarky in Y/N’s opinion.

“I said, wow you’re hair colour, it’s like, so classy, I love it,” Y/N resorts, putting on a smile just as fake as her words.

Amy’s lips part, her eyes narrowing at Y/N’s bored stare. Whatever bitchy response she has lined up for Y/N is cut short as Amy’s name is being yelled by the bartender. Her gaze falls behind Y/N, looking at who had called for her, before she meets Y/N’s eyes again. She glares again, huffs out a short breath, and then is nearly stomping away from the table like a child who didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted to play with - or rather the Ken doll. Y/N’s lips turn up slightly into a smug smile as a feeling of pride flushes over her.

“Yup, it’s official,” Jenny says, bringing Y/N back to reality as she looks away to her left. Jenny is grinning as she brings an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into her side. “You’re one hundred percent the coolest girl Harry knows,” she states, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“You handled Amy like a pro,” Adam notes, then jutting his chin towards Harry, “H is always too nice to let her know how annoying she’s being.”

Y/N smiles and looks at Harry in the corner of her eye, noticing the slight tint of pink upon his cheeks. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shrugs, “I grew up dealing with the snobby Upper East Side kids, Amy is harmless, believe me,” Y/N ensures the group before grabbing for her drink and sucking back a few good gulps.

The group around the table begins to talk about the performance, compliments and praises to Mitch and Adam all around of course. Even a few strangers come up to give them a pat on the back and ask for a picture. They’re like royalty in this dingy little bar.

Y/N is enjoying sitting back and simply being around people, letting herself push away any thoughts of Mark. She had blocked his number while she waited in line for the washroom, then responded to Sammy’s million texts asking where she was and with who - when she told him she was with Harry he just replied with ‘#TeamHarry for the win’, which she rolled her eyes at but ended up smiling down at her phone and texting him a thumbs up back.

When Y/N finished with her business in the rather dirty washroom - the sink barely even worked, it was not ideal - and she saw Amy at the table beside Harry again, Y/N let her jealousy fly. Then when Amy started leaning so far into Harry that her boobs nearly touched his chest, Y/N just couldn’t help it. It was like her vision turned red suddenly, her chest swelling up as she tried to bite down on her tongue. But she couldn’t, she was too annoyed by Amy’s less than classy actions towards her customer.

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice snaps Y/N out of her own world. She blinks and focuses on him, feeling herself melt at the sight of his smile. “Are you okay?” He asks, more than likely referring to her quick departure to the bathroom after Mark called.

“Yeah,” she assures him with a smile and a nod. “I blocked his number, I don’t want to hear his excuses. I could really care less,” she explains to Harry. He nods in response and is about to say something else, about how Mark is a real idiot for whatever he did to hurt her. But Y/N sits up, places a hand on his arm that was resting on the table between then, and gives him another smile. “But enough about him, seriously, I’m feeling a little drunk and having way too much fun here with you to be bothered anymore,” Y/N tells him.

“Alright,” Harry smiles, peering at Y/N as his heart beats wildly in his chest. He’s pretty sure his skin’s tingling from where her hand rests. But it doesn’t last long before she moves, reaching for her glass - that she then raises into the air.

“I would like to make a toast,” Y/N announces to the table, gaining everyone’s attention and smiles, “to Mitch and Adam’s absolutely amazing performance, new friends, and to having a lovely holiday season,” Y/N beams as Harry and his friends cheer in agreement and everyone lifts their glasses into the air.

The group ends up buying shots after, then another round of drinks, and then more shots. Y/N is laughing so much her stomach hurts. She hasn’t been this happy while enjoying others' company in far too long, outside of work of course. Harry makes another joke, teasing Adam, but Adam dishes it back right away. Y/N finds herself letting her hand slip to Harry’s thigh as she throws her head back with laughter at Adam’s absurd comment. Everyone else is too focused on the banter to notice, but Harry does of course. He’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels her delicate fingers spread over his thigh. He gulps, unsure if he wants to break whatever drunken trance that Y/N may be in. Does she realize that she’s put her hand on his thigh? He wonders. But his thoughts are quickly answered as she caresses her thumb along his pants before lifting her hand slowly off of him altogether.

Y/N’s leaning on her elbow again, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand as she looks at Harry. He’s so hot, her drunk self thinks as she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down for a second time since she had placed her hand on his thigh. It happened by accident to be honest, but she wasn’t sorry about it. God, she was just itching to touch Harry. His thigh, his arm, maybe rub gentle circles on the back of his neck as he talked amongst his friends, but she wanted to touch his lips more than anything. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty pink lips as he replies to whatever whoever said to him.

Harry catches Y/N’s glossy eyes staring at him in the corner of his eye. He rolls his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. He likes how she can’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, because he does the same thing maybe a little too often. Harry turns his head and meets her gaze, giving her a smirk as she playfully narrows her eyes at him. Her cheeks are rosy from the amount of liquor she’s consumed, while her eyes truly are a bit glossed over from her being more than tipsy. She’s so hot, he thinks, as his eyes shamelessly roam over her appearance. Even hours later at this shitty bar and she still looks breathtaking. Harry’s gaze lingers a little too long on her chest, admiring the way the top fit her breasts; was she wearing a bra? Oh how he wishes he could find out.

Y/N adjusts her position in her chair, letting her left arm fall into her lap while she lays her right arm beside Harry’s. She is liking this game they seem to be playing with their eyes. She sits up straight, knowingly sticking out her chest just a bit as she watches Harry’s eyes fall to her breasts. But she keeps it classy, of course, unlike some people. Y/N lets out a breathy sigh as she looks at Harry’s hand mere inches away from her right hand. Those rings, she thinks, they could do some real damage. Her thighs clench involuntarily, her mind falling into a fog as she imagines them leaving red marks on her bare bottom or how cool they would feel against her throat.

“I really like your rings, have I told you that before?” Y/N’s voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t care as her pinky reaches over to touch the large gold ‘S’ that rests on his pinky. The metal is cool to her touch, just as she imagines. Feeling brave - thanks to her good friend, tequila - she lifts her hand slightly in order to comfortably drag her fingertip over the ‘S’ shape a couple times.

“No, you-” Harry clears his throat, feeling it become dry at the sight of her doe eyes staring at his fingers. His mind goes somewhere dirty, thinking of somewhere else his fingers could go. Tangled in her hair, wrapped around her throat, inside of her. Harry licks his lips before he speaks again, “you haven’t, but thank you.”

“Which is your favourite?” Y/N questions, her finger still lazily tracing the ring on his pinky finger.

“Quite like the inicals,” Harry answers, smirking as she glances up to peer at him through her lashes. She mirrors his smug look easily.

“A very narcissistic answer,” Y/N hums, teasing him. Harry playfully narrows his eyes at her, which she returns but ends up giggling after a moment as he sticks out his tongue at her. These inappropriate thoughts have got to just slide away for a moment, Y/N thinks with a deep breath.

“We’re going to head out,” Tom announces to the table suddenly, helping Jenny out of her chair. Jenny’s beautiful dazzling smile is on her husband as he helps her into her coat. They’ve both had quite a bit to drink too and Harry notes how Jenny latches onto Tom’s side after they’re in their coats.

“I’m still shocked you two both came out tonight,” Harry says.

“We paid big bucks for this babysitter, so they better keep it together for at least another four hours,” Tom exclaims with a wink. Jenny gasps and smacks her husband on the chest as she realizes what Tom is insinuating.

“Don’t go acting like you last longer than ten minutes, bud,” Mitch taunts jokingly to his friend. Everyone laughs as Tom glares at Mitch across the table. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, finally bringing her finger away from where it laid on Harry’s ‘S’ ring, in order to cover her chuckles.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N,” Jenny gushes, letting go of Tom in order to put her arms around Y/N and hugging her tightly.

Y/N smiles into her bleached hair, squeezing her back just as tightly, “you too, Jenny,” she says.

“Don’t let H keep hiding you away now,” she says, pointing a stern finger at the two of them. Harry laughs and shakes his head at his friend.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jenny,” he tells her.

Then they’re all saying goodbye to the couple as they walk out of the half empty bar. Y/N glances around the place, noticing how it feels less scary now. Maybe it was the tequila that helped, or how comfortable she felt around Harry and his friends. A yawn suddenly makes it’s way past Y/N’s lips, she brings the back of her hand to cover it but ends up squinting her eyes closed as her whole body feels drained. She meets Harry eyes after the yawning stops, he shows her a small soft smile that makes her return it right back.

“Ready to go home?” He asks. She contemplates it for a moment, because she truthfully doesn’t want the night to end. But she decides to not fight it and nods to Harry.

Harry does practically the same thing as Tom just had. He announces his and Y/N’s departure, helps her into her coat, and lets her say her goodbyes as Adam opens his arms up for a big warm hug. Mitch only nods, waving to them both before Harry leads the way out of the bar. The cold night air blasts Y/N’s hair back, the sharp wind taking her by surprise as she blinks back tears from the cold. She puts both her hands into her coat pockets and zips it up all the way, snuggling into the warmth it will provide her on their walk home.

“I feel like Mitch doesn’t like me much,” Y/N admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence between her and Harry.

“What?” Harry shakes his head, eyebrows pinched together. “No, that’s just how he is. He’s quiet and looks all moody. Give him some time, he’ll warm up, promise.”

“I think he’s just protective of you,” Y/N says, looking up at Harry after they cross the road, “thinks I’m a threat or something.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head again,“well, it’s definitely not like that with Mitch and I, plus he’s seeing someone. Her name’s Sarah, she plays drums on a lot of tracks we write.”

“If you say so,” Y/N sighs. She looks around at the sights before them. A few other mildly drunk people wander the streets, and she notices a few homeless people too, that tore Y/N’s heart apart, as they were bunkering down in the alleyways. Harry keeps pace with Y/N the whole walk home, letting her control the speed they walked and what they talked about. She would jump from subject to subject the entire time, but Harry thought it was kinda cute that she was so drunk she didn’t even realize how quickly she changed the topic.

And all too soon, they’re in the elevator in their apartment building. Harry presses the number six button and joins Y/N on the back wall. They both lean into the railing, comfortable silence falling between them once again. But it was obviously their thoughts were anything but silent. The elevator doors open on their floor, and Harry lets her walk out first as always.

“Well this is me,” Y/N says dramatically as she approaches her apartment door. Harry chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly and letting his eyes fall to the floor for a second before meeting Y/N’s stare again. “I really did have a great time tonight, Harry,” she tells him.

“I’m glad, I did too,” he agrees.

Y/N wants to kiss him. She really really really does. But they’re both a little drunk, and she literally just broke up with Mark yesterday - or maybe technically two days ago now since it’s past midnight. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be that girl. Plus she wanted to really get to know Harry and take this slow and see where it went. That didn’t stop her gaze from falling to his pretty pink lips though. Harry’s thoughts are running laps too. He wants to kiss her. But he knows she’s more than likely still hasn’t recovered fully emotionally from her break up Mark, hell not even ten hours ago she was crying because of her shitty ex boyfriend. Didn’t mean he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her though, especially when her gaze falls to his lips.

Just as quickly as they seemed to fall into some dream like state as thoughts of kissing each other float around them, they snap back to reality. Y/N blinks a few times and takes a step back, bumping into her front door. Harry clears his throat and steps back as well, towards his own front door.

“Polar Express,” Y/N says suddenly, earning a look of confusion from Harry. “We’re watching the Polar Express tomorrow, and you’re going to play me something on that guitar of yours.”

Harry lets out a chuckle and gives Y/N a smirk, “yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“You will,” she singsongs as she focuses on unlocking her door. It takes a few extra tries to get the key in but once she does she unlocks it and opens the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry smiles.

“Goodnight, H,” Y/N says softly, smiling as well, as she leans against her door to look back at him. Harry’s smile deepens at her using his nickname. She must’ve picked it up from his friends using it earlier during their time at the bar.

She gives him one last look over, knowing very well that she’s going to dream about him in that cream and blue plaid jacket - and maybe only wearing that jacket - before she shuts her door and presses her back against it as it closes. Today was a lot. But she’s beyond grateful that Harry invited her out, introducing her to his wildly unique group of wonderful friends, and letting her get a little bit drunk too. Her chest flares up as she remembers their close moment at the bar, her touching his rings, placing her hand on his thigh-

“Oh god,” Y/N all but moans out as her thoughts go right back to the place they were at before.

She shakes her head and heads to her bedroom. Harry wouldn’t be able to hear a vibration from the other side of the wall, would he? Y/N shrugs and opens her bedside table drawer to grab her vibrator, knowing just how much she needed it tonight as she imagined Harry’s hand between her thighs. Fuck, she’s so screwed, she thinks, biting her lip as she realizes, she really really really likes Harry.

>> part four <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #1dff #cstsyl #omg this took me so long i know but i really really like it and hope u guys to do!!

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crab-in-a-pocket · 4 years ago

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Maybeeee the bachelors and their crush with a playful back and forth teasing and flirting relationship? They just don't admit they like each other yet but its fairly obvious, and one day their crush just straight up admits they like them. How would the boys deal with that?

guess who's back bitchez!! thanks for the ask, anon, this was really fun to write :D brief hiatus over btw!! i'm back in business <33 seems short but i wrote this on my phone and i have no way to tell if it really is short or not but i hope yall enjoy nonetheless !! i'll edit it and add a "read more" sometime later when the wifi isnt as crappy on my laptop because the tumblr app is horseshit

tw: swearing

alex:

ok, wow, that was blunt and bold and super super hot

you two werre always pretty damn flirty but this is-- this is WOW

fucking speechless. eyes are flickering from your determined face, the bouquet in your hand, your suddenly extremely kissable lips (the kissability has been quadrupled due to this unforeseen circumstance)

he really didn't see it coming and nearly dropped one of his weights on his foot

he has no doubt about it because he can read the expressions on your face really well and damn it if you're fucking with him

but you're not and the bouquet in your outstretched hand is a little bit right in his face and his view of you is slightly obscured by the flowers

he plucks it from your hands, tosses it on his bed, takes you by the waist and kisses the living daylights out of you

sweetest shit ever but you are now alex's blunt translator

it's not a bad job, you get kisses for it

sam:

blush, blush, blush

ok, you two flirt exorbitantly but he has never blushed so hard in his life and... neither have you

nearly drops his guitar on his toes mid-jam

okay, you just BARGED in outta nowhere, regardless of your intentions, he gets startled

his mind registers your words and the bouquet and holy crap

you're standing in the middle of his bedroom, a little hot and sweaty from a typical day's work, holding a bouquet in your hands with a determined look in your face

sam's 70% sure he's in love when you tell him that you like like him and the sparkle in your eyes when he says "i'm in like with you, too" makes him feel like he's on cloud 9

he puts down his guitar, takes a flower from your bouquet, tucks it behind your ear, and then kisses you, slow and soft and so very heartfelt

is the one who goes on a tangent about how you confessed to him because he thinks it's the sweetest and coolest thing ever

sebastian:

surprised pikachu

he's awkward but he knows that all your flirting was leading somewhere

when you handed him the bouquet, a determined but strangely uncertain look in your eyes, he was so fucking relieved

so, he originally planned to confess to you in an unspeakably cheesy way

and THANK YOBA that you've saved him from himself

so, he just gets up from his desk, takes the bouquet and places it atop his computer and pulls you in a tight embrace

then, he kisses you. this part is surprisingly romantic-- he places his hand under your chin and presses the softest, lightest kiss on your lips, soft as a feather

he has a bright, endearing blush on his face and he could certainly say the same for you

he privately tells you some details about how he was going to confess but he stops after you fall over laughing

dork but he takes your sudden confession like a fucking champ

shane:

poor boy is wondering if you're fucking with him until he realizes you two are alone and the hint of hestitation on your face and the bright bouquet has him REELING

so, you really aren't joking or anything

i mean, you two teased each other and flirted a lot and he was usually on the receiving end of it so he takes everything you say with a healthy pinch of salt

he wants to ask you "what's that bouquet for?" in a calm, casual voice but when he says it, his voice is unusually quiet and strained

he didn't hear what you said and so you repeat it: "i like you. romantically. do you like me back? i mean, you don't have to tell me right now, you can think on it--"

shane very nearly tackles you. he hugs you so, so tightly, the bouquet crushed between your chests. and he tells you that yeah, i like you back.

and you two are kissing, kissing, kissing in his coop, charlie clucking at your feet and his blue chickens clucking in confusion

harvey:

confuzzled at the sight of the bouquet until you flat-out tell him that you like like him

his face just drains of color and you stop in the middle of your ramble, asking him if he doesn't feel the same way and if he's ok

he reassures you with a faint voice that, yes, he feels the same way but he also says that he thinks he's having an out of body experience and needs to have a quick lie-down

ok, wow, you actually like him and you are no longer just going to tease and flirt non-stop because you two are going to be an actual couple holy shit

you're bewildered but elated so you acquiesce and help him onto his doctor's bed, a concerned look on your face all the while

so you're just sitting next to harvey, tentatively stroking his hair while he has his out of body experience

he comes to a little later then sits up and asks you if he can kiss you. you beam and lean in for a kiss, soft and slow and so, very sure

elliot:

speechless. has Zero words for the way he's feeling right now and he is just so damn happy but he keeps opening his mouth like a fish in a tank because he keeps thinking of something to say but it's not enough

like, DUDE, he's used to your sly flirtations, innuendos, and suggestive smiles not... you being a mumbling, blushing mess.

he was super surprised when you walked in, holding a colorful bouquet of random flowers and shoving it at him, mumbling something so quickly he failed to catch it the first time

"i... what?"

"oh for the love of yoba, i said i like you romantically."

speechless, fucking speechless. so, he does the next best thing instead of talking. he takes you in his arms and pulls you in for soft, tender kiss

he deepens the kiss and presses you against the wall-- there really are times when actions speak louder than words

#sdv hcs #sdv headcanons #stardew headcanons #stardew hcs #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv elliot #stardew valley #asks open #stardew valley hcs #sdv bachelors #stardew bachelors

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a-d--a-s-t-r-a · 5 years ago

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Until2022′s Guide to Catching Up When You’re Drastically Behind in Study:

I. Assess the damage

The first step in the plan is to confront how bad the situation is and then make some calls about what you can realistically achieve in the time you have left.

List everything you have to do, down to exact detail - don’t write ‘catch up on readings for Virology’, but instead note down every chapter. This will make it a lot easier to gauge how much time and energy you need for each assignment or exam, and will help to motivate you as you work through.

Use an Eisenhower matrix to sort these tasks:

Important and Urgent: Any and all compulsory assignments, exams, tests, etc.

Important but Not Urgent: Lectures for upcoming exams, compulsory readings or labs, etc.

Urgent but Not Important: Additional homework or tasks that are due soon but aren’t worth much, like logbooks or small quizzes

Not Important and Not Urgent: Additional readings, nice lecture notes, and other ‘good-to-haves’

Now cross out everything that you can afford not to do. That’s going to be everything in your ‘Not Important and Not Urgent’ zone, and probably all of the things in your ‘Urgent but Not Important’ zone. I know that it’s annoying not to get everything done, or to sacrifice the 5% that you could have gotten, but unless you can do it in 10 minutes and it’s really worth it you simply don’t have the time to spare here.

Having said that, if a class has lots of small assignments due, don’t overlook them because they’re not worth much on their own - make sure you take a look at the overall percentage left to go in that subject. If you can dedicate a whole day to just that subject and smash through all those assignments in one, you’re crossing a lot of work off your list. For example, I have weekly quizzes and 2% labs in my Pathology course - if I’m behind, I’ll dedicate a whole day and do all of those assessments. That’s 20% out of the way and a big leap towards catching up.

II. Tackle the low-hanging fruit

Seeing the product of countless days of procrastination is probably pretty daunting right now. I could offer you platitudes here but it’s a lot easier for you to actually take some action and feel better about it yourself, so:

Do everything that will take you less than 10 minutes to complete. Reply to those emails, the messages in the assignment group chat, upload your peer assessment, do all the little things you need to do for someone else. That should cross out a big chunk of things from your list, and you’ll be left with the important stuff like finishing assignments and studying for exams.

If you’re panicking (seeing the huge list of stuff which you have to finish in an impossibly short time will often do this!) then try an easy square breathing exercise. Breathe in for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, exhale for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, repeat. Splashing cold water on your face is helpful too, as is having a glass of water. Do not use this time to procrastinate! It might sound like a good idea to relax by watching Youtube or Netflix, scrolling through Instagram or playing a video game, but you’re going to be sucked back into the procrastination game that got you here in the first place.

III. Create your plan of attack

You’ve left it too late to be regularly revising, so our plan of attack is basically going to be: cram every subject consecutively. This is the best way to get everything done when you’re pressed for time like this - don’t switch tasks or subjects. Interleaving subjects is great when you’re on schedule, but right now you don’t want to spend quarter of an hour getting into the groove of a certain subject and then switching before an hour has passed.

University is just one assignment after another, no breathing space in between, especially towards the end of the semester. All you need to do is work out what’s due first and what’s worth most, order everything according to those criteria and then focus on the first assessment until you’re done. Once the assignment is handed in or you’ve sat the exam, then you can move onto the next task.

If you have two different assignments due for different classes on the same day, plan ahead so you can dedicate a full day to each subject instead of working on both at the same time.

Plan out every single day - make sure you’re scheduling in time to eat, shower, sleep, and take breaks as well as to study. Be specific when planning your time out each day as to what tasks you’re hoping to achieve - don’t allocate too much time to any single lecture, but at the same time, be realistic about how much you can cover in one hour.

Choose wisely based on what you do or don’t know. There isn’t much point in spending this precious time revising the things you already know you’re good at, so suck it up and schedule in the hard stuff first up, but be prepared to move on if you can’t get it down. You’re far better off going into the exam knowing 10 things badly, than 1 thing really well, so focus on the basics and if you have time to learn the more complex details then go back and do that later.

You also need to be flexible and prepared to adjust - sometimes an assignment will take longer than expected or a day just won’t be as productive as you thought it might be. Don’t panic, just re-plan and shift things around so you keep moving in the right direction.

IV. Grind it out

Now that you have a clear idea of what you need to achieve and when, it’s time to get it done.

For once, you shouldn’t need to worry about simple procrastination. You’re probably already panicking, so turn that anxiety into motivation which will fuel you and let you focus for long time periods. Fear can be a great driver - when the threat of the exam is looming over you, it’s amazing how well you can knuckle down, assuming you don’t want to fail.

Pack a bag with everything you need - your laptop or tablet, your charger, headphones, a water bottle and a travel mug, snacks and meals for the day, and anything else you like to have with you when you’re studying. Then take yourself to the library, the local coffee shop, the office - wherever you like to study, but don’t sit at home. There’s too many opportunities for distraction and you cannot afford that right now. Being in an environment where other people are working will motivate you to do the same.

If you’re working on an assignment, the best way to get things done quickly is to let go of any preconceptions of doing a great job, or having a perfect draft, and instead just focusing on having a draft. Bash out the worst draft you’ve ever written, fill it with run-on sentences and spelling mistakes. But make sure you finish a draft. Then all you have to do is edit it, and it’s a lot quicker to do it this way than it is getting bogged down in the details before you’ve even begun.

When you’re studying for exams, the number one way to learn is through active recall. There is no point in wasting time writing out a full set of notes if you’re two days out from the test. Even if you feel like you don’t know a single thing, start off straight away by testing yourself - do past exams, drill flashcards, try and write outlines or mind maps and then check your notes or textbooks and fill in what you’ve missed. If you don’t know the answer or you get it wrong, look it up and try to understand it, and then test yourself again in twenty minutes.

It’s important to strike a balance here: don’t overextend yourself, but don’t continually take breaks. If you think you need a break, you probably don’t. Take two minutes to stretch your legs and drink some water, but do not pick up your phone. If you’re starting to feel mentally fatigued, especially after a few hours, it can be helpful to switch locations - go outside and study on a park bench, or shift to the dining hall. Sometimes the change of scenery is all you need to feel refreshed.

V. Rinse and repeat

This is your life now. Make sure you stick to a regular sleep schedule - aim for at least six hours a night - because otherwise your fatigue levels will seriously impact your memory, retention and critical thinking abilities. It’s not worth the few extra hours you might get in, and you probably won’t be productive anyway.

Remember that the advice I’ve given you here is based on what I do when I am severely behind, not how I study on a daily basis when I’m on top of everything. These tips aren’t all great for long-term learning, but are the most efficient way to cram when you’re behind and under pressure.

You’ve got this.

#until2022 #mine #advice #learn #study #exams #revise #catching up #studyblr #vetblr #vet school essentials #masterpost #study tips #studyblr promo #study guide

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uncloseted · 4 years ago

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What are some effective waya to become more productive?

what are some effective ways 2 be productive?

First things first, figure out what the problem actually is. Why are you struggling to be productive? Is it because you're a perfectionist and the idea of not doing the task perfectly stresses you out? Is it because you're lacking the motivation to do anything? Is it because you're struggling to concentrate, or because you're overwhelmed by the task, or because you don't know where to begin? There are tons of reasons why you might be struggling with productivity, and figuring out what the roadblocks you're encountering are can help you to find ways around them. Since I can't read your mind, I'm going to try and give advice that will work for most of the roadblocks you might encounter.

When it comes to big things, I recommend using the SMARTER & WOOP methods. SMARTER and WOOP are two tools that are really useful for behavior modification and other long-term goals you might have.

SMART(ER) is a tool to help you set the right goals for you. Too often, we set goals like “I’m going to start exercising” or “I’m going to quit going on my phone”. Those are great in theory, but without an action plan, it’s easy to not follow through.

SMARTER goals are ones that are:

Specific (simple, sensible, significant).

If your goal isn’t specific, you won’t be able to focus your efforts or feel motivated to achieve it.

Try to answer: what do I want to accomplish? Why is this goal important? Who is involved? Where is it located? Which resources or limits are involved?

Measurable (meaningful, motivating).

Having measurable goals is important because it allows you to track your progress and stay motivated by seeing how far you’ve come.

A measurable goal should be one that answers “how much”, “how many” and “how will I know when it’s accomplished”?

Achievable (agreed, attainable).

Your goal needs to be realistic in order for you to stay motivated and be successful. If you’re aiming too high, you’ll become demotivated quickly because it doesn’t feel like you’re making progress.

An achievable goal requires you to ask “how can I accomplish this goal” and “how realistic is this goal based on other constraints?”

Relevant (reasonable, realistic and resourced, results-based).

Relevant goals are ones that matter to you. Make sure that these goals are ones that are important to you, not ones that you think you should be pursuing.

A relevant goal is one that can answer “yes” to the following questions: “does this seem worthwhile?”, “is this the right time?”, “does this match my other efforts/needs?”, “is it applicable in my current socio-economic environment?”

Time bound (time-based, time limited, time/cost limited, timely, time-sensitive).

Every goal needs a target date so that you have a deadline you can focus on and work toward.

A time sensitive goal is one that answers “when?”, “what can I do six months from now?”, “what can I do six weeks from now?”, and “what can I do today?”

Evaluate

Every day, evaluate how you’re doing on your goals. Long term goals can be easily ignored if they’re not evaluated every day, and if you don’t evaluate how you’re doing on your goals regularly, you might miss the things that are preventing you from achieving them.

Readjust

If you find that your approach isn’t working, you may need to readjust your goals. That doesn’t mean that you’re failing at your goals or that you should quit; it just means you have to rethink the approach you’re taking. Maybe the goal isn’t as relevant to you as you thought it would be, or it’s not as realistic as you expected, or your timeline is too short. Identify which part of your SMARTER goal is tripping you up and readjust it.

The best goals are ones that include trying new things instead of quitting old ones. Quitting things is hard; learning something new is easier and more exciting. If you’re looking to quit something, replace it by establishing a new habit that takes its place. For example, “I’m going to stop going on my phone,” is hard, but “when I feel like going on my phone, I’ll read a book for ten minutes instead” might be easier to maintain.

After you’ve figured out your SMARTER goal, it’s time to WOOP. WOOP is something like the scientifically proven cousin of “manifesting”. Just visualizing our goals or positive thinking on its own can be counterproductive, because it fools our lizard brains into believing that we’ve already achieved the goal. By using the WOOP method, you can prevent that from happening and actually achieve what you want to achieve.

WOOP stands for:

Wish: Identify a wish that is challenging, yet attainable. This should be your SMARTER goal.

Outcome: Imagine the best outcome as a result of your wish (as vividly as possible). Really daydream about what your life would be like if you achieved your goal.

Ask yourself, what is the biggest benefit you could receive from achieving this goal?

Obstacle: Identify and imagine what obstacles will get in the way of your wish.

What might get in the way? Thoughts, feelings, beliefs, old behavior patterns, bad habits, social pressure… identify as many as you can, then prioritize their likely they are to happen and how significant they would be if they did happen.

Plan: Create an if-then plan to overcome the obstacles you identified- “if [obstacle occurs] then I will [plan A].” Do your best to pick the most effective path you can for each obstacle, and identify a few different plans in case your first plan doesn’t work.

For example, if you wanted to start exercising, your WOOP might look like this:

Wish: Go on a run 3x/week after school/work for a month.

Outcome: Better energy, confidence, and health.

Obstacle: Feeling tired and hungry at the end of the day…Not wanting to go.

Plan: Pack a snack for the end of the day, and put on gym clothes right when you get home.

Or if you wanted to stop watching TV and read more:

Wish: Watch only 5 episodes of TV per week, and read when I feel the urge to watch TV for a month.

Outcome: Learn a lot. Get smarter. Feel better. Enjoy the great ideas. Feel like I’m spending my time wisely.

Obstacle: Not feeling like it. Preferring to watch TV.

P: If I catch myself watching TV, then I turn it off and start reading a book instead.

The last thing you can do to increase the chances that you’ll achieve your goal is to get someone else involved. Either find a friend who’s setting the same goal that you are, or tell someone about your goal and ask them to help you achieve it by checking up on you. It can also be helpful to put money on the line- give money to a friend with the understanding that you’ll get it back on a set date if you’ve achieved your goal. If you really want to ensure that you reach your goal, tell your friend that if you fail, they should donate the money to a group or cause that you really hate.

For smaller, more day to day tasks:

Make a list of everything you need to do. Sort them into four categories- tasks that are Urgent & Important, tasks that are Not Urgent & Important tasks that are Not Important but Urgent, and tasks that are neither Urgent nor Important. Focus first on the tasks that are Urgent & Important. This can help you prioritize which things to work on first.

From there, take a look at each individual task and break it down into very small steps that you can't fuck up. These can be as small as "open laptop", "open Google Docs", "write name at top of the page", etc. If it helps, you can assign each one of these steps a point count, and then give yourself a treat once you collect enough points (10 points, 20 points, 50 points, and so on).

Once you have your list and have identified all of the steps, just do the first step. It can be daunting to start a big project or task; it's way easier to just do one thing. And once you do one thing, it feels easier to do just one more thing, and just one more thing, and so on until the task is complete.

Once you build up some momentum, I would recommend using the Pomodoro technique. Work for 20-25 minutes (or as long as you can really focus) and then take a 5-10 minute break. Stand up, get a drink, get a snack, watch a short TV episode or a YouTube video, look up that thing that was on your mind, whatever will give your brain a break. Then, set another 20-25 minute timer and get back to work. After three or four cycles of working and taking a short break, take a longer break.

A few other things that I think it's important to remember when it comes to productivity.

Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. You don't need to finish things, and you don't need to do them perfectly. If it's a choice between doing something badly or not doing it at all, it's always better to do it badly.

You don't need to do things the way other people would do them- do it how it works for you. Sometimes that won't make sense to other people, but that's all right. The only person it has to work for is you. If bouncing back and forth between different tasks works better for you than focusing on one task until it's done, then bounce back and forth between tasks. That's okay.

It's okay to ask for help. If you have trouble doing things, that's okay- find someone who can assist you. Maybe you're bad at projects that don't have someone to be accountable to. Find a friend who will hold you accountable. Maybe you're bad at projects without deadlines. Set deadlines for yourself and get someone to make sure you meet them. Sometimes you don't need to work through your shortcomings- you just need to find a way around them.

#advice #executive dysfunction #motivation #productivity #adhd tips #goals #goal setting #studymotivation

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

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To You (4)

Summary: harry dates y/n to get closer to her best friend

Warnings: mild angst (what else lol), not a lot of dialogue for this one, and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 2775 words

A/N: I've had the worst writer's block for this series but then inspiration struck me at 2 am and I had the chance to write a lil sumthin sumthin for the next part :D

Read the full series in my masterlist (bio)

As I mentioned before, this story kind of goes backwards.

____

As self-deprecating as it is, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her guard lower with each fleeting glance at her phone. She didn’t mean to, really. It wasn’t as if she was bored out of her mind because she was the opposite of that.

Going on her phone and tapping on Instagram was more of a distraction from studying if anything. She was hounded by piles of homework and pages of readings to do by the end of next week. It seemed that her brain was working in constant overdrive to try to remember the endless concepts and theories that were catapulted at her with no signs of stopping. Her eyes were straining from the constant stimulation from her laptop screen, and from trying to read the small letters plastered on the computer.

Y/N was studying on her designated studying days, as usual. She was quite proud of sticking to the schedule, except for the few weeks that she opted to coddle herself in the confines of her warm blanket because that was around the time that she found out her boyfriend, Harry, was only using her to get close to her best friend, Louise.

——

In retrospect, Y/N should have seen all the signs blaring right in front of her face all along. She gave herself facepalms more than she could count by the way she was—quite literally—blinded by love to realize that Harry’s feelings were nothing but a façade. That Y/N was nothing but a pawn in his game; a character to manipulate, disposable in order for him to get the woman he actually wanted. And Y/N had no doubts that her ex-boyfriend was treating Louise like a queen.

Y/N wore red-tinted glasses while she was with Harry and she didn’t see the red flags rising every time he shaped their evening around Louise’s schedule. She thought that Harry was making such a good effort in getting to know the people close to Y/N’s life that he insisted on having Louise around whenever they hung out with her friends.

Harry asked endless questions about Louise; from where she worked to what she was interested in—to which Y/N had foolishly answered, believing that she had found the perfect man to share her life with. But she should have known when he didn’t do the same for her other friends. Hell, he didn’t even do the same to her!

___

When Harry and Y/N were just friends, he didn’t bother getting to know her as thoroughly and comprehensively as he did with Louise. In fact, it could be argued that Harry hated Y/N when they were first introduced by—and this was ironic—Louise!

Louise spoked highly and excitedly of ‘my friend, Y/N’ and with Harry being the loved-up simp that he was—wanted to please Louise by appearing interested in her friend. He guessed that he was probably too good of an actor (not to toot his own horn) because that meet up turned into a set-up.

Louise had planned a date for her friends, Y/N was indifferent to it; she was even a little excited because she thought that Harry was sort of nice. Despite the fact that he was indirectly rude to her in their first meeting, Y/N didn’t hold grudges on people for their first impressions. She believed that anybody could have a bad day and that might just be the time when Harry was dragged by the arm to be introduced to her.

Y/N understood if that was the case. She was not too keen on acting nice and friendly after a stressful day at work, or a hard study session at the library. So even if Harry was practically snarling at every word she said from his seat around the rounded booth table of the bar—she agreed to go on a first date with him.

——

Harry was in shambles.

He got himself into quite an intricate mess trying to attain the woman of his dreams. He was such a pleaser that he was now contemplating inside his car, outside of Y/N’s address. Was this all worth it? Of course, it was. As much as Harry would like to say that this was part of his plan to make Louise his girlfriend, it really wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t use it to his advantage.

It was a good thing that he was early—about twenty minutes or so. That was only because he was huffing the whole time Harry was buttoning the clutches of his dress shirt, shaking his head at the bathroom mirror and reprimanding himself for letting his lovesickness to get him deeper than he would like. But hey, the sooner Harry got to Y/N’s place, the sooner this ‘date’ would be over.

So here he was, hidden in the shadows of the night sky and shielded by the heavy tint of his Range Rover. Palms were pressed on the lush leather steering wheel as Harry formulated how he could turn this around in his favour. He was already in Louise’s good books for even agreeing to this in the first place—why not make Y/N his own personal wingman?

Granted, that she didn’t actually know Harry well enough but maybe this date could reach Louise’s ears about how much of a romantic, perfect, and chivalrous gentleman Harry could be. That would surely make Louise like him, right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

It was safe to say that Harry was feeling guilty the moment he decided to use Y/N in order to get to her best friend, but that ship sailed long ago when anger and frustration took over. Why in the hell was he so perfect to Y/N’s eyes that she had gushed about him to her best friend minutes after he had dropped her off?

Why did Harry have to knock on her door with a single-stemmed rose clutched in his fingers, doing a little bow to add humour when she opened the door? And what in God’s name possessed him to say that she looked beautiful that night in her pretty, deep green dress that he thought was absolutely gorgeous on her—but his heart was with another woman—fully knowing that it would look better on Louise?

“Why. . . just why,” Harry asked himself as he sat at a table with Y/N, Louise and her boyfriend, Dylan.

That was what being romantic got him. That was where declaring Y/N as his unofficial wingman ended him upon. A double date with the woman he wanted with Y/N looking at him as if they’ve been together for years, when in fact, they had only known each other for a few weeks.

Harry’s pride was too big to admit that this time; he couldn’t get the girl. And so, his bruised ego declared that this date was just another unplanned situation that would benefit him—somehow, someway—in the future.

Wrong again.

Because a month later, Y/N was running off to her lecture with a bag strapped over her shoulder, leaving Harry a passionate kiss on the lips. He was quite ashamed to say that he enjoyed the affection, but not enough to ignore the throbbing of his heart

Harry wasn’t all in with his relationship with Y/N and he knew exactly why. For months, he had been pining for Louise and well, he ended up with her best friend, Y/N. Now that was just super unlucky for him. And he wasn’t usually a mean person, but Harry was very annoyed with fate (or destiny) for leaving with an ultimatum.

First, leaving Y/N risking her tattling to Louise about him breaking her heart was a no-no. Second, staying with Y/N until she realizes that both of them were no good together. The latter was a much more pleasant choice, except the fact that it could take months for Y/N to acknowledge that she and Harry were both too different for each other.

——

It was another four months later when Harry drew upon an epiphany very similar yet completely different from the ultimatum he had presided.

Y/N was sure of her feelings more than ever, even dropping the ‘L’ word during a drunken stupor of wine and bubbly champagne. Harry was sure that she hadn’t remembered her confession the next morning because she never brought it up. However, those words that escaped her lips were enough for Harry to overthink each night one or the other slept over.

Sometimes Y/N’s snores would serve as background noise to his serene imagination, wondering why the images of Louise and him doing couple-y stuff were now replaced with Y/N’s figure instead.

He also pondered if his memory was so impeccable that he could hear Y/N’s laugh fluttering in his ears while she was sound asleep beside him or was it just because she released a chuckle every time he made a horrible joke?

(It was true. Y/N never left Harry hanging in the air with a questionable punchline of a head-scratching joke. Both of them knew that her giggles were pity laughs. Harry was thankful for it and Y/N just couldn’t resist painting a genuine smile on Harry’s face, looking so proud that he had made her laugh.)

Harry was certain that his feelings for Y/N wouldn’t quite reach the threshold that he held her for now. But it seemed that he was getting a lot of his sworn predictions wrong lately. Sure, their first encounter (and the second, and the third. . .) were purely for satisfaction’s sake. A mere plot for Harry to build his boyfriend resumé for Louise.

Harry wasn’t sure when his feelings shifted from civil and friendly to an ever-evoking, lovesick puppy.

Maybe it was the way Y/N walked, straight into his heart and stole it, keeping it safe in her tender hands when she pressed a lingering kiss on his lip while she ran off to catch the bus. The way Harry would pout when Y/N forgot the routine she had set, resulting in him whining her name and sometimes chasing after her to get his much-needed kiss. He even started calling it his ‘good-luck charm’ because it seemed like without it; Harry came home more drained and tired than usual because nothing went right that day.

Or maybe it was the way she giggled while reading something on her phone, laptop, or a book—even if it was for school purposes. How absolutely pleased he was to hear her melody of giggles, straining his ear to listen more closely and wanting to do nothing more than to hear it again because it was music to Harry. It usually ends with Y/N’s heaving breaths, begging him to stop tickling her.

Was it because she was the most adorable little thing while she was asleep? No, it couldn’t be, Harry thought, even though the admiration in his eyes cannot be described as anything other than glazed over with love and affection with the way he stared at Y/N’s sleeping face.

But why can’t he stop thinking about her when she wasn’t around? Harry felt like he was missing a part of himself as soon as he shut the door to his house because Y/N had to go to her own place.

Why did a smile splinter his lips visualizing Y/N studying at her kitchen table with a topknot wobbling on her head and a pair of her thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose? Harry still remembers the first time she asked him to redo the bun on her head, complaining that it was loosening and that she couldn’t focus when strands were haywire.

Harry made sure to be extra careful as to not accidentally pull on her scalp, stretching the hairband around his fingers.

Now, he only had a minute experience in hair styling, reminiscing to his long-haired days were he slipped his hair into a neat ball in a few seconds or less. But this was Y/N, his girlfriend, who had an adorable pout on her face. The finch between her brows deepening when she tried to understand the concepts written on the screen yet she would giggle when Harry would ask her, ‘Am I hurting you?’ and shake her head ‘no’.

——-

So it was a bit questionable when Harry jumped at the chance to kiss Louise when the time came.

She had just broken up with her boyfriend and called Y/N for comfort. However, Y/N was about to leave for an exam worth half of her grade and she couldn’t just not attend it. She may love her best friend with all of her heart, but not enough to waste thousands of dollars to redo a course because she missed the final exam.

Hence, why Harry was sent in place of Y/N instead. And that was also how his plump lips managed to lock itself with Louise’s’ glossy ones. He should’ve felt guilt stab him right away when he tasted wet, salty tears on his tongue when he battled for dominance with Louise.

Harry should have pulled away when his phone buzzed in his pocket; a message from girlfriend that she had just finished her exam and was ready to be picked up now so that she could give love and comfort to her best friend.

Harry’s subconscious must have reminded him that this was the woman whom he had spent months pining on; desperately trying to make her his yet failing. And now that he had the chance to, he couldn’t stop.

Instead of doing everything his conscience had practically yelled at him to do, Harry’s brain had buffered—his body numbed every nerve except the ones controlling his mouth because their persisting kiss was captured by a photographer hidden amongst barricades that Harry had failed to take notice of.

Harry was sure that his presence was hidden to the best of his abilities, but he guessed that Louise’s hands had pulled his hoodie off in the midst of their make-out session, revealing his side profile and the unruly curls on his head.

And that was how Y/N identified the image on her phone the time she felt her heart being ripped out and crushed into pieces. That, and the fact that Harry wore the same clothes she had seen him in before she left.

____

And now, as Y/N paused her thumb from scrolling away from the image on her screen, the same pain and heartbreak still throbbed in her chest.

She couldn’t seem to forget, as a lot of people say, what Harry did to her. Despite the fact that he was spotted outside her door, leaving boxed gifts of chocolate and flower bouquets a few minutes ago—Y/N simply didn’t have the capacity to sweep everything under the rug.

The wound was still fresh—feeling air was enough to have her hissing, aiming to cover the cut in fear that it would become too painful to even ignore. For weeks, Y/N had to wallow in agonizing self-pity to remind herself that Harry didn’t deserve her or her love for him and now she was somehow ready to run back into his arms?

She absolutely despised the way her hands twitched to send him a text. To leave him a voicemail or to simply tap his contact just to hear him speak to her again. Y/N was ashamed to admit that he thought about knocking on his front door just for another chance at seeing him again. An opportunity to ask him if he was happier with her (ex) best-friend—if Harry loved Louise more than he did with her. Or—and most of all—if Harry ever did love Y/N during their short relationship. Was everything just a game to him?

She was doing good so far; she was strong enough to withhold from the urges of communicating with an ex. However, Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before Harry took extreme measures to speak to her, unlocking her door with the spare key she had given him. One day she would be met with his figure in the hallway with a sad smile on his face and three long-stemmed sunflowers in his hand and Y/N wouldn’t be able to resist him.

Y/N hated herself for being so weak whenever Harry was involved. He was her Kryptonite; getting too close to him was what ripped her to shreds.

___

Let me know what you thought!

____

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anjuschiffer · 4 years ago

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Waltzing Among Books

I should be sleeping...but here I am, delivering fluff instead :D

Tags: @timari-month-event @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh @startouchedqueen1318 (why isn’t it letting me tag you? QQ)

AO3

She wondered if she looked like an utter fool, standing in front of the same bookcase for the last ten minutes when clearly, she didn’t need anything else from it...except time.

Marinette turned her head ever so slightly to see the guy standing at the other aisle of the bookshop, quickly going back to searching for a novel for her English class when she saw him about to turn her way.

She found Moby Dick ever so interesting, picking up A Midsummer’s Night next, only then realizing it was one of the books she needed for her class.

She shifted her gaze, only to find that the he was no longer there, a tiny sigh escaping her.

Ever since she started her first semester at Gotham University, Marinette found herself constantly going to the bookstore nearby for workbooks, textbooks and novels for her classes. Sometimes, she would even do her work there, settling in a corner and reading the books then and there. She loved the quietness of the shop, the smell that would waft whenever she would turn the page of a freshly printed book.

But of course, that wasn’t the only reason she came here.

It was during her third trip to the bookstore that she saw him.

He always sported a black cardigan under hero merch in the form of a Superboy bomber jacket or a Superman inspired coat. Sometimes it wasn’t even hero merch, but just a black peacoat.

His hair was always perfectly parted ever so slightly off the middle, his hair softly framing his face. For a guy with long hair, it certainly had a nice shine to it, the tips of it ever so wavy, Marinette often wondering what it would look like if she were to have the opportunity to style it her way.

To be able to comb her fingers through his hair, combing it backwards and styling it with a bit of gel, letting it naturally sway to the si-

Heat creeped to her cheeks, Marinette instantly crouching towards the floor, pretending to look for another book.

Each time she came to this store, she always managed to find him looking for novels as well, wondering if he was also a student at Gotham University, only to cross that idea out when she overheard him tell someone on the phone that he found the book they were looking for.

Sometimes he would just be an aisle over, sometimes she would be able to see him from the corner she was sitting at, but every single time, he was within her view.

It kinda became the highlight of her visits, almost like reliving her first crush all over again - the giddiness and all that, that is.

At first, she thought it was mere coincidence, but judging by the majority of times she’s seen him here, she knew this was a cruel game from the Gods.

They knew she wouldn’t be able to gather the courage to talk to him, even if this was the umpteenth time seeing him here.

Sighing, Marinette got back up, turning to actually look for another textbook when she crashed into someone, causing her to stumble back, only for a hand to wrap itself around her waist, catching her.

Placing her hands on the person’s chest to prevent herself from slamming into them again, Marinette immediately began to apologize, only to trail off when she lifted her gaze to see who she had bumped into.

From afar, she always thought his eyes were a royal blue, but being this close to him, she saw how much softer the hue truly was. It was more steel than royal.

To be honest, Tim didn’t think this plan would work this well...or rather his unplanned plan working this well.

He had been wanting to talk to her for nearly a month now...okay its been two...three?

Definitely two.

He first spotted her two months ago, while on an errand for Alfred. Or rather, Demon Spawn.

Damian needed a copy of The Scarlet Letter for one of his classes, but the idiot had forgotten to get a copy so of course, Tim was tasked with retrieving one for him.

Finding out that other students had also forgotten to get one, Tim wasn’t able to find a copy anywhere, except at this bookshop called Ly, a shop tucked away in an alleyway.

While Tim was suspicious of it, he realized that the reason behind it’s secrecy was due to the aesthetic of the place itself. A two story shop with a rustic feel and window ledges to sit and read the books. Corners were empty, but every now and then, you would see someone sitting there, leaning against their bag with a laptop or book in their hand…

That’s when he saw her.

Her hair rested softly at her shoulders, a pen balanced between her pink lips, brows furrowed as she looked at the laptop in front of her. One moment her bluebell eyes were shrouded in frustration before it lit up so brightly. Like that of a child who laid eyes on a piece of candy.

She quickly typed away, taking the pen out of her mouth before writing something down on the notepad beside her before going back to work.

Something about seeing her hyper focused in her work caused something to stir in Tim, something in Tim being captivated by this girl who he had never seen until that day.

Ever since then, Tim kept coming into the bookstore every two days, in hopes of seeing her again. Of course, he could’ve just easily set cameras to know when she would be there...but something told him that was a bad idea.

On the days she would appear, Tim tried to find a way to get her attention, but would often fail. Sometimes she would be with a friend or only pick up an order before leaving. He would try to stay for as long as he could for an opening, but just when an opportunity arose, Bruce would call in or sometimes Dick, either one needing his urgent help. Reluctantly, he would go.

There were times he tried to approach her, only for her to completely disappear, leaving him with the only option to leave.

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

Tim vowed to keep trying until he decided to do the most cliche thing in the world to get her attention: bump into her.

And it actually worked.

As he watched the girl apologize and fluster over the accident, Tim felt like the wait was worth it.

“Tim.” He cut off, causing the girl to stop.

“I’m sorry...what?”

“Tim. My name is Tim. What’s yours?”

“Ma...Marinette.” She softly said, Tim feeling himself drowning in her voice.

“Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? My treat.” He quickly added, watching as a smile found its way onto her lips.

“I’d love that.”

#maribat #timari #timari january 2021 #day 17:bookshop au #anju writes

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lizbotw · 5 years ago

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Hawks, Bakugou, and Kirishima With a S/O That Has a Kitsune Quirk

Anonymous said:

hello hello !! Can I request some headcannons on how hawks, bakugou, and kirishima would be in a relationship with a fem!s/o that has a Kitsune quirk and fox like traits please? i couldn’t find the rules post so sorry ahead of time if this is anything you’re against doing. 💞

hi! hope you like them ♡ and dw this is something i’m fine with doing!! also, i know you said fem!reader but it came out more so gender neutral so i hope that’s alright!

Takami Keigo (Hawks)

He loves stroking your fur all the time. Even if you try to swat his hand away, he just grabs your arms to stop you so he can go back to doing it.

He just loves teasing you in general and he always has a little smirk on whenever he does it, but he also knows you like it and obviously if you weren’t in the mood he’d know to stop right away—he can read you well so it wouldn’t take him long to realize he should switch into cuddly, comforting boyfriend mode (he especially likes the cuddly part because you’re just so soft).

If he sees any fox plushies in stores when he’s out and about, he’ll show it you and tell you how it looks just like you (he’ll even hold it up next to your face and pretend to do a comparison with a cheeky grin while you try and fail to look annoyed, unable to fight off a smile every time). If you’re not with him, he’ll send you a picture of it and tell you it reminded him of you (he’s always thinking about you honestly), or sometimes he’ll just straight up buy it for you (or do both). Yes, you have way too many fox plushies at home now. (But you also do the same to him so you have way too many bird plushies as well.)

Let him leave the house unsupervised and left up to his own devices and expect quite a few text spams of:

[Keigo sent an image.]

[LOOK AT THIS ONE]

[Keigo sent an image.]

[THIS ONE HAS YOUR EYES???]

[Keigo sent an image.]

[Almost as cute as you 💕]

And once you think it’s finally over and your phone will stop torturing you with its constant buzzing, a few minutes later he’ll text you again. [Babe… don’t be mad but HYPOTHETICALLY how would you feel about sleeping next to five new fox plushies tonight? Once again, HYPOTHETICALLY.]

Reading that, you can literally imagine him saying it as though he was right in front of you with a playful smile on his face, not even the least bit bashful, and badly concealing a shopping bag overflowing with stuffed animals behind his back.

Knowing he already bought them anyway, you have no choice but to agree to the inanimate newcomers that will now be joining in on your cuddle sessions with your boyfriend.

You shake your head in defeat as you text him back that no, you totally wouldn’t mind, and then glance over at the rapidly growing stack of stuffed animals you two already have.

He likes to talk about how you’re perfect for each other because of your quirks and how you make such an amazing “animal duo” or whatever silly name he comes up with that time.

“Please stop googling new nickname ideas, none of are going to catch on.”

Cue camera pan to Keigo typing away on his laptop, furiously searching for an even catchier duo name, tongue slightly sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. He doesn’t even look up when you speak, eyes instead lighting up as he reads something. “Okay, so what I’m hearing you say is that you want to see the brand new one I found.”

You’ll probably groan because please, someone help.

“Hey! Don’t give me that look, I know you want to see it.” Aaaaand now he’s pouting which is stupidly cute on someone like him—a pro hero high up on the rankings—and you have to admit you are a little curious. And that’s how you end up giving in and leaning over his shoulder to see what in the world he’s found this time.

(He may also take advantage of the position you two are in now to quickly turn his head to the side and plant a wet kiss on your cheek, lips, jaw—wherever his lips end up really before you can go reeling back from his sneak attack and scolding him while he’s laughing at your expense. Don’t put it past him to cheekily ask for more even after pulling that stunt—spoiler alert: you sigh and agree once again when he pulls out the pouty look for the second time in the last five minutes.)

He loves cuddling with you on the couch when watching a movie, or in bed right before you fall asleep, because your fur is really warm and soft. You should get used to this because even if you manage to roll him off of you, he’ll somehow end up right where he was before. Each and every time.

Buys you cute outfits!!! He goes out of his way to make sure whatever he buys you doesn’t get in the way of you using your quirk while still making sure you look stylish.

(“My baby deserves to look good!”)

(“…Keigo, please, my closet is already overflowing.”)

Tons of gifts related to your quirk. He just thinks it’s so cute. Somehow simultaneously finds both the tackiest and the nicest things ever to give you. The duality means that any time he hands you a gift bag it’s always a gamble as to what’s inside. (“What? I’m just keeping you on your toes! Plus, I thought the fox-themed crocs were pretty cute, I don’t know why you didn’t appreciate them more.)

Overall, he just loves being by your side constantly and always having an arm around you or touching you in some way because you’re soft and fuzzy and he loves showing you off, and he spoils you a lot as well, even if you tell him you already have way more things than you’d ever need.

Bakugou Katsuki

He pretends he doesn’t care about your quirk all that much, but he actually thinks it’s pretty cute and will sometimes absentmindedly stroke your head or play with your fur when you’re just lounging around in his room. If you catch him in the act and ask him about it, he’ll quickly pull his hand away and tell you you were just imagining things.

You know he secretly loves being close to you though, so you’re not afraid to just climb right on top of him when he’s laying down and snuggle into his chest. He’ll probably curse and tell you to get off, but there’s an interesting dilemma that’s always presented:

“Kat, if you want me to get up, you have to stop hugging me first.”

“…fuck no.”

If you’re feeling insecure about your quirk, he’ll be confused because why? You got into U.A. didn’t you? So it’s not like your quirk is terrible or anything.

Yeah, he’s not that great at motivational speeches. But through a lot of cursing and fumbling over his words, he’ll eventually find some way to get it out that he loves your quirk and that you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. Plus, he wouldn’t date a weakling would he? You hit him playfully on the arm when he says that and then he quickly tries to reword it so it doesn’t sound so mean. Please give him a chance.

He loves to intimidate people with his power, but if it’s a class training exercise and he can’t fight whoever you’re up against personally, he’s definitely supporting you because he refuses to lose, even if it’s through you. Cue him screaming words of support from the sidelines and everyone barely containing him from jumping in there and finishing the fight himself because he’s so pumped up.

He also has a lot of respect for your abilities though and has faith in you, so even if you get hit, while he’s still concerned for you, he knows you can take it and will get right back up.

Now, if you get really hurt, he’s the first one to rush to Recovery Girl’s room to check up on you (after first beating up the person who did that to you, of course).

Speaking of this protective side, if anyone makes fun of you their ass is absolutely getting beat!!!

You’ve actually had to stop him a few times from getting into a fight with a group of students he thought were looking at you the wrong way, but you know he’s just looking out for you and find it all pretty funny and endearing.

His rough personality is a perfect contrast to your soft persona (it’s the fur honestly) and everyone at U.A. likes the play on the “opposites attract” trope you two have going on.

Best couple ever honestly because of the pure balance.

Katsuki may not be the best with traditional sweet and caring words, but you understand him better than anyone and anything he does for you you can tell comes from a place of love.

Kirishima Eijirou

#1 fan right here!!!

He thinks it’s cute how you’re so soft and cuddly due to your fox traits while his quirk is all about hardening.

It’s a funny contrast to him but it just makes him want to protect you even more (although he also knows you’re definitely not fragile and can stand up for yourself as well).

If you ever feel insecure about your quirk, you better be prepared to be bombarded with love. He can tell when you’re feeling down and in a school filled with people with so many amazing quirks, he knows what it’s like to sometimes not like yours.

(If he ever falls into a self-loathing spiral, lamenting about how his quirk isn’t as flashy as others, you always know exactly what to say to cheer him up. You’re both each other’s rocks and it strengths your relationship greatly to be so effortlessly open with one another.)

He’s also good with understanding people, no matter what hard exterior they put up (as seen by his friendship with Bakugou), so he makes sure that you feel comfortable around him and are able to talk about any insecurities you’re feeling.

He asks tons of questions about your quirk sometimes because he’s just in awe whenever he watches you, and when you’re cuddling in bed, he likes to stroke your fur (also it feels really comforting so you can’t really complain).

He’s just so interested and in love with you that he’s constantly talking with you.

“Tell me the kitsune legend again,” he’d request, resting his chin in his palm, elbow propped up on the table, and staring at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“No, this is the third time and we’re supposed to be studying math. How did we even end up talking about Japanese folklore and mythology?”

“Well-”

“Don’t make me tell Bakugou you’re slacking off again,” you threaten with a mischievous grin and a dangerous glint in your eye. The clash of your sweet expression with the warning undertone makes him unsure if you’re joking or not but he decides not to take any chances or push his luck.

That usually clams him up and he looks absolutely adorable as he scrunches up his face when he goes back to trying to work out the difficult math problem.

Anyone who makes you feel bad about your quirk is catching these hands, he does not care!!! Well, maybe he’ll try to be civil at first, but once he sees they’re not backing down, oh boy, he’s going full scary boyfriend mode.

He’s so protective of you, but when you do fight and stand up for yourself, he’s hyping you up so much and supporting you 100%. Expect lots of kisses and hugs and words of praise as he tells you you did great out there.

“Babe, you’re so amazing! I love you so much,” he’d say as he squishes you to his chest (you’re pretty sure he’s about to suffocate you), peppering kisses all over your forehead, temples, and the top of your head after a particularly intense training exercise fight. Everyone has to agree that you two are adorable together, even though some of them pretend to be grossed out with your PDA and stick their tongue out in disgust, turning anyway dramatically.

You two are such a sweet couple. Between all the affection you show each other and your unconditional support for the other person, but also the way you have each other’s backs and won’t hesitate to protect one another, you two just work so well together.

(There’s also a joke going around U.A. about how while Eijirou is soft on the inside because he’s just so supportive, you’re soft on the outside because of your fur. It’s a really stupid saying but you two love it all the same because honestly it’s true.)

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nohoney · 4 years ago

Text

You and Me (And Him)

notes: Part 2 of the Us Series, also posted on my ao3

characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Takami Keigo/Hawks

warnings: 18+, drug use, toxic relationships, open relationships, angsty-ish, threesome

summary:

“If this happens… will it be just sex or will it be more?”

Golden eyes stare back at you. “It can be whatever you want it to be (Name).”

You scrutinize him under your gaze for a little bit, silent for a few moments before asking, “Will you kiss me?”

“Of course.”

Touya had introduced you to Keigo when your relationship was just two months old. You remember being astounded by his eyes at first, they were so bright and friendly as opposed to Touya’s which were piercing and intimidating. Keigo was such an easy going guy, his manner of speaking and his certain lilts when he talked made you feel comfortable immediately despite how nervous you were at first. He fit easily into your life, a friend that you knew you could rely on for almost anything.

Where Touya was apathetic and aloof, Keigo was magnetic and charming.

It was a wonder how those two got along, you had to figure that the ‘opposites attract’ concept worked out for them. You’re not certain what the turning point was in their relationship that Keigo received permission to address Touya by his birth name, but obviously it meant a lot to your boyfriend and Keigo seemed touch to be apart of his inner circle. Aside from pills they ingested and the powders they snorted that bonded them together, they had a genuine friendship.

It goes to say that Touya and Keigo are close, and they’re close enough where apparently there’s an option of sharing you between the two of them.

“I gave you permission to fuck who you want doll, Keigo is not the worst person you could choose. In fact, I’d like it if he were the one to keep you warm for me.”

You liked to believe that you and Keigo had a strictly platonic friendship, but Touya had essentially ruined that perspective for you now.

Had Keigo always felt that way from the very start or was it gradual during your budding friendship? Did he want to be your second boyfriend or was he looking for something a little more casual?

Those were all important questions but there was one that you needed answered first before you did anything with Keigo.

You were working up the nerve to ask Touya this ever since that day when he fucked you while Keigo was right beside you. He sat on the edge of his couch with his laptop on the coffee table, reading over an article needed for one of his classes. Drug dealer aside, he was actually a good student, breezing through his classes easily. Though you know that the only reason why he would finish up so quickly was so that it wouldn’t interfere as much with his dealing. As opposed to Keigo who liked to sit down and really make sure that he retained the knowledge.

“Touya, can I ask you something?” you ask from your end of the couch, shifting your feet towards Touya until they were on his lap. He props your feet in his lap and he strokes his hands over your shins and calves, his expression bored but attentive as he turns to look at you. “That thing you said before about Keigo wanting to… do stuff with me. You weren’t just saying that so that I’d bother you less when you go out right?”

When you go out and sell to your whores. You want to add that part but you know it’s best not to bring it up; you’ve already had this conversation with him and it’s too soon to open it back up again.

“I said it because I know that Keigo will treat you right doll. I trust him and I know that he’d be good to you.” Touya answers honestly.

“You’re good to me.” you tease, lightly nudging your foot up into his hand.

Touya smirks at you and crawls his way over to your side of the sofa. He moves to make you sit on his lap, your legs straddling him as he leans back against the sofa. Your hands touch his shoulders before drawing down, your index fingers tracing his chest beneath the white, sleeveless shirt that he’s wearing. “I’m fucking great to you doll. I’m so fucking great to you that I wouldn’t mind if you fucked my closest friend.”

You grind down on Touya’s lap, his cock stirring beneath the dark sweats that he’s wearing and moan when he thrusts up into you. Ghosting your lips over his, you tease him just a little bit when he tries to go in for a kiss and pull back with a giggle. Touya isn’t having it though, putting his hand on the back of your neck and keeping you in place so that he can go in for a proper kiss. You like when he asserts himself like this over you and renders you helpless before him, it gets you going. “I wouldn’t mind if you fucked me right now baby.” you purr.

The discussion is tabled for now as you ride Touya’s cock and he leaves you a shaking mess afterwards.

Keigo comes to the Touya’s apartment later on during the week. You walk in after finishing up at your part time job to see them splitting an eightball between the two of them at the dinner table. You’d never done more than a gram of coke before and even then you usually split up that gram with one another person. “Geez, what’s the special occasion?” you ask as you set your purse down and shrug off your sweater.

“Nothing in particular, just thought of relaxing today.” Touya answers as if it’s the normal thing in the world. Relaxing with a six pack of beers with the boys, that’s normal; relaxing with an eightball of cocaine with the boys, that’s not.

But this is your life with Touya as your boyfriend and as long as he or Keigo don’t overdose on you, then everything should be fine. You know that this definitely is not their first time and you once again remind yourself about the gap between you and the boys.

“Dove, do you want a line?” Keigo asks as he uses a credit card to cut three white lines on the surface of one of the dinner plates. You don’t think it’s really a question because he pretty much made a third one anyway for you to take. He’s waving you over, an expectant smile on his face that you can’t bring yourself to say no to. Instead of sitting in the chair next to him, Keigo pulls you onto his lap instead and hands you a rolled up bill.

Just one line. you think to yourself as you inhale the powder through the bill.

That one line ends up becoming ten instead, very measly compared to the boys but considered a lot for yourself.

Touya and Keigo pretty much polish off the rest of the eightball and talk amongst themselves at the dining table still while you moved yourself over to the couch. Laying on your stomach and facing away from the boys, you idly scroll through your social media on your phone to keep yourself entertained. Your brain is a little wired so you’re just waiting for the coke to pass through your system and then you can sleep properly. From behind, a hand goes underneath your shirt and slowly smooths up your spine. It feels pleasant and your body shudders in response, pushing back against the hand as a silent beg for more. You’re surprised that Touya is massaging you, most of the time he tends to just skim the tips of his fingers all over your back until you fall asleep. Deft fingers press into the right spots on your back and you can’t help but let out a quiet moan along with a whined out, “Thank you baby.”

“You’re welcome dove.”

You turn back to see that Keigo had been the one massaging you while Touya just remained at the table, watching from his seat with eyes full of mirth and a grin to match.

How blatant of the both of them.

And that’s only the beginning.

Every instance Keigo is in your presence, he begins to invade your personal space more often and pushes the boundaries of your friendship into something more. Touches to your waist or the small of your back, quick pecks to your cheek or your lips, sometimes putting his hand on your thigh, even his pet names become a little more affectionate like little dove or songbird. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable per se but you’ve yet to really come to a conclusion about what you want to do about him.

You know that if you don’t say anything about it, if you don’t verbalize a ‘no’ or ‘stop’, Keigo’s just going to keep on going. After all, if you don’t stop one's actions they assume that it’s okay to keep on going and possibly to do more.

It appears that Touya’s getting a little impatient with your inaction, confronting you about it after fucking in the backseat of his car one day.

“So are you going to let Keigo smash or what (Name)?”

“I… don’t know. You and me and him, don't you think it will be weird?”

"Only if you make it weird."

You lay naked together rather comfortably despite the small space, your cheek resting against his chest where his heart is beating so close to your ear while he’s petting your head. It’s quiet between the two of you, just trying to catch your breath before having to get dressed and dropped off to your own bed. You want to be in Touya’s bed or have him sleep in yours, but he has a drop off to replenish his inventory later on and wants you where he knows you’re safe. It’s sweet how he doesn’t risk you like that, he only allows you to know so much. Maybe that’s part of the reason why he’s pushing Keigo onto you, to keep an eye on you when he’s not able to.

Touya loves having you in his sights, doesn’t like when you stray too far from him, even if he doesn’t show it on his face. You know by his tells, squeezed just a little too tight in a hug or the constant question he asks just right before you leave ‘are you sure?’ or the way his jaw clenches just a smidge too tight when you want to sleep in your own bed instead of his.

He pats the back of your head twice to let you know to get up.

Touya’s quicker to get dressed and you move to the side so that he can crawl to the driver’s side first. You’re still pulling on your pants when you feel his large hand wrap around your bicep to get your attention. “Baby?”

“If you don’t want to do anything with Keigo, that’s fine (Name). The least you can do is to tell him to stop flirting if you’re not interested though.” Touya tells you, a hint of irritation behind his tone. You don’t get to say anything else as he crawls to get to the driver’s seat and starts up the car. “Come on, I can’t be late.”

You sleep alone in your bed that night, thinking about you and Keigo and Touya.

A few more days pass before you finally give an answer.

Touya holds you from behind, his arm curled around your waist and his face nuzzled against the back of your head, he’s resting in your bed peacefully after a long night of being up. It’s getting close to noon and you’ve pretty much skipped your classes for the day because his hold on you is iron tight. He’s still fast asleep but you’re wide awake and desperate to use the bathroom to pee so you try to wriggle out of his hold. The movement disgruntles Touya but he releases you to flop on his back to continue sleeping.

You relieve yourself and wash your hands in the sink, glancing up at the mirror to check your complexion briefly before walking back into your room. Touya always looks most peaceful when he’s asleep, not like the bored expression he’s always sporting on his face whenever he’s out in public. You get back in the bed, not with the intention to sleep more, but you just want to be close to your boyfriend just a little bit longer. Reaching a hand out to massage his scalp, your fingers are brushing through his hair and he groans under your touch. You hold in a giggle as Touya sticks his hand down his boxer briefs, just letting his hand rest on his soft cock and doing nothing else but continuing to sleep.

“Touya? Touya, it’s almost noon.” you call out to him.

“… Doll.” he grunts out, slightly annoyed at being woken up.

“You want something to eat? You hungry?”

Touya just dismissively waves his other hand at you, the one that’s not shoved into his underwear.

“Okay, I’ll just make something so that you can have the leftovers later on and I want to have a proper threesome with Keigo.” The last part you just quickly blurted out to get it out of the way.

There… said it, finally told him what I want to do.

He’s silent for a few seconds before he opens his eyes to look at you. “It can just be you and him doll, I’m not making it a requirement for me to be there.”

“I know but I was thinking about it and I think I just want to officially induct Keigo by having a proper threesome.”

Touya pulls his hand out from his underwear and pats his thigh, signaling you to come sit on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips as you sit on his cock, his thumbs teasing the hem of your panties and has you grinding slightly on him. “You want Keigo to stuff your mouth while I drill this slutty pussy? Or I can fuck your face instead and he can go balls deep in you? How about double penetration? You love it when I play with your ass while I fuck up your pussy with my cock. I think it’d be nice to cream you in both of your holes. Or maybe we’ll just cum on your sexy body together. Last time he came on your tits, you have no idea how wild that drove him.”

“Okay, you sound way more excited for it than I am.” you laugh as you take Touya’s hands off your hips and lace your fingers together. “But yeah, I want to do this… with Keigo.”

“Alright doll but you have to be the one to tell him.”

And so you do later on that day, Touya smacks your ass on the way out of his apartment as you go to meet up with Keigo. He gives you a shit eating grin as he watches you walk away, proud that he can see the slight limp in your step.

So you sit with Keigo at a booth in back inside a cafe as he tells you about his week; he’s always busy in between his classes, completing his lab work, studying and tutoring. You’ve realized very early on that he likes to be a busy person, he likes keeps his scheduled jam packed sometimes. Yet he handles the load of all his responsibilities with ease, like he’s barely trying and that it’s as easy as hanging up a shirt and moving onto the next. You’re certain that if you even attempted to imitate his lifestyle that you wouldn’t be able to handle it as well and just burn out.

It could be the Adderall that Touya supplied to Keigo that helped him sometimes, but even without it he still held himself together rather well.

You’re trying to find the right way to tell Keigo, wondering what’s a smooth transition into telling him-

“Let’s have another threesome.”

Way to be fucking smooth!

Keigo was in the middle of telling you about this plant nursery he thought you’d like when you interrupted him. His golden eyes are set wide in surprise, as if someone had put him on pause and he’s waiting to be set right again. He’s still for a few seconds when he finally blinks and looks at you.

Golden eyes just stare at you and you’re squirming under his gaze.

Maybe I waited too long and he’s not interested anymore?

“Aw dove, you realize how cute you look right now? You’re like a shy schoolgirl asking to hold hands for the very first time.” Keigo coos at you, leaning his cheek into the palm of his hand and smiling. “You sure you want to? I’m also okay if you want nothing to change between us, I love being your friend.”

“A friend who wants to fuck you.” You remember Touya’s words from that time.

You nod your head and reach for his hand to take it in yours. “I just have to know something. I already asked Touya but I need to hear this from the only person I know that probably knows him the best. You’ll be honest with me, won’t you?”

Keigo’s hands are warm as he gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course (Name).”

“It’s just, you know, the whole thing with Touya and the other girls that he does his business with… I’m not accepting it still, I guess I’m just letting it happen because he insists that I’m the only one that gets all this special treatment from and I’m believing him for the time being. I just wanted it to be me and him, just us, and now there’s you. I just need to know that he’s not proposing us, this arrangement, so that I’ll harass him less when he goes to see them.”

Despite the arrangement of bringing Keigo in, no matter what your relationship with Touya comes first. It still bothers you when he goes out to the others and you do your best to not let your jealously show, there’s no point in having consistent arguments about it. But you can’t help the paranoia in your heart that he only proposed this so that you don’t have a reason to bother him. As long as you have someone else to sleep with then Touya can continue doing what he’s doing, that’s what you think.

Keigo sighs as he holds your hands in his, his thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles. “Don’t tell him that I told you this but there used to be more girls before you came along.”

Your jaw clenches.

“How many of them do you know of at the moment?” Keigo asks.

“Three or four I think.” you answer.

“It used to be eight. After he met you, he pretty much cut that list down to half.”

Your heart twists at the truth but it still changes nothing. “So I’m supposed to feel grateful that he liked me enough to only keep half the whores he still wants to fuck? He says that I’m his number one but what happens when he ends up liking whore #4 more? Am I just going to get bumped down the list? Am I just whore #1 for the time being?”

Keigo scratches the back of his head and seems a bit reluctant all of a sudden but he continues to speak to ease your doubts. “It’s not like that dove, it really isn’t. Touya’s never been the best with confronting his feelings but I see how he cares for you. I know to you it seems like he still has whores he wants to hang onto, but in reality he’s been slowly letting go so that he can focus on you. I can’t tell you when the others will be gone but all I know is that you’re his priority. This is new for Touya, he’s never had a real relationship before you. All he’s ever had is just a casual thing—hell the girls that he’s sold to, you can’t even call it casual, it’s just-”

“Business.” Touya’s used that word plenty of times.

You already had a feeling that he had commitment issues, it’s obvious in the way he keeps you around but still sees the others.

“I remember how upset Touya was when you left that one time to sleep with someone else because you were angry at him. I’d never seen him get so upset over anyone else (Name), it’s just been you. The feelings he has for you, it's intense.”

“My question still isn’t answered Keigo: does Touya only want this to happen so that I’ll bother him less when he goes out? Like it’s okay for him to go out and get his dick wet, struggling with whatever feelings he has for us, while I’m wetting yours? Is it just easier for him knowing a friend is plowing me instead of a stranger? It just all seems so convenient for him.”

Keigo’s posture stiffens a little bit. “He knows that he’s the one who proposed it but he didn’t want to backtrack and change his mind once he realized that you shouldn’t be a random whore for someone else to use as they please… ironic coming from the guy that uses random whores as he pleases. He feels you only deserve to get fucked by people who love you, those were his words.”

“I trust him and I know he’d be good to you.”

Whoa… love? No one said anything about love.

Touya tells you how much he loves your pussy, he’s never said himself that he loves you. And Keigo? He just said not too long about that he loves being your friend…

“Wait, did Touya actually say that he loves me? What kind of love are we talking about?”

Keigo’s golden eyes briefly widen in surprise before realizing that he might have said too much, speaking of things that Touya told him he wasn’t ready to talk about with you just yet. “I… shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that… uh fuck I can’t really speak for Touya.” Keigo curses and takes his hand back, scrunching his hand in his blond hair and looks down in embarrassment. “He’s going to kill me.”

What happened to just proposing a simple threesome? You didn’t realize that all these feelings were going to be involved when you were going to talk to him today.

“Keigo, you are being honest with me though right? You’re not lying?”

Golden eyes look up at you, full of conviction. “I could never lie to you (Name).”

You hate that Touya still sees his other whores, he sells to them and fucks them. It didn’t matter that it’s been impersonal this entire time with the others, it just hurt that you couldn’t have all of him. And yet Keigo’s admission had just changed everything, all with just one four letter word, that apparently Touya was more wrapped around your finger than you thought. The situation itself is still twisted but you’re not trying to escape it. Instead you sink deeper and deeper into it.

"Did Touya say he loves me?" you ask, not surprised that your question is met with silence. It's clear that Keigo wasn't supposed to mention that to you at all. "Do you believe what he said? That I should only be fucked by people who love me? Do you love me Keigo and is that love the same as Touya's?"

His eyes betray nothing, now set on remaining mum when it comes to this topic it seems. His silence is an answer in of itself, though it's not exactly a clear one. You won't waste anymore time asking these questions, you set out here with a mission. “If this happens… will it be just sex or will it be more?”

Golden eyes stare back at you. “It can be whatever you want it to be (Name).”

You scrutinize him under your gaze for a little bit, silent for a few moments before asking, “Will you kiss me?”

“Of course.”

The kiss is nothing like the one at the house party when the two of you were rolling on ecstasy. There’s no enhanced euphoria to make it better or any other substance to get in the way of what it is; just a tender, chaste kiss. Luckily you two are seated in the back so there’s no one around to witness this, not like at the house party with so many people around. Even when you pull back, Keigo still leans forward to pepper your face with little pecks here and there.

You’re leading Keigo by the hand back to Touya’s place, the door already unlocked for you since you know he wasn’t going out today anyway. He’s emerging from his bedroom and grins at you when he sees you holding Keigo’s hand. A knowing grin comes onto his face as he leans against the wall, looking you up and down.

“Uh where should we do this?” you ask, squeezing Keigo’s hand and shifting your weight from one leg to the other in nervousness.

Touya approaches you and kisses your forehead before taking your other hand in his own. “Well what’s a place to have a ‘proper threesome’ doll? Just the bedroom? Last time we fucked on a couch so I think it’ll do just fine this time as well.”

“A proper threesome? Is that what you called it songbird? That’s so cute.” Keigo laughs and nuzzles his head against yours. “Though I can’t disagree, I didn’t really do anything to you.”

“Hey, I offered at the time and you said no.” Touya banters with Keigo as he leads you to the couch, having you sit down on it first. “You can’t really say that you weren’t given a chance.”

Keigo simply shrugs his shoulders in response before looking down at you. You sit way too stiff on the couch, back as straight as an arrow and your brows crinkled with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. He reaches a hand towards you and pats the top of your head, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against your scalp and massaging to get you to relax. He thinks how cute you are, acting like as if he hadn’t already seen you naked and what you look like when you’re getting railed. He’s just excited to be able to play with you with his own hands this time, manipulating your pleasures to his own tastes while coordinating with Touya.

“What are you acting like such a virgin for? Keigo already knows what you look liked when you’re getting fucked. No need to be shy.” Touya quips at you and chuckles at how you hide your face in your hands. “Quit it doll, you’re not so innocent. He’s seen it and I’ve seen it, now be a good girl and take off your clothes.”

Touya speaks in that tone when there’s no room for argument, that you dare not talk back or else you’re going to get a punishment. And normally you love to test his patience when he speaks to you in that manner, you know he loves it when you get all bratty with him but with Keigo present you’re a little bit more reluctant to be so cheeky. So you follow directions and reach towards your pants zipper to get your bottoms off first but then Keigo catches your wrist in his hand.

“Wait, I want to undress her.” Keigo announces.

Touya allows it with a passive wave of his hand.

So Keigo kneels down to do the job himself, taking his time and touching you appreciatively while you look away from his gaze. It reminds you of when you tried undressing yourself at the house party when you were rolling to jump into a pool and he caught you just in time, helping poor little you dress back up because you shouldn’t have been trying to get naked with a bunch of strangers around you. Your face is warm as the tips of his fingers skim across your naked skin, completely in the nude and absolutely self conscious as your hands go up to cover your breasts.

Keigo gently pulls your hands away and asks Touya, “Was she this shy with you the first time?”

“Tch, shy? She’s the one that had me by the cock the first time we fucked, bratty little thing pretty much demanded that I blow her back out.” Touya chuckled as he pet the top of your head before lifting your head up. “Isn’t that right doll? You remember?”

You nodded as the memory resurfaced into your mind.

“So why so shy now dove?” Keigo asks as he sheds his shirt and moves to undo his belt buckle.

“It’s different, you’re a friend Keigo. And I’ve never pleased two guys at the same time.”

Touya just merely whips off his own shirt and palms his erection through his sweatpants. “You don’t have to worry about anything (Name). There’s nothing different about sex when there’s an additional person. Keigo’s got plenty of experience in this, he’s been to a few orgies and a gangbang once.”

You whipped your head back to look at Keigo who merely just scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Hehe, there’s no need to tell her that Touya. But things will be fine dove, we know you trust us. Remember what I said earlier?”

“Y-Yeah… I remember.”

They love you… though you’re not sure what the extent of their love is for you. It’s dangerous to confuse possession for love and that’s the feeling that you get from the both of them. The logical side of you is very aware of this fact and yet you ignore it once more. Love or not, this isn’t exactly your ideal relationship but you’re not quite willing to walk away just yet.

“Can you kiss me Keigo?” you ask, figuring that you might as well just start off.

“Of course songbird.” he says as he pulls you up from the couch and leans down to kiss you. He wastes no time in gliding his tongue against the seam of your soft lips, drawing a quiet moan from you. Keigo is definitely a gentle kisser, or at least for now he’s being gentle, and any nervousness you felt washed away in the tender way he held you in his arms. Keigo’s erection pokes at your thigh and you move one hand in between your bodies to hold it in your hand. You didn’t get a good look at it last time but from the feel of it you can tell it’s a bit smoother compared to Touya’s, a prominent vein underneath as you skim the tips of your fingers over it.

“Get on your knees doll, show Keigo how good you are with that mouth.”

Sinking to your knees, you get a good look at Keigo’s cock; it’s a pretty pink color that’s a little flushed at the tip and the length is close to Touya’s though skinnier in girth. You give it a few experimental pumps in your hand before dipping your head down to take him into your mouth. The taste is a little musty but that’s to be expected when your genitals just sit in your pants all day and it doesn’t bother you at all. His cock glides smoothly over your tongue and when it hits the back of your throat, you moan around it before pulling back with an audible pop.

“You’re looking at my cock like you’re in love with it dove.” Keigo teases. He expects you to quip back at him but you merely open your mouth and stick your tongue out, a quiet ‘ahh’ from you makes his spine tingle. “Eager girl.”

Touya watches you as you swallow Keigo into your eager mouth, your eyes looking up at him and meeting his golden gaze. Watching you on your knees for someone else is getting him hard as fuck, fisting his cock in his hand and proud that you’ve let go of your inhibitions. There was no reason for you to be so shy earlier, Touya knew that you’d relax instantly with Keigo; he always had a charm about him that made everyone comfortable once they met him.

Still though, you’re his girl and he does feel a bit left out so he takes you by the back of your head and directs you to go down on him instead. Touya sees how enthused you are at the familiarity of having his cock in your mouth and how you look up into his own eyes. You’re stroking Keigo with one of your hands while the other plays with your clit messily, all the while you’re smoothly sucking him off; you’re his slutty little multi-tasker. Back and forth you trade off between Keigo and Touya’s cocks and having completely forgotten how shy you were from before. You suppose that Touya’s words from before actually ring true.

Hands go underneath your armpits and you’re lifted to sit on the couch, ass hanging off the edge with your legs held open and leaning back on your elbows for support. You barely get a word in when Keigo smoothly slides down to his knees and proceeds to eat you out like he’s the hungriest man in the world and the first meal he’s given is absolute ambrosia. He’s fucking good with his mouth, a goddamn expert as his tongue flicks over the petals of your pussy, you can’t help but wonder if he got so good from those apparent orgies that Touya said that Keigo attended previously.

Touya has one leg kneeled on the couch and is balanced with one foot on the floor as he watches once again from the sidelines for a brief moment. He thinks of all the times the two of you had sex in front of a mirror, watching your reflection as he railed you on his cock and keeping his eyes forward rather than on you. It’s different to see you in this perspective, being touched by someone else and hearing you moan for his closest friend. If you were moaning for anyone else, if Keigo wasn’t the one Touya had chosen, he’d go crazy with jealousy. He thinks of the scumbag men he’d seen eye you up and down when you weren’t looking, how he knows that they would see you as just a hole to fuck rather than a precious gem to treasure. They wouldn’t cherish you like he did, wouldn’t appreciate you the way Touya does, the things he’d do for you he knows that no other man would. Keigo is the only person he would trust to lavish you with all the affection you deserve.

She’s mine. Touya thinks before looking at Keigo. She’s ours.

You’re obedient when Touya reaches a hand forward, his thumb pressing against your plush bottom lip before you take it into your mouth. Keigo’s teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and has two fingers moving inside you, golden eyes set on you as you look up at Touya. Your eyes are fluttering though, struggling to keep them focused as his fingers steal your concentration by finding your g-spot and dragging the pads of his fingers down before repeating the motion. A drawn out groan rumbles out from your pretty mouth and you drop your head back.

“She just came.” Keigo states as he withdraws his fingers from you and licks up your juices. “You enjoy yourself songbird?”

You answer with a tired nod of your head.

Keigo chuckles quietly, rubbing his hand on your thigh before looking to Touya. “Does she need a minute?”

“No, she can keep going." Touya kneels down to you and kisses you briefly, waking you from your orgasm-induced stupor as you reach up to touch the back of his neck and kiss you deeper. You and him are lip-locked as Keigo kisses up your body, focusing on your breasts as the pads of his fingers press into your hipbones and make you shiver under his touch. You think that maybe Touya was right from before, that sex isn’t that much different when you have another person around. Kissing is still the same, blowjobs are more or less the same, so is being eaten out, but you’re getting twice the pleasure and excitement.

One hand reaches down and scrunches through Keigo’s blond hair, soft tresses glide through your fingers and you’re reminded of the last time you rolled. His hair was just as soft when you had first kissed him at the party and you think briefly about what kind of shampoo and conditioner he uses to keep his hair so soft, maybe he uses hair masks and stuff like those internet hair recipes for it to feel so nice. So you grab a handful of it and pull his head back, giggling when he grunts and the faint hiss of, “Naughty little dove…”

Touya moves aside to make way for Keigo as he slides up to kiss you once again. In the midst of it, you feel the blunt head of his cock push against your entrance. You won’t dare break from the kiss from Keigo and you blindly reach for Touya’s hand, which he takes and holds it gently. There’s more nudging against your pussy and you think of that song that you’ve heard circulating on the internet, a specific lyric that you think is a fitting theme for tonight: I wanna ruin our friendship.

You could change your mind, tell Keigo to get off you and make Touya back off as well.

“I’m going to put it in now, okay?”

But you won’t tell them to, you decided you want this.

You think of your come down from when you rolled last and how this is almost the same situation except that Keigo is the one to fuck you while Touya sits nearby with his cock in his hand. So you brace one hand on Keigo’s shoulder and widen your legs for him, looking between turquoise eyes of your boyfriend and the golden ones of your friend. “Take his cock doll, fulfill Keigo’s fantasy and let him wreck you.”

It must be Keigo’s eagerness to have been wanting to fuck you since you met because he wastes no time in pummeling his cock into you. He’s not as rough as Touya but there’s definitely enthusiasm in his movements, his eyes entranced on your tits as they bounce with the momentum of his thrusts. Touya has your hand on his cock and makes you jerk him off, calling you a pretty, dirty whore and you vocalize your agreements.

“Fuck she’s such a slut!” Keigo says more to himself rather than Touya. He grabs a handful of your hair in his hand and yanks it back, making you gasp as your neck is exposed and he leans forward to bite down on your soft flesh. This is everything he dreamed of and more, of course the real you is far better than the nights he spent imagining what you would be like with his dick in his hand. Touya is his friend and he always painted a pretty picture with his words whenever he felt like bragging about good at sex he was, which was all the fucking time, but Keigo knew that you were different the more Touya kept on referring back to you before the relationship was official, knowing more about your pussy first before actually learning about who you were.

Touya used to get nudes pretty frequently from some of his former whores, some quick spank material before deleting it but you were different. Whatever you sent to Touya, whether innocent or not so innocent, you got your own personal folder with your name on it and if he was feeling a little generous, he’d show his friend. So Keigo pretty much knew what you looked like naked by the time the two of you were introduced but you didn’t have to know that.

So here you are, naked and getting railed on his cock right with his very own eyes.

No more digital or imaginary substitutions, Keigo was getting the real thing now.

“Hands and knees, I want her sucking me off.”

Pushed into the desired position, your hands brace the armrest of the couch to steady yourself, seeing as you’re about to get fucked from both ends. Keigo’s hips slap against you in a steady and firm rhythm while Touya gags you on his cock. Fingernails dig into the surface of the couch and you strain to look up as you’re getting face fucked. Porn makes having a threesome look so easy and fluid but you’re struggling a little bit with the different rhythms from one end compared to the other. It’s hard to concentrate on sucking Touya off as Keigo fucks you from behind, neither one of them wanting to give you a break.

It’s a struggle but you don’t want to stop.

“Open your mouth wider.” Touya commands and you happily obey. His cock is soaked in your spit so it glides smoothly into your mouth and with practiced eased you deep throat him. Every thrust Keigo delivers, it makes you bump forward slightly but it doesn’t deter you from doing the best you can with a cock in your mouth. Their praises mix together and it makes you feel heady, you want to be good for them and hear more of ‘good girl’ and ‘that’s right songbird’.

And then Keigo yanks you away from Touya, laying flat on your back on the couch and he pushes back inside you with your legs pushed to your chest. You want to look into his eyes, take a dip in those honey-colored windows to his soul and hold his gaze while he practically ravages your pussy. You’re sure that his gaze is as intense as the fucking that he’s giving you, so intense that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and you can’t look him in the eyes like you want. So instead you’re fucked stupid by Keigo and can barely muster any praises back to him like ‘you fuck me so good’ and shit like that.

It’s okay because Touya can do the talking anyway.

“Look at you doll, looks like you’re losing it over his cock. You’re such a good little whore right now, you make me proud.” Touya strokes his cock in one hand while the other reaches down and lovingly strokes your hair. “You wanna let Keigo fuck you from now on? You wanna be with the both of us?”

“Wan’ you both… yes, want you two!” you groan out and reach one hand up to touch Touya’s wrist. “Ungh, fuck!”

“Shit, I’m going to cum!” Keigo hisses as he sloppily fucks into you before pulling out and cumming all over your tits. Warm splatters of liquid fall onto your chest as you cum as well, finally able to look at Keigo from your vantage point but disappointed that he didn’t cum inside you. “Fucking hell… baby bird…”

Ah, you’ve unlocked a new pet name.

There’s no break for you as Touya takes you back, sitting on the couch and putting you in his lap. You groan at the familiar stretch of his cock slipping inside you, you’re a leaking mess as Touya fucks his hips up into your pussy. You’re getting fucked in his lap, clutching onto his shoulders and moving in practiced sync. Normally you’d get lost looking into turquoise blue eyes but you look to the side to see Keigo leaning against the arm rest and catching his breath.

Touya’s hands cuff underneath your ass and gives support as you ride him, his mouth pressed into your neck as he gives you wet kisses all the while Keigo sits back and watches. It’s different and new and you’re not necessarily sure how this may turn out for you in the end. Your conversation from earlier rings in your mind and your mind sobers briefly at the recollection of it: “He feels you only deserve to get fucked by people who love you, those were his words.”

Love… you’re still trying to fathom it.

Wanting to just have sex was one thing, adding love into the mix was another. It should make you sit down and consider what the fallout may be but the thought of Touya being in love with you, being just too shy or obstinate to bare himself open, it made your heart flutter in the same way he wouldn’t allow you to call him Dabi anymore. And Keigo too, a selfish part of you wanted to indulge yourself silly on these two men who apparently didn’t like the idea of relinquishing you to just anyone.

Don’t be a whore for anyone else but us.

“Look here doll.”

You look away from Keigo and look to Touya instead, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him. Contrary to how he may seem, Touya loved to kiss you during sex. It drives him wild every single time, especially when you’d scrunch a handful of his hair in your hand and tugged on his roots. He curses at you and gives a sharp smack to your ass, a guttural growl rumbling in his chest as he asserts control over you. All you can do is manage to hold onto his shoulders as he presses you to sit back against the couch and fucks into your already sensitive pussy, so he’s not necessarily surprised when you cum on his cock. He reaches down to overstimulate you by toying with your clit and you practically lose it, sobbing as you cum more for him.

When you peer up at Touya, you can tell by the way his brows are pinched that he’s about to cum. You beg for him to cum inside you like he always does, you’re anticipating it. Instead he pulls out and makes you kneel on the floor, Keigo coming to his side with his cock in his hand; you hadn’t even realized that he got hard again. “Open wide sweetheart.” Touya tells you.

So you do, your eyes on the boys as the cum all over your face and your tits, mixed drops catching on your tongue as you’re coated in hot cum. When they’re both thoroughly tapped out, you smear it all over your chest and giggle how they both groan at the sight of you. “Mm… I loved it!”

“Glad you did baby bird.” Keigo leans down to kiss your temple while Touya kisses your cheek. “As pretty as you look with our cum all over you, why don’t you go wash up?”

No arguments there, dried cum isn’t exactly the greatest feeling in the world especially since you were showered in so much of it. So you get up and walk in the direction of the bathroom but turn back briefly and lean against the wall. “Hey.” you call out and they both look to you. “I’m happy that that we did this. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this, I want you to know that.”

You’re tempted to put out a simple ‘love you’ just to see what Touya’s reaction would be, but you think it’s best to not breach that subject for now. If it were still just you and him, then you probably would have put it out there but the addition of Keigo changes it a bit so you have to reevaluate the pace of the relationship. It’s a whole mess, that much is certain, but you want to stay with Touya. You wonder how much poking and prodding you can get from Keigo to reveal more. You feel a certain sense of pride that apparently he’s never devoted himself to anyone else until you came along, though if it weren’t for Keigo accidentally revealing such precious information then you never would have known in the first place, if not this soon in the relationship. For the time being, you just blow an air kiss and leave to go clean up.

Under the shower spray, you think hard about you, Touya and Keigo. “Eight girls… he used to see eight fucking girls!” you mutter to yourself. It sort of figures that Touya had that many whores but you had no clue that the number was so high before you came along. You still get mad when he comes to you smelling like them, you won’t even let him get near you unless he washes up first and he’ll always cater to you afterwards. Just because Keigo is included now doesn’t mean the jealousy won’t stop, it just means that now he provides a distraction when Touya goes out and wrestles with his commitment issues while balls deep in other girls.

But if what Keigo says is true that Touya loves you then you can hold out until you can draw that confession out of him.

━━━━✧

Part 3 of the Us Series: Do It For Me

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