#and by god am i thankful for the lack of gym class but i kind of miss being substantial instead of sickly and frail

[nutzworth]

it is so unbelievable how humans have not evolved to have stronger wrists. every fun hobby i can think of involves me being hunched over and my wrists being exercised immeasurably. how can i still get carpal tunnel. people have been sewing and drawing and writing for thousands of years how can i still get carpal tunnel

[yoongihan]

Hii! If your requests are still open, I'd like to make one that includes:

"Like what you see?",🩸 Patching up a wound. (Stray kids, Changbin)

Hope you're doing well!

(yes, i included two gifs because both changbins are to blame for this fic)

pairing: changbin x fem character

genre: smut, fluff, supernaturalish, f2l

rating: M (i have made up for all those earlier sfw drabbles)

word count: ~3200 (is this even a drabble anymore?)

warnings: smut in the form of oral (f. rec), unprotected sex, kissing and more kissing (biting too), fairly crass discussion of arousal, cursing (mc likes the f word quite a bit), endearments (baby, nakkeo), mc is a few inches taller than bin, maybe a strength kink (I don't even know what kinks are anymore after being on this website) for both mc and bin, mention of were-shifting (claws), undue amounts of changbin devotion. I think that's it.

a/n: welp, anon, i don't know if I should blame you and music bank Paris changbin (that dance cover with nmixx has not left my brain) for this ridiculous piece of writing. i was possessed, apparently. i hope you enjoy it. i had way too much fun writing this.

original request post here

I Don't Want to Hurt You

(the angsty title ever for a non-angst fic)

“Will you just hold still?” you say through clenched teeth. Your bedside manner is lacking, you know, but you are trying to not fall apart and that requires you to be more curt than courteous.

“I am,” he says, far more calmly than you. Changbin is good at keeping his cool in the middle of a crisis. Not that this happens often. You go out of your way to make sure he’s not around in crisis. Not that he can’t handle it.

It’s that you can’t.

He’s your friend. Has been since you were stuck together on some assignment in a freshman gen ed class. He’d been kind of skinny back then, all angular and full of bravado.

Almost ten years later, he isn’t skinny. His friendship with Chan meant he frequented the campus gym and that resulted in your friend becoming the biggest gym rat to ever grace your world. You might have a few inches on him in height, but the guy could bench-press you easily.

And if you were still human, he would probably be stronger than you too.

His bravado still exists and comes in handy, especially when two years out of university, you get bitten one night during the full moon and you now not only have days of the month where you cramp and deal with the logistics of being a woman, but you also have three days when the moon is full and your cramps turn you into a hairy beast.

You hate it.

Changbin is less bothered that you have nights where you turn into a werewolf, needing to be out running and hunting (you absolutely hate that your wolf loves to eat squirrels and chipmunks even though they might be the least endangered species on the planet), and often ending up waking up in the woods, naked and majorly scratched up the following morning. He more often than not finds you, brings clothes, a blanket and coffee with him. He doesn’t care that you track various foliage and hair (your hair, not fur…thank you, god) into his SUV. If he doesn’t have to be at work too early, he even buys you breakfast.

You cannot believe your life is a supernatural cliche and that your friend just rolls with it.

But tonight, you screwed up. You knew it was the last night of your cycle (the lunar-controlled one, not the biological reproductive one), but that usually meant you were a little clingy until the moon rose. You don’t usually struggle with turning at all on the third day.

If you think about it too deeply, you know that your feelings in regard to Changbin are probably responsible.

Or just the jeans he’s wearing.

It’s only six in the evening, you have almost two hours before sunset, longer until the moon shows its face and yet, you grow claws on your right hand when he boasts about his ass being better than yours.

(It totally is better).

He thinks you’re annoyed that he’s bragging and you let him think that because admitting that you’re turned on by him drawing your attention to his posterior is way way more embarrassing.

Not that half-heartedly swiping at him before realizing you have claws isn’t mortifying enough.

You have more bandages than a pharmacy in your apartment bathroom, and you pull out all of it to patch up the gash you’ve left on his upper arm as he sits on the sink. His legs are spread so you can stand between them, the bright light overhead illuminating the damage you inflicted.

He’d call it a scratch, but it did bleed and you are the worst friend ever.

The bleeding has stopped and you are doing your best to spread the antibiotic ointment, so it doesn’t get infected. Who knows what your claws could do?

“Hey,” he says after a few moments of silence. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I hurt you, Bin.”

Fuck, you hear the waver in your voice.

He makes a ‘tsking’ sound before wincing as the medicine stings. It’s involuntary, but his arm tenses at the pain, making it seem like he’s flexing.

“I said, stay still.”

“And I said, I am,” he whines back, pouting. You refuse to look at his face, knowing that the lower lip jutting out will be your undoing. You are trying to keep it together.

“Your bicep isn’t.”

You hear him hum arrogantly and you regret your words so much.

The flexing now is intentional.

“Like what you see?” Your friend (emphasis on friend) is the biggest tease and flirt. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s wriggling his eyebrows at you.

“Can it.”

You can feel his breath tickle your ear as he leans in. “You didn’t deny it.”

You turn to give him the most unimpressed expression you can muster, but he didn’t pull back at your move. He’s inches away, a little surprised if his parted lips are anything to go by.

God, for a gym rat, he’s so damn cute.

However, for a predatory animal, you are a coward, so you quickly look away to finish bandaging his arm. Your claws disappeared the moment you realized you’d injured him, but you’re still really careful with how you touch him, worried they’ll show up again.

He doesn’t have to smell so good.

You freeze when you feel warmth on your lower back. His hand slipped under and up the back of your shirt.

What the actual fuck.

You pull away, putting much much-needed space between the two of you. “There. All done.”

Apparently not enough because his finger catches you by the belt loop on your jeans.

“You know what I found out recently?”

You refuse to meet his gaze, so you stubbornly stare at the bandage.

“I was reading about lycanthropy, you know as I do, when I found out that there are several reasons why you might turn before moonrise.”

Oh fuck.

“It’s not only because you get angry.” His voice is very thoughtful, but when you steal a look at his face, you can see he’s teasing.

He’s the worst.

“Really?” Why are you speaking? Why are you continuing this conversation when you aren’t an idiot and he’s not an idiot and you know where this is going?

He nods, tugging you closer by said belt loop.

“Anger, yes. Anxiety, too. But also arousal.”

You cough. “Arousal?”

“It was a medical article I was reading.” He’s got you back between his legs, his finger moving from the belt loop to slide past your waistband just enough to touch your skin. “Arousal, horniness, libido, you know…you get wet.”

You are trying to keep your eyes on the collar of his shirt, but those words force you to look at him full in the face. His skin is a little red, but he doesn’t look away from you.

You feel it this time. The insistence at your fingertips and you clasp your hands behind your back.

You almost injure yourself when your claws come out.

“Soooo,” he continues, his other hand following along your arm to where you have hidden your hands. You feel the light touch on your claws. “Which is it? Anger, anxiety, or arousal?”

You swallow hard, wondering if you are trembling on the outside because you definitely are on the inside.

“Bin.”

He scoots to the edge of the sink, his legs pressing against your hips.

“Bin,” you repeat, as he grips you by the waist as though he knows you might bolt.

“Tell me,” he whispers, his nose touching yours.

“I don’t think this is safe.”

His other hand hasn’t moved from where your claws are more than evident.

When he speaks, his lips brush your lips lightly. “Ask me if I care.” His thumb draws a gentle circle against the skin at your waist as he presses his mouth to yours, insistent.

You know he feels you trembling now. With everything in you, you keep your hands off of him, but you kiss him back, the wanting to know what he tastes like is beyond your self-control. You hear him moan and he hooks his ankles together, dragging you impossibly closer. His mouth opens, his tongue seeking; and it shouldn’t surprise you that his kissing is a tease as well because he draws away half a second after his tongue touches yours.

You whine and he chuckles before kissing the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then dropping down to mouth at your neck.

Your whine is louder.

He bites and you push back, hands carefully on his shoulders, putting distance between you.

He pouts and makes grabby hands. “Come back here.”

You try not to acquiesce because no muscley man should be that adorable.

You do lean in to kiss that pouty lower lip, but then you back away so neither of you can reach the other.

“I…I need a moment.”

He slides off the sink and you take a few more steps back.

“This is not a good time,” you continue, waving your clawed hands in case he needs a visual.

He rolls his eyes, reaching out, but stops when you hold up your hands to stop him.

“I’ve already hurt you once today."

“It’s a scratch.”

“Not to me.”

His expression softens and if determined Changbin is a turn-on, concerned Changbin melts your heart.

“Okay…” he says carefully. “Does that mean…tomorrow is a better time?”

You scoff. “Obviously. This,” gesturing with your hands again. “Won’t be a thing.”

He presses his lips together, mildly annoyed, but you know he knows that you mean it.

“I’ll allow it only if–”

“You’ll allow it?”

He smirks at your affronted tone. “Only if you promise that this pause is just a pause. That tomorrow, when I find you, get you breakfast; that you’ll still…” His bravado falters and his voice gets quieter.

“I’ll still?”

He looks away then, the blush brightening. “You’ll still want me.”

It’s weird, right? That your claws retract immediately (it isn’t like you aren’t still wanting him) and you move without a second thought to hug him, pressing your face into his neck and shoulder. You feel his arms wrap around you, tight.

“Binnie,” you whisper, “I’ll always want you.”

–

He makes you breakfast the next morning, an hour after you stumble home, shower and dress. You don’t remark that you can tell he slept in your bed (it smells like him). He doesn’t ask you anything about your wolf ramblings, but tells you about how Felix gamed all night and he had to convince the younger man via texting to get some sleep.

You don’t say much (you are always starving the morning after wolf time), listening to him talk about your mutual friends like nothing life-changing happened last night. When you come out of the bathroom with more bandages, he rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

You pull him over to sit on one of your barstools. “Let me check.”

He sniffs once. “You brushed your teeth.”

You look up from his arm to him. “Yeah.”

“Before and after breakfast?”

You grin at him. “Well, you’re going to kiss me, right? I’m just being considerate.”

He’s off the stool before you can finish your sentence, hands on your arms, maneuvering you toward the couch. You laugh when you fall back on it, dragging him with you.

His mouth finds yours the moment he’s on top of you, settling between your legs, one hand on your thigh. He squeezes before rolling his hips so you feel how hard he is.

“Fuck,” you breathe, so completely turned on in what feels like a matter of seconds. Your exclamation is mumbled against his lips as you mentally check your body, making sure that there are no lingering effects of the moon.

When you run your hands up his back, under his shirt, it incurs no damage and all you feel is the smooth skin and solid muscle. He ducks to kiss your neck, all the way down to your collarbone before raising up to look at you. He reaches behind his head to tug off his shirt before taking your hands in his.

“Like what you see?” he teases. You know you’re gaping at him (he doesn’t go without a shirt all that often, despite his gym tendencies, that’s more Chan’s thing), but he’s so fit and broad. There’s something that makes your teeth ache at the thought that at purely human, he’s probably nearly as strong as you.

He won’t let go of your hands, so you rise to lick the line of his neck and shoulder. You feel his hands tighten and hear a deep guttural sound at your attentions. You know he sees your smug smile because he pushes you back down, hands pressed into the sofa. He tugs down the loose collar of your sleep shirt with his mouth so he can taste your skin, nipping once or twice.

“Please Bin,” you whimper.

“Please what, naekkeo?” he murmurs, still intent on marking right above your breast.

“I wanna touch you.”

He rests his chin on your chest so you can focus on his dark eyes. “So do it.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

He raises one eyebrow, a clear challenge, which you cannot ignore, so you pull your hands from his, one arm wrapping around his neck and shoulders to bring his mouth back to yours as your other hand slides down his naked back to skate under his flannel pj pants (commando, bless him) so you can get a really good grip. He gasps at your squeeze.

“Too much?” you ask, uninclined to draw away any farther than an inch. He shakes his head, pushing up your shirt hem, hands caressing the exposed skin of your stomach. His fingers trip over a scratch that hasn’t healed completely yet (it will in another hour or so) and he jerks away to look at it.

“Baby,” he says softly before leaning down to kiss it. If your hand wasn’t still on his ass (like you will ever remove it), it would be a sweet and almost chaste touch. But he lingers, kissing below your navel to where your underwear and pajama shorts begin. His eyes search for yours, a question unsaid.

“You want to?” you verbalize, your voice breathy. “I don’t want to h–”

He snaps the waistband of your shorts against your skin. “Stop worrying so damn much. I’ll pinch you if I can’t handle it.” He mutters a few other things, mostly thematic that you’re insulting his manliness, which makes you giggle.

Yes, he’s all man, but he also knows more K-pop girl group choreo than anyone you know (well, tied with Felix) and executes those feminine moves with gusto.

It’s one of many ways he’s sexy (you may have thought about his ability to move his hips with such ease a time or two).

He yanks down both your shorts and underwear to your knees which means your hand is no longer on his ass which is a disappointment, but then his tongue and lips are savoring you with the same enthusiasm and all you can do is tangle one hand in his curly hair and grip the sofa with the other.

You’ve had sex since being bitten, but not a lot and not without a lot of worry. You’re so terrified you will injure mid-orgasm that you haven't had one with a partner since that fateful night of the full moon.

So when his talented mouth and fingers do exactly that, you feel like you might never breathe normally again. When the aftershocks lessen and he’s crawling back up your body, wiping his face on your shirt before cradling your face in his hands to kiss you softly, you can’t stop staring at him in awe.

He boops your nose. “You okay?”

“I…yeah. You?”

He laughs, going in for another kiss. You kiss him back, flipping him over so you can be on top. You kick off your shorts and panties before divesting him of his bottoms. He curses when you take him in hand, his head falling back on the couch. You see his hand clench in a fist when you stroke him, your thumb teasing at the tip.

“Really glad you aren’t about to shift right now,” he breathes out, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to damage this,” you say softly, kissing the tip. His head jerks up to look at you.

“No.”

“No?”

“Inside.” You watch his adam’s apple move as he swallows. “Wanna be inside you.” He props himself up on his elbows. “If you want…”

You nod, and start to move to find a condom (do you have any in your apartment? It’s been ages since you needed one), but he grabs you by the wrist.

“I’m clean. And you're clean and I know you're on the pill and…” He lets out a breath that flutters his fringe from his eyes. “If you’re okay with it.”

You nod again, closing the distance between you to kiss him again. He removes his hand from your wrist to cup your cheek. He lays back down as you ease down on him, breaking the kiss when he’s fully in you.

“Naekkeo,” he stutters, eyes full of heat and want. You start to move and he groans so deep you feel it in your chest. Your eyes fall shut when he sits back up, discontent to let you do all the work, his mouth connecting with yours again, murmuring words of praise and affection. You bury your face into the crook of his neck when he starts to speed up. He’s holding you by the thighs and hips, and every thrust feels so fucking good, even when it doesn’t hit that spot. He just feels good.

“Do…” he gasps in your ear. “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No baby,” you say into his neck, clinging to him probably too tight but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s seconds later that he comes, falling back onto the sofa as his hold on you weakens. His chest is heaving under you, his arms wrapped around you, locked. You press kisses on his shoulder as he comes down from his high. His skin is a little salty from sweat, but you like it.

You like him. So much.

“You didn’t,” he says once he has his breath back. You lift your head to look at him, confused. You think he’d be blushing if he wasn’t already flushed. “You didn’t come.”

You brush back his hair from his eyes, kissing his forehead. “No, but I did earlier.” You kiss his nose next. He opens his mouth, but you kiss him there too. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’s pouting again. “But–”

You nibble on that bottom lip of his before folding your arms on his chest and resting your chin on your hands. “Later. If you still want to.”

He snorts before running one hand up and down your back. “If I want to. I promise you, baby, I will forever be grateful you scratched me because my ass makes you horny.”

He’s giggling when you smack him on the chest before he kisses you again.

You’re pretty grateful too.

--

© yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Happier|Part Two

A/N: Here it is! Thank you to everyone who has read part 1 and has sent back such kind feedback. It really means a lot! 

Part 1

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, angsty as hell 

Just open the fucking door.

You hesitated as your right hand hovered over the familiar front door. Over the last five years you’ve always just walked in. This home was like your home. But now, he wasn’t just his.  

“Just walk in. It’s not rocket science.” You muttered to yourself. Sighing you tapped your fist against the wood. 

Your body relaxed a smile fell on your face as you heard Dodger’s familiar bark ring through the house as he approached the door. 

“Alright, bubba. Relax.” The butterflies flurried in your stomach as Chris’s voice carried past the door. You gave a small smile as the door flung open to reveal a shirtless Chris. “Why did you knock, you meatball.” 

You just shrugged and quickly gave him a hug. 

“What are your plans for tonight?” You asked as you both made your way to the kitchen, his arm slung loosely over your shoulder. 

“I was supposed to go watch the game with Scott but he wasn’t feeling too hot, so I’m actually just going to stay in. But don’t worry, I won’t get in the way of your girls night.” He laughed, ruffling your hair as you turned the corner and caught view of Carissa. 

“Yeah no boys allowed. Right, Y/N?” Carissa dried off her hands and rushed over to you, pulling you into a full body hug. You bit back the frustration when you realized that she was wearing the shirt that you always wore whenever you would spend the night at Chris’s, the familiar fabric like sandpaper under your fingertips now as you gently hugged her back. 

“Yeah. No boys.” You said meekly as you took another good look at her. The shirt looked way better on her than it ever did on you. It fell just below her hips, the way it did on you but she somehow made it look so stylish. She just had on a pair of workout leggings underneath and fluffy socks. Her blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail and you noticed how she managed to not look like a founding father with her hair pulled back. 

Subconsciously you twisted the bottom of your oversized college crewneck in your fingers. You were practically wearing the same thing as her but you felt like a middle school girl in gym class while she just screamed model off duty. 

Add that to the reasons he noticed her and not me. 

You needed to stop comparing yourself to her. But it was hard when the stark contrasts were so evident. 

“So,” Carissa clapped her hands together. “Chris told me about your love for tequila so I made some of my famous spicy margaritas! And I just put on some popcorn and I may have gone a little overboard at Ulta today.” 

You followed her gaze and it landed on an array of face masks and nail polish. 

“Sounds like my que to leave. Have fun, ladies.” Chris pecked you on the cheek before pulling Carissa into a passionate kiss. You turned away, your face reddening. 

“Thanks, baby.” You heard Carissa sigh. You heard the sound of them kissing again and you looked for any welcome distraction. 

As if he could feel your pain, a wet nose booped your hand and you smiled down at your favorite little pup. 

“Hi buddy.” You bent down and pressed a kiss to his nose. “I’ve missed you so much. Yes I have.” You ruffled his fur and smiled a genuine smile as he started licking your face. 

“Oh boy, Bubba found his girlfriend.” Chris laughed as he bent down next to you. “I think he missed you more than I did when we were in Canada. Every time we would FaceTime his ears would perk up.” 

“That’s cause he’s my best bud.” You kept talking to Dodger. 

“Ouch.” Chris gently pushed you. You winked in his direction and for a moment everything felt normal. Chris’s eyes sparkled as if he was appreciating the normalcy too. 

“Chris, please.” You were snapped out of it when Carissa let out a playful whine. 

Chris blinked and then slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “Alright, baby. I’m gone.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“He did not!” Carissa burst out laughing as you finished telling the story of when Chris singlehandedly knocked down an entire aisle in CVS. 

“I’ve never seen him turn so red in my life. I think he went back to that CVS every day for the next year to apologize. And of course he stayed afterwards to help clean up.” You wiped your eyes, tears falling from laughter. 

“Sounds just like him.”  

You took another sip of your margarita. You were surprised at how much fun you were actually having. You guys had just finished your second sheet mask of the night and were currently working on demolishing the stuffed crust pizza you ordered. Manis and Pedis to follow. 

“Have I walked in on an evil plan being hatched?” You both turned as Chris emerged from the basement, Dodger in tow. Thankfully he had put a shirt on because his tattoos always did something to you. 

“Had to share the CVS Incident of ‘17.” You replied as Carissa hid her face as she giggled again. 

“Oh god,” Chris groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead. “Please. Let that story die.” You watched as he positioned himself behind Carissa, caging her in with his arms. You always knew Chris was an affectionate person. If it was a year ago, you would have been the one trapped between him. He had a lot of love to give and wasn’t afraid to show it. He placed a kiss on the top of her head before his blue eyes met yours. 

You knew that he was silently asking you if you were having a good time. You could see the sense of hope that was behind the question. 

“You came up just in time for a manicure.” Carissa turned around on the stool and smiled up at her boyfriend. “I’m thinking hot pink would look amazing on you.” 

“I don’t know, I think he’s more of an aquamarine kind of guy.” You lifted up the shade of blue that was in front of you. “Compliments his eyes.” 

“Ooh, you are so right, Y/N/N.” 

“Wow, would you look at that? Looks like the game is back on.” Chris jokingly started moving away from Carissa.

“Oh come on, baby. One hand.” Carissa pulled at his hand, her lips coming out in a pout.

Chris gave her a look of fake annoyance but you could see the smile forming on his lips before he let out a dramatic sigh.

“One hand.” 

“Yay!” 

You watched as Chris sat down and Carissa got to work painting his nails. 

“Okay, Y/N. Tell me about the men in your life.” Carissa looked away from Chris’s hand and turned to you.

“Well, I guess you’ve already met them. Chris, Scott and Dodger are it.” You shrugged, half kidding and half not. Chris gave you a look of what you could only call pity and you chose to ignore him. You could feel your face become hot at your lack of a love life. 

“Oh that can’t be the case. You’re absolutely gorgeous, there’s no way that men aren’t all over you. Right, Chris? Tell her she’s beautiful.” 

“She knows I think she’s beautiful.” Chris said, his tone seriously as his eyes never left yours. “It’s more of getting her to know that.”  

“We’re not going to talk about it.” 

You and Chris stared each other down before Carissa cleared her throat. 

“Well one day you are going to find something like what we have.  The hopeless romantic in me truly believes that there is someone for everyone; and I know that if we can find happiness like this, so can you. You’re an amazing person, Y/N.” 

You looked down and bit your lip. You wanted so badly not to like her, to have her be some terrible person so you could justify the feelings that you had for her boyfriend. And yet, here she was, being the kindest person and caring truly for your feelings and your happiness. 

“Thank you, Carissa.” 

She smiled a toothy grin before turning her attention back to Chris. Chris kept his eyes on you a moment longer but when you didn’t look back he sighed and focused on his girlfriend. 

- - - - - - - 

“You don’t have to do that.” Carissa came up behind you as you finished washing the plates from before. 

“It’s really no problem.” You shrugged. “You did all of this, the least I can do is clean up.” 

“Yeah, but you’re my guest. A host should never have her guest clean up.” You knew she meant it without malice but the words stung. She was right. That’s all you were in this house, a guest. You were their guest. They lived here, together. 

You just nodded and finished the plate you were cleaning before stepping away from the sink so Carissa could finish. You mumbled that you were headed to the bathroom and quickly made your departure from the kitchen. 

You rounded the familiar corner and bit your lip as you were five steps away from the bathroom, where you could finally take a deep breath. 

“Hey sweetheart.” You jumped as Chris stepped out of his bedroom, a grin plastered on his face. “I think you made a good call on the nail polish color.” He waved his fingers in your face, jokingly. 

You let out a soft laugh but refused to meet his eyes, instead eying the bathroom door that was so close and yet so far. 

“Okay, come on.” Chris’s voice got serious. “Is there something going on at work? Are you sick? Why are you so…” Chris motioned his hands up and down your body. 

“So what, Chris?” 

“So sad?” His eyebrows creased in concern. “You know you can tell me anything.” 

Not everything. 

“I told you at the restaurant, I’m fine.” 

“Yeah and I barely believed you then.” You bit your lip and once again looked away from him. You should have known that he knew you were lying out of your ass. 

“Chris, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem.” You huffed. 

“Of course it’s my problem.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“But it’s not.” You snapped. Chris took a step back at your sudden change in attitude. “Just back off. You’re not my boyfriend.” 

“And?” He snapped back, but he did move closer to you. He reached out and grabbed your forearms, pulling you into him.  “I may not be your boyfriend but I am your best friend.” 

“Chris, just let it go. It doesn’t even concern you.” You lied as you pushed him away.  

“Well clearly this one thing as something to do with me. Since you’ve been acting like a mega bitch since I got home.” He crossed his arms. 

You took a step back. Chris had never called you that before. Yes, you two had gotten into some heated discussions in the past and maybe have gone a couple times without talking to each other for maybe a day. But never once has he called you a bitch. 

“Chris!” Carissa’s scolding voice came from behind. “Apologize to her right now, there is no reason to call any woman that word.” 

Chris’s gaze held yours before it softened. 

He sighed and dropped his arms. “Fuck...sweetheart. I’m-” 

“Thank you for having me over, Carissa. I really did have a great time.” You turned away from him before he could finish. “I think I’m going to head out though.” 

“Of course.” Carissa glared at Chris over your shoulder. “Please let us-or me, know when you get home. We can plan another one soon.” 

“Sure.” You smiled weakly at her before casting one last look at Chris. He opened his mouth to say something but you just shook your head and made your way out of the house. 

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[elysianslove]

hi eli bby !! its me vio again shhshf

i loved ur vball player crush hcs w miya twins && suna and can i have that too w sakusa, semi && shirabu ? MY UNDERRATED BOYS CRIES SM <//3 thank u sm <33

hiiiii my love!!! tysm for requesting these boys i love them so much. i hope you like this lysm <3

sakusa kiyoomi 

considering what i’ve seen in the anime, and some manga panels, i really don’t think omi’s a peoples person. so even in school, i doubt he was very involved with other students, and probably kept to himself 

he’s also hyper-aware of his surroundings constantly, including the people around him, so the fact that he noticed you wasn’t a shock

it’s that he noticed you, and then he couldn’t stop thinking about you

probably had some dream about you that same night that cursed him with a crush on you yk the dreams i’m talking about right? 

he still continues to keep to himself, and whenever he spots you from his peripheral vision he just dashes out of there. he realizes that forcing himself to act normally around you might actually improve his situation and help him get over whatever this stupid crush was but he was not taking any chances

he also knew nothing about you, just your last name! 

so anyways both the boys and girls vbc’s are heading the same school, so they got one bus for the both of you and combined them. 

because his general dislike for crowds, omi usually sits out in the front, especially because the door to the bus is right next to him. idk he just seems like the kind to map out an escape plan for every room/vehicle he enters i don’t have a reason why i think so

the game was happening on a weekend, really early, like way too early, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were tired. it’s an unspoken rule that those who sit in the back make a lotta noise and all that, so you opted for the front seats instead to at least try and rest a bit before the game

you don’t sit directly next to him, but there’s only an aisle separating the two of you

because, yk, manners, you give him a small smile before saying, “good morning!” and settling in your seat, your bag between your legs

omi on god freezes up lmfao

he doesn’t mean to sound so rude but it just comes out that way! he says something along the lines of “what are you doing here?” and immediately regrets it after it leaves his lips. he visibly cringes 

but instead of being thrown off, you just laugh, and sakusa curses everything behind his mask because holy shit were you gorgeous and wow was his stomach just somersaulting 

not a nice feeling 

you explain to him briefly that you’re on the vbc and you were heading to play the girls of the same school he was gonna play against and all that, and he just hums and nods and tries to ignore the thump thump thump of his heart 

you don’t really interact during the bus ride going to, it’s coming back that you do 

you tell him that you managed to glimpse the last bit of his game, where he was landing a spike, and you complimented his skills and pointed out his freakish wrist move 

he noted that he didn’t get to see you play and your brain went opportunity! 

you go “well maybe you should come to one of my dates” like the absolute smooth talker you are 

omi just hums and goes “i’ll see” 

absolutely is there lol

the development into a relationship is more implicit than explicit. the two of you don’t announce to the world, but honestly, neither do you do it to yourselves. like you’d been on a coffee date with him at some point and your parent or sibling texted something you found funny and mentioned him as your boyfriend and you showed it to him and he was like

hm

am i your boyfriend 

like idk am i your girlfriend 

he said yeah obviously 

i love this boy so fucking much pleaseeeee

but yes just as your development into a couple is subtle, so is your overall relationship. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way

semi eita

omg pretty setter semi eeee

so yk how shiratorizawa students live in dorms? there’s no way semi hasn’t noticed you before, even if it’s separate dorms for different genders. like you two probably come across each other every once in a while at a vending machine or something, and exchange a word or two 

it’s not until when semi starts to look forward to seeing you, or when he gets disappointed every time you don’t make an appearance, that he realizes, you know, he’s kinda developed a liking to you

he doesn’t really know much about you, aside your name and your favorite go-to snack from the vending machine, so he’s left a little frustrated at the lack of interactions you two have. like he’s just living off that small laugh of acknowledgment and the hi, hope you sleep well! you know? like he wants more from you. he wants to get to know you

he can’t seem to ever see you in school either, because the stars hate him that much and don’t wanna align for the two of you, not even a little to share one class with him. just one

it’s just his luck, though, when a busy weekend for all the sports teams comes along, and each sport is sectioned off to a bus. volleyball boys and girls in one bus, swimming boys and girls in one bus, etc. 

he really doesn’t expect it when you get on the bus, because what the fuck you play volleyball??? and then he really doesn’t expect it when you recognize him, gasp and grin, and wave at him, and go over to sit by him

his brain’s short-circuiting 

you immediately start conversation as you’re setting your bag down like “i didn’t know you played volleyball!”

and he laughs and nods like “i didn’t know you did either” 

it’s honestly a really cute and satisfying moment like okay maybe the stars were just taking their time aligning thank you universe 

the two of you click immediately. like annoyingly so. you have so much in common, and you spend the entire ride chatting excitedly about everything and semi’s wishing he’d just asked you to hang out way sooner, like as early as the first time you’d met at that vending machine 

the girls’ games finish a lot later than the boys, so he comes and watches you play, and is enamored by you, completely. in his head he’s just ‘this girl just keeps growing more perfect.’

he walks back with you to the bus, and sits next to you as well. when you arrive back at the school, you don’t immediately go to your dorms, and he suggests grabbing a refreshing drink from somewhere nearby

it’s incredible how you still have so much to talk about 

the time passes really quick with him

it’s while you’re having that drink with him, probably iced tea or boba or something, he tells you about his small passion for music, and you make him promise to play you something at some point. he loops his pinky with yours :)

he also confides in you about having been replaced on his last year, and how he tries not to let it affect him but he really can’t help him. from then on, after each of your practices, you invite him in your gym, and have him set to you, just so you both have an excuse to spend time with each other, and so that he gets to practice and play the way he really wants to, without any restrictions placed upon him and no one waiting to take his place

i think as a couple you’d probably really bring out the best in each other, and you’re constantly always, always there for each other. really, really reliant and supportive as partners, you know? 

you go to all his games, and whenever he’s pitched in, you scream his name the loudest and cheer him on so much. one look at your face, and he’s reminded of who he is and why he does what he does, and he’s immediately grounded aw <3

shirabu kenjirō

omg shirabu with a crush 🥺🤲🏼 i love it when characters seem so cold and standoffish but as soon as they’re around the people they care about they do a 180. that’s shirabu 100%

he really, really, really liked you. like it was embarrassing at this point. he totally denied it every time anyone even thought it, and he really tried his hardest not to be obvious around you

i like to think he saw you around school and that’s how it developed a little, but maybe you were friends with some of the vbc boys because of your shared interest in the sport, and you come to play with them sometimes after practice, he’d just never be there

but one time you walked in and he was like guess im not leaving 

he was a little starstruck at the fact that you played volleyball. he honestly wouldn’t care, but it sorta felt nice that there really was something that you two had in common

and you were good. at everything. you received semi and ushijima’s serves, and goshiki’s and ōhira’s spikes, perfectly, and reacted to tendō’s blocks so well, and hit his tosses just right. you were incredible. maybe your skills were magnified from his specific lens, but there really was no denying you were skilled 

damn this. all this. 

especially any time you’d spike his toss and give him a really wide smile and say, “nice toss!” like seriously the way his heart’s spasming cannot be healthy what the fuck 

and then he finds out the girls are sharing a bus with them, and then you walk in

and then you walk towards him

obviously, outwardly he looks unimpressed and unfazed but trust, his palms are sweaty as fuck 

before the bus moves, you stand by his seat and make small talk with him about volleyball, before you realize the bus is moving and you have to sit down, but you’re still in the middle of a conversation with him, so you just sit next to him and continue like nothing happened

he just. allows it. 

the school you’d been going to had a really big court where both the girls and boys were playing in the same gymnasium on opposite sides of the court, so when you arrived and changed and all, you were like “wanna warm up together” couple goals <3

pls semi, taichi and tendō would probably tease the fuck out of him lmfao. he’d just glare at them but he has such a big blush on his cheeks as he stretches and warms up with you that the glare is completely ineffective 

you go to sit next to him on the bus ride home, but the day’s exhaustion catches up to you, plus the bus’s movements are lulling you, so you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, and when shirabu first notices that you’d actually fallen asleep, he looks down at you with such a dreamy and awestruck face. goshiki took a picture and likes to torment him with it. shirabu has it as his lockscreen now lol 

as your boyfriend, he’s the exact same. very standoffish to everyone outwardly but to you? it’s a different story. 

nonetheless it’s not very obvious. so yes, he will have a scowl on his face as he tells you off, but his lips are slightly upturned and there’s a little pink shade on his cheeks that show just how endearing he thinks you are 

really loves to practice with you because he loves seeing you in your zone like that. also you look hot

anyways yes he’s such a cutie i will not take criticism 

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

10.

you’re both so lame

Bakugou Katsuki was roughly 16 when he realized the stakes to be the best, the top, the number one hero. It was more than having a strong quirk, physical strength, keen observational skills, smarts, or being brave – it was all these things he realized that he lacked something more. He realized that you had to have heart, compassion, something he sorely lacked.

After all, what good is a hero working for himself and not for others?

Failing his Provisional License Exam made him realize that, putting up with shitty Half-and-Half.

He could be the hero he wanted to be, but that'd put him in leagues of Endeavor, and there was no way he wanted to wind up as shitty as that old fart.

He was lacking, but he just didn't know where. No, he knew where he lacked but just didn't know how to consider them.

He wanted to be more, bigger - become a better version of himself.

Considering his shitty self, however, that seemed like a laughable and farfetched idea.

“Are you stupid or something?”

He looked up at the figure who stopped in front of him under the pouring rain, meeting your gaze - surprised, annoyed, angry, and worried, all at once. Too lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized that it had rained and that he was soaking.

Grabbing his hand, you forced him to his feet. “Come on, get under here.” Once under the umbrella, you practically shove it in his hand, letting him hold because he was taller. Slipping your bag in front of you, you rummaged through your things for a handkerchief. Once finding it, you wiped his wet face, grumbling under your breath. “Seriously, if you want to be number one, we can’t have you getting sick on me.”

At the sound of your voice, your mothering, he slowly came to. “Sorry,” was the most intelligent thing he could think of saying to you. Going back on your words, he found his voice again. "you remembered."

Rolling your eyes, you poked between his brows. "How could I not? It was all you could talk about." Shaking your head, now that his face was dry, you began to walk, he followed. “So, where’re ya headed?”

“Home.”

“Really? School break?”

It still surprises him at how easy it is to speak to you now, even after everything. And he means everything. It amazes him how natural it was to talk to you, how at ease he feels.

“Something like that.”

Humming, the two of you make your way through the wet road, waiting by the crosswalk as cars pass by, the light overhead blaring red. “Well, you’re lucky I’m heading home. I’ll just drop you off first, okay?”

Once the light blinks green, the two of you began to walk with the crowd.

Shrugging, he adjusts his hold on the umbrella, slipping his free hand into his pocket. “Yeah, alright.”

You said nothing else, and walked on, the falling rain filling in the noise.

In turn, Bakugou had little else to say with his mind riddled with his thoughts filled with insecurities and fears regarding the path he wants for himself.

At 16, he realized now how quirks were nothing more than an added bonus, they could either make or break you, depending on its usage. Like you said in middle school, there’ll always be other quirks better than yours, and nobody would give a damn about how you well you did in junior high when you get to the real world. UA was such an eye-opener. That, and you and Deku.

Now, as he turned to you, watching you hum a tune under your breath as you skipped happily on the wet ground, carmine eyes softened as he realized just how much he wanted to be someone’s hero.

“For what it’s worth…I’m working my way to the top.”

Blinking, you turned to face him, the corners of your lips lifting. “Yeah?”

Nodding, he regarded you in kind regards, feeling the darkness seep away just by the curve of your lips, the warmth in your eyes. “Had a few speed bumps to get through, first.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Exhaling, sharply, he tilts a bit, careful to not bring the umbrella with him lest he gets you wet. “…exhausting, but no way am I fucking giving in that easy.”

“Glad to hear that then.”

At 16, he remembered that one thing he wished for the moment he got his quirk, the one person who mattered the most to him, the other person who helped propel him to the top, he finally remembered what he had to do.

Finally smiling, the best he could do anyway, you rolled your eyes at him, playfully punching his chest. “There’s the fucker, I know.”

Being friends with someone like Midoriya Izuku is both a blessing and a curse – one, you have this sweet cinnamon roll, whose life goal was to be the best hero at his own pace whilst ensuring that people are safe and sound; then, there’s the fact that he’s disturbingly perceptive and dangerously analytical. For short, he can read you like a book.

Since you were younger, Izuku knew of your crush on Bakugou.

He was actually rooting for both of you to end up together, which was only solidified during the ‘proposal’. Dear God, that was so long ago!

Even when the blond boy turned out to be a shithead, lording over with his overgrown pride, Izuku was there to assure you that your crush is valid and that there's almost something good underneath Kacchan's pride. 

One Valentine’s day, sophomore year of middle school to be exact, with some push from your green-haired best friend, you were planning on giving Bakugou Katsuki Valentine’s chocolates. The idea intimidated you to no end, but it was a step. Your mother had helped you make them, all while teasing you throughout the process. Your dad had cried the whole time, whilst your grandparents drank tea to the tune of his wails.

You had given some pieces to Izuku, who enjoyed them much to your relief. So now, the only problem was actually giving them to the blond boy.

“B-Bakugou-kun!” a girly voiced called out, startled, you hid, back against the wall. “I-I made you chocolates! T-These are for you!”

It didn't help that you were not the only one who harbored a crush on him, in fact, half the population liked him, you had a lot of competition. Izuku would say that you had a leg against the rest, just because you were childhood friends. (To which you'd roll your eyes on because it was so fucking cliche)

"HAH?"

"Um, um...I was hoping to give them to you! A-Also, I-I...like you! Please go out with me-"

"Like I'd go out with an extra like you," he cuts her off harshly, sadistically. "none of you are fit for someone like me." There was a whimper, followed by a dark chuckle. "And you have the gall to actually hand me these? You must be outta your mind. Double, if you think I'd ever want to be found dating an extra like you."

Though they weren't directed at you, every word said sent a painful jab to your heart, loosening the grip on your chocolates.

You should have known better that Bakugou wasn’t one for Valentine's Day, he’d either snub the gifts, burst them to bits, or pass them to his ‘friends’. Today was no different. Braving a look, you saw as he harshly took the chocolate off the girl's hands and blew them to bits, his 'friends' laughing behind him while the girl stared in horror before running off crying.

Had that been you, it could've been worst.

Bakugou Katsuki could care less about feelings or liking someone, he cared for nothing but himself.

So, instead, you gave them to Izuku, meaning he got two chocolates for Valentine’s Day.

"EH!? (Nickname), what happened!?" seeing the look in your eyes, Izuku was by your side.

“Sorry, Izuku, I couldn’t do it.” you murmur, defeatedly.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

You could only exhale, limply leaning against him. Still worried, he wraps an around your shoulders, squeezing comfortably. Seeing the chocolate in your best friend's hands, you felt the burn in your eyes, the squeeze in your chest, remembering all that time you spent working on it only to go to waste. In a way, it was metaphorically like dealing with your feelings, this stupid one-sided crush.

“Honestly? I’m tired of this stupid crush.”

Numbness washed over you, crawling over your nerves.

Seeing the weariness in your eyes, Izuku relents his words and works on a smile. “I-I’ll give you double for White Day!”

Smiling weakly, you replied. “Thanks, Izuku, I look forward to it.”

(Unbeknownst to the both of you, a blond teen listened in, hands balled into fists, sparks going off, before stomping away angrily.)

“Um, Aizawa-sensei, is there a reason why we’re doing night classes?”

Lazily glancing at Jirou, seeing her in gear like the rest of her classmates, who seemed tired and confused for being in the gym at 09:06 in the evening.

“Since you’ll be heroes soon, you have to keep in mind that you work around the clock. Meaning, there’s a chance that you’re more likely to work day shifts or night shifts.” His students shifted, reacting to his words.

“Well, that’s true.” Satou nods, arms crossed against his massive chest.

“Well, I work better at night, since I love to sleep in~” Kaminari says, grinning ear to ear.

“Tokoyami-chan, wouldn't you be better suited for the night?” Asui asked Tokoyami, who nodded once.

“Yes, as Dark Shadow and I have been making progress.”

“That being said, we’re only doing these night classes at random, to properly prepare yourselves. With that in mind, I’ve called for help with these classes.”

The class gasped in unison, half were excited, half were in awe. After all, it’s not every day you get outside help. Who knows who they'll meet?

As if being summoned, two figures appeared from the shadows, both sporting ninja-like costumes and donning masks - a sly kitsune on the small female, and a stoic angry-looking fox on the tall male. Together, the two bowed - holding their fists in their palms - at Aizawa, then at the class.

Standing straight, they began to take off their masks, lowering their hoods.

Midoriya and Bakugou gasped, immediately recognizing the two whose eyes glinting a dangerous yellow.

“They are from the Yoruichi dojo, they’re trained and proficient in combat, especially at night. We'll be under their care.”

“E-EH?”

"Hold up!"

“Isn’t that Midoriya and Bakugou’s childhood friend?”

You waved a two-fingered salute, rather nonchalantly. “Yo!”

“(Nickname)!” Izuku called to you, excitedly, his shock wearing off.

“What are you doing here?” Bakugou shouted, still in shock.

Tutting you folded your arms against your chest, fixing a dull look towards your childhood friends. “Weren’t you listening? Or were your explosions too loud that you’ve gone deaf?” those words were specifically directed towards Bakugou, who yelled incoherent words at you. Turning your head away, avoiding his yells, you stuck your tongue out childishly.

Beside you, your grandfather stoically took in the group before him, before his eyes fell on green and blond. “So, this is the two of you donning your heroics? Not too shabby.” Says your grandfather, the two boys stood straighter, much to the shock of their classmates, especially for Bakugou.

“Shihan!” Bakugou and Midoriya say in unison.

“Ah, the two of them straightened up!”

“Even Bakugou!”

“Just who is this old man?”

"He's the head of the Yuroichi clan," Aizawa said, hands still in his pocket. "a retired underground hero who's trained countless heroes, mastered the art of stealth and even earned the respect of several Yakuza clans for his many feats. He is simply called Shihan." Scratching at his cheek, he added. "Even I trained under him."

"That's an impressive track record," remarked Yaoyorozu, Todoroki nods beside her. "Countless heroes have been under his wing, he must be that impressive."

"Y-Yakuza clans!?" shrieked Urakaka.

"An experienced underground hero to help us further enhance our skills, as expected of UA!" Iida praised, hands moving animatedly, his classmates were careful not to get hit by them.

"He even trained Aizawa-sensei, that's so cool!" Kirishima comments, fists bumping producing a satisfying 'clack' sound.

“But, 'Shihan'? Isn’t that just a title?” Mashirao asked, confused. Beside him, Mezuo shrugged.

“Well, you get to know his name only if you’ve rightfully earned it.” You tell them, dangling against the banister, legs swinging.

...

...

...

“What the hell?”

“When did she get there!?”

Giggling, you drop to the ground soundlessly, landing next to Izuku to hug his arm. Shooting the blond a look, you playfully kicked his boots.

"(N-Nickname)!"

“Granddaughter,” called your old man, arms folded behind his back. “get over here.”

“Yes~” taking a step back from your friends, you flipped backward to your grandfather, landing easily into a seating pose, yellow eyes alight with mischief.

“W-Wait, sensei, you said that we’d have to train against them right?”

“Correct. The Yuroichi clan is the best martial artist you’ll find, but you won’t hear squat of them in the real world because of how good they keep their façade.” At that, you winked at your (still) gaping best friends. “That being said, within this class, you’ll see exactly how you’ll fare in the real world especially at night.”

Impassively staring out, your grandfather continued to stare down at the students of Class 2-A, his yellow eyes gleaning on each one of them whilst you rocked in place beside him.

“You may have had your work studies, internship, and last year's fiasco cut out for you, but that's still a fraction of what's to be expected of you as heroes." Some of the group fell silent at the mention of their freshmen year, a lot of things happened to them that forced them all to grow up too fast.

"Yuroichi,” Aizawa turns to you - cutting everyone's thought process, bringing them to now, you blink. “you can start out by picking the person you’d like to go against.”

Humming, you gave the class a good look, yellow eyes dancing from person to person. Izuku's detailed analysis flowed in your head, regarding each of his classmates.

Eventually, you chose Ochako, because you had been told that she’s one of the best combatants in class. Also, she had a rather interesting quirk you'd like to see with up close.

"I won't go easy on you, (Name)-chan!" the brunette says to you, fists clenched against her chest.

Nodding, the two of you walk forward to the mat, Class 2-A stood in line to watch from the side.

“Good luck, Ochako-chan! Gero~”

"Ochako-chan, let's go!!!"

“Go kick some butt, Uraraka!”

“This’ll be good! Some girl on girl action!” someone said, which was met with an angry bark and explosion soon after.

“Take your position,” says Aizawa. “everyone, keep your eyes on the two.” Lifting his hands in the air, readying. “Begin.”

Just as his hands slapped against each other, the slap resounding throughout the gym, you had Ochako pinned down to the ground, both her palms open and outstretched away from each other.

“What!?”

“What the hell?”

“She’s too fast!”

From his spot, your grandfather scoffed angrily, unimpressed. "Granddaughter, don't show off."

Smiling cheekily, you released the brunette and walked back to your position. "Yes, yes. Sorry~" came your breezy reply, to which he rolled his eyes at. Turning to Ochako, you offered a peace sign in apology. Rolling her shoulders, her eyes remained wide in confusion at how fast it all went down.

Aizawa, unfazed by how fast things were going, stood idle. "Alright, we'll try again. This time, play fair." He says to you, mostly. Eyes flashing red in warning, causing chills to run down your spine, your expression sours a bit.

This time though, as you both circled the training mat and settled into positions, you took a deep inhale, eyes closing. As you exhaled, your eyes slowly peeled open and revealed (e/c), much to the confusion of many - save for your grandfather, Aizawa, and your best friends.

"Begin."

Ochako struck first, coming at you with her hands open to take you down, but you managed to dodge easily in time, rolling on her back to land on your feet. Striking for her head, she easily deflected your attack and grabbed your arm. Anticipating this, you twisted your whole body, causing her to lose balance and trip. 

"Uwa!"

"That was so cool!"

"GO KICK HER ASS, URARAKA!"

While the class cheered, as the fight went on, two boys were especially keyed on the fight between the two females, taking note of your eyes.

Surging towards you, trying to get at you again, you stood your ground and waited. When she was within reach, you easily slipped your arm in hers and twirled around, as though you were doing the rodeo, and tossed her. Disoriented, she quickly got back to her wits, throwing punches your way, which you parried off quickly. And with your attacks, she easily dispatched your chances.

It was a rather even match.

"Wow, they're amazing..." commented Sato under his breath.

"I keep forgetting how good Uraraka is in terms of close combat." Sero seconds, just as Ochako aptly deflects your kicks.

"Yeah, but have you seen Yuroichi?" Throughout the fight, you ensured to knock away Ochako's hands - removing all chances of her using her quirk, cutting all her openings, and slipping through her defenses. "Damn, since's good."

Ochako grabbed hold of your arm, and you let her. Feeling weightless a playful smile plasters on your lips, much to her confusion, before you grabbed at her arms, throwing yourself back and using gravity to your advantage, maneuvering with her weight until you kicked her by the backs of her knees. Once again, the brunette found herself pinned to the ground. "And, dead."

"Alright, Yoruichi wins."

A series of cheers echoed behind you.

Grinning, you got off Ochako - who immediately released her quirk, and helped her up. "Thanks for the fight, Ochako~"

Despite being bruised all over, she mirrors your grin. "My pleasure, (Name)-chan! You're so cool!"

"Not as cool as you were!" you swayed a little, finding your footing. "Man, your quirk is no joke."

"Now, can anyone tell me what happened?" Aizawa turned to the class expectantly.

For a moment, there was silence, before Sero spoke up.

"Um, Yuroichi moved too fast?"

"And?"

"She...well, she shifted her fighting style time to time." Mashirao added, his tail noticeable shaking excitedly.

"Oh yeah! That!" Kirishima blinked, like he had a light bulb moment, hammering a fist into his open palm. "It's like one of those characters in those fighting games!" Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari nodding in agreement.

"And because of Uraraka's fighting style, she had to be the antithesis of her to catch her off-guard." Todoroki supplemented.

Aizawa nodded - save for Kirishima's comment, at every comment. "Anything else to add?"

"She was studying Uraraka," muttered Katsuki, arms crossed against his chest. "from the moment she chose her to the moment she stepped in the mat."

"Also, with her quirk allowed her to predict exactly how she'll attack." Izuku seconds in, remembering your eyes flashing quickly from (e/c) to yellow. "However, she only used it when it suited her."

Narrowing your eyes at your childhood friends, you called out. "Hey, that's cheating! The two of you know too much!"

"No, that's true." Aizawa pointedly ignores your complaints, nodding at the two.

Grumbling under your breath, Ochako could only give you a laugh before handing you a towel. Nodding in thanks, you dropped to the ground, sitting.

"Alright, so now, you've just paid witness to what you're up against. Next, we're going to test the rest of you. Shihan," Aizawa turned to your grandfather "I believe you've made a decision?"

Your grandfather grunted. "Yes." he nods, turning to the shorter man, shoulders relaxing. "Standard Rabbit Hole exercise."

Pursuing your lips at your grandfather's words, eyes widening slightly, you hummed afterward. "Heh, okay~"

"What does that mean?" a confused Asui asked, poking at her cheek. "Gero?"

"I believe it's an exercise where a whole group is to capture one chosen person. It's a common stealth exercise that the military uses." Yaoyoruzu explained kindly.

"You heard him, your objective is to capture Yuroichi."

Half the class blinked in disbelief, eyes wide like saucers.

"Wait, all of us?"

"All of you." Shihan confirmed with a small smirk, one that sent chills down the students' spines. Aizawa mirrors his mentor's smirk, albeit it was a smaller and softer-looking one.

"The person to catch her gets a free lunch stub for a week."

Mirroring your grandfather's smirk, you hopped to your feet. "Well, this'll be fun."

When you were younger and when your quirk first started to appear, it was rather unpleasant. Because first of all, you had your first period. You honestly thought you were going to die then and there had your mom and grandmother not been there to guide you. Second, straight after your period, you were overwhelmed by senses you started feeling - smell, sight, hearing, taste. It was all too much that you puked, nearly passing out on the spot.

It took you a while to get used to it, scared shitless at how much you could feel and sense things, and especially how more alert you these were happening at night.

At the time, Izuku was wildly concerned about how you've been losing sleep. You didn't have the heart to tell him about your quirk just yet, fearful of the power you had and how alienated Izuku would feel.

You were ever grateful to have such an amazing family to walk you through your quirk, the family's secretive history, and being a hero in your own way.

Since you were younger, you had joked that your family might have been descendants to ninjas, something your grandfather had yet to confirm or not. (Judging his dealings with Yakuza, you'd bet it was true)

Training hadn't been easy over the years since you were expected to master a great deal of martial arts. Some years later, you were forced to go through rigorous training to heighten your senses, learning when to turn them on or off. From your grandmother, you had learned to preserve energy and make use of them any time during day time, just remembering its drawback.

Quirks were always an added bonus, something that just made you special than the average man. Yet, quirks don't make you.

You learned that from your two best friends - Izuku, quirkless at birth, but proved that even without a quirk, you could still be a hero; and then Bakugou, though was gifted with an amazing quirk, if you had a shitty attitude, you were basically nothing without it.

Yellow eyes gleamed under the light, a glint of mischief playing through that mirrored the mask in your hand.

At the age of 14, you finally mastered your senses, allowing them to come on its full potential once it was dusk. Per family tradition, you were given a mask - one that helped protect you and leave enemies unaware of you using your quirk.

Now, at 17, you were seeing your quirk - quirks, as a whole - with a new set of eyes.

Donning the mask on, a loud blaring alarm rang out, signifying the start of the exercise.

The fox was ready to play.

20 against 1 should be an intimidating feat, but you, it felt strangely exciting. That, or maybe it was the warrior in you. These kinds of things were exciting in a way. This play of cat and mouse - well, rabbit, the thrill of the chase, stealth, saboteur, ambush - you could feel your blood tingle in glee.

The object was simple: one of the twenty students had to find and capture you. Should be easy, considering they had really strong quirks and experience you sorely lacked.

But as a Yuroichi, you were always taught never to underestimate your enemy and to always make use of your environment as much as you should use your quirk, they always helped to your advantage.

5 minutes in and you were caught in what seemed to be a crossfire of students, all deadset on capturing you - for their grade or that week's worth of free lunch. Frankly, having everyone come at you all at once was adorable, yet, it was rather fool-hardy.

It made them all the more reckless.

Grunting, you felt the echolocation sound back to you, giving you an idea of the area around you and the number of students in the way. Mapping your way, you avoided grabbing hands (appendages, tapes, and acid, oh my), hopping from one's shoulder to one's head, until your foot met the wall. Kicking yourself off, you were sent back, hands grabbing a ledge before using your weight to drop the ladder a few inches.

Hanging upside down, you lazily eyed the two heroes before you who individually kinda reminded you of grapes and banana.

"We got her!"

"That lunch is mine!"

Carefully coursing through the two, whisking through the grape boy’s balls, until you were in front of them, hands moved at lightning speed striking their abdomen, sides, and inner biceps, leaving them paralyzed and down.

"I-I can't move...?" Satou flexed his fingers but to no avail.

"GAH! Bested!" Mineta's balls fall to the ground, no longer sticking and rolling off like a ball.

Sensing someone behind you, you threw yourself forward, ice barely kissing the tips of your sandaled feet, barreling on the ground before crouching.

"Mineta, Satou! Are you okay?"

"How and why are you down?"

"S-She did something to us...!"

Mismatched eyes watched you coolly, you didn't let up, stance readying. 

You felt a rush of lighting behind you, followed by iron-clad soles hopping wall to wall. Seeing the mismatched teen's shifted posture, you smirked beneath your mask. Just as hands touched your head, you grabbed hold of his wrist, striking your knuckled index finger on his arms, before tossing him to the mismatched teen, his eyes widening at the incoming body.

"(NAME)!" an explosion sounded off.

As smoke filled the area, you stilled a moment, grunting lowly before turning on your heel and rushing the opposite direction. Hopping off the ground, you leaped building to building, not stopping once even as heroes followed after your trail.

Turning on your heel, eyeing the remaining heroes, you gave a two-fingered salute before falling backward. In midair, you twirled around, dodging an incoming combo move by Ochako and Sero, using the latter's body to cushion your fall, Ochako knocked out next to him.

Suddenly, you found yourself in some open area, with the remaining class surrounding you. Beneath the mask, you were smiling - almost madly, like the fox.

Easing into a stance, you all but raised a hand, flexing your index forward as if to say, 'come at me'.

And then it all came in a blur.

Attacks came left and right, but you were in tune with your senses enough to avoid each hit that came. You moved like water, fluidly, unyielding, splashing coolly on to the other even though the hit wasn't yours.

With your whimsical and unpredictable fighting style, it made it difficult for the class to know how you'd approach each of them, using their confusion to your advantage. Moves quick as lightning struck through through the bodies, but not enough to kill just enough to bruise and leave a mark. Adrenaline spiked through your veins, making you feel alive as your body danced with quick, harried moves. Not a single wasted hit. Carefully dodged attacks. Perfectly executed moves.

You were listening. Listening to everything, commanded only by your drive to fight. It was in the family and your blood was singing with every move. Hearing. Reacting. As your grandfather had said, you had to be one with the creatures and dance the night away.

Despite being unable to use his other arm, Izuku readily deflected your attacks with Black Whip working on trying to catch you off your feet. What he forgot was how much you knew him, how much you had helped him with his Shoot Style, and just how much you had predicted his actions. Letting Black Whip capture you, you allowed yourself to be swung around. Reaching Izuku, you took advantage of the proximity and wrapped your legs around his torso, thumb, and index finger pressed together jabbed at his elbows. For extra measure, you pressed at his inner arms.

Swinging your form back, yellow eyes fell on mint and blond who were fast approaching, hopping off your now paralyzed best friend.

A great leap over, you appeared between the two powerhouses. Grabbing their wrists, you forcefully tugged, switching sides and throwing them off, before kicking down to their ankles up to their torsos. Angered, Katsuki lifted a hand, to blast you away. Apparently, Todoroki thought of the same thing. Thankfully you ducked in time, but not enough time for the boys to realize their actions, and a loud explosion sounded off. The two were incapacitated from the blast meter...and anyone caught near it.

You landed soundlessly in front of them all, a few scratches on your costume but your fox mask still smiling.

Thirty minutes later, twenty students were down, half were paralyzed, unable to move their limbs, and had to be helped up by a fellow classmate, and half had bruises on their bodies.  A smirking Shihan greeted them, next to an impassive Aizawa, eyes glinting with a strange glee. 

"All twenty of you failed to capture Yuroichi," it was a simple statement, but man did it hurt their ego. First day of sophomore year and already they failed. "I'm not going to mince on you one by one, we can do that tomorrow. For now, tell me where you went wrong."

Grunting, the group looked at each other before it was Jiro who spoke first. "W-We were caught off guard...?"

"Correct."

"Yuroichi was too skilled." Mezo added, holding on to one of his arms.

"That's debatable, as you all should be, too, considering what you've been through in your first year. Anything else?"

Whilst the class were discussing amongst themselves, you walked towards your grandfather, his eyes regarding you with a soft, praising mien. He didn't say it, but the look in his eyes was the highest form of praise you'll get from him. Also, he handed you a bottle of water. Gleefully, you took off your mask, grinning toothily to your old man. Rolling his eyes, he ruffled at your sweaty hair.

"She fought dirty," came Katsuki's loud statement, glaring daggers at your smiling form, a bottle of water halfway through your mouth. You offered a peace sign, chugging at your drink greedily. "she's well-adept in close-ranged combat, especially because she knows all forms of martial arts and used it to her advantage and throw the lot of us off."

Izuku turned to his friend, eyes shining, as though he took his analysis right off his head.

"Furthermore, she used the situation to her advantage." Tokoyami's voice was loud and clear, Dark Shadow - a little worst for wear, nodded beside him. 

"Explain."

"She's well acquainted with the night, similar to my quirk, to which she uses her full potential and take us out whilst we are unaware of her capabilities as a fighter."

"A bit of stretch, but more or less right on the money." says your grandfather, nodding at Tokoyami. "Though, a few of you did give her a run for her money."

About to protest, you recalled Todoroki's ice, Katsuki's forwardness, Izuku's many quirks with One for All, and even Hagakure and Uraraka's teamwork, shoulders shrugging as you nodded once.

"It just goes to show that some of you may have underestimated Yoruichi for the mere fact that she has a latent quirk, too bad. Lest you all forget what happened when you all dealt with Togata Mirio last year?"

Your ears perked at that, remembering Izuku talking a mile about this amazing senior of his.

"Just because someone lacks in one aspect, doesn't mean they can't compensate elsewhere. Today's exercise shows that some of you are still leagues away from fully realizing that, and some of you are yet to be a testament of being more than your quirks. You all failed today. But make no mistake, there'll be brighter days to come. Or evening."

Aizawa's roundabout way of comfort did its job, easing the moods of his students. It was easy to find how he's such an amazing father figure to the class and yourself.

"Yuroichi-san, you were so cool!"

"Ne, ne, can you tell us more of your quirk?"

“More importantly, what the hell did you do?”

"You're seriously like that one character in those video games!"

"Can you do other stuff, too?"

Suddenly, the class was on you, questions were thrown left and right - it was making you a bit dizzy. Despite their injuries, they never looked so alive. You take a cautionary step back.

“Yes, please! (Nickname), please tell us!” Izuku asked eyes lit with life, his fingers making writing gestures.

“Yeah, Mineta and Satou were fine moments ago, then they’re not!”

"Hey, don't forget about Aoyama and Kaminari!"

"Tokoyami, too! I thought they'd be toe-to-toe at least."

"Oi, give her some fucking room to breath, stupid extras!" yelled Bakugou, hands sparking in warning.

Finishing your drink, you smiled at your explosive friend in thanks. "Well, my quirk's called 'The Night One', which means that I have the senses and abilities of nocturnal animals." Some nod at that, some try to digest the information. Giggling, you continue. "It basically means that I can see like an owl, hear like a bat, move like a cat, smell like a raccoon, and the like. It's major drawback though is that I get really sleepy in the morning and dehydrated."

"Why dehydrated?"

"Well, nocturnal animals are known to move better because there's no sun and it's easier for water balance to keep the body going. In the morning, all my water reserve's used up and I constantly have to keep myself hydrated to move."

"That makes sense," comments Mezuo, Koda nodding next to him.

Somewhere, Kaminari's and Ashido's head were spinning from the mini-Biology session.

“And as for what I did to some of you lot, it’s called ‘Chi-blocking’,” you explained simply, earning mix reactions – some were intrigued, some were confused, and some seemed perplexed. “In simpler terms, hitting your pressure points." Bringing your hand up, balling them into fists but curling index finger inward exposing the second joint, your thumb then locked in behind it to support the new position. You strike at nothing, just showing how you did what you did. "Which means that by blocking these areas, I’m also blocking out your quirks. After all, my quirk’s not that great, so I’d have to compensate greatly in martial arts.”

“That was a mouthful, foolish girl.”

Rolling your eyes at your grandfather, you flipped back to return to his side.

"She's practically a ninja at this point," nods Mashirao.

"Right, right, right!?" Hagakure says excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Eh, maybe. But again, my quirk's not that impressive."

"Nonsense, your quirk's plenty amazing, (Nickname)!" says your best friend, ever so ready to assure you, eyes bright. "It's perfect for any stealth mission!"

Katsuki nods, shooting you a look. "What Deku said. Don't sell yourself short, (Name)."

Your best friends' words made you smile the most, you duck your head into your scarf-hood to hide a dopey grin. "Dorks."

"Alright, that concludes tonight's lesson. Your classes have been adjusted. Get some rest."

"Ah, geez! Would you look at the time!"

Time check: It was now 02:32 am. To you, that's practically noontime.

“Oh," you say mostly to yourself, catching the attention of your two best friends, who turned to you. "and this might be probably too late to tell you guys now, but I’ve been transferred to UA, specifically in the Heroics Department…specifically in 2-A. Your class.”

Your parents were pro-heroes alright but were good at keeping a low profile and keeping a front. Many of their friends - the Bakugous and Midoriyas, especially, were led to believe that your father worked as an IT specialist while your mother was a customer support supervisor. It was a good alibi, especially considering that they were night shift jobs.

You could understand why your grandfather, parents, and Aizawa-san, chose to remain under the spotlight to save lives. You realize that it was rather half-assed of you to throw away their legacy, despite the fact that they were okay with whatever you wanted to do with your life so long as you were happy.

But you wanted to do more. You wanted to make them proud.

"This was more or less a formal introduction."

Their eyes bulged as your words began to sink in.

"I'll be in your care now~"

“…WHAT!?”

Name: (Name) Yuroichi

Quirk: The Night One | A quirk that grants the user the abilities and skills of every nocturnal creature, heightening their senses, abilities, and more but only at night. Because of its nocturnal nature, the user is rather restless and dehydrated during day time.

Power: 4/5

Speed: 5/5

Technique: 5/5

Intelligence: 4/5

Martial Arts: 10/5

Life at UA was…interesting. Much more interesting than how Izuku put it.

As much as you hated to leave your old school, your club, and your grandfather, you knew that it wouldn’t be fair to just hide away forever. You wanted to make something of yourself, regardless if it meant a shitload of challenges.

Thankfully, you had your best friends to keep you on your toes, making your transition to UA quite smooth.

Oh, and there was also the class, who readily took you in.

You found yourself getting along with Tokoyami, because like you, he worked well at night, and Ojiro, because he was a martial artist like you. Shoji was also an interesting character, as was Todoroki. Koda was someone you adored because he could get all the animals - especially the nocturnal ones you've been so fond of. Mostly, you hung with the boys, never really getting over your boyishness. But, you did enjoy Ochako’s company. And then there was Jirou, whom you shared a similar interest in a certain music genre. Momo made you feel like a cheap peasant, undeserving of her presence and grace. The rest of the girls were too girly for your taste but were nice enough.

Hitoshi - who had been placed in Class 2-B, was someone you'd considered a good friend. After all, you did help train him. He seemed to see you in the same regard. At times, when both of you were free or there'd be joint classes, he'd spar with you.

The struggle though was keeping up, now that you’ve mastered the way to balance out your energy. With enough water intake, you were up and about, allowing you some rest at night. Still, it was difficult to stay awake during classes. Thankfully, your teachers understood and allowed you to sleep in, your classmates – Izuku, mostly – had notes ready for you when you woke up.

After years of public school, you felt rather out of place in a prestigious school such as UA. It had a sort of elitist feel to it, especially since practically everyone was working their way to be a hero. Or a side-kick. Or a something. But, then again, it was just like every high school. You were going to make the most out of it.

“Why’re you still working, anyway? Isn’t your family loaded or something?”  Katsuki asked with a frown, fingers wrapped around his drink.

(E/c) eyes narrowed down at the blond.

“What, so I’ll mooch off them like you? Fat chance.”

Summer break finally came, you miraculously survived a semester at UA and were allowed to go home for your short vacation.

But first, you had a shift to cover.

Your two friends decided to tag along since all three of you were going to spend your breaks at Mustafu anyway.

“But didn’t your parents leave you money?” Izuku's bright green eyes turned to you, head tilted slightly.

True. A fat sum of money was left under your name when your parents died, waiting for your perusal.

“Yeah. But I just want to work, yanno?”

Truth was, working was supposed to be a distraction to help you cope with your parents’ death. After all, you had lost your closest confidant - Izuku, busy with One for All, and Bakugou had been a dead fuck at the time, they were all you had. You may have your grandparents, but it was just different when it was your parents who knew you best and all. When they died, a part of you died as well. You were left hollow, numb.

But now, things were...things were great.

"And besides, I donated some cash to my old school, specifically my old club." It kinda hurt to mention your old club, because you really enjoyed your time there and everyone was welcoming and warm (even though some gave you the stink eye because you were your grandfather's granddaughter). "They need it more than I do. I just had to make it Anonymous though."

"I'm sorry you had to leave your old club, (Nickname)."

Waving it off, you replied. "Nah, they'll be fine. Besides, they've always been plenty strong on their own." Humming in though, you shrugged then. "It does suck that it means I won't have to spar much though."

"You spar plenty in UA anyway," Katsuki scoffed, running a hand through his hair. Izuku nods furiously at this.

"You'll give Gunhead a run for this money at this rate!"

Since your transfer you were fast becoming the top (female) combatant in the class - maybe even your whole year! It also included the fact that you've had martial arts awards under your name and a family name as a sort of branding.

"Well, yeah. That, and I don't have to pretend I'm quirkless anymore." 

Both your friends reacted to that, mulling at your words. The word 'quirkless' cutting deep for both of them - all three of you, but you're all way past it now considering the path you've all decided to walk on.

"But it is nice to know that I'm free to exercise what I can do to the best of my abilities." You flex out your hands, turn them up, and gazing at your open palm, closing them to a fist.

"That's the spirit, (Nickname)!"

"Just don't let it go to your head."

"What, like you?"

"At least I'm strong."

"Fuck you, I'm plenty strong on my own, too." Turning on your heel, intent on returning to the counter. "Don't forget who beat your ass without having to use their quirk, asshole."

Katsuki sputtered on his drink, its contents flying everything much to your chagrin and joy. You couldn't help snickering.

Izuku could only laugh at you both, hashing out words at each other - words that weren't full of venom of hate, all in good fun, and just full of youthful energy. Somewhere, your manager eyed the two of you worryingly, especially at the language spewing out of your mouths.

The two stayed until the end of your shift, the three of you walking home comfortably under the night sky. Just like old times.

When you participated in your first Sports Festival, it was during a high time when you had mastered using half the energy reserve for the daytime. Coursing through so many obstacles was not an easy feat, especially when it was a hot morning and you were losing water in your system fast. Conserving energy for a nocturnal quirk user was not easy, after all.

Countless water bottles were finished in record time, boosting your system for the remaining games.

It was only during the semi-finals (yes, for some reason you made it that far) that your body finally gave out.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, only for them to snap shut at the bright fluorescent light above you, you groaned weakly. Fabric conditioner, soft pillows, fresh-smelling sheets, - you were at the clinic. The smell was almost too much. There was an aftertaste at the back of your mouth, but couldn't put a name on what it was exactly.

"Did I lose...?" you slurred, body heavy, your mind in a haze.

Trying to recall your fight, a slight frown fixed itself on your face. Everything that happened came out blank, your mind seemingly wanting you to shut down. Then, something soft nudged between your brows, as though to smooth it out. Blinking, you realized that it was someone's thumb. Once the frown eased off, the hand hung there, unsure what to do with it, before tucking strands of wayward hair away from your face.

Slowly, everything came into focus. "Katsuki..."

"That was quite the fight you had there," he comments, voice tight. You hum, things slowly returning to mind.

"He overloaded my senses," you remember, shuddering at the memory. You had been up against a Tech Support student, who was armed with all sorts of knick-knacks. "it was horrible."

"Yeah, it was." He grumbled in response.

The student you were up against armed himself with all sorts of knick-knacks to disarm anyone, and since your quirk gave you finely tuned senses, he thought you were the perfect candidate to test out his latest works. When it happened, small sparks were dangerously coming out of Katsuki's hands. He half-tempted to jump in then and there, but couldn't out of respect for you. Izuku had to hold him back, but even he was frustrated at how one-sided the fight had seemed. The memory of you falling on your knees, senses overstimulated by the Tech student who proudly advertised his knick-knacks to spectating companies, much like Hatsume Mei's a year back, sent him roiling. But then, you had used a tactic he and Izuku never saw you do before, you took off your jacket - to which, Mineta and Kaminari excitedly watched - and wrapped it around your head, leaving you blind. The Tech Support had tried to overstimulate your senses again, but with scaringly fast reflexes, you got to him, beat him to a pulp, and knocked him out for good. "But I'm proud of you for winning that bout."

Turning to your side, you worked on a smile. "Thanks," but did you really win? You did pass out after all. Maybe it ended in a draw? "where's Izuku?" you asked instead, in the end caring very little about your match.

"Probably preparing for his match," he replied, relaxing in his seat. "He's up against Monoma."

Ah, him.

"That would've been interesting to see."

"Like Deku would lose."

"Exactly."

Yawning, you rubbed at your eyes, realizing just how heavy your body feels, how you felt tingly all over.

"How are you feeling?" the concern was thick in his voice.

"Heavy." You reply, nosing your pillow. "Tired. Weak. Irritable? Hungry."

Unable to help himself, he laughs. 

At the sound of his laugh, a sleepy smile broke into your face. Reaching out a hand, you took his hand in yours, giving it a small squeeze. 

Unsurprisingly, his hand was much larger than yours but ever so gentle and warm to the touch. Much to your surprise, however, his hand was actually softer than it looked - despite having to blow up every goddamn time. Also, it had a sweet scent coming off of it, like burnt sugar. Nitroglycerin sweat.

"'anks for checkin' up on me, for being here..."

As much as he can, Bakugou tried not to implode then and there. His chest though? It was pounding, madly.

So instead, he held your hand tighter.

The next few minutes were filled with a gentle rumble coming from the ongoing fight, both of you were wondering how it went because it's your broccoli boy, some yelling from outside (to which he had half a mind to yell to keep their voices down), their voices softly discussing each other's earlier matches, some pointers, and Bakugou's upcoming fight.

"...Do you know who you're up against?"

"Dunno, don't care."

"Liarrrrrrrrrrrr." you dug your thumb nail into his skin, teasingly.

He barely flinched, face smug. "So what? I'll win either way."

"You are so full of shit, you know that?" Gone was the animosity and venom in those words, enough to crack a grin on the blond's face.

"At least I didn't puke all over the stadium."

"Exaggerating my case makes you look bad, just so you know." With your free hand, you weakly punched him. He caught your hand and tucked it back to your side.

His other hand holding yours the whole time.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, the door creaked open to reveal your green-haired best friend, tired-looking yet standing tall. Victorious.

"Hey, 'zuku..." you called out weakly. "Congrats."

The green-haired teen offered a small smile in return. "Hey, (Nickname), how are you feeling?"

"Better now that my boys are here," you chuckle, feeling tiredness creeping. "didja win?"

Nodding, your friend turned to the blond. "Kacchan, it's time for you to prepare."

Bakugou blinked, eyes dropping. Smiling sleepily, you tug your joined hands, carmine meeting (e/c), a happy sigh leaving your lips. "Go win some...Katsuki...'kay?"

Exhaling softly, eyelids falling close with lashes kissing the tops of your cheeks, your hold loosening in his, carmine eyes took in your sleeping frame. He stayed a few minutes, just watching you sleep. Just as he stood, he remembered your joined hands.

Unable to help himself, he raised them to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, your knuckles, and fingers.

The door shut behind him as he walked on, his best friend walking behind him. If Izuku made mention of the fact that both of you held hands, realizing that it had been like that long before he came to fetch his best friend, or that he purposedly walked out when you fell into a slumber, he made no mention of it.

In February, you got word of your grandmother had finally come home. Excitedly, as you were granted a leave, you merrily walked on the snowy streets, practically skipping out of UA.

"Where has she been all this time?" Katsuki asked next to you, hands in his pocket. He was insistent on walking you to the station. Izuku had "other things to do", the little sneaky shit.

"Things." You reply, cryptically.

"Things." He repeated, dumbly.

"Like I'd tell you, dork." you roll your eyes at him, the snow falling all around. "And don't worry, even Izuku has no idea where my granny's been."

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, his eyes settled on you, his jacket - that he lent you a few days back, because you're so reckless under the snow and 'how could an idiot forget their own fucking jacket?' - dwarfing your frame. 

The relationship between the two of you was a hot topic amongst students in UA. Everyone knew that you were childhood friends who had a rift and rocky relationship growing up, but now, everyone saw that something had changed. Mostly, people noted how Bakugou was especially towards you.

There was no name, no label, no nothing yet - Izuku sometimes felt like knocking both your heads together in frustration - it felt rather nice to just be in his presence and bask in this wonderful feeling. And whenever he can, he'd purposedly leave you two when you were lounging, studying, or keep people away from intervening between your supposed moment.

"How long you gonna be out?"

"Hm, two days tops. Granny brought some treats with her and I've been meaning to spar with her." you continue trekking, humming happily under your breath.

"How come I've never seen her?"

"Oh, you have. Both of you. It's just that she likes to be in the background."

He tries to think back to his childhood, trying to remember the times he spent at your place, trying to remember, but the longer he tried to ransack his memory, the more he was left with nothing. And that led him to a snowball pelted to his face.

"OI!" your laugh resounds as his rage fuels up to melt the snow.

"Bet you were trying to nail down, weren't you?"

"I can't help it! I don't remember her!"

Scoffing, you throw another snowball, which he melts easily with his quirk. "It's okay. I mean, what's to remember about you anyway? You were loud, so full of shit, a tiny, whiny, demon. The complete opposite of sweet little Izuku- hey!"

Out of nowhere, snow pelts you in the head. Katsuki smirks at you, happy to get back at you.

"Katsuki, you fucking ass!"

He sneered, bending over to build snowball and throws them. With your quirk, you easily dodge. "Fucking cheat!"

"Don't be a sore loser, Katsuki!"

Squeals and laughter fill the sidewalk, passersby avoiding the mini-snowball war between two teens lest. 

"Alright, alright, I jest! Come on!"

Catching his breath, the blond wipes his mouth with the back of his gloves. "You fucking started it."

"Don't act like you didn't have fun, Katsuki."

He liked the way his name came out of your mouth. There was just something about it that made it more special, and really acknowledge that it was his name. It was different when his parents say it.

His name means ‘victory’ and it might as well be one whenever you say his name.

"By the way," you call, cutting him off his reverie. "don't forget to ring your parents time to time, yeah?"

"Where is this coming from?"

You shrug easily adjusting your backpack strap and shaking the snow off your hair, leaving it frazzled. "All this talk about my granny made me think of families, mine, Izuku, yours." Hastily, you run a hand through it.

"My folks are fine."

"True," the train station came to view, snow continuing to fall down the sleepy city "but that doesn't mean you should stop checking up on them."

His nose scrunches, uncomfortable with the topic of coddling. "Do you talk to them?"

"Duh, what do you think?" you gave him a look, almost offended. "I talk to Auntie Inko, too. Not just my grandpa, you know."

The fact that you take the time to talk to Izuku's mom and his parents spoke plenty, seeing how fond the adults were of you. He could imagine just how close the lot of you were, remembering the many dinners you three have had and the holiday visits. Also, there was the fact that you were an orphan. 

As much as he hated his old hag nagging at him, his father's needless coddling - he was lucky to have parents like them. You didn't have that anymore.

Grumbling, he complies. "Fucking fine."

Reaching a crosswalk, the two of you stop at red, cars whisking through. Despite being damp from the top up, his quirk helped warm him just a bit. He'd have to hurry back to the dorms lest he catches a cold. The fact that he was with you, however, that made him warm - fuzzy, annoyingly warm that he could feel from his head to his toes. When the light flashed green, the two of you walk.

"You've changed." you say, he turns to find you staring at him in awe, surprise, pride in your eyes. “What are you up to?”

He feels his blood rushing to his cheeks, feels something catch in his throat, feels a flutter in his belly.

“Small things. Little things. Anything for a chance at redemption.”

“…a chance at redemption.” you repeat, testing the words.

He sighed, eyes forward. “For you, Deku, and myself.”

Bakugou Katsuki truly has grown so much since you last saw him. It made you proud, so fucking proud.

Weirded out by your silence, he turns to you, about to berate, only to freeze at the way you were glowing at him, for him.

It was reminiscent of the one he remembered from his childhood. That silly girl with dirt on her hands and fingers, leaves on her (h/c) hair, holding his hand with a flower ring she made for him. It was the one smile he could never forget, treasured, and one he'd never thought to be at the receiving end ever again.

“You’re so lame, you know that?” Sputtering, you didn’t give him a chance to explain himself before tossing him something. “Here,”

Although caught off-guard, he catches it easily. Way too easily.

Asshole.

He didn’t have to ask to know what it was, cheeks warming and reddening.

“Happy Valentine’s Katsuki~” giving him a two-fingered salute, you walked into the train station, smiling silly to yourself.

“O-Oi!”

Looking over your shoulder, (e/c) eyes blinking curiously at him, he could very well see your cheeks were just as red.

“…expect double- no, triple on White Day!”

Snorting, the silly smile returned, only, it was aimed at him. Surprised, but honored.

“Lame ass.”

Izuku was in the common area, furiously checking up new hero updates on his phone, a bag of chocolates shaped like All Might you had given earlier half-finished, a cup of hot cocoa sitting next to it when the front door slammed open.

“Oi, Deku!”

“Ah? Kacchan?”

The blond teen walked towards him, noticeably wet and red in the face.

Once he stood in front of him, he seemed to deflate. Scratching the back of his neck, chin tucked in, his actions very uncharacteristic of the loudmouth he’s used to making the green-haired teen worry.

"Kacchan?"

“…w-what does (Name) like?”

"Eh?"

His eyes caught on something on Kacchan's pocket, chocolates. Not just any chocolates, those were your chocolates!

Unable to help himself, Izuku combusted then and there – finally, his ship was coming to life!

[end]

masterlist

[jlalafics]

Ok so you just wrote me a gorgeous drabble and here I am wanting more, bc you’re just too good. On my way to the gym this morning I almost crashed my car bc I saw sexy construction workers and was wondering if sometime in the future you would maybe consider ConstructionWorker!Peeta? Maybe Katniss almost crashed her car staring at that ass? Lol sorry for being so needy... 😘

I hope you enjoy @mrspeetamellark, trying to think up a story title and story cover concept right now because I’m liking this Everlark so much.

Thanks for the prompt, doll! <3

_____

“Yes, move that meeting to the afternoon,” Katniss told her sister. “Snow wants to meet about the Gilmore divorce proceedings.”

“Got it,” Prim replied from the speakers of the car. “Where are you?”

“Just turning onto our block,” she informed her. “It looks like they’re finally renovating the building next to the office…”

Katniss’ eyes were suddenly drawn to a figure standing out against the rest of the men gathered at the site. He was leaning against one of the wood slats that surrounded the property, blond and broad wearing a fitted white t-shirt.

Suddenly, his eyes drew up to meet hers.

Azure blue greeted her own steel ones, the man’s mouth widening into a smile, his expression warm and sweet.

Before morphing into panic—

“Holy fuck!”

Katniss swerved just in time to avoid a squirrel crossing the street and just barely maneuvering her car from crashing into a tree. She managed to save face, making the turn into her office’s parking garage and then into her assigned space.

“Are you alright?” Prim called out. “For a moment there, I thought I lost you.”

Katniss turned off the engine, taking in a calming breath.

“I’m fine. I’ll be up in a minute,” she responded before hanging up.

This is what she got for even looking at a man. It was a sign from the gods telling her to focus on work and not on her lack of a social life.

Too bad, though. The man was awfully cute.

++++++

“Peeta!” Turning, Peeta found Finnick—one of the other construction workers and his childhood friend—heading towards him. “Your dad said that we could take our lunches now.”

“Fine with me,” Peeta agreed, pulling off his construction helmet and tucking it under his arm.

The two headed down the street, grabbing some sandwiches from a nearby deli before heading back.

“So,” Finnick began, as they sat down at the tables set-up in front on the construction site. “I saw that your lady almost damn near crashed into a tree this morning.”

“She isn’t my lady,” Peeta muttered, unwrapping his sandwich to avoid his friend’s teasing eyes. “She’s just a beautiful woman who I happen to admire—who would never look at someone like me.”

“She did notice!” his friend exclaimed. “That close call happened because she was looking at you. Maybe you should go over to her office building and introduce yourself, ask if she’s okay—”

“No, no, no…” Peeta shook his head. “She’s high class and I am…me.”

“Peeta—” Finnick looked to him in concern. “You are a good guy. Stop being so hard on yourself. Just because one woman couldn’t look past your circumstances, doesn’t mean they all will.” His friend’s sea-green eyes darted behind him. “In fact, I’m going to help you out—”

Sticking his middle and index fingers into his mouth, Finnick let out a loud whistle.

“What are you doing?” Peeta asked in confusion.

His friend ignored him, looking behind Peeta and pointing at him.

Then, he was being yanked by the forearm from his seat and being slammed against one of the wood slats of their construction site.

Up close, her eyes were smoky and full of fire—because she was pissed.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded. “I am not the kind of woman who needs to get whistled at to feel like she’s hot. In fact, it’s downright demeaning! If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was introduce yourself like a normal person—”

“Wait!” She stepped back, but her grip on the front of Peeta’s shirt didn’t let up. “I never whistled at you. It was my friend; the idiot with the red hair who is currently trying to skulk back into our construction site, so you won’t manhandle him like you’re doing to me.”

The woman turned just in time to see Finnick guiltily rush into the construction site.

She immediately released her grasp, her olive complexion flushing scarlet.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” The woman let out a nervous laugh. “It’s just been a hell of a day so far. I almost crashed my car this morning—” Her grey eyes widened. “It’s you!”

He held out his hand to her. “Peeta Mellark.”

She took it and Peeta let his thumb brush against her rich skin. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“Now that we’ve officially met,” he started. “Are you okay? It was a close call this morning.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just been so busy with meetings and I have to go grab lunch—”

“Split my sandwich with me,” he offered. Peeta nodded at the still wrapped sandwich on the now empty table. “Or I’m pretty sure there are few birds that would be happy to take your half.”

Katniss flushed. “You sure?”

“I insist.” He led her towards the table, pulling out a chair for her. After sitting, he pulled one of the wrapped pieces out and handed it to her. “Turkey and provolone, no tomatoes.”

“That is my exact order at Sae’s Deli!” Katniss said as she unwrapped her half.

Peeta grinned. “It’s where I got it.”

“So—” She placed her sandwich down and turned to him. Peeta examined her, perfect posture, a heart-shaped face, and smooth shoulder-length waves greeted his appreciative eyes. “—why did your friend whistle at me?”

Peeta let out a breath.

“The first time I came by to examine this construction site, you came to your office,” he explained. “You were wearing a red romper and your hair was in a braid. You were about the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Ever since, I guess I just looked out for you. Finnick just happened to notice and thought he could help things along…”

Peeta waited for her to recoil or grimace. It sounded pathetic, the way he always made sure to look out for her black BMW in the mornings. However, to him, it was just not a good day if he didn’t see her lovely face, even if it was just through her car window.

“Did you want to have dinner?”

He turned to her, his jaw dropping. “What?”

Katniss blushed, her eyes going to her lap.

“I think you’re cute and I almost crashed my car looking at you,” she revealed slowly. “And it seems like a sign that we should look into whatever this is. Also—” Her eyes met his, glowing brightly. “No one has ever called me beautiful.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said softly. “I would love to have dinner with you. You have to let me pay, though.”

“Is that some sort of manly-man bullshit?” she retorted with a grin.

“No, my mother would kill me if she found out that I didn’t pay on the first date,” Peeta explained. “She’d think that it would be a horrible start to our epic love story.”

“I like your mom already,” Katniss told him. “How’s six sound?”

“Perfect.”

“Katniss!”

They turned to find a pretty blonde and a dark-haired woman with a squared gaze approaching.

“My sister and one of my associates,” Katniss told him. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small case and taking out a business card. “My cell number is on it—text me when you can, and we can go over details for tonight.”

“Sure,” he replied in a daze.

Taking her sandwich—they both had foregone eating—Katniss stood, but not before pressing a kiss to his cheek and giving him a breathtaking smile.

“I’m looking forward to tonight.”

+++++++

Over texts, Katniss and Peeta decided to meet at an Italian restaurant close to her apartment.

“I can’t believe you asked that guy out!” Johanna, her roommate and one of the other lawyers in the firm, said from her seat on Katniss’ bed. “You, who won’t even agree to coffee when any other man offers, asked a construction worker out to dinner.”

“He’s not just a construction worker,” Katniss protested. “He’s Peeta Mellark, a guy who I think is really nice and easy to talk to—”

“And let’s not forget the ass,” came a shout from Prim, who was searching in Katniss’ walk-in closet. “Don’t act like you weren’t looking at it when he got up to go back to work, Katniss.” Prim stepped into her bedroom, holding a deep-purple dress with a v-neckline and three-quarter sleeves. “I knew you tried to hide my birthday present! Put this on so he can rip it off you.”

Katniss scowled at her. “Who taught you to talk like that?”

“You did,” Prim retorted with a cheeky grin. “Now, go and get ready. I’ll lay out some underthings for you.”

Katniss headed towards her bathroom.

“Prim, I’m not sure how long it’s been since anyone’s been down there,” Johanna quipped. “You might want to pick something that covers that jungle.”

“I’m on it,” her sister replied as Katniss was about to close the door. “Tonight, we’re just emphasizing her boobs.”

“Good luck with that,” her friend retorted.

++++++

Their dinner was going surprisingly well.

Katniss hadn’t been on a date for almost a year and she had worried over the thought as she walked over to the restaurant

That was until she saw him.

Peeta cleaned up nicely, meeting her in a dark green sweater, fitted jeans, and brown oxfords. In his hand was a single pink peony, which he held out to her after kissing her cheek in greeting.

They both settled at their table, ordering quickly (eggplant parmigiana for her and lasagna for him) before falling right into easy conversation.

Peeta’s family owned the construction company that he worked for though, he was the only family member who worked onsite besides his father. Peeta’s mother worked at the home office as the company’s administrator. He had two brothers, one of which owned his own bakery business and ran it with his wife who had been his high school sweetheart.

“I think you’d like Delly,” he told her. “She’s very down-to-earth which works out perfectly because Rye is all sorts of insane. He’s the kind of guy who will wake up in the middle of the night to make the perfect chocolate cake. Luckily enough, Delly is the kind of girl who will stay up and write out everything he’s done because he’s forgotten by morning.”

“And, your other brother?”

“Runs a small hotel upstate. It’s the perfect place for Christmas,” Peeta said. “Andy and his partner Gale turned the place into one of the top hotels to experience wintertime. It does help that they both have a great sense of style.”

“So, your brother is—”

“Gay as the day is long as he would put it.” Peeta grinned. “He and Gale have been together forever. They’re one of the most stable couples I know.” He met her eyes. “How about you?”

“I grew up about an hour out of the city. My parents were high school sweethearts, married right out of high school. Had me about a year after their wedding and four years after me, Prim was born.”

Katniss stopped for a moment, taking a long sip. This part was always the hardest to explain.

“My father passed away when I was six and Prim was two,” she continued. “My mom brought us here to the city to stay with my Uncle Haymitch while she got back on her feet and find a job. We woke up the next day after arriving at his place and she was gone.”

“Oh God, Katniss—” Peeta reached over, covering her hand with his. “—I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t feel sorry for us. It was probably the best thing she could have done for us,” Katniss told him, her voice still a little thick. She gave him a wet smile. “Feel bad for my Uncle—single guy in his prime having to take on two young girls. Did you know when I got my period, he bought five different types of pads? I know, too much information—”

“I like learning about you, Katniss,” he told her. “Every little bit I’ve learned, I like.”

“I feel the same way.”

It was true. Everything she learned about man before her had only compounded the growing feelings inside her. Peeta was breath of fresh air in her staid routine and every bit of time with him made her feel like she was slowly coming back to life.

Peeta squeezed her hand, she didn’t realize their hands were still pressed together—but she didn’t mind it.

“Go on,” he urged with an eager smile. “Tell me more.”

“When I was in sixth grade, my uncle came for a parent-teacher conference and met my teacher, Effie Trinket. A year later, he married her. She’s great, got me through those tough girl years. She and my Uncle are disgustingly in love.” She snorted, taking a long sip of water. “That’s my odd little family.”

“Have you heard from your mom?” Peeta asked curiously.

Katniss shook her head.

“I don’t have a real desire to. I’m not mad at her anymore, but I can’t say I’d be thrilled to see her again. Prim doesn’t even remember her. She calls Uncle Haymitch and Aunt Effie Mom and Dad.” She sat back, giving him an embarrassed smile. “That was more unloading than I intended for a first date.”

“Honestly, I’ve been watching you for a while,” Peeta revealed. “Finnick is sick to death of hearing me talk about the gorgeous brunette next door. That’s why he whistled at you; it was to save his ears from my own insecurities when it came to you.” His face had gone red. “I know you’re some big-time lawyer and I’m just some guy—”

Katniss shook her head. “You’re not just some guy.”

Peeta grinned. “I hope not.”

After he paid for dinner, they decided to walk to her apartment since it was a warm night.

As they strolled down the block, his hand brushed against hers before carefully grasping her fingers. Katniss took the initiative, entwining their fingers together, and Peeta turned to her, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.

She felt the heat rise up her body, her center twisting at the feel of his rough lips to her skin. She had to wonder how those lips would feel against the rest of her body, specifically between her thighs.

It had been a long time since she had sex.

“Nice place,” Peeta said as they approached the luxury apartment complex. “I know the company that worked on them, Beetee Latier is a smart guy and I’m willing to bet that this place is very up-to-date when it comes to virtual assistance.”

“I’ve never tried it, but Johanna has said that she can tell the apartment when it’s too cold,” Katniss told him offhandedly. “And it raises the temperature according to what is comfortable.” They stop outside the entrance and she turned to him. “Thanks for dinner and the conversation.”

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” Peeta replied.

His hand reached, cupping her cheek and his thumb brush against the edge of her bottom lip before dropping to his side. Katniss felt every nerve pulsate at his touch and she had desperately fought the urge to take his thumb into her mouth to taste him.

She wanted to ask him to come up, but her need to not seem so desperate dampened her longing.

Reaching into her purse, Katniss took out her keys, giving him a shy smile. She quickly kissed him on the cheek.

“Good night, Peeta.”

His hand reached to a tendril of her hair, caressing it with his fingers as if he were trying to memorize the feel of it between them.

When Peeta met her eyes, her breath caught at the desire in his darkened blues. “Good night, Katniss.”

“Fuck it—”

Katniss snapped, her keys dropping to the ground in a loud clink, as her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled his mouth against hers. Peeta gasped in surprise before catching himself and circling his arms around her waist to pull her close.

He tasted delicious, her tongue surrounding his as she feasted on him. Her hand reached to grasp at his hair and the moan that tumbled from his mouth cause the fire inside her to flare. She had never wanted anything or anyone as much as she wanted the feel of him against her.

His lips slid off hers, pressing to her neck, his tongue sampling her.

“What are you doing to me, Katniss Everdeen?” he asked breathlessly, the intensity of his question sending shivers through her skin.

Katniss met his eyes, her chest heaving as she felt the rapid beat of her heart.

“I’m taking you upstairs.”

 So, there’s going to be a 2nd part to this. I’m having too much fun.

Yeah, I’ve been shipping Gale with the eldest brother since TWC.

[genesisrose74]

Believe It, Baby

AHH HELLO I LIVE!! I am so sorry about my lack of publishing content besides some general community posts as of late - I’ve probably said this before but school is a buttface sometimes :// I’ve been really enjoying the new episodes of Haikyuu so I decided to finish a self indulgent fic to try getting back on track! Kinda like how it worked out so here it is!! Yes, it is Hinata again, how did you freaking know???

Pairing: Hinata Shoyo x Fem!Reader

Words: 2122

*******

“I don’t believe it for a damn second.”

The ginger under scrutiny groans for what seemed the eighth time that day, shooting his friend an exasperated look as they walk into the practice gym. “I swear, Kageyama! She’s in the college preparatory class with Yachi!”

At this, said blonde turns her attention to the entering duo with a curious tilt of her head.

“What’s this about someone in my class?” she inquires politely.

Kageyama glances at Yachi. “Hinata says that he’s dating one of your classmates, which I say is a bunch of crap.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Bakageyama? I’m her boyfriend!”

Tsukishima scoffs from across the gym.

“Sounds like someone had too vivid of a dream last night,” he jeers, Yamaguchi snickering beside him.

Even Tanaka and Noya doesn’t seem to believe the aspiring ace, the former clapping a hand on Hinata’s shoulder with a philosopher’s air about him.

“It’s alright to be single, little man. You don’t gotta go and make something up to look cool.”

Hinata huffs before shuffling to set up the court for practice, while Sugawara takes his position as mother crow by smacking the troublemaker second years upside the head.

“I for one believe you, Hinata,” the silver haired setter declares, smiling when the first year boy beams with happiness.

“Thank you, Suga-senpai! At least someone here does.”

“Mind telling us what she’s like?” Daichi chimes in.

Hinata’s grin blossoms even wider, and his gaze turns excited. “She’s amazing, and really smart, and super competitive! And she’s...also really pretty…” he trails off in embarrassment.

Suga gushes at his flustered state, ruffling his kouhai’s mop of orange hair. “Look at you, all affectionate. She must be special.”

Yachi follows up with a nod of agreement at Sugawara’s statement, joining Hinata on the court for set up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s her name?” the manager in training questions.

When the middle blocker tells her proudly, the remaining first year boys all bust out in laughter.

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Yamaguchi guffaws. “Isn’t she like one of the smartest students in our grade?”

Hinata nods affirmatively, and Tsukishima shakes his head with a dry laugh. “Try picking a more believable person next time, Hinata. There’s barely even a chance that you’ve ever crossed paths with her before, let alone dated the girl.”

Yachi, on the other hand, takes a moment to ponder on Hinata’s words, not even close to giggling like the rest of her fellow first years.

“You know,” she mumbles to herself, “that’s honestly not that far of a stretch, considering how outgoing she is.”

The orange haired boy offers her a weary half-smile for at least thinking he had a shot with who he claimed, but made no further attempt to emphasize that he was in fact dating said girl. It was clear that nearly none of the team would believe him without solid proof.

Coach Ukai grabs the team’s attention, and from then on leads a rotation of digging drills to help improve everyone’s foundational abilities. This format of training continues for most of practice, such routines making it easier for some of the boys (namely Tsukishima) to laugh about Hinata’s “attempt'' at having a girlfriend in line. Said middle blocker remains in a pouty mood due to such circumstances, but decides to keep it quiet for the time being - lest he dig a bigger hole in which his teammates could tease him.

Soon enough, practice for the day is over, and the Karasuno boys organize their things in the club room before filtering outside. As Hinata waits outside for the rest of his team to come downstairs, the whole team planning on making a stop at Ukai’s store, his phone screen lights up with a soft chime.

Hi sunshine! Did your practice just finish?

The first year smiles, knowing that you must have snuck him a text during your student council meeting, and quickly opens his phone to type something back.

Hi angel!! Yeah, we’re gonna get something at Ukai’s rn

Hinata playfully raises an eyebrow at your fast response, the chat bubble popping up right away. Usually you’re pretty invested in your club meetings, so today’s must be a pretty boring topic.

Wanna save me a meat bun pretty please 🥺

If there’s an extra I will <3

:D hehe thank u love

Tanaka’s voice breaks the ginger’s focus from his texts, the second year shouting about food as he ushers the team towards the school exit. Hinata tosses his phone into his practice bag and catches up with the walking group, his mood significantly improved from just minutes ago.

*****

The town is basked in the soft glow of street lights as the team makes their way down the hill to Ukai’s, currently unaware of a presence in a sprint to get to them.

Your fellow Student Council members had shot a bewildered look in your direction as you scrambled to pack up and hustle out the classroom door. You ushered a quick goodbye to them before stuffing your phone in your skirt pocket, determined to surprise your boyfriend after the council meeting ended early.

Maybe you were starting to regret the idea of running in the god-awful flats Karasuno High enforced in their dress code, but you pushed past the irritation in favor of keeping pace. That meat bun wouldn’t stay hot forever, you reasoned, but in reality the opportunity to see your shining boyfriend truly drove your motivation.

After finally getting a glimpse of a large group near the base of the hill, a spark of victory flames in your heaving chest at your persistence. With a heavy sigh, however, you realize that your competitive ball of energy was likely at the head of the bunch, racing that setter with whom he always argues. Your plight was not over yet.

So, attempting to reign in your eagerness to see the ginger haired boy of your affections, you continue the path down the quite steep hill, this time using the art of determined speed walking. The soles of those forsaken flats on your feet would not be forgiving if you started running again, anyways.

When you finally manage to close in on the team, Sugawara is the first to notice you, observing for a moment before nudging Daichi on his right. The Karasuno captain looks confusedly at his vice captain, the latter’s eyes holding a parent-like intuition.

“I think that’s her,” the silver haired third year murmurs, nodding his head in your direction as you make your way closer.

“Who’s her?” Daichi whispers back, and Suga looks like he’s about to karate chop him in the side.

“Hinata’s girlfriend, Dai!” he hisses. “Look at who she’s focused on.”

Daichi follows your gaze to find the little decoy first year at the end of it, causing him to raise an eyebrow in surprise. “So he really wasn’t pulling Kageyama’s leg.”

The two third years of Karasuno watch you with great interest as you inch your way to the front of their group, more of the boys taking note of your presence with the passing moments.

The only few who don’t seem to notice are the gaggle of first years in the front, many of whom are bickering with each other. Yachi is the only one in your grade to see you as she walks beside Kiyoko, and you give her a small wave before putting a finger to your lips. All she can do in response is nod, mouth slightly agape at the fact that you even acknowledged her in the midst of your pursuits.

“-If there’s an extra bun in the bag today I call dibs!”

“And since when have I ever listened to you, pipsqueak?”

“Who’re you calling pipsqueak, you giraffe!?”

You have to conceal your chuckle at the group’s antics. You’d been told a handful about the first years known as Hinata’s teammates, but had yet to formally meet them due to your consistently busy schedule. Today, you felt it was about time for that to change.

Yamaguchi picks up on you, followed quickly by Tsukkishima when his freckle-faced best friend notifies him with a tap on the shoulder. Even Kageyama, who somehow managed to get into yet another argument with Hinata, slows his banter as he gazes at you, completely bewildered.

The last person left in the dark is - of course - none other than your dumbass of a boyfriend.

“Why did you get so quiet all of a sudden?” the aspiring ace inquires. “It’s ‘cause you realized that I would win the argument anyways, huh?”

The boy jumps when he feels you sidle up next to him, brushing your arm against his own.

“Yes, sunshine, that’s surely the reason.”

The first year whips his head to face your playful smirk, before practically launching himself into you and trapping you in a bear hug.

“You surprised me!” he exclaims with a giddish grin, nuzzling into your figure.

“That was kind of my plan,” you laugh. “Student council meeting ended early, so here I am.”

Hinata didn’t seem to want to let go of you any time soon, so you resorted to taking his face in your hands and pecking his cheeks.

“You gonna introduce me or not, silly?”

The middle blocker was blushing like crazy at this point, reddening with the realization that his entire team was a current audience to the little show taking place.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he gestures to you awkwardly, and you couldn’t hide the small smile that curls on your lips. “You’ve probably seen her with the Student Council before.”

You wave enthusiastically to the team, many of whom are still recovering from the newly confirmed discovery (namely, some very skeptical first years).

“So, he wasn’t joking?” Yamaguchi spoke up, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Aw yeah, Hinata!” Tanaka whistled, “Sorry that I ever underestimated you!”

“Good job, Shoyo!” Nishinoya affirms, jumping on his second year best friend in excitement. “She’s a cutie too!”

The first year squeezes your midsection tighter to your surprise, seeing as his face was practically steaming from previous team comments.

“She is cute,” he mumbles, and the unexpected statement elicits a laugh from your lips.

You tap the ginger’s nose playfully, bringing his attention to your content smile. The sight of it causes him to grin right back giddily, momentarily forgetting the larger group beside him once more. “Saved me a meat bun, Sho?”

He was like this whenever at the other’s house or on a date: mushy, cuddly, affectionate, the whole nine yards of fluffiness. Public spaces involving acquaintances, however, was a bit of a different story, as Hinata got very easily flustered in front of teasing friends. Even without meeting the other team members of Karasuno before, it was quite obvious.

“I always manage to when you ask,” he responds proudly, although a faint frown briefly appears on his features for a moment, “but Tsukishima’s being a bit of a jerk about it today.”

The blond in question sends his fellow middle blocker a look of annoyance, before his expression melts into a cheshire grin as he turns to you.

“Just didn’t want him eating too much, that’s all,” he explains. “Overindulgence isn’t a great habit for athletes, you know. But since you’re actually here and not a figment of Hinata’s imagination, that’s absolutely fine with me.”

“Hey! You saying I’m a pig or something?” the first year pipes up with a glare.

Tsukki smirks. “Or something.”

Sugawara steps in to lessen the obvious tensions between your feral ginger and the smug beanpole, giving them both a deathly glare that practically screamed, ‘don’t make me whoop your asses in front of a student council member’.

You giggled at the team’s dynamic, one that clearly resembled a rambunctious family on their nightly outing together. It really was just as you had imagined the first time your boyfriend described it to you - with maybe a bit more emphasis on the rambunctious than you had previously inferred. But it was actually quite enjoyable to be around.

As the group finally started on their way again after your surprise introduction, Hinata came up beside you once more with a curious glint in his eyes.

“What are you smiling all giddishly about?” he inquires, head tilted a fraction.

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at the question. “I just really enjoy being around your team is all.”

The aspiring ace of Karasuno interlocks his fingers with yours as you stroll along together down the street, his teammates in tow as they observe the situation before them with some remaining bewilderment.

“Good, cause I think they might like you too.”

[h2bakugou]

hey love 💓 i have a request for sumn really fluffy with kaminari! maybe y/n is alone on a friday night so she invites her best pal denki over to hang out and he immediately comes to her rescue. i'm thinking mutual pining that leads to the confession of feelings??? idk do whatever you think works!! i just really like cute kaminari content lmao

a/n: hey hun! oo yes fluffy kami content i am here for it!! i might do a mini-series for him, don’t know what it’ll be abt but i’ve been thinking about doing lil mini-series for some characters

summary: a boring friday night in your dorm leads to some confessions with your best friend and crush, denki kaminari

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 1.6k

;cut for length;

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Class had been over for hours, and now you were sitting on the floor of your freshly cleaned dorm room, bored out of your mind. Debating on starting up a movie and heading to bed early or playing some game on your phone, you let out an audible groan, frustrated from the lack of entertainment.

It was Friday night. You should’ve been asking if any of the third years were throwing some sort of party that you’d debate going to or up in the common room kitchen making food.

But now your fingers were typing away at the keyboard on your phone to 'Kami’ in your contacts, asking if he’d be down to stop your boredom from becoming fatal.

And in a matter of exactly four minutes and twenty-seven seconds, he was at your door with snacks and his own game console so you could play Mario Kart.

“You are an actual life saver.” You hug him quickly and pull him into your room, admiring the choice of outfit. It was most definitely his pajamas, a pair of loose grey sweats with a graphic tee that had some sort of video game reference on it.

“Anything for you, plus I was getting bored too.” The tone in his voice made your heart flutter. And the three words - anything for you - made your face burn. He was always so suave, even in the times that his charm was more comedic than it was actually charming.

“What should we do first?” You ask, sitting beside him, knee touching knee as you glanced at him and then back to your tv.

“Maybe watch a spooky movie.” Kaminari wiggled his fingers at you, leaning in and tickling your sides as you tensed and started laughing.

“Okay okay! We’ll watch a scary movie. You just want an excuse to cuddle me when you get scared.” You teased him back for tickling you. Kaminari rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“You’ll be scared during this one, it’s just come out, and the trailer had everyone going crazy.” Kaminari explained while he helped you find the movie. Turning off the lights, you returned with a blanket and tucked the two of you under it nice and cozy.

It had never felt weird between the two of you, like when you held hands or cuddled. You’d been Kaminari’s friend since entrance exams, and you’d been best friends since the first week of school.

And now that your heart longed to be more than just a friend or a best friend, holding his hand or cuddling with him filled that sort of odd space in your heart.

And Kaminari was the same. He enjoyed feeling your hand in his, or having your arms wrapped around his waist while you laid exhausted in his bed after a day of training in the gym.

He’d been crushing on you since day one, you were the one girl that never pushed him away, or dodged all his advances, you were sweet but tough, kind and sharp, you were everything Kaminari loved. 

Slinging his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you closer to him so he could rest his head on yours, his eyes flicking from actually paying attention to the movie to paying attention to you, to the way your fingers with chipped nail polish would reach for some popcorn and then retreat back to laying over his.

Whenever a jumpscare or scary part of the movie appeared, you’d both huddle into each other, too scared to try and make a witty remark about the both of you being wusses.

And finally when the movie had come to an end, an hour and a half had passed. You sat in the darkness while the credits rolled, giggling about the funny parts of the movie.

“And when the slasher was actually just walking and he still killed them, come on now! It’s not that hard to survive.” Kaminari groaned, frustrated that the plot had been so predictable.

“And you would survive one of these scenarios?” You smile, calling Kaminari out on his bullshit.

“I know I would. Because I would have you on my team.” Kaminari hums, flicking the tip of your nose. Your face scrunches up from the sting of impact. You shove him playfully and he pulls you over on top of him.

You sit on his lap and sigh.

“I mean If I wouldn’t die I guess I can’t let you die either.” You laugh, staring into his golden eyes.

“Have you had your first kiss yet?” Kaminari asked blindly. You’re taken aback by the question, it had come out of nowhere.

“I haven’t. But please don’t make fun of me because have you had your first kiss?” You raise your eyebrows, praying he hadn’t.

“I have. I’ve kissed lots of people.” Kaminari lied, trying to seem cool. He was shitting himself, he had the chance, the opening, the timing, it was all perfect. You were sitting in his lap, your fingers playing with the collar of his sleep shirt, all he had to do was lean in and kiss you.

Surely it wasn’t that hard. It was a kiss. He’d seen people do it in movies several times, countless times, and he’d heard from Mina that kissing was super intimate even just little playful kisses.

Surely he could do this.

“Are you listening to me?” You pull Kaminari out of his thoughts but he’s quick to answer your question, pressing his lips to yours. It’s short, very short, and a bit awkward. His lips fit against yours, and right when you go to kiss him back, he’s gone, pulling away from you to grin at you.

“Kami did you-”

“Was it good?” Kaminari asks, beaming with excitement. You smile and shake your head.

“It lasted for like three seconds, if you’re gonna kiss me, kiss me like you mean it dummy, like this.” You lean in and press your lips to his. You were new to this, and judging by that kiss, you knew that he’d lied. 

You guided his lips with your own, going off of what just felt right. Kissing wasn’t rocket science, it was a discovery, a journey, you just had to know how to lead and follow.

Pulling away when you needed to breathe, Kaminari was breathless, literally and figuratively. He stared at you with pink cheeks, awestruck by the kiss he’d just had with you.

“I thought you said you hadn’t kissed anyone!” Kaminari wasn’t upset, but he was curious as to how you’d kissed so well.

“I haven’t.” You were telling the truth, letting your arms rest on his shoulders you rested your forehead against his.

“Then how-”

“I don’t know.” You cut him off, laughing. Kaminari sighed and pressed another gentle and shy kiss to your lips, still unsure of how to really kiss you. It was sweet, but you reassured him that it wasn’t all that hard. You moved his hands to sit on your hips as you kissed him back, leaning more into the kiss.

Kaminari sat up some, taking the lead and finally showing some confidence. When he pulled away, it was your turn to be flustered. You looked away, trying to hide your red cheeks from him but his hands were quick to deter your movements.

“Please tell me that you like me back because-”

“I do.” You cut him off once more, finally looking back at him. Kaminari sighed and leaned back against your bed, happy to know that his feelings were mutual. You giggle and tug on his hands to pull him back up.

“Everyone already thinks we’re a couple ya know.” You tease, rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles.

“I know, believe Sero and Kirishima both keep telling me to make a move already and well I have now but I’m glad I did because god you are just so perfect and I was so scared that you didn’t like me and that I was just stuck in the friend-zone.” Kaminari pouted.

“Are you kidding?! I thought I was being friend-zoned! You’re always so flirty I was just like ‘oh my god he’s gonna reject me if I ask him out.’“ You laugh at your past thoughts, finding it funny that had you just trusted your heart you would’ve been together sooner.

“Why on Earth would I reject you?! You’re smart, funny, beautiful, pretty, beautiful.” Kaminari’s eyes are wide with admiration as he stares at you, a goofy grin on his lips as he holds you closer to him, letting you lay against his chest.

“You’re pretty too, Kami.” You compliment him, kissing his cheek delicately before resting your head back on his shoulder.

“Awe, thank you. No one’s ever called me pretty before.” Kaminari’s hands rub your back, tracing little shapes on your shirt as the two of you talk.

“Well you are beautiful so now you have.” You smile.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” Kaminari asks, he didn’t have much money, but what he did have, he would most certainly use to at least take you to get a drink at a café or something.

“Of course.” You hug him, embracing the comfortable warmth he was radiating.

“Wanna watch me beat some bad guys on my new video game?” Kaminari offers some more entertainment and you’re quick to respond, hopping off of his lap so you can watch the screen. 

You lay with your head in his lap, his hands playing with your hair whenever his screen was loading or during a cutscene.

You eventually fell asleep, Kaminari managing to turn off the console shortly after to doze off with you.

The next day would bring more laughs, more kisses, and more time with Kaminari, and a few congratulations from your classmates who had seen the relationship coming from miles away.

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masterlist

[astralaffairs]

french vanilla 01 | gilbert lafayette

title: french vanilla 01

pairing: lafayette x reader

words: 5.7k; this is probably going to shake out to be a trilogy :)

warnings: abundant sexual innuendos, hand fetish lowkey, maria reynolds’s abs, hugh grant mentions, painfully thick sexual tension

desc: you can’t quite place it – maybe it’s his unchecked confidence, or maybe it’s just his arms – but there’s something about your new dance instructor that makes your palms sweat and your head spin – which is, unfortunately for you, not the best combination while suspended two yards above the floor.

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow  @siriusorionblackiii— lmk if you want to be added

You took a deep breath as you examined the door in front of you, the sign on it confirming that you were in the right place, despite the fact that you -- though you'd never admit it -- desperately hoped you weren't. You'd signed up for pole dancing classes on something of a dare, when you joking about it with your friends lead to you being challenged to really try it. And you never backed down from a challenge.

So there you stood, only feet from the door that determined the next two hours (and two hours every Tuesday and Thursday for the next six weeks) of your fate, ponytail tied tight at the back of your head, still just a bit sore from spending the past few weeks since you'd signed up trying to improve your upper body strength. (You'd quickly found out that you despised lifting, as well as that you were not in nearly good enough shape to continue doing it without every one of your joints aching for the following week.)

Your eyes darted to the clock that hung from the wall to your left, swallowing hard when you saw that if you didn't move soon, you'd be late. As much as you didn't particularly want to pole dance, you wanted even less to be late to pole dancing classes.

You reluctantly entered, less than thrilled to find the class both relatively small (you wouldn't be able to hide at the back just to tell your friends you'd gone) and filled mostly with fairly attractive women in their twenties and thirties. And just like that, you remembered why you preferred not to leave the house.

You dropped your gym bag off to the side near the door, bringing only your water bottle with you, and made your way toward the mass of people in the middle of the room, all stretching and chatting. All right, this wasn't so bad. You could work with chatty women.

"Hey." You approached one on the edge nearest to you, seemingly zeroed in on what she was doing, long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, only having donned leggings and a matching sports bra. "Mind if I sit?" She looked up at your hopeful, if not slightly anxious, smile, and her expression brightened.

"Of course!" Her reply came slightly breathlessly, seeming surprised at your presence, but welcoming nonetheless. She nodded her head toward the space next to her, scooting over just a few inches, but the gesture wasn't lost on you. You gave her a warm smile as you took a seat on the polished hardwood floor, reaching out to stretch one leg. "First time?"

You turned your head to her with wide eyes. Was it that obvious? "Oh! Um, yeah. I'm kind of here on a dare, so we'll see how this turns out," you said with a nervous laugh, "What gave it away?"

She just smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Might just take one to know one," she confessed, "I took a one-session beginners' class a few weeks ago with some friends, but I'm the only one who stuck around, so I think we're in the same boat right now."

You grinned at her. "Y'know what they say; two shipmates are better than one."

"Do they?"

You shared a slight laugh as you held your knee up toward your chest, extending your free hand toward her in greeting. "Y/N."

"Maria." She gladly took your hand, meeting your eyes with a friendly gaze, and you decided then and there that you liked Maria. Besides, you felt safer knowing that you had an ally going into this.

A loud clap and the shuffling of hands came from the front of the room, attracting all your attention. "Alright, ladies!" You lifted your head, breaking her gaze, to look curiously up at the source of the deep French accent, who was also presumably your instructor. Your eyes widened.

You'd been surprised enough that your instructor was a man. Registration had only given you a last name, and while you supposed the class hadn't specified that it was just for women, the lack of men attending the class made it feel strange that it was being taught by one. That wasn't the main source of your surprise, though. The man standing in front of you all as you sat up was, to be quite blunt, gorgeous. He had dark skin and a gorgeous smile, curls pulled back in an unruly bun, arms bulging through the sleeves of his less-than-loose t-shirt. If you'd been nervous before, it was nothing compared to how you felt then.

"It is good to see all of you eager and ready to get right into things. I am your instructor, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch, Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, but I am not expecting any of you to remember all of zat, so please, call me Lafayette," he greeted you all warmly, and you thanked whatever god was up there that he was the instructor, letting out a soft sigh. Otherwise, you thought, your gaze drifting down to the outline of his abs, the staring would probably have weirded him out by now. Though, you realized only moments later that you still weren't quite safe of that as you looked back up to his face, only to find him watching you as he spoke, an eyebrow cocked. You swallowed hard. From that point, though, while he continued talking, his smile didn't revert back from the smirk it'd become.

"I 'ave been a trained pole dancer for nearly seven years now, and 'ave been giving classes for more than three, so I can assure you zat you are in good 'ands with me." You had no doubt about that as he folded his arms across his chest, and you eyed the bulging veins in his forearms, his large hands -- perhaps being attracted to his hands bordered on skeevy, but your moral compass wasn't at the forefront of your mind just then. You couldn't help but admire his physique. "I will be spending ze next several weeks with you building your skills up from ze fundamentals into full pieces of choreography, 'elping you every step of ze way. You will become skilled pole dancers in zis class, although 'ow you choose to use zat skill is entirely up to you."

He gave a playful grin at that, eliciting a laugh from most of the women in the class, though Maria and you shared a weary glance.

"But no matter your choice," he finished, "I look forward to getting to know and to work with each and every one of you." He met your eyes as he said that, and while you couldn't imagine the words could've been directed at you, the intensity of his gaze had you tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth.

You could be in for a long six weeks.

Beyond that, though, you quickly learned that pole dancing was not nearly as easy as you hoped it would be, nor as easy as Lafayette (and surprisingly, Maria, though you should've seen it coming based on the size of her arms and her very prominent abs) made it look.

"Back straight, Y/N," Lafayette commented as he passed you. He'd learned your name about fifteen minutes earlier and had since used it on every opportunity he'd had to visit your side of the room. "Keep your hips out; it will make it easier to 'old ze structure of ze position." You huffed, pushing your chest forward and your hips back, your arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up, let alone maintain proper form. "Perfect. Now loosen your grip a little bit; swing your legs slowly around ze pole."

"I'm gonna fall if I do," you whined breathlessly, focused on your own conquest to not bruise your tailbone too much to glance up and take notice of how he was watching you. He laughed.

"Just try it. Do not worry so much." While you scowled, trying to pull yourself up a bit so as to have more room to slide down as you tried to swing around the pole, you heard heavy footsteps approaching you from behind. "'ere. Let me 'elp you."

You inhaled sharply as you felt Lafayette rest his hands on your hips. You glanced back nervously over your shoulder, found his face only inches from yours, a small smile resting on his lips, and you gulped, turning back.

"Go ahead; I will not let you fall. You can trust me." While you could feel your heart rate increase in the close proximity, your face heating up, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. You could feel his warm breath dancing over the skin of your neck as you loosened your grip on the pole, sliding down a few uneven inches, and began swinging your legs off to the side, little by little.

"Careful, chérie," his voice came from behind you, hardly a breath over your shoulder as his grip tightened on your hips, pads of his fingers pressing ever so slightly into your skin. He pushed you slightly forward as you slowly went through the motions. "Ah! Back straight."

You could still hear his grin in his voice but could do little more than scowl in your struggle. You pursed your lips, arched your back, and the pressure from his fingertips began to ease as you reached a suspended sitting position next to the pole, using your momentum to swing yourself around.

"Bon travail, Y/N," he said softly, his lips only a breath from your ear as he pulled back. Your heart pounded, grip still shaking, though you weren't sure anymore that it was only from struggling to stay up.

He went back to wandering through the rows of women, shouting tips and encouragement over the music with a wide smile, and it took all of your willpower to not stare at his retreating form. You repeated the move a few times, making sure you could get it on your own, watched the ease with which Maria seemed to go through it. Eventually, your face stopped burning (you didn't like having to admit to yourself why it'd started), and you went on with the choreography, Lafayette demonstrating the next moves. Your eyes widened as you realized how little you had of the skill the rest of the dance needed.

"Now do not worry, everyone," he called out, as everyone sat on the floor in front of him, drinking some water and resting. "I know 'ow intimidating zis looks right now, but none of you are expected to get it on ze first try." His words did little to comfort you as you glanced around the room, knew most of these women would probably be able to pull it off better than you would.

"And if you cannot seem to get it after a while, remember: I am 'ere to be your teacher. You can always," --he caught your eye at those words, the corners of his lips quirking up in a mischievous smile-- "Always, ask for 'elp." He shot you a wink at the end of his sentence, and while most of the women had already begun chattering to those around them (you caught snippets about not minding him helping them out, if you knew what they meant), you couldn't break his gaze, a chill running down your spine.

You couldn't quite place it just yet -- maybe it was his unchecked confidence, the tempter integral to his person, or maybe it was just his arms -- but there was something about your new dance instructor that made your palms sweat and your head spin -- which was, unfortunately for you, not the ideal combination while trying not to fall on your ass, suspended two yards above the floor.

_______________

"You were looking pretty good today, Y/N." Maria winked at you as you packed up your bag. You'd known her for only about a week, now, but had grown quickly attached to her, enjoyed getting to know her. The pair of you had become fast friends. You'd expressed offhandedly your insecurity being in that class alone -- albeit a pole-dancing class -- and she'd subsequently taken it upon herself to tell you how great you were doing about twice a minute.

You rolled your eyes at her with a laugh, taking a drink of water. "Not so bad yourself, Lewis." You wiggled your eyebrows at her flirtatiously, and she scoffed.

"Don't lead me on like this," she teased, "I just might get the wrong idea."

You only grinned, tucking your water bottle into your bag along with the rest of your things. "And if I want you to?"

She laughed, shooting you a wink as she turned to leave. "If you're interested, L/N, you know how to find me," she sang as she walked over to the door, flashing a smile over her shoulder as she shut it behind her. You laughed to yourself as she left, fixing your ponytail before zipping your bag. The rapport was all playful, of course, neither of you expecting the other to take your words as being in earnest, but candidly, you were struggling to figure out whether you'd rather screw Maria or be her. Either way, she was undeniably adding excitement to your life.

As you tightened your ponytail, you swung your bag onto your shoulder, phone in hand as you checked the time. You walked up to the front of the room as everyone began to slowly filter out, needing to talk to Lafayette before you left about your plans for the next class, and feeling astoundingly anxious to do so.

You found him off to the side chatting with someone you didn't recognize, another woman from your class, and his eyes met yours as you neared him. His expression lit up, brows raising and smile broadening as his eyes met yours, and while he nodded along halfheartedly to what it was he was being told, for the time being, it took him about half a sentence after that to wave her off with an "au revoir" that left her giggling. (You couldn't judge her; you'd heard his accent, seen his blinding smile. You'd be no different in her position, and you very well knew it.)

"Y/N, what can I do for you?" he asked, folding his arms with an easy smile as you approached him. You returned the smile, pulling your bag higher up on your shoulder as you reached him.

"Hey, Lafayette," you breathed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I just wanted to talk to you about next class." He arched a brow. "So, I'm not going to be able to make it here this Thursday; I have a board meeting for my job in the evening. I was just thinking, since I know we're working on like a full piece of choreography and everything, is there any way I can keep up with it outside of class?"

He raised his eyebrows, considered you for a moment. "Are your Wednesday nights free?" You pursed your lips, shook your head, and he let out a hum of discontent. "Alright. Zere is a video and walkthrough I can send you of ze next part of ze choreography, so zat you can learn it on your own time. Would zat 'elp?"

You smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great. Is the video of the whole dance, or...?" You trailed off, the question left unsaid, and he nodded as he began to dig through the bag he had left near the front of the room, slinging it over his shoulder as he did so.

"Oui. I can tell you which part of it we will be learning zis Thursday, so zat you can just follow along." He finally emerged from the bag, holding his phone with an easy smile. "Can I 'ave your number, chérie?"

Your eyebrows shot up. What had he just asked? "I'm sorry?"

"Your number?" he repeated, slowly that time, his smile widening, "So zat I can send you ze choreography for Thursday?"

Your eyes widened at your own foolishness, and you let out an anxious breath. Heat was creeping up the back of your neck. "Oh! Right, yeah--"

"Now why did you think I was asking you, hm?" He cocked a challenging brow, seemingly enjoying your reaction. "Did you think I 'ad some ulterior motive? Zat would be entirely inappropriate, chérie." Despite his words, his expression, his teasing grin told you he was amused by the idea, if not intrigued by it. However, you were winded.

"You just caught me off guard," you said, breathless, and he let out a light laugh.

"Of course." He glanced back down at his phone and up at you with an expectant gaze, and your eyes widened. He was still waiting on your number.

"Oh! Right." You gave him the string of numbers as he made you a contact in his phone. Finally, he nodded, looking up at you with a small smile.

"Thank you," he said, eyes shining as he regarded you, though, now, his mischievous gaze had begun to turn wolfish. "I'll be texting you, chérie."

____________

As promised, Lafayette did send you the choreography; the videos were more helpful than you'd expected them to be, considering the only place you had to practice was the bar that divided your doorway in two. (How foolish you felt doing it was extraneous to your ultimate goal.) Thankfully, the next Tuesday passed without a hitch. As did the next Thursday. You were getting noticeably stronger, or otherwise less helpless in your ability to stay upright; you were getting closer and closer with Maria, and more and more intrigued by Lafayette. He was abundantly friendly, and his ability to command a room was enviable, but your unfortunate sticking place was how it seemed he'd already become more than familiar with every woman in the class. He was chatty, obviously, but it was impossible to determine whether his flirty demeanor was unconscious, or whether he knew exactly what he was doing to you. You didn't know quite what to make of him, but you certainly enjoyed eyeing him from the back of the room as you pondered it.

However, his earlier words were stuck firmly in the back of your mind, regardless of whether they'd been sincere. He's your teacher, you reminded yourself, every time you caught yourself staring at his straining biceps when he demonstrated the choreography. It would be entirely inappropriate.

And while your rational mind was right there with you, more than ready to jump ship on the fruitless ordeal of pining after your gorgeous dance instructor with the even more gorgeous accent, neither your hormones nor your heart seemed to agree. While, yes, they understood very well how inappropriate the scenario was, their mantra was something more along the lines of, I'm so fucked.

To say the least, you were in deep.

You wiped sweat from your brow with the hem of your tank top as you retreated to your bag, Lafayette still shouting to everyone from the front of the class as they began to disperse, and you all but entirely tuned out his naive encouragement, reminding you all to keep up the good work. Instead, you grabbed a drink of your water as you walked over to find Maria.

"Hey." You grinned, taking a drink of your water, and she looked over at you with an easy smile, brow raised.

"Hey." She swung her bag onto her shoulder. "You find that any easier than I did?"

You had to scoff at the question, reminiscence painful despite her teasing tone. "Are you really asking me that, now? You're supposed to be the in-shape one in this relationship."

She grinned. "I can't pick up all your slack, L/N. A relationship is supposed to be a two-way street."

"Guess I'll have to step up my game, then." You had to remind yourself exactly why you'd approached her as she dug through her bag, pulling out a sweat towel, her abs flexing as she strained to support the bag in front of her. (You were getting progressively less sure you wouldn't be sliding into her DMs at any point.) She raised her eyebrows at you as she took a drink of water, waiting for you to continue.

You cleared your throat. "So, I was thinking, me and a few of my friends are planning on going to grab dinner after work this Friday, just to go hang out. Would you wanna join us? I think you'd like them."

She pursed her lips, and despite her nonchalance, her smiling eyes gave away how she'd softened at the invitation. "Yeah, I'm down. Where are you all going?"

"Dunno yet." You shrugged, but couldn't help your grin. You were just a bit too excited for Maria to meet your friends. "Probably just someplace downtown?"

She held your endeared gaze another moment before she spoke. "Yeah, sure, can you text m--"

"Y/N!" Both your heads turned as Lafayette approached with a wide smile, cutting off both your invitation and your eagerness to tell Maria everything there was to know about your friends. You hoped desperately that they'd hit it off. (You noticed in the corner of your vision Maria rolling her eyes as he approached.)

It seemed everyone else in the class had cleared out at that point, so he'd apparently decided that interrupting your conversation was appropriate. "Was ze video 'elpful?"

You let out a light sigh, nodded with a smile. "For sure. Thanks for sending it."

"Of course, chérie."

You pulled your bag further up on your shoulder as you glanced away from him, again meeting Maria's eyes. "So are we on for Friday?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." She grinned, threw you a playful wink. "I'll be sure to wear something tight."

"What is Friday?" Lafayette interjected as you laughed, and you turned to see his raised brow. Maria had at that point begun to leave, checking her missed texts; apparently, she didn't have much interest in sticking around to chat with Lafayette. You shrugged.

"Not much. Just bringing Maria out with some of my friends. No special occasion."

"And you did not bother to invite me?" He raised his eyebrows, letting out a mocking gasp, and despite being unable to stifle your smile, you rolled your eyes. "I am not sure whether to be offended."

"Sorry, Lafayette; this one's girls only." His facade of a pout grew. "Can't just violate the sanctity of ladies' night like that. Wouldn't be fair."

"So when do I get to meet the rest of your friends?"

"You've met Maria, haven't you?" He huffed, and your grin grew at his adverse reaction. You knew, by then, not to take Lafayette's quips as being in earnest, but you didn't have to avoid being entertained by them.

"Ah, Y/N, I see 'ow it is. Do not worry, I take no offense."

"Wasn't worried," you reassured him, digging through the side of your bag to retrieve your sweatshirt.

He let out a snort of laughter. "Now I take some offense."

"Why would you?"

He ignored that, continuing, "Perhaps I will 'ave to get Maria to invite me to her 'ladies' nights' instead. You would not be invited, of course, since I am apparently not good enough to penetrate your inner circle."

You didn't bother even to humor him, fishing your phone out of your pocket. "Buy me dinner first," you teased, tone dry, and he grinned.

"Per'aps I will."

____________________

You didn't think about that interaction even once before Friday. Though Lafayette and Maria both maintained a place in your subconscious, your dance lessons, your Friday plans, all slid to the back burner as you spent your time working day and night, redrafting and finishing a long-term report for your job. It happened to be due Friday, so that ultimately became your priority leading up to the end of the workweek.

Thankfully, after the exhaustion the past few days had put you through, no one had been all that invested in the idea of going out on the town, so your night out became a night in, watching tacky romcoms at low volumes on Eliza's couch and arguing over which Hugh Grant film was the best of his phases. (The answer was obviously Notting Hill, but to each their own.)

Maria was meshing well with your small girl group, much to your delight, but seeing the way she and Angelica had been making eyes at each other all night made you groan internally. (Angelica still had a boyfriend, mind you, but she seemed to have conveniently forgotten that detail.)

You were just reaching the first confession scene in Bridget Jones's Diary when your phone first pinged. Your instinct was just to turn it over, hide the glow of the screen in the couch cushions, but whoever had messaged you apparently had plans other than letting you all pine for Colin Firth's Mark Darcy. Your notification sound went off once more before you decided you had to turn it on silent -- that, and Eliza's glare when it kept going off had scared you into submission. (Did whoever was texting her not know that double-texting was a bother, or did they just not care?)

When you finally turned your phone over to turn the ringer off, your pulse jumped, and your stomach turned.

lafayette sent: hey

lafayette sent: u up?

However, after you processed the initial shock of seeing his name show up in your notifications, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the content of the texts.

Y/N sent: are you deliberately interrupting my girls' night out of spite, or did you need something?

lafayette sent: your assumption hurts me

lafayette sent: i could never be so spiteful

Y/N sent: i'm sure

Y/N sent: other than the alternate girls' night you've decided to set up just to exclude me from it, of course

lafayette sent: extenuating circumstances :(

Y/N sent: how??

lafayette sent: you excluded me first :((

Y/N sent: isn't that like, the definition of spite???

lafayette sent: depends on your perspective

Y/N sent: don't think that's how that works

"Y/N," Eliza hissed, yanking your attention from the text string. You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights when you met her eyes, instinctively pulling your phone closer to hide the screen. "Either put that away or go to the kitchen; I'm trying to appreciate corporate Hugh Grant."

"Sorry for distracting you from your very important engagement," you grumbled as you picked yourself up from the couch, sliding your legs out from under where Maria and Angelica were all but in one another's laps. You eyed them with an amused smile before retreating from where your friends lay.

Y/N sent: anyway, why'd you text me?

lafayette sent: turns out working late on a friday isn't the party it's made out to be

lafayette sent: can you blame me for looking for a bit of entertainment?

Y/N sent: what happened to texting me being "entirely inappropriate"?

lafayette sent: didn't i just mention how bored i am???

lafayette sent: desperate times, desperate measures

You rolled your eyes.

Y/N sent: calling talking to me a 'desperate measure' isn't the way to stop me from blocking you

lafayette sent: my apologies

lafayette sent: but what's more entertaining than doing something "entirely inappropriate" on a friday night?

Y/N sent: the girls night that you weren't invited to

lafayette sent: hurtful

lafayette sent: i had to work anyway, so you would not have been graced with my presence

Y/N sent: why are you still at work??

Y/N sent: who the hell is taking dance lessons at 11 pm on a friday

lafayette sent: teaching dance isn't my only job

lafayette sent: i have to pay the bills somehow

Y/N sent: what else do you do?

lafayette sent: unimportant

Y/N sent: ah yes because that makes it seem less suspicious

lafayette sent: i am glad

Y/N sent: seriously tho, are you a bartender? secretly a cook at some fancy dinner place?

Y/N sent: a spy sent to infiltrate city hall by night??

lafayette sent: you are a poor guesser

Y/N sent: i don't have much info to work with

Y/N sent: that'd be like me telling you to guess what i'm wearing while i was dressed in drag

Y/N sent: you aren't exactly making it obvious

lafayette sent: what ARE you wearing? 👀

You inhaled sharply, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Y/N sent: go back to work

lafayette sent: am i not exciting enough for you?

Y/N sent: i think you can find a different 'entirely inappropriate' way to spend your friday

lafayette sent: perhaps you're right

lafayette sent: i suppose my job fills the same purpose

Y/N sent: ?????

Y/N sent: you do know you're just making yourself sound more and more like some kind of criminal, right??

lafayette sent: goodnight, cherie

lafayette sent: i am sorry to leave you with your boring evening

Y/N sent: ur loss

lafayette sent: i cannot disagree

lafayette sent: dream of me ;)

Despite how clichéd the line was, you could, by then, feel your cheeks burning as you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. You should've turned off the phone right then; he was done texting you, and it'd saved you a world of trouble, but your fixation on reading and re-reading the messages was your downfall.

"Who have you been texting?"

You jumped at the voice from the entrance to the kitchen, pulse spiking. There stood Maria, a skeptical eyebrow raised with an empty wine glass. You forced a smile, shrugged as she neared you, holding the phone up to your chest.

"No one. Just a friend."

She hummed in understanding as she walked around to your other side, reaching for the bag of Takis you could only assume Eliza had sent her to grab. "Seemed like you were having quite a reaction to texting 'just a friend.'"

She gave you a knowing smile that you couldn't help but return, despite rolling your eyes when she wiggled her eyebrows at you. "Don't worry about it. It's no one."

However, with how self-conscious and consumed in your own thoughts you were, you didn't notice her peering over your shoulder when you went to turn off your phone screen.

"Lafayette?!" Her whisper-shout directly in your ear had you flinching away, taking a step back when she reached for your phone. "You've been texting Lafayette all evening?"

If you'd felt embarrassed just reading his texts, by then, your skin was burning. Maria looked well-beyond intrigued, and you pursed your lips to hide your smile. "It's not like that. Let's go finish the movie."

You tucked your phone into your back pocket, turning to go with her back to your living room, but as deftly as you should've expected from her, she swiped your phone from your jeans, turning away to snoop through your messages before you could even begin to react.

"Maria!" you scowled, whirling around to find her wearing a mischievous grin.

"Now, what exactly is on here that you don't want me looking through?" She glanced back over her shoulder at you, her gaze teasing as she went and unlocked your phone. You would never have imagined this would be why you came to regret giving her your passcode.

"Give me my phone," you groaned, following her back toward the counter, your anxiety spiking alongside your fatigue. You were too tired to earnestly give chase. "It's just logistical stuff for class. It's not what you're thinking."

"Mhm." Her skeptical tone told you all you needed to know.

You buried your face in your hands when she turned back to you with wide eyes. "Y/N. Are you fucking serious?"

"What?"

"Why haven't you fucked Lafayette yet?"

"What?" You looked at her in shocked disbelief, brow furrowed. She only looked at you expectantly, apparently still looking for an answer, and you scowled. "Give me my phone back. C'mon."

"Listen, I'm the one who's had to listen to you two flirting every day after class; I think I'm allowed to have an opinion in this by now." Apparently, she was ignoring your pleas for her to leave your sex life alone for the evening.

"We have not been flirting. Don't be dramatic."

"He started a conversation with, 'you up?' That's how people start booty calls, okay? There is nothing platonic about this."

You rolled your eyes, reaching over to snatch your phone from her hands, and this time, she put up little resistance, if any. "That's just how he is. It's not personal. Have you seen the way he talks to every other woman in our class?"

She folded her arms, pinning you with a skeptical stare. "I can promise you he isn't texting the rest of the women in our class at 11 PM on a Friday looking for an invite to their place."

"That's out of context!" you argued, but she didn't seem convinced. "Can we just go back to the movie? Please?"

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and she pursed her lips. "Fine." She brushed past you as she unrolled the bag of Takis, throwing you one last sly grin over her shoulder. "But don't think you're off the hook, L/N. This is far from over."

"Duly noted." Your dead stare didn't discourage how smug she looked as you walked together back into your living room. You couldn't help but think that her snooping into your sex life was mildly hypocritical as you eyed how touchy she and Angelica had become in just a few short hours, but you decided to put it out of your mind. The movie only had about an hour left, anyway.

You pulled out your phone to check the time as Eliza leaned over to you on the couch. "What was all that about? We could hear you and Maria from here."

"Don't worry about it," you murmured, glancing down at your phone screen. The time read 11:24 PM, but when you went to power it off, a notification caught your eye.

lafayette sent: i know i'll be dreaming of you

[deniigi]

I WOULD LOVE A DAVE FIC !!!

Excellent. Here’s for you and  @dudewhereismy-tardis

I am putting most of it under the cut because it is LONG

Dave (Daredevil copycat from Inimitable Verse) POV. Reminder that Dave is not his real name, but one given to him disdainfully by Wade in this verse.

Title: rises in the east

------------

“Dad.”

What?

“Dad.”

What time was it?

“Your phone’s ringing,” Charlie said. “It’s the boss.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Give it here,” Dave rasped, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Mom said you’re gonna hurt your back sleepin’ on the couch,” Charlie reported as she shoved his phone into his palm.

“My couch, my rules,” Dave said. He crammed the phone to his ear. “Ansel here,” he said.

Charlie wanted to stay home and if she was a year older, Dave would have let her. But alas. The last time he’d let her stay home, she’d texted her friend Jesse who had become unspeakably jealous and had appealed to her own parents for such freedoms, and now the whole block thought that Dave recklessly abandoned his daughter when he went to the goddamn grocery store.

All that for a can of Sprite, man.

This neighborhood was off the fuckin’ charts sometimes.

Case in point: Dani standing in front of him in the lobby with her hands on her hips, telling him that he needed to wear a tighter t-shirt or to start flexing because they were losing business.

“Dani, I’m an instructor,” he reminded her. “I’m hired to do classes.”

“It’s two hours,” Dani said. “Take the damn fliers.”

But he didn’t want to?

Dani blinked at him slowly from under her headband.

 --

 Charlie was having a great time and Dave was glad for that because he was not. He was being stared at by every person in the street as if they’d never seen a dude with muscles before.

It was the shirt.

He knew it was the shirt.

And possibly his nipples. Smashing the brochures high enough against his chest to cover them wasn’t going well and the highlighter teal underarmor Dani had forced upon him left very little to the imagination here.

There wasn’t anything else to do but let the poor things live their best lives.

“Dad, gimme more,” Charlie said.

She tugged at the brochures covering what was left of his dignity.

Blessed child, who hurt you?

“Where did the others go?” he asked her.

Charlie pointed across the road to a gaggle of ladies leaning out from their stoop, smiling.

Ah.

Yes.

Them.

“Let’s try for someone who looks more like a bro,” he told his offspring.

Charlie blinked up at him.

“Why?” she asked.

Oh, baby.

“Because they’re an easy mark,” he said. “Go up and say ‘my dad can take you’ and send ‘em my way, okay?”

Charlie’s face went from confused to ready to kill instantly.

This was her game face. This was her ‘I’m gonna wreck this goalee’s teeth’ face.

Dave shouldn’t have been proud of her, really; her teachers said that she was becoming argumentative and obstinate in the classroom. But there was just something there in the fact that his kid sure as shit wasn’t no sheep that made his chest feel big, wide, and full of hot air.

“I’m on it,” Charlie said.

He gave her three brochures and let her scramble off to the other side of the sidewalk and then turned to meet the eye of a family with a father with neat hair and the beginnings of triceps peeking out from under his sleeves.

“You lookin’ for a gym, sir?” he asked.

The guy looked his way and eyed him up.

He took a flier on his way past.

 --

 “Excuse me?”

“One second, man,” Dave said, doing the rock-shuffle to keep all the fliers on the table from blowing away.

“Excuse me.”

“Hey, I said just a sec,” Dave snapped.

He turned back and found himself staring into the dark eyes of a bald man with olive skin and deep wrinkles in his forehead.

And Dave knew him.

Holy shit.

Dave knew him.

Fuck.

God.

Jesus, Lord.

“I am so sorry,” he started.

“DAD.”

Ch—Charlie?

He looked down and sure enough, holding Rudolph ‘Diamond’ De Luca’s massive bearpaw was his very own daughter. De Luca made her wiry, suntanned limbs seem like unbaked pretzels.

He was so much bigger than he’d seemed on TV all those years ago.

“This your kid?” De Luca asked.

Jesus.

“She is. I’m so sorry,” Dave said, “Did she—she didn’t bite you or anything, did she?”

“Dad,” Charlie whined. “Don’t tell ‘im that.”

“I’ll pay for whatever damage—” Dave continued.

De Luca blinked at him impossibly slowly with long dark eye lashes. He turned his face slowly back down towards Charlie.

“You sure this is your old man?” he asked.

Wh—

Wait.

What the hell did that mean?

“That’s him,” Charlie moaned. “He’s just bein’ dumb. Dad. Stop bein’ dumb. This dude’s the real deal. He’ll fight you in a heartbeat.”

Dave grabbed his child before she could cause any more damage. She made a fuss, but let go of De Luca’s mitt. Dave shoved her behind him, just in case this situation got any more tense than it needed to be.

De Luca lifted an eyebrow at that and then brought his face back up to Dave’s.

“Who’s gym?” he asked.

What?

Oh.

“Spitfire,” Dave said. “We’re, uh, just about there, on the—”

“I know where you’re about,” De Luca said.

Dave didn’t know what to say. De Luca held his eye.

Oh, god.

This wasn’t going well.

“How old are you, son?” De Luca asked.

FFFFFFFFFFFffffffffffffuck.

“38,” Dave said.

“And your baby girl?” De Luca asked, gesturing with his chin down at Charlie.

“I’m 12,” Charlie told him brightly.

“Hm,” De Luca said.

He shifted his weight back and wrapped a few fingers around his chin, surveying Dave’s whole body like he was the statue of David with a knee injury.

Dave became intimately aware of his nipples again.

“Not bad,” De Luca said.

Oh, thank god.

“Thank you, sir,” Dave said. “Is there, uh, somethin’ I could help you with?”

“You got an accent,” De Luca noted.

Uh?

“A good accent,” De Luca said. “Whereabouts did you grow up?”

Oh.

Well.

Dave could actually just point to it from here. The condo was still standing, despite all building codes and actual alien invasions. At this point, the only thing that was gonna take it down were the rampant, rapidly mutating, borderline feral gangs of chickens that roamed its halls.

Not that anyone spoke about them.

No, that was inviting trouble to your doorstep.

“The chicken coop?” De Luca said.

The one and only.

“Bless you, you poor fuck.”

Yeah, that tended to be the usual reaction.

De Luca laughed.

“You’re a funny guy, uh,” he squinted at Dave’s nametag, “Ansel?”

How could a word sound so wrong in someone’s mouth?

Where had Dave’s life gone wrong that his own name sounded so foreign and distant to his ears?

“Actually,” he said, swallowing, “My uh, my friends call me ‘Dave.’”

De Luca’s head snapped right up and slowly, a grin spread across his face.

“Oh, now, that’s a good name for ya,” he said. “You look like a Davy.”

Hng.

Diamond De Luca thought he looked like a ‘Davy.’

Diamond De Luca thought he looked like a ‘Davy.’

Welp.

Time to get that birth certificate changed.

“Listen, Davy,” De Luca said casually, “Your baby girl there was tellin’ me that your boss has you out here like dancin’ monkey; is that true?”

Fffffffffff.

Technically yes?

“It’s even his day off,” Charlie whispered.

Dave wrapped a hand over her face.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It happens. Folks’ve been sick lately. I don’t normally do this kinda thing.”

De Luca’s face said that that was real cute. Real, real cute, honey.

“Well,” he said, “Let’s just say it like this. Where you work don’t gotta be where you train.”

Oh.

Was he offering--?

“If you decide to drop by, tell the guy at the desk Rudy sent you,” De Luca said. “Your kid’s real sweet, Davy. She can come too, lord knows the damn place is a daycare at this point.”

“Thank? You?” Dave stuttered.

“Don’t mention it,” De Luca said.

He left. Dave watched him waltz down the block and wave at the gals collected on the stoop at the end of it and felt a little lightheaded.

“Dad?”

Not right now, champ.

“Dad? Is he famous or somethin’?”

HHHHHHHHHHNG.

 --

 Back when Dave had been 14 and scraping the tips of his fingers into callouses on the old guitar he’d found tossed into a dumpster in the Upper West Side, he’d had to compete with the sound of the couple fighting in the apartment next door and with the radio the old man downstairs always had playing on his fire-escape window.

The old man downstairs was a real hard-ass. Always slammed a broom into the ceiling, scaring the shit out of Mom and Dad and sister and auntie. Dave had never seen him not smoking, nor had he ever seen him without suspenders.

The man was a retired plumber, apparently. And while Jim Beam was his main vice, his passion was boxing.

To the tune of chords picked out of an out-of-tune guitar, Dave had listened to tinny commentators oohing and awing over match after match, until finally, when sleep wouldn’t come one night, Dave had snuck out of the room he’d shared with Flora. He’d settled down on the living room couch, next to his old man splayed out in the recliner.

Dad had lifted his eyes slowly his way and told him that he should have been in bed.

Dave had told him that he couldn’t sleep because the couple next door was makin’ up from their daily afternoon argument and Dad had just sighed.

He’d let Dave stay up with him and the TV in the living room had fuzzed and rattled away, making sounds really familiar to Dave at that point.

Boxing was a sport that he had, up until that night, left to his father. But for the lack of anything else to talk about that wouldn’t make his dad look at him with disappointment in his eyes for all that damn music-playin’ and eyeliner, he’d asked who the guy on the screen was.

And that was how he’d learned about Diamond De Luca.

About Kenny Varga. Bert ‘The Albatross’ Kleinfeld.

But there was one guy who Dad had mentioned was his favorite rookie and, now it felt both kind of silly and surreal that the name had been spoken so casually in Dave’s home growing up.

Dad had been puttin’ money on Battlin’ Jack Murdock back when Dave had been a little kid.

He told Dave, disappointedly, after a few weeks of Dave getting up at 12:30 to come out and watch boxing with him that he’d really thought that Murdock was gonna be the next big thing.

Guy was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Dad had said, shaking his head. But wolves that got too wily got put down and Battlin’ Jack had been found in an alley, bled out in the arms of his reason for fighting.

Dad said it was a fuckin’ shame that Murdock had gone out with a slug in his head.

A fuckin’ shame, he said.

Dave didn’t remember him every saying that Murdock’s reason for fighting was a blind ten-year-old, but the thought was now merged with that memory.

That, in itself, was merged with the memory of Dave’s phone ringing one night was Addie’s name on the Caller ID. Her voice was shaking when she told Dave that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just called her from an unknown number.

He had their baby.

He’d snatched her and Jesse out of the arms of two men looking for girls to be used in businesses Dave didn’t want to think about.

He’d saved them.

The devil had heard their screams when no one else had and he’d come flying out of the dark.

He’d held the girls in the light of a bodega and he’d coached Charlie through typing Addie’s number into his phone and then he’d taken it from there.

Addie was too scared to go meet the devil on her own. Mason hadn’t been around yet and so Dave had thrown on his shoes and had meet her on 46th.

The devil was on 48th, swinging his boots with both girls in his lap.

They were all singing. The devil had pretended like he didn’t know the words to Britney Spears’s ‘Toxic.’

Matt Murdock was under that mask.

Knowing that this whole time, he’d been the one dragging a stick against the fences and bricks of Hell’s Kitchen was almost impossible to digest.

And Dave had worked with him now.

He’d seen that smirk and that notorious jaw unwrapped from its red armor and that didn’t make reconciling the murdered boxer’s son with the man who’d saved his daughter any easier.

Charlie hadn’t remembered him.

She thought that Matt Murdock was a weird fuckin’ dude, and granted, he was a weird fuckin’ dude, but Dave had to say: he was grateful.

Matt Murdock not only brought home his baby, but he’d given Dave purpose in a life that had become consumed by the daily grind.

Matt Murdock had smiled in his direction, never quite into his eyes, and he’d passed along the baton with next to no fight.

Dave wasn’t him.

Dave would never be him.

Matt Murdock wasn’t just some poor murdered boxer’s blind son. He was the product of some serious poverty. Some serious violence. A whole fuckin’ cult induction, if he was to be believed. And Dave wasn’t so sure if he was always to be believed.

But he still appreciated Matt Murdock for what he’d done and what he’d made for this part of the city.

He’d made Daredevil.

And he shared that with Dave.

Dave’s own dad’s approval hadn’t felt like the honor that had come with Matt Murdock’s covered eyes and curled lip slowly relaxing as he’d lifted his face up from Dave’s knees.

He hadn’t been inspecting.

He’d been listening. Dipping his fingers into the blood in Dave’s heart and deciding if he was worth his salt.

Matt Murdock, son of Battlin’ Jack Murdock, was a product of Fogwell’s Gym in the Kitchen.

Diamond De Luca, retired heavyweight, was a product of Fogwell’s Gym.

The stars had aligned. And Dave had stood in their path.

And he wasn’t wasting the chance that they offered him.

--

Charlie was stoked to be allowed to come to the gym with him. She usually went to Jesse’s house, where Rubes would look after both girls for a few hours.

But De Luca had said that it was okay for her to come along, and so he figured, why not?

Fogwell’s was an institution in the Kitchen. All kids deserved to know their own history.

“I’m gonna fight Fogwell himself,” Charlie announced halfway down the block.

“You will not,” Dave told her. “Because I’m not tryin’ to get thrown out before we even get started here, alright?”

Charlie whined.

He ignored it.

 --

 This wasn’t the first time he’d been to the gym. Matt Murdock slipped in and out of it when he was in the city and he’d taken the whole team there once or twice. But it was different to be there in the presence of the daytime crew.

Dave felt very small in their presence.

The whole place was full of people pounding bags and swearing and shouting at kids who were tumbling all over the rows of benches set off to the side of the bags.

It was not what Dave had been expecting.

He told the guy at the front that ‘Rudy’ had recommended that he stop by and got a nod and a wave.

“He’s probably upstairs,” the receptionist said. “Go pick a bag, I’ll give him a buzz.”

 --

 Charlie refused to join the kids on the benches because apparently that was ‘only for babies, Dad.’ She wanted to hold the bag.

She was not, in one thousand years, holding the bag.

Dave wrapped her hands and let her go at it first to ‘soften it up’ for him.

De Luca caught him adjusting the demon-child’s thumbs before they ended up at the hospital again and laughed.

“Davy-boy, you made it,” he said.

Dave snapped up straight to attention.

“I did,” he said.

De Luca laughed again.

“Relax, kid,” he said. “Damn, you’re tight wound. Don’t worry, we won’t tell no one you’re sleepin’ with the enemy.”

Ahahahaha.

Please don’t.

These people were jacked. Dave was but a kickboxing instructor.

“Here, bub, lemme see what your pops has got,” De Luca said, shooing Charlie out of the way.

And this was the moment of truth.

 --

 De Luca seemed surprised when Dave finally laid off the bag. And Dave couldn’t read his expression for a million bucks.

“Uh?” he tried. “Not good?”

De Luca blinked himself back to earth.

“Oh, no,” he said. “It’s just uh, you fight a little like someone I know.”

Please don’t say a mobster.

Please don’t say a mobster.

“Kid used to live around here; name’s Matt Murdock,” De Luca said. “You know him?”

Did—

Did he know him?

QUICK. Answer the question.

You’re takin’ too long.

He’s gonna—

“S’alright if you don’t,” De Luca said. “I was just sayin’. Kid was like one of my own.”

He—

What?

“Yeah, boy fought like the devil like his daddy before ‘im,” De Luca said. “He’s the only one Fogwell lets call him ‘Grandpa.’ He’s about your age, actually. God, I’m old.”

AHAHAHAHAHA.

Please change the subject.

“You’re not that old,” Dave said. “I think I might have heard the name.”

Charlie looked up at him, baffled at the hedging.

He pleaded with her with his eyes not to say a damn word.

“Yeah, he’s somethin’, left here for San Francisco. Didn’t even say good-bye, the little shit,” De Luca sniffed. “Came back last year all ‘I’m gettin’ married’ and I swear to god, he’s picked up some kid. Just between you and me, pal, the old guard here have been talkin’, and we think that someone missed out on the sex ed talk, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

Oh.

Poor Sam.

He wasn’t even there to scream from the mountaintops that Red was a last resort for him at best.

“I’m just sayin’,” De Luca said with a shrug that spoke far more of supreme irritation than nonchalance, “He coulda just told us. I’m just sayin’.”

Any more ‘just sayin’s’ and Diamond De Luca was gonna go find a wall to bury them in.

“Did you, uh, have any feedback?” Dave blurted out as the guy started mumbling.

“Hm?”

“Feedback,” Dave repeated, waving a gloved hand at the bag.

“Oh. Yeah, loads, kid. You got all the muscles and not a damn lick of memory, here, lemme show you.”

Crisis averted.

Thank god.

 --

 D2: hey uh, DD?

SM: DAVE

S2: DAVEEEE

S3: DAVE

SM: what’s up man?

D2: nothing I was just trying to get ahold of DD?

BT: He’s trying to get Kirsten to give up her dreams of an indoor office pond rn. Can I help?

SM: I want an indoor office pond

S3: omg same

D2: uh yeah actually could you just tell him I met a guy named De Luca the other day and he might want to give him a call?

BT: de Luca?

D2: yeah

BT: okay sure thing

D2: thanks

BT: I’ll go see if I can get a word in edgewise.

SM: good fucking luck

S2: I hate fish

S3: leave this place and never return

S2: I HATE FISH

DD: WHAT

SM: oh shit that was quick

D2: oh. I was just saying that I met Diamond De Luca the other day?

SM: ?? Who’s that?

DD: oh no

S2: ??????????????

DP (´｡✪ω✪｡´): who the fuck is that?

DD: are you still with him?

D2: no?

D2: he caught me out fliering and invited me to Fogwell’s

D2: and when I got there he mentioned my stance was like yours and he uh

D2: got a little distracted

DD: what kind of distracted?

D2: He thinks Sam’s your bastard kid

BT: GODDAMNIT

DD: FOR FUCKS SAKE

BT: First Mrs. Jones, now this guy?? TEACH.

DD: These people have zero faith in me I swear to god.

DD: like come ON man. I did sex ed in the same class as Angie he knows I’m too catholic for that shit

DP (´｡✪ω✪｡´): I looked this man up and he looks like an Italian nate with less hair

SM: wh

DP (´｡✪ω✪｡´): okay you’re right he looks nothing like nate

SM: that

SM: that’s not even slightly helpful, wade, thanks not at all. Hey who’s angie?

DD: long story. Rudy’s daughter

S2: RED YOU FUCKED A BOXERS DAUGHTER?? That’s a million dollar baby man

DD: I

DD: what?

DD: no? Why would I fuck angie she’s like my sister?

S2: oh nvm

SM: 😬😬😬

S3: I am confused ❤

D2: you should probably call him, friend

DD: on it. thanks for the notice

DD: hey what’s your fuckin name again?

S2: f

S3: f

SM: f

D2: It’s Ansel

DD: Adams?

D2: not the photographer. Ansel West.

SM: WEST

S2: OMG

S3: guys don’t

SM: I BET YOURE A SUNSET DAVE

S2: YOU EVER FEEL CALLED TO THE PRAIRIE DAVE???

SM: YOU’RE A&W, DAVE!!

S2: ROOT BEER ROOT BEER

D2: ah yes. Middle school. I remember this feeling.

--

Dave laid his phone on his chest and stared back up at the ceiling.

It was never dull, this new life he’d settled into.

He said a prayer for Murdock and rolled onto his side.

It was still his goddamn couch.

 --

[brittledame]

Pairing: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, hate-sex, swearing, name calling, light bondage, edging, overstimulation, semi-public sex

Word Count: 6.6K

Summary:  Contrary to what you both believed, the tryst in the study room only served to intensify the tense air between you two. Not wanting to acknowledge how he’s been on your mind since, you shut him out completely. Unknowing to you, Shirabu is plagued with the same thoughts. Tension boils over once again as you find yourself left alone with him in the gym.

Series: Part 2 of 3 (Part 1 & Part 3)

To say that the last few weeks since handing in the assignment have been tense was an understatement. Ever since the incident in the study room, your head has been in utter disarray.

There were many things on the burning pile of your mind that added to your mounting vexation. The first one being that you gave into him, and no matter how pleasurable that was, it was a major blow to your pride. Since that library session, Shirabu acted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Hell, if you weren’t for the bruises painted on your hips, you might’ve convinced yourself it was a very vivid sex dream about your rival.

Unlike Shirabu’s heated anger, yours was more of the frosty kind. Cold shoulders punctuated with icy looks. The two of you were opposites in every sense of the term and yet he haunted you like an embarrassing childhood memory that refuses to let you sleep.

You let your hand slip out from where it was supporting your cheek and let your head ‘thunk’ against the table. Concerned, Natsuki pauses from her bento and gives you an assessing look.

“Alright, you’ve been acting weird for a while now. Are you alright?” Natsuki narrow her eyes at you, a silent warning that you wouldn't get away with lying.

Asides from her expression, you could hear concern ring loud and clear in her voice. Natsuki was a dear friend but she was also as stubborn as a bull if she wanted something, just like you. Now that you think of it, maybe that was why you two got along so well.

Knowing that you weren’t going to be able to evade the question, you give her a plausible excuse.

“University entrance exams are getting closer and I feel like I’m hitting a wall when I try to study.”

It was partially true. Albeit the reason you were hitting a wall was mostly because you can’t go more than an hour sitting there without your thoughts drifting to Shirabu’s hands on your hips, thrusting inside of you with vitriolic comments on the tip of his tongue. But Natsuki didn’t need to know all of that.

Accepting the lame excuse, Natsuki nods her head in empathy.

“I feel you there,” she frowns, “with my council duties on top of everything, I feel like I’m doing work but getting nowhere with it. They have me running around every afternoon trying to get forms signed. By the time I’m done I don’t want to study.”

You quietly hum at her tribulations. Annoyed at your uncharacteristic brooding demeanour recently, Natsuki sharply prods your cheek with her chopstick. You bat her hand away and turn to weakly glare up at her.

In your periphery, a flash of copper-toned hair catches your attention. Peering at the boy that’s been distracting you from the corner of your eyes, you could see him sitting like a statue among the lively chatter of his table. For some reason, the mere sight of his blank face and stupidly straight fringe elicited anger inside of you.

If it wasn’t clear before, that reaction to his existence was enough to rule out the possibility of you falling for him. This fills you with relief. You had suspected the possibility when you caught yourself thinking about him on a daily basis, but the thought terrified you.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Natsuki pouts at you, hand poised to jab you in the cheek with her chopstick again.

“Yes.”

“Is that a yes to delivering the form or for listening?”

“Both,” you absent-mindedly answer, eyeing off your unfinished bento, knowing you weren't in the mood to finish it.

“Thanks for doing this favour for me.” Natsuki sounded genuinely glad as she riffles through her binder she refuses to leave in her desk.

With a small ‘aha’, she pulls out a sheath of paper and holds it out to you. Sitting up from your slouched position, you gingerly take the paperwork. You wonder what you might’ve signed yourself up for when you see how much writing is crammed onto the first page.

“What is this?” You ask.

“I knew you weren’t listening.” Natsuki says, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I told you that I need to get the volleyball’s club captain to submit their plan for the new people filling the team roles and other admin stuff like that.”

At the casual mention of the volleyball’s captain, dread gripped your heart.

“The volleyball captain?” You parrot back weakly.

“Yeah,” she gives you an odd look, “you know, Shirabu. The guy who you claim to hate. Surely you knew he was captain.”

Oh, you knew all too well that he was the damn captain. Being the overachieving bastard that he was, as if acing high school and aiming for medical school was enough, the dick had to add in being captain to a national-placing sports team as well.

Petulantly looking away to not meet Natsuki’s unimpressed look, your eyes incidentally met golden ones. The eye contact probably lasted all of a millisecond, but it was the most you two shared over the past few weeks. With you avoiding looking at Shirabu at every possible opportunity and Shirabu himself making no attempt to address the elephant in the room, you both let the elephant waste away and dye under the lack of attention.

Breaking the eye contact, you turn your attention back to the brunette in front of you. “Why am I doing this for you?”

“Because you’re a good friend?” She bats her eyelashes at you.

You give her a flat look, not believing her for a second.

“Come on,” she whines, “you know those volleyball guys scare me. They’re way too tall.”

“They shouldn’t. They’re a bunch a meat-heads.” You don’t mention the fact that their captain is below the national height average, which you find quite hilarious for a sport that’s all about height and strength.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever, I’ve got the papers now, so it’s already settled. Don’t say that I’m not a good friend.”

Natsuki gives you a wide smile that makes you pause.

“Maybe while you’re at it, you can sort out whatever happened between the two of you since working on that science project.”

Your skin breaks out in goose bumps at the innocent words paired with a meaningful undertone.

It was then that you swore to never underestimate the power of Natsuki’s perception.

Not wanting to interrupt practice and bring unnecessary attention to yourself, you decided it was best to wait until practice finished. Remembering the time practice should be ending from your previous sessions with Shirabu, you holed yourself up in the dorms during the meantime, trying your hardest to work through some practice exam questions to no avail. Your traitorous thoughts kept drifting to the copper-haired setter roughly handling you.

Phantom touches ghosted along the same places Shirabu had graced upon not that long ago. Unthinkingly, your thighs press together as the memory of him ruthlessly fucking into you plays in your mind for the umpteenth time this week alone.

Frustrated with your horny mind, you slap your cheeks. The sting drives away the faint tendrils of arousal and brings back clarity. God, now was not the time to be getting all hot and bothered over something he probably hasn’t thought twice about. You valued yourself more than to ruminate over something so basal.

Looking at the time, it signals that you should head off if you want to get the forms signed tonight as per Natsuki's explicit orders. Snatching the forms off the corner of your desk, you set off to the gym with a stone sitting heavy in your stomach.

Thankfully, it was warm enough to not wear a jacket. The heat teases the stress from your tense shoulders. The walk was calming, the scent of blooming sakura and freshly cut grass further soothing your frayed nerves.

You weren’t nervous per say, more anxious at finding out how your body may react to being in such close proximity to him again. Since that night, purposeful or not, you both struggled to find an appropriate time to meet up and decided that it was best to do it all online since the majority of it was completed.

The sounds of shoes squeaking over varnished wood along with the low murmur of male voices met your ears as you slide your shoes into a cubby and slipped on indoor shoes. You’ve only been in gym one three times before and that was for the opening ceremonies. The sight of high beam ceilings and sleek modern interior still astounded you.

The boys running around had mops in hand, whilst others climbed to dismantle nets, but most of them were missing. Looking around for a head of copper-hair, you hoped that Shirabu hadn’t left early like most captains would. However, your mission was interrupted as your sight was filled with black hair and glittering dark eyes peering at you.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes. Is Shirabu still here?” You answer, taking note of how tall the boy is. His face doesn’t seem familiar and you’d definitely remember meeting someone with a bowl-cut. He must be in a year below you, you reason.

“Ah,” the boy’s eyes flit over to the right, “he’s over there.”

Following his line of sight, you found Shirabu standing with his arms crossed next to an open door talking to a ginger-haired guy that you’ve definitely seen in your class before.

“Thanks.” You nod to the younger who smiles to you and continues whatever chose he was assigned.

Walking over to the pair, you catch his eye without even trying. Shirabu’s expression changes minutely, a subtle twitch of the mouth that has you contemplating homicide. You were over-reacting, surely. Still, you hoped that maybe he could fake being pleasant for as long as it takes to fill the forms out.

“Sorry to interrupt –“

“No, you’re not.” Shirabu interrupts. Well there goes the fantasy of him being pleasant for one minute. Even his tall friend gives him a look for cutting you off.

“You’re right. I’m not,” You concede. Placing a hand on your hip, you hold the papers out to him.

Shirabu blankly stares at you instead of taking them, which added to your mounting annoyance. Fine. If he wanted to play the petty game, so would you.

“These are forms for the retiring captain of the volleyball club to fill out. Unfortunately it turned out to be you.” You say with a plastic smile. “The team must be really sad to see their esteemed captain leave, huh?”

Shirabu’s jaw clenched at your poorly concealed insults, not even bothering to dress them up like you preferred to do. Expecting him to rise to the bait, you waited for the onslaught of offense he’ll spew in response.

“I’m busy right now. You can wait until I’m done.”

He brushes you off, turning and walking away from you. His friend gives you an apologetic look, knowing how shitty his friend’s personality is.

Your eye twitches with restrained violence as you watched him saunter away. With clenched hands you wait by the storage room’s doorway. You dismiss the few pitying glances from the few people walking past you to put the cleaning equipment away.

You busy yourself with your phone as Shirabu continues to waste your precious time that you could be using to catch up on some much needed studying that he was unknowingly depriving you of recently.

Kenjirou had not expected you to turn up tonight, catching him by surprise. When he noticed you, an inexplicable feeling rushed over him. He tried to keep his face neutral as you drew closer but the moment you opened your mouth he couldn’t help himself.

That temporary high of riling you up and then giving you the cold shoulder was incredible. After the weeks of your frigid treatment and the plain disregard for his existence you subjected him to, it was the least he could repay you with. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even ask about your sudden change of attitude, as you would try your hardest to avoid being in a room alone with him.

All he did know was that he weirdly missed the fiery attitude you possessed. It frustrated him to no end that as soon as the assignment was completed, you had done your hardest to ghost him. As much as one could when you shared the same classroom for near seven hours of the day.

Your suddenly frigid attitude didn’t stop you staring, though. Kenjirou had caught you a few times looking in his direction with an indescribable expression. From your distant expression, he couldn’t tell if you either wanted to stab him or re-enact that last study session.

Regardless, the entire affair has him on edge. He thought that fucking you would vent all those conflicting emotions and give him peace. Instead he feels more restless now than ever.

And to his dismay, this did not go unnoticed by Taichi.

“Is there a reason why you’re being more of a prick to her than usual?”

Kenjirou ignored the question in favour for checking out the gym. The first and second years were generally tasked to do clean-up and they did so with vigour, feeling privileged to work in an old war-horse team with a vendetta.

“Man, I never took you to be the ‘boy pulls girl's pigtails because he likes her’ stereotype when getting a girl's attention.” Taichi muses.

Shirabu scowls at Taichi. “Shut up. She annoys the hell out of me and that’s all.”

Taichi grabs him by the arm, eyebrow piqued. “She didn’t even speak two words and you were at her throat.”

“She doesn’t need to say anything to piss me off.”

“Funny that she’s willing to be civil and yet you aren’t.”

Kenjirou chooses not to comment on that.

The pissed off expression on his face has the younger members avoiding him like the plague, choosing to leave for their dorms over loitering in the locker room.

“Are you going to help me lock up or not?”

“Only if you stop looking murderous.”

Taichi’s knee buckles as Kenjirou delivers a swift kick to the back of it.

“Go away, I can do it on my own.”

“Fine,” Taichi says, looking relieved at the early dismissal. Kenjirou didn't doubt for a moment that Taichi planned for it. “Don’t murder the cute girl. I won’t be your alibi.”

“You’re a terrible friend.” Kenjirou hisses under his breath.

Taichi laughs and leaves Kenjirou to his own devices. Remembering that you were waiting on him, he’s surprised to find that you were still there. Leaning against the wall tapping at your phone looking bored, you didn’t notice his eyes on you. You were still wearing the school uniform, with the exception of your tie and first few buttons undone.

There was a casual air about you that he didn’t get to see every day. His eyes linger on your skirt, fingers twitching with the memory of how the fabric felt under them. Without his permission, an image of your panties tucked away in the back of his bedside table flashes to the forefront of his mind.

Unlike the previous times the thought popped into mind, Kenjirou chooses not to fight it away as he turns away from you and goes through the motions of checking the locker room and hallways before locking up.

The lacy scrap of fabric was a memento of sorts, a trophy of him putting you in your place the same way he envisioned in his more… illicit fantasies. Although, they may be cursed. As absurd as the idea is, Kenjirou has no other explanation for the phenomenon that’s been occurring since his ownership of them. He can barely stand looking at the harmless piece of furniture containing them without feeling heat spark up inside of him.

At first, he ruled it to anger or frustration, a common emotion he experiences in your vicinity. It only took a week after the tryst, left alone in his dorm room for the weekend did he indulge the demon in his mind. It wasn’t until he was coming down from his high, your soft panties wrapped around his hand covered in drying cum, did the weight of his actions sink in.

It didn’t stop there, though. No, that’d be too easy for him, and if Kenjirou had learnt anything since you breezed into his life, life was all about being difficult.

He had woken up a few times to ruined sheets from dreams of your sweet moans and pliable body under his hands, all too willing to obey his every demand. It's laughable that he thinks you would ever be like that, but that’s why he supposes their called wet dreams – they’re unrealistic fantasies. The logical part of him chimes in the significance of Kenjirou liking you to the extent of your appearing in those fantasies, but Kenjirou did his best to smother that voice until it died.

The keys in his hand rattle as he shoves them into his pocket. Without even realising it, he managed to complete lock-up. The only soul besides his in the gym belonged to the only person that could piss him off with just a look.

Walking down the hallway, towards where you were waiting, Kenjirou decisively concluded the knot in his stomach was not anticipation, it was from the annoyance at knowing he was forced to be with you in the few precious hours he has to himself.

Your mindless scrolling stops as you check the time, pissed that he’s held you back for this long. You wished you could leave but you promised to give the completed forms to Natsuki in the morning and you didn’t trust Shirabu for as far as you could throw him.

Whilst you didn’t expect him to greet you with open arms and a charming smile, you were fed up with his belligerent attitude. While he’s always been like that, it’s really been grating on your nerves recently. You’ve become acutely aware of Shirabu’s every move. The sight of him alone, at ease talking among peers made you experience something you’ve never felt before.

The closest description to the feeling is butterflies fluttering around your stomach, but the idiom was simultaneously nauseating and horrifying to you.

From dwelling on it for weeks now, you knew that your sudden interest towards him stemmed from lusting over him, as adamant you were to admit. Unfortunately, you enjoyed him taking you from behind without any regard for you. It infuriated you that you got off on his nasty personality.

“Give me the papers.”

The unexpected appearance of Shirabu’s voice startles you, very nearly causing you to drop your phone.

You click your tongue at him and give him an admonishing look for his rudeness. Grabbing the papers tucked under your arm, you hand it over to him.

“Here.”

Without a word of thanks, he takes them and starts reading over them, not wanting to dignify your cold tone. Biting your tongue, you fish out a pen in your pocket. You were sorely tempted to toss it at his head, but you were above acting so childish, unlike Shirabu.

Moving close to him, you stay out of his personal space as you point to sections of the paper with the pen and start reciting everything Natsuki told you. You were nothing but meticulous and as much as you despised her for setting you up, you never half-assed anything.

At the end of your spiel, Kenjirou snatches your pen from your grasp and start filling out the form against the wall. At your indignant shout, he simply rolls his eyes.

It was obvious that Shirabu wanted to be anywhere else but here with you, evident by his silence. Weirdly enough, the thought hurt, like little pinpricks piercing your chest.

Surprisingly, Shirabu is the one to break the silence that fell over the gym.

“Why does the council need to know how many students I think are going to join next year? How could I possibly guess that?”

You roll your eyes at his griping. “Just fill out the damn form.”

Uncaring of the dilemma threatening his fastidious nature, you grinned as his jaw clenches. He’s put you through psychological torture for a month now, this was only a taste of the frustration you felt.

You felt a little vindicated when he huffs out loud at another unnecessarily specific question.

Fuck what Natsuki said, this was exposure therapy at its finest. If you could do this without admiring his body in some way then that’d be a victory. And you despised losing, so you were intent on winning this as well.

Easier said than done.

Your eyes lingered on his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. They further stray down the column of his throat and settle on the hand scribbling down information. His hands were surprisingly slender for a guy, but no less deadly. You’ve heard about his pin-point accurate tosses and serves. You knew firsthand the mistake of underestimating his strength.

“What?” He snaps, noticing you intently staring at his hands.

“Nothing,” You sniff, trying to look disdainful to cover your embarrassment at your wondering attention.

‘For fuck’s sake, pull yourself together woman!’ You inwardly admonish yourself.

For Kenjirou, this was the last straw. He tried carrying on as normal after the incident, he tried not biting back for the sake of decency, and yet your attitude flips on him out of nowhere. He’s tired of all of this shit.

Letting the papers fall to the ground, he grabs your wrist in an iron-hard grip and bangs open the door of the storage room beside you. Fed up with your attitude, Kenjirou knew that confronting you about it could blow up in his face but he couldn’t stand his last few weeks of high school spent with your bitchy demeanour.

“Hey! What the fuck?” You protest, pulling against the tight grasp he has on your wrists as he kicks the door closed pulls your further into the dark room.

Not listening to your complaints, he pulls you behind the high stack of mats and shoves you against the shelving unit. The shelves uncomfortably dig into your back as he cages you in, arms placed beside your head, breaths intermingling.

“This has got to stop.” He growls.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You raise your eyebrows at him, outwardly acting unaffected. Internally, your heartbeat thundered in your ears, deafening you with the excitement you felt.

“Oh, so now you want to act normal?” He snorts.

“Fuck off.”

For the past three years you’ve taken enough of his shit. You thought denying the issue attention would starve him and he’d get bored. How wrong you were. Instead you managed to piss him off even more, evident by the way the air vibrated with the tension between your bodies.

“I bet you can’t get me out of your head,” Shirabu says lowly, possessive grip on your hips tightening minutely. “Maybe that’s why you refuse to meet my eyes.”

“Don’t sound all high and mighty. I bet you get off with my underwear that you stole, asshole.” You bite back, defiantly meeting his gaze head-on to prove him wrong.

Unexpectedly, Kenjirou flushes. If you didn’t know how big of a prick he was, you’d almost think it was cute. Now though? It was all you needed to know that was exactly what he’s been using your stolen panties for.

“Oho, hit the nail on the head now, did I?” You tease, drawing your faces close enough to see the faint freckles that were hidden by the redness.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says warningly, a hard expression on his face.

“Or what? You’ll gag me again? Oh no.” You challenge, lips pursed in faux concern.

“No,” he drawls, brushing his thumb across your lower lip. “I want to hear you beg for me this time.”

His thumb presses down hard, preventing you from responding coherently . You glare at him from under your eyelashes, not liking the smug look on his face at all.

His titillating tone had your horny hindbrain rearing to go. Meanwhile, your forebrain was too stubborn to give in just because he was wanted it, despite you wanting it as well.

Shirabu’s eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth, watching your tongue flick at his thumb. He replaces it with his index and middle finger, pressing down on your tongue and admiring the way your tongue melded around them. It was the best way he could stop your witticisms for one fucking second.

“You’re so much cuter when you’re not talking.” He sighs, feigning a wistful tone.

You scowled at him, hating the fact that he was enjoying himself and that you were weirdly enjoying it as well. His other hand migrates southward, slipping up underneath your skirt. The brush of his fingertips leave a tingling sensation on your skin as it makes its way up your inner thigh.

Your knees lock up as he brushes along the edge of your panties. Unable to take his intense focus on your face, you shove shove his fingers out of your mouth and pull him down into a kiss. Much like the first one you two shared, there was much more teeth and tongue involved for it be labelled such, but you had no other word for it.

As his tongue slips in, Kenjirou forcibly rubs against the wet spot he found. He pressed against it, testing how far the fabric would stretch. You keened into his mouth at the rough feeling of the fabric stroking against your folds.

Breaking the kiss, he leans his forehead against yours. His fingers move the panties to the side and you finally get the skin-on-skin contact you’ve been craving. Stroking your bare folds and smearing the wetness around, Shirabu manages to touch you everywhere but the place you wanted him most.

“If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you never done this before.” You tease, hoping to urge him on but unknowingly sealing your fate for another rough night.

Shirabu’s ministrations stop and he levels you with a serious expression – a dangerous glint in his honeyed irises.

“I’m going to make you beg for me.”

Committed to his promise, he buries two fingers into you without concern. You yelp at the burn of the sudden stretch and lack of lubrication. As if you didn’t think you were insane as it was, you could feel yourself get wetter at the lick of pain. Kenjirou smirk as he watches your face screw up as he pumps and twists his fingers inside of you, feeling you become wetter around his digits.

Skillful fingers make a mess of you. Unable to support yourself on weak legs, Shirabu and the shelving unit bare your weight as you pant and give breathy sighs whenever he makes a particular set of motions that has heat rushing throughout your body and your hole gush.

It wasn’t long before you could feel that heat accumulating low in your gut. Throwing your head back and letting out a lengthy moan, needlessly warning Shirabu that you were close.

‘Just a little more,’ you thought desperately, ‘just a little more and I'll be there.’

Kenjirou knew he was a sadist at-heart, told many times by Taichi and his seniors for pushing the younger years during practice. He never had the chance to explore it with a partner before and while he never imagined you to be the one, he found himself enjoying your sinful expressions and sounds.

With a cruel smile, he watches your reaction as he pulls his fingers out of you. You Eyes fly open, hips pausing in their mindless rolling and a complaint rises to your lips.

“You fucker.”

He laughs at your reaction. it was exactly what he expected from your impatient bitchy self.

Instead of resuming the bickering from before, you force yourself to calm down. Closing your eyes and turning your thoughts inwards, you practice breathing techniques counsellors taught you for exam stress. The back of your mind registers his fingers skirting around the edge of your hole with enough pressure to cause your leg to twitch.

Envisioning the smug look on his face did not help you calm down. it caused your blood to boil all the more. Begrudgingly opening your eyes, your eyebrows furrow when you see his contemplative look.

Kenjirou wondered how long it would take for you to give in to him. From the way your chest was heaving, looking at him through lidded eyes, he concluded that it would be miracle if you could last more than two rounds of this game.

Determined to prove his theory, he ripped your skirt down with your panties in one smooth motion and slipped his fingers back into your greedy hole. It took a much shorter amount of time for you to get close this time, thighs tensing around his hand.

Trying to spread your legs wider, you’re stopped by the elastic waist of your panties. Annoyed, you step out of them and kick the skirt and panties away. Now freed, your legs spread wider to give Shirabu’s miracle hand more room to work with, which he gladly abused.

“Fuck.” You moan

“I’ve barely started and you’re already a mess,” He notes, eyeing your glistening eyes and the bared column of your throat.

“Screw you.” You hiss, thighs tensing as he works you back towards the high he ripped from you.

Kenjirou darts forward to deliver a harsh nip to your bottom lip in punishment. Not expecting it, you moaned at the bite of pain, tightening around his long fingers.

Believing you learnt you lesson, his lips move southward. Trailing down the column of you throat, his mind summons thoughts of your neck being littered with his mark. His hand increases the pace, brutally pumping in and out as the mental image makes his dick harden impossibly more.

The sting of his scalp as you tug at his hair pulls him away from the thought and in turn gives him another idea.

You smother the whine threatening to come out as he remove his fingers from your soaking hole, once again depriving you of that high.

Mildly confused, you watched as he loosens his tie and slips it over his head. It hits you a moment too late what he was planning. The fabric rasp against your overlapped wrists and tightens as he slide the knot down.

“I didn’t know you were into that, Shirabu. Mummy and daddy must be so proud of their little boy using their knot tying skills for bondage.” You comment, to which he rolls his eyes and forces your arms upwards to loop the other end of the tie around a pole.

He tests your new restraints by tugging at the knot. Satisfied with his handiwork, he turns his attention back to you.

“I was serious about you begging,” he starts conversationally, like you weren’t tied up and half naked. “I’m not going to fuck you until you do.”

“I’d like to see you try and get me begging, pretty boy.” You taunt him full-well knowing that you were starting to become a little desperate. Once clear mind was now clouded with a need that he’s been denying you over and over again.

Kenjirou knew this as well. Your legs were trembling minutely, your pupils dilated, and face flushed a cute pink. He could tell you were close to breaking. He was mildly surprised that you survived this far in, but your resilience – more like stubbornness, he muses – only served to make him all the more determined to break you.

Unlike before, it starts off slow. Calloused fingers massaging your faintly pulsing walls as you roll your hips against his palm. Just when he lulls you into a sense of security, the pace is amped straight back to maximum and fans his fingers out.  

Kenjirou scissors his fingers as he pulls out and twists his wrist as he draws out. This had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, loud moan reverberating off of the walls.

It takes only a few pumps and a twist to have the heat grow and spark inside of you as he brings you closer to an orgasm than the previous times.

Kenjirou can feel the tell-tale fluttering of your walls, thighs clenching around his hand, as if trying to force him deeper. Easing up, he lazily pumps his digits in and out, watching as your expression twists into a pained one as he rips yet another orgasm from you.

“Fuck me already.” You moan, fed up with the ups and downs. You both loved and hated Shirabu having all the power right now. You’re sure this was something you’ll contemplate once this is all said and done.

“You know what I want.” He massages your walls and brushes against a sensitive spot.

A moan cuts off your words, walls clenching down on long fingers that weren’t enough to scratch the itch deep inside of you.

“Say it.”

Kenjirou buries his fingers inside of you, this time deeper than before, reaching spots that your own failed to reach. You very nearly screamed at the sensation. Shirabu was pushing you to your wits end without any effort.

“Please! Just fuck me already!”

The tears gathering at the corners of your eyes spill as he hastily pulls his fingers out of your sopping core. The sound of a zipper followed by fabric dropping to the floor fill your ears as Kenjirou hastily preps himself.

Smearing the juices from your dripping hole onto his length with slick fingers, Kenjirou catches your eyes as he strokes himself and smirks at your curious look.

A blush sears onto your cheeks at his look. Last time you didn’t get to take a look at his member, even though you became intimately aware of its slight upwards curve, you had to admit to yourself that his length was impressive. You’d rather cut out your own tongue than tell him that, so you make sure your face devoid of those thoughts.

Kenjirou doesn't waste a moment as he grabs your thigh and wraps it around his back as he lines himself up. The breath in your chest stalls as his tip prods at your entrance.

“Good girl,” He breathes as he finally enters you inch by excruciating inch.

Head dropping back, your arms strain against their restraints as his dick perfectly fills every crevice inside of you. The slight sting of the stretch brings more tears to your eyes, but it was soon overshadowed by the liquid pleasure that coursed through your veins as he starts rocking up into your warmth.

The shelves rattle as each thrust jostles you back. You were unaware of the pain caused by them digging into your back as each stroke already had you becoming closer and closer to your peak. The friction alone from his hurried pace had your toes curling and mind wiped of coherent thought.

Having you tied up and at the mercy of his whims had blood rushing from his head to his dick. It was an incredible feeling to tame your fiery spirit, creating a high that he could see himself chasing for the rest of his life.

“Look at you, taking my cock like the good cock-slut you are.” He pants into your ear.

You moan loudly, not giving a single fuck for any unfortunate soul that might still be in the gym, as your evasive orgasm finally comes into arms.

Your walls tighten around Kenjirou's length hard enough for him to hiss. Kenjirou knew you were close, moans reaching a new pitch. As a reward for you being compliant with him, Kenjirou lends you a helping hand. With a few strokes of your sensitive bundle of nerves he tips you over the edge.

Sparks coalesce inside of you and dance along your skin as you orgasm, creaming over Shirabu’s cock. Your vision turns black, but the feeling of Shirabu fucking you through your orgasm intensifies as he works through your tight warmth, seeking out his own peak.

“Kenjirou.”

Hips jerking out of motion, Kenjirou nearly chokes on his tongue as his orgasm sudden crashes down on him at your call of his name. Burying himself as deep as possible, cum sprays inside of you with considerable force as he unloads inside of your hole.

“You sound so good begging and moaning for me,” He pants. “It’s the only time where you’re not being a bitch.”

“Like you can talk Mr. When-I-Talk-Over-Someone-I’m-Automatically-The-Winner. You’re no better-”

Abruptly pulling out, Kenjirou replaces his cock with his fingers, pushing his cum back inside of your leaking hole. A weak groan rattles your chest as his fingers brush against sensitive hole, holding their position.

“As you were you saying?” He says smoothly, knowing he’s robbing you of speech as he applies more pressure to your hole.

“You fucker.” You grit out, tugging at your restraints as you automatically move to try and move his hands away, the full feeling of his hot cum inside you becoming overwhelming.

“A reward for being a good girl.” He breathes into your ear, causing a shiver to consume your form.

Reaching up with his free hand, Shirabu single-handedly undoes the knots of his tie and frees your wrists. You’d be impressed by this if it weren’t for his two fingers rubbing incessantly against you the entire time, making your vision fritz at the edges.

Arms falling to your sides, the blood rushes back into them and the feeling of static pairing wonderfully with the way Shirabu’s digits moved against your abused hole.

Pain flares up in your wrists when you grab his hand to stop his unrelenting movements. Working through the pain, you move his hand away. As Shirabu pulls away from you, he avidly watches as his cum drains from you. You swallow thickly at the sensation of warm globs trailing down your thigh.

Disgusted at the feeling of it drying, you glance around and spot a roll of paper towel sitting on the shelf beside your head.

You busied yourself by cleaning up the mess Shirabu made of you as the devil himself also wiped himself off.

Leaning down to pull up his shorts, Kenjirou notes the red fabric sticking out from your skirt piled on the floor. Surreptitiously checking that you weren’t paying attention, he tucks the fabric into his pocket with a sly grin, claiming his rightful trophy to his second conquest.

Glancing over to Shirabu as you pick up your skirt, you find him tucking himself back into his shorts with a carefully blank look on his face. You eye him suspiciously, unknowing of what he was going to do or say next.

“Here’s the key, lock up when your done and give it back tomorrow.”

You scramble to catch the key he tosses at you, dropping your skirt in the process. He doesn’t wait to hear your complaints, giving you one last long look and waltzes on out like he didn’t have you tied up and fucked senseless not even five minutes ago.

Incredulously, you watched his back disappear around the corner. Shaking your head, you go to pick up you skirt again. Noticing the absence of red fabric inside of the purple plaid, you looked around the floor, hoping that maybe you kicked them under the shelves.

After one quick look around, the fate of another pair of your favourite panties hits you like a brick to the head.

“Motherfucker!” You scream after him.

The deep laughter in the distance filters through your ears and fanned the hatred simmering inside as well as the blush doing its best to turn you into a strawberry impersonation.

Leaning against the shelving unit, chest heaving and sweat drying along your skin, you swore to fix the part of you that craved Shirabu's touch.

Notes:  Too bad I can’t write degrading stuff without looking too far into it because goddamn does Shirabu suite it. Hope you enjoyed this indulgent fic!!

[peebleswrites]

Can I pleaseeee request something with Ulquiorra!? It's difficult to see him being sweet or romantic but I'm ready for whatever he can give 🤣

GASP. YAY. FIRST REQUEST. THANK YOU. Gotta say, this was a challenge! But it was always really fun and I enjoyed writing this piece. I hope you like it!

ULQUIORRA X FEMALE!READER

About three months had gone by since the Arrancars mysteriously appeared in the world of the living, sans the previously deep seeded hatred of humans and Shinigami. In short, they had no evil intentions whatsoever and seemed curious, some more than others, over the lifestyle of humans.

Everyone was of course wary, worried they’d fly off the handle and a war would once again loom on the horizon in the minds of both the soul society and the world of the living. Until Y/N was the first to offer an extension of goodwill to the once evildoers, thus triggering a snowball affect of successful communication between the three parties.

And so, the former Espada remained in the world of the living, assimilating into the culture and assuming somewhat normal lives!

“Say Y/N,” Orihime began one afternoon during lunch upon the roof. All eyes trained to the busty bubble of joy as she posed a question in Y/N’s direction.

“What’s your type? I mean, what sort of guy are you interested in?” Pretty much everyone was equally surprised as they were curious which included a certain arrancar who’d normally find such drabble ridiculous and an utter waste of time. 

Since his arrival, or rather, since those of his kind had been accepted in this world, Ulquiorra had taken something of an interest in Y/N. She was the first to accept him, all of them, and he’d always been curious concerning her reasoning. Surely, she intended to gain something by having them as allies, right? Y/N was just a human. It would make sense for her to align herself with the strong.

Yet…she didn’t appear to him as the type to use people for her own advantage. This only made her all the more interesting. As such, he used any and all opportunities afforded to him. All in efforts to garner what her true intentions were.

This was one of those opportunities.

“My type? Mmm…I guess someone who’s smart.” Y/N started before considering the rest of her response.

“Heh, that excludes you, Shinigami.” Grimmjow was first to comment, roughly punching Ichigo in the shoulder with that snarl of a grin covering his feral features. The jab nor the remark was taken well by the aforementioned male who soon retaliated with an equal amount of force.

“What the hell?! That means you too, dumbass!” And of course, that triggered the beginning of their usual bout which everyone had gotten so used to, it was pretty much ignored.

“I do like the strong, silent type, too. Oh! And a bit of spontaneity! You know, keeps things interesting!” While everyone seemed to agree, secretly they began to wonder just who among them she might be interested in. Meanwhile Ulquiorra was on an entirely different wavelength.

If Y/N found these qualities to be appealing, perhaps he could gain her trust by assuming these roles and therefore fulfill this self-appointed purpose of discovering her true intentions, thus deciding for himself if she were truly someone worthy of his trust.

No, it didn’t sound at all crazy in his head.

He has the smart part down and feels sufficiently confident in his intellect. Nothing to worry about there. The same can be said of his strength and more so of his silence. He is neither loud, nor boisterous. And while he wouldn’t call himself antisocial, he is prone to speak when he feels it is necessary to speak. Silence with a purpose.

That leaves the spontaneity.

In order to tackle this trait efficiently, he took to the human world dictionary!

“Performed or occurring as a result of a sudden inner impulse or inclination and without premeditation or external stimulus…” This may be something of a challenge for him. He never acts without thinking, without purpose. In fact, he is hard pressed to believe he could start. But not entirely convinced…yes, he could do this.

He would start by following Y/N. Not in the creepy stalker sense but more along the lines of trying to get to know her likes without actually asking himself. He would use the ever talkative Orihime to do his bidding.

“What sort of candy do you like, Y/N? I like something sweet and tangy but also sour and a little bitter with a fluffy kind of texture!” Dear gods, what could she possibly be describing was the expression that Ulquiorra currently wore while listening to the conversation. Y/N assumed a rather uneasy expression before responding accordingly.

“I like F/C. Not really a fan of much else.” Y/N’s response was simple something Ulquiorra could appreciate and perhaps do something with.

“So that’s what she likes…”

The next day, all eyes were on the former fourth espada when he strolled into class, dragging a large sack behind him which he dumped onto Y/N’s desk without a word. She stared at him then the sack partially obscuring her vision before opening her mouth to respond

“Uh…Ulquiorra? What’s this?”

“Don't ask useless questions.” And that was all he said before casually walking to his chair like he didn’t rouse the entire class with a cloud of confusion. With furrowed brows, Y/N peeked into the sack, only to spot copious amount of her favorite candy! It looked like a whole year’s supply of it! What the heck…

Who could’ve known that he’d been listening in on her conversation with Orihime? Or that he’d continue to do such in order to exercise this growing need to display his spontaneity. Which, he realized at one point, wasn’t really spontaneous at all because he was thinking about these acts way too hard!

Like when she expressed a desire to have more rice in her lunch, so he proceeded to give her extra portions the next day. Or when she grew tired during gym and he suddenly picked her up over his shoulder to run the rest of her laps. Or when she complained over the lack of sleep she was getting due to the neighbor’s dog barking all night so he insisted on training the canine not to be noisy.

Okay so…maybe he was being spontaneous, but Y/N had grown suspicious enough and needed some answers.

“Ah…Ulquiorra? Could I talk to you for a moment?” Y/N approached him after class one day, appearing somewhat nervous. He agreed with a simple nod while teeming on the inside with anticipation. This could quite possibly be the moment he has been working for so diligently. His efforts were at last being acknowledged.

“Uh so…listen, it’s about uhm…how you’ve been acting recently…” If it wasn’t obviously, Y/N was having a hard time expressing what she really wanted to say. Ulquiorra, of course, noticed this.

“Speak, woman.” A curt response that Y/N honestly should’ve expected prompted nothing more than a sigh.

“What’s your problem?!” Which triggered an explosive response that Ulquiorra honestly didn’t see coming if the sight of his eyes widening were any indication.

“Elaborate.” Eyes that soon softened to their normal size while gleaming with hints of mild apprehension for he never expected her of all people to express feelings of displeasure with him.

“You keep doing these weird things! First it was the candy! Then all the rice! Then you carried me around the track even when I told you to put me down! Now my neighbor is telling me you trained their dog! Are you making fun of me? Is this some arrancar way of bullying?!”

“You believe I am bullying you?”

“Yes!”

She was yelling at him. And calling him a bully, of all things. How could his intentions have been so horribly misinterpreted? How could she misunderstand him to such a degree? Could he have been wrong? Were his methods misguided or incorrect? It would seem he would need to evaluate his form of spontaneity and employ a different tactic.

“I see. I will try something else, then.” Yes, he would go back to the drawing board, reconsider his options, his resources, and try other ways of being spontaneous.

“Wait!” Y/N name suddenly grabbed onto his arm. His eyes instantly fell to her hands. Her touch triggered a slither of a response, a tingling sensation that was unfamiliar. When’s the last time anyone had laid non-threatening hands on him, he wondered.

“What?” Visibly she flinched back but maintained her countenance alongside the ever-present confusion.

“What are you trying to do? What’s all this about? I want to know!” This expression. The raw emotion on her face. He remembered it well. It was this stubborn, foolish disposition she maintained that played a key role in the Shinigami taking their presence as a non-threat. It was this expression that led him to find a purpose through her.

It was this very same gleam that triggered perhaps the most spontaneous act he’d committed thus far, the cupping of his hand upon her cheek. He wouldn’t be able to explain what caused him to do it or why his hand stayed. He just knew her cheek felt soft and warm and he sort liked the way her expression shifted as his hand remained.

“Your ‘type,’ as you humans refer to it, is someone who is spontaneous, is it not?” He brandished his usual emotionless façade, awaiting a response from her aside from the stunned silence she seemed to be trapped in.

“I…you…ah…you want to be my type…?” Dumbfounded. She was utterly dumbfounded. And he couldn’t understand why she was behaving so shocked. Wasn’t he being obvious?

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I see now that my actions are ineffective.” How ridiculous. For him to fail at such a task was unprecedented. He could hardly fathom such a thing. As such, he needed to take time away, regroup, and think of different ways to convey this message to her.

“If you’ll excuse me.” His hand fell away from her cheek only to be grabbed by one of hers. A second extension of contact and a second shock that shot up his senses. He eyed her once again with his empty stare, but she didn’t appear at all perturbed by it. In fact, she offered a rather hopeless smile.

“I…I think it’s working. I mean, you’ve got my attention.” Once again, she stunned him. This time, not with her gleaming determination but with a meek smile and subtle, gentle, squeezing of his hand. He couldn’t have imagined such a small gesture could be so impactful. How strange…

“Oh? I will continue, then.”

“Wait, no—.”

It would seem he was at least on the right track to deciphering her true intentions while simultaneously gaining her trust. Surely, he’d get it this spontaneous act right eventually.

A/N: Poor Ulquiorra. He means well. Again, hope you enjoy! Also this is my first time doing this so I hope the format isn't weird? Thanks!

[hilarioushilarity]

(not) lost in translation pt. 2

{I am a lying liar who lies, 2-3 days my ass. You can read Part 1 here.}

The second time Alexei meets Kent Parson is at the All Star weekend that season.

When Mama and Papa had flown back to Russia, Alexei had rapidly realised that he was effectively a thousand miles away from everything he had ever known, and that:

1) Nobody around him spoke Russian; and 2) He couldn't speak English.

Alexei hates English. With a passion. He's not stupid enough to tell anyone this particular fact, but he thinks it every time he sits down for his English classes and wrestles with prepositions and adverbs, or heaven forbid, attempts to conjugate a verb. Every rule had a million exceptions, so what was even the point of the rule? English as a language was just unfair, he had decided, and he tells Mama this over the phone one month in.

She is sympathetic, in her typical Spartan manner. "You'll learn," she tells him. "Practise for at least three hours every day."

Alexei is appalled. "Mama, when am I meant to get three hours of practice each day?"

"There is always time."

He honestly doesn't know what else he expected. "Okay Mama," he says, and then turns the conversation to how stupidly big portion sizes were in America. Criticising the diets of North Americans was always guaranteed to catch her attention.

To his dismay, his father just laughs at him.

"Papa." Alexei may or may not be whining.

"Your Mama told you to just find time, didn't she," he says, when he's finally stopped cackling for long enough to take a breath.

Alexei hangs up on him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Papa says, when he calls back a minute later. The wheezing laughs have stopped, which is a relief.

"Okay," Alexei says warily.

"I mean it." His father is abruptly serious. "I'm sorry for laughing, you're in a tough situation right now. English is not an easy language to learn." They both know that his father never truly gained fluency in it - never had the chance to need it.

"It's really hard, Papa." He doesn't think he's just talking about English anymore.

"Things worth doing usually are, Alyosha," his father says gently.

Alexei chews his lip. "I don't know if I'm doing anything right."

"Are you playing good hockey?" Papa asks.

"Yes, Papa."

"You aren't bullying anyone on the ice?"

"No -"

"Working hard? Doing your English lessons? Going to all your practices on time, practising anything your coach says you need to work on?"

"Yes -"

"Then you are doing it right. And I am proud of you."

His father's voice is warm, and it curls around Alexei. He suddenly, desperately, wishes he could hug his father tightly. "Okay Papa."

"Now go and practice your English," Papa says, and Alexei does.

So hockey is the only thing he has besides torturous English lessons, and he devotes himself to it. He racks up goals and assists every game, plays a clean defensive game, and keeps his stats glowing. English smalltalk remains his nemesis but he's getting there, one pleasantry at a time. Before he knows it, he's being invited to the All Stars Weekend. He dithers over the invite for a few days, until the head of Capitals PR eventually corners him on his way out of the locker rooms.

"You should go," LaRue tells him. "It's good for building up your fanbase." He continues to go on at depth about social media presences and ticket sales. Alexei dutifully nods his way through the lecture, and ends up promising to go just to escape.

For some unknown sin in this life or a past one, he is roomed with a D-man from the Aeros who talks loudly and snores louder than a chainsaw. Alexei realises this on the first night when he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling as the red digits on the bedside clock tick over from 11 to 12, then 1. There's a snore once every three seconds, accompanied by whistling through some gap between teeth. Alexei kills half an hour searching up English sayings to describe snoring and deciding that his roommate "snores like a foghorn" before he finally gives up and rolls out of bed.

The hotel they've been put up in has an indoor gym and swimming pool. Alexei slings on a towel, sneaking out of the room before taking the lift down. On first glance, the gym is deserted, because any sane person is currently asleep. Alexei, running on no sleep, does not qualify.

Except, when he's halfway through his reps on the elliptical, a quiet voice behind him says: "Um. Hi, Alexei?"

Alexei turns around and comes face to face with Kent Parson.

What they are is nebulous at best. More than acquaintances - Kent Parson had talked to his Mama and Papa and his Mama had said Kent was a Very Nice Person. But less than friends, certainly. After the draft, Kent had gone west to the Aces and Alexei had gone east to the Capitals. He hasn't really kept track of Kent's career, but he would have to be under an actual rock to not know Kent is the only other rookie at the All Stars weekend and the NHL's current leading scorer.

"Hello," Alexei replies. There's a drop of sweat slowly rolling down his face and he's painfully aware that he probably stinks a little.  Meanwhile Kent Parson looks fresh as a daisy at one in the morning. The limits of his smalltalking abilities in English remain breathtakingly small despite the benefit of six months of English tutoring, so he kind of hopes Kent takes pity on his poor, sweaty form.

Kent does not. "It's been a while. Good to see you."

Goddamnit, they're smalltalking. "Good to see you, too."

Kent looks unbothered at the lack of scintillating conversation. He rolls onto the balls of his feet, fiddling with the strap of the duffel slung over his shoulder. "So uh. How's your mum?" he says, then immediately blanches. "Shit. I didn't mean - I just -"

"Good," Alexei says, mostly to put him out of his misery. "She good."

Kent looks earnest. "Oh, that's really good to hear." And then he seems to waver a bit.

"How is family?" Alexei says, when the silence stretches on. "They come visit after draft?"

"Ah yeah." Kent visibly brightens up. "They did! It was great, we had dinner and hung out a bit, and I gave my sister your mum's autograph - she's so cool by the way, but I bet you already knew that - I'd love to thank her again."

There are just - so many words. Alexei takes a few seconds to work through the sentence. "Glad to hear sister like. Maybe you see Mama again at game with Aces?"

"Definitely," Kent says, and Alexei's heard so many people say that over the past six months, but he thinks this time he could believe it. "So, uh. What's keeping you up?"

Only the loudest snorer on the entire American continent. "Roomie." Alexei searches for the words. "Snoring like foghorn."

Kent winces. "Jeez, I know what you mean. Did you try poking him to get him to roll over?"

"To scared to poke," Alexei admits. "Big guy."

"Who are you rooming with?"

"Winkler?"

"Fuck, yeah, he's a big dude. Better not poke him."

Alexei sighs. "Snore so loud - and whistle too. Like train." At Kent's blank look, he tries: "Choo choo?"

"Choo - oh god, you mean like a steam engine?"

Alexei pulls out his phone in answer. "How spell that? Steam engine?" He dutifully plugs in the letters Kent rattles off, and hits translate. "Oh. Yes. He steam engine."

"Heh," Kent says. "I double dog dare you to say that to him." He must catch the look of utter incomprehension on Alexei's face, because he quickly backtracks. "Not up with the slang yet? Sorry. I meant, you should tell him that."

"But why?" Alexei doesn't want to get punched.

"As a joke," Kent adds hastily. "It's funny, because we know it's stupid so we wouldn't do it."

English was just ridiculous. "Okay," Alexei tries. "Double dog dare you cycle on elliptical, see who faster."

"That's not..." Kent trails off. He smiles, then shakes his head. "That's not how it works. But we'll work on it," he assures Alexei, with a firm pat on his shoulder.

It's worlds away from the way the Caps' coach tends to roll his eyes heavenward when Alexei goes left when he should go right, or his English tutor, who is nice enough but is prone to banging her head against the table a little when Alexei fumbles the conjugation on a verb. "Not now," Alexei says. "Later?"

Kent checks his watch and he actually looks surprised, like the complete lack of other people didn't clue him in. "Wow, it's pretty late, isn't it?"

Unbelievable. "Why you up?"

"Got caught up practising."

Alexei sideeyes him. "Practising?"

Kent flushes a little. "Practising my stick handling. Shooting accuracy."

Alexei can't help but boggle at him. "You practising? At 1AM?"

"I couldn't sleep," Kent says, a little defensively.

"You crazy," Alexei decides, but there's a lot of fondness that must be apparent to even Kent, who looks less offended than he does a mildly grumpy, like the family cat when he accidentally stepped on her tail as a child. "But you wipe ice with everyone, so you champion crazy."

"Damn straight I'm the champion crazy," Kent says, planting his hands on his hips like a dork. "Yeah, laugh it up, I'll definitely be wiping the ice with you."

Alexei pretends to cower. "Okay, Kent Parson, I try best not cry on ice then."

"You will be bawling your eyes out," Kent says with promise, and then looks so affronted when Alexei just doubles over, breathless with laughter.

"I believe you," Alexei says to the ground, from where he's still bent over trying to catch his breath. "Cry many tears."

"You better," Kent says, but then he's laughing helplessly too, dropping his duffel. "Oh god, I really am champion crazy."

Alexei reaches over to pat him on the back. "Is okay, still like, even if Kent Parson practice hockey at one in morning."

"You don't think I'm too crazy?" Perhaps it's meant to be joking, but Alexei can't help but look up sharply.

"Never. You think Crosby best because he slack off?"

"I don't think he's ever stayed up until 1 because he was nervous about All Stars," Kent says, then bites his lip.

"You nervous?" Alexei asks. Kent hesitates. "Why you nervous?"

"I just - it's been a lot," Kent finally says. He's looking to the side, staring at the elliptical. Alexei waits, and Kent says in a rush: "I feel like I have to be the best, or - or else -"

"Not have to say what," Alexei says gently. "Not make you say."

Kent scowls. "It's stupid. Everyone's thinking it, they just don't say it. That I'm the second choice."

At the Draft, Alexei had known vaguely that Kent Parson and another boy called Jack Zimmermann had widely been slated to go first and second - in either order. It was true that every analyst had put the latter in first place, and that when Aces called Kent Parson's name there had been a slight pause in the audience's murmuring. Kent's smile had been strained as he left their table.

Alexei's stood across from Kent on the ice before. He's watched countless hours of tape of the Aces' play and by proxy, of Kent. Kent Parson on the ice is a force of nature, skating circles around defence and sinking pucks into the net as easy as breathing. And in his heart of hearts, he thinks the margin between first and second had been far smaller than most people thought.

But now, under the harsh gym lights that highlight the remaining softness of his jaw and the dark patches beneath his eyes, Alexei realises that Kent's still just a kid. Alexei's just a kid. They're both just teenagers. And there's very little of the player who had breezed past Alexei at the last Caps game with the Aces, or of the player who had mercilessly crushed their four game winning streak without batting an eye. Under the padding and past all the hype, Kent was far from the figure he cut on ice and as vulnerable as any other human.

"Even if people say second choice, what matter?" Alexei says. "You first. You here now. Play well. Maybe bit annoy on ice but not bully. And seem nice, polite to Mama. Thinking of sister even at draft. Get autograph for her. That matter. Not other people."

He hopes he hasn't overdone it - perhaps Kent wasn't looking for a heart-to-heart in the hotel gym at 1AM. But instead of taken aback Kent looks - a little watery.

"Why you cry?" Alexei is horrified.

"I'm not crying," Kent sniffs. "I'm not."

Alexei bites his tongue. "Uh okay." He politely looks away as Kent wipes his eyes.

"I'm not saying I can't cry," Kent begins, which Alexei takes as his cue that it's safe to look back at him. His eyes are just slightest bit red, and even that's only if you know what to look for.  “I just try not to cry in front of others.”

"Okay," Alexei says cautiously.

Kent takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Alexei replies automatically, then says: "But. For what?"

Kent stares at him. "For - listening? For not being an asshole about the fact I'm still some nervy rookie?"

Christ. People thanked each other for things like that in America? "No need thank," Alexei says. Then, desperate to change the subject, he adds: "So we agree! No need for nervous! You real KVP."

"The what?"

"KVP." Alexei gestures. "I see on Twitter - they calling you 'the Real KVP'".

"That's not - " Kent splutters. "That's my name, Alexei."

Alexei tries not wince. "Oh. Oops, sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Kent brings out his phone, thumbing at something on the screen. He eventually holds out his phone, open to a websearch. "See? It's a joke on MVP. That's 'Most Valuable Player'."

"Oh," Alexei says again. "Make sense. Sometimes miss reference - thank you for explaining."

Kent stows away his phone, corners of his mouth twitching upwards again. "You've only been in the US for what, six months? Your English is great. If you put me in Russia I would probably just turn around and go back to the US."

"You miss good food then," Alexei tuts. "Russian food is best food."

"Hell no, I've seen what you guys count as soup. I'm not touching borscht with a ten-foot pole."

"Borscht is best soup!" Alexei tries to sound outraged.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that anything that pink should not be eaten."

Blasphemy. "You try pirozhki then? Small, baked -" He gropes around for the word, then gives up and calls up the translator app on his phone. "Dumpling."

"I've never had that," Kent says, but he at least looks intrigued. "What did you call it? Pay-roz-kay?"

His accent is actually appalling. "Pirozhki," Alexei corrects.

Kent frowns. "Poe-roz-ki?"

"Pirozhki"

"Poh-rosh-ki?"

Alexei nods in approval. "Good, sounds good."

"I like the sound of baked dumplings," Kent says. "Mm. Pirozkhi. I might go see if there's any places that do it in Vegas."

"Let me know if yes." Alexei nudges him. "I come try when Caps play Aces."

"You got it."

Alexei cuts off any further conversation with the embarrassingly loud yawn that escapes him then.

"Shit, it's like 1:30AM." Kent winces. "We have to get up at like 7 tomorrow - today? Holy crap we better go to sleep."

Alexei levers himself up, gathering his towel and bottle. "Hope not fall asleep on skates tomorrow."

"How about I check you if I see you dropping off," Kent suggests, then snickers at Alexei's raised eyebrow. "Bad idea?"

"Sure can check me?" Alexei makes a show of looking Kent up and down. He holds his index finger and thumb about ten centimetres apart. "So small."

"You asshole," Kent says, but he's laughing. "I'm not short, you're just a giant."

"If say so," Alexei shrugs. They start towards the elevator banks. "If help sleep at night."

"Fuck you, I sleep really well at night," Kent says petulantly. Alexei eyes the shadows beneath his eyes.

"I believe, I believe," he says instead with his best shit-eating grin. They get in the lift. "Okay, floor?"

Kent reaches over and pushes the button for 15. "You?"

"Twelve. Thank you." Kent nods, and they start moving up.

"So see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yeah." Kent shoulders his duffel a little more firmly. "Be prepared to cry like a baby."

Alexei flaps his hands, just as the lift doors open on his floor. "Yeah, yeah, I cry so much."

The smile Kent gives him is small, but very real. "Good night Alexei."

"Good night," Alexei says, stepping out and turning to wave goodbye. The doors shut on Kent's smile, and Alexei stands there for a second, the airconditioning cool against his slightly sweaty neck.

"Hopefully not cry too much," he says to himself, before heading back to his room.

[floralseokjin]

— crystallised 06 (m)

crystallised /ˈkrɪst(ə)lʌɪz/ (verb) make or become definite and clear 

Six weeks, that’s all it takes to forget about the threesome you shared with your boyfriend, Yoongi, and your past... fuck buddy, Seokjin. After all, it’s no big deal. Yoongi and you are doing better than ever, there’s no reason to regret such a night shared. That is until you hear some gossip in the library one day, and then slowly, little by little, everything starts to fall apart... Can you begin to make sense out of all this confusion, or is it too late? 

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  genre/warnings; fluff, fluff and more fluff, smut in the form of dry humping, and did I already say fluff???? here, have some more  words; 10,481

sequel to; memoirs of a mistake and lostmyhead

chapters; 01 ⤑ 02 ⤑ 03 ⤑ 04 ⤑ 05 ⤑ 06 ⤑ 07⤑ 08 ✓

Seokjin ended up staying the night. It was inevitable really. You weren’t letting him go after you’d only just got him back. Not like he wasn’t dropping enough hints though. Could stay like this forever, he’d murmured hot in your ear, your body smushed to his as you lied down on the sofa, watching Netflix again. Some things, you realised, wouldn’t change and actually, it turned out Seokjin and you had already practically been acting as a couple anyway. It was just now he had his arms around your middle, hands woven together and his mouth on your neck. Lips too. Yeah, the kissing fest was still happening. You wouldn’t be able to tell anyone a damn thing about what had happened in the last three episodes of The Vampire Diaries if they asked. 

Spend the night didn’t really have a question mark after it. It was Sunday anyway, neither of you had work and just the thought of doing nothing all day with Seokjin seemed like pure bliss. Your plan had been to call Lina tonight and gush about everything, but you guessed that could wait until tomorrow night. You’d just have to evade her messages until then, because keeping information like this from your best friend was killing you, but also, maybe you weren’t ready for the “Oh, my God, it was all down to ME,” I told you so’s… 

You got ready for bed in the bathroom one by one, almost giddy when Seokjin came out in just his t-shirt and boxers. Knees practically vibrating against one another as he got into bed next to you. His side. You were finally sharing your bed with him again, and then you were a tangle of limbs, his body glued into yours. His legs warm against yours, chest warm, body heat encasing you with the help of his arms. This was it. Pure bliss. How it was always supposed to be. 

In the safety of your bed, surrounded by darkness it was easy for even more confessions to slip from Seokjin’s lips. There were funny ones. Thoughts that slipped into his head. Like how he’d been unreasonably jealous of every guy who’d checked you out at the gym. How your ass had looked quote, “fricking delectable,” unquote, with a side helping of bum squeeze to go with. “Been wanting to do that forever,” he sighed in complete and utter content. You giggled, revelling in it really. How could you not. It wasn’t like you hadn’t ogled him while he was squatting or doing press ups… He was very happy when you let that slip… It was cute to fill in the missing gaps, but there were also unhappy confessions too. Ones that made your heart pang with sadness. 

Every time he’d pined for you. Not far from him, but still deeply out of reach. Like how he’d hated seeing you cry after your argument with Yoongi the night of that party. He was awkward and he didn’t know how to comfort you, but that was because he wanted nothing more than to tell you the truth. The truth about his feelings, and how he thought you should be with him not Yoongi. When he’d walked you home and you’d made to kiss him, (so he had realised) it took him everything not to give in. He knew you were upset, vulnerable and he didn’t want to take advantage of the moment. It wouldn’t be right, but the hug was the best sensation he’d felt in all his life. Then you’d turned up at his door after the breakup. Like some sign from the heavens above he was making a mistake with Jemma, and even if he could only have you as a friend, even if it hurt like crazy to hear you talk about Yoongi, it was okay. Because he had you in some kind of form. The best form. Just you. 

With your glassy eyes, you both began to reminisce into the early hours of the morning. Muffling your laughter at some points because it got too loud and your neighbours would hate you. 

“Was it just me, or when we went to watch Endgame did you get distracted remembering back to that time you gave me a hand job? It was the exact same screen room too.” He spoke into the darkness. Just when eyelids were getting heavy, legs still tangled together, your head on his chest.  

“Oh, my god.” 

“No. Not even in a perverted way. I thought of that as our unofficial first date for the longest time.” He was trying to be funny, but that was actually really cute. You’d held hands for the first time that night. You’d done so as a joke, teasing him. Actually, he’d been adamant it wasn’t a date, not a fan of your jesting. You understood why now. He was afraid you didn’t feel the same. 

“I remember we held hands as we walked back to your car.” 

“Mm. I liked that.” On cue you felt one of his hands find yours to slip them together, kissing the top of your head at the same time. You smiled to yourself. “Let me take you on an official first date.” 

“Where do you have in mind?” The smile was still on your face, could hear it in your voice. 

“Zoo.” He replied matter-of-factly. 

“Zoo?” 

“You pretty much stood me up last time.” Silence. The memory came back to you instantly.  “–annd you don’t remember…” His tone was light, playing with you, but nope, you wouldn’t have it. 

“No, wait!” You exclaimed, turning around in his arms to find his face. Your eyes had long adjusted to the dark, you could make out the greatly amused grin on his face easily. “I do remember! I just didn’t think you were serious.” 

You hadn’t actually figured out what he was trying to do when he’d asked you out back then. You’d been too distracted anyway… Too excited for your date with Yoongi… 

“So serious. So jealous. So sad.” That didn’t help either. He was messing around but it still made you feel all not good inside. 

“Seokjiinn.” You whined. 

He laughed, arms wrapping around your middle to squeeze you to him. “No, but I do really want to take you to the zoo on our first date.” He pecked your mouth, ridding the pout that had formed. “Let’s go Tuesday. We can skip class.” 

“Oh,” you cocked an eyebrow. “You’re making me skip classes already. You’re a bad influence Kim Seokjin.” 

“And what are you going to do about it?” He grinned, voice now a little croaky from lack of sleep. Sexy though. 

.

.

You both did manage to get a few hours sleep in the end. Voices were sleepy, conversation waning off and then eyes were closed. You woke up first. Your body clock didn’t seem to realise when it hadn’t had eight hours sleep. So here you were wide awake on five. Seokjin was still dead to the world though. Hooked around you like some sort of monkey. You wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, but you forgot the cost it came with. Excessive heat. Maybe you hadn’t woken up naturally… Anyway, somehow you wriggled free, Seokjin not even stirring as he rolled onto his back. You took a moment to study him. Cute in sleep, gigantic lips pouting naturally, forehead slightly creased, like he was dreaming of something serious. The events of the night before were truly sinking in. This was actually happening. You and him. 

You didn’t want to wake him just yet. No. You had a better idea. You were sure you had the right ingredients to make pancakes. First, a quick detour to the bathroom to empty your bladder and brush your teeth – hair too. You knew you looked this unkempt in the morning, but Seokjin wasn’t used to it anymore. Silly of course, like he gave a shit. You tried to keep as quiet as possible when you started finding and weighing ingredients, aware that there were basically only four walls in this open apartment, if you didn’t count the bathroom. Which was just about hiding Seokjin out of view, the jutting wall part of your kitchen storage. 

Distracted from mixing as you messaged with Lina back and forth, (she really did love bitching about this one coworker…), you nearly dropped your cell into the bowl when you read what she came out with next. 

Lina (9:58am)  So are we just gonna ignore the fact u probably fucked Seokjin last night? MAYBE you’re doing it right now  Sorry my bad for interrupting 

So much for evading her messages. Impossible, and now look. 

You (9:58am)  Wtf  im making pancakes like i said  …………. but yeh jin might be in my bed  we didn’t bang tho  we’re taking things slow 💖💘💗💕💞💓💝

Lina (9:59am)  YOU BITCH  WJY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME 

You (9:59am)  i was going to tell you last night :(but got distracted  come over later???? i’ll text u 

Lina (10:00am)  So you actually made a move at the party??  I KNEW IT 

Strange. You’d taken it as a given that she had. Especially with the very direct accusation… Or maybe she just knew Seokjin and you couldn’t keep up this ~friends~ bullshit for any longer. Someone would cave, especially after Brian’s party. A ticking time bomb but no one blew up after detonation. Thank God. 

You (10:00am)  🤔🤭🤫😶

Lina (10:00am)  YOU BETTER SEND HIM HIME TINIGHT  I NEED to know the details  Have fun being a sexy housewife making pancakes  😘

You (10:01am)  hehe 🥰 << me rn 

You were so preoccupied, you hadn’t heard Seokjin waking up, jumping a little when his arms wrapped around your middle, face nuzzling your neck as he hugged you from behind. 

“Where did you go?” His voice was thick with sleep and whiney. 

Putting your phone down, you tried to fight your smile, but nope, this was really happening, and it was better than you could have ever imagined. “I’m making breakfast.”  

“I wanted to cuddle,” he whined again. Sounded cute. “Literally been dreaming about it forever. You’re evil.” 

“Am not.” You laughed, twisting in his grip. “We cuddled all night.” 

Facing him now, you wrapped your arms around his neck, an amused grin on your face. You didn’t think it was possible to cuddle all night, but hey, you’d been proved wrong. You should’ve known. Seokjin was as determined as ever. Only now softer. You liked soft. You liked him.

He squeezed your waist, a pout already formed. “I want more.” 

“Patience, bitch,” you hummed softly, bemusing him for a second before he chuckled. You leaned up to kiss him. “Haven’t brushed my teeth,” he murmured. 

You rolled your eyes. “Like I care.” There were some things you’d waited long enough for, even without realising, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take every opportunity you had to kiss him. One of you had brushed your teeth, that’s all that mattered. 

It wasn’t a showy kiss, mostly slow and lazy. Definitely indulgent though. You almost clung to his bottom lip each time you grazed against it, feeling warmth whenever his breath shook. You felt warmth in the way his hands gripped you too. Safe but free in his hold. Giddy when one wrapped around the small of your back and his fingers grazed the top of your ass. It was exhilarating to feel him touch you so casually. A little tiny niggle of frustration too, because why hadn’t he been doing this from the beginning? You both were fools, but not anymore. 

“What you making?” He murmured when you both parted, curious. 

A hand slid around your hip as you turned your back to him again, picking up the wooden spoon in the bowl to begin to mix again. You gave him a tiny shrug. Not wanting to make a big deal. “Pancakes.” 

He sighed like a king. “Spoiling me already.” Your tut in response choked out when he tapped your ass playfully, wondering off to nose through your cupboards. “Don’t burn them.” 

He found what he was looking for. A box of cereal on the top shelf. “Seokjin,” you chided gently as he grabbed a bowl from the draining rack. “Cereal? Really?” No way could he have room for two breakfasts. 

He grinned goofily. “Appetiser. The starter.” 

You stared him down, practically calling his bluff, but nope, there he went, shaking the cereal into the bowl. Milk following. That’s when you laughed. You couldn’t help it. “You’re nuts.” 

“Yeah, for you.” 

You scoffed quietly at his comeback, a small smile on your face, unable to hide your happiness, and went back to mixing your pancakes. Yeah, it would take a little time getting used to that cheesiness. You needed to step up your game. 

If you were joined at the hip before, it wasn’t nothing on you now. Not that dating changed much overall. If people had already thought you were together, that was only affirmed as you held hands around campus and kissed goodbye at the door of your next classes. Lina was super happy you’d finally admitted your feelings to one another. And not in a gloating way either. Like a piece of fan fiction, she said: The girl who tamed a fuckboy. Yikes, how basic. Sounded like something from Wattpad. You much preferred the trope “Two idiots finally realise their feelings for one another.” Fit you both perfectly. 

Surprisingly, there were no I told you so’s from her, just a rare guilty look as she confessed she felt “kinda to blame.” Her distaste for Seokjin in the beginning may have hindered your view. You did after all keep your hook ups a secret for so long. But no, you reassured her, that was all on you. Despite the great sex, originally the idea of people knowing you’d given into Kim Seokjin was, how should you say, unappealing, but you’d soon (ish) seen how judgemental that was. If anyone was to blame for the delay, it was you. Not that you dwelled on that anymore. 

It was the little things that made you vibrate at a high frequency. Sheer happiness just doing doing the most mundane things. Being able to land a kiss on Seokjin anytime you wanted. Binging so many shows it was probably unhealthy now, yet it didn’t matter with his arms wrapped around your waist. Lying in his bed watching him grow frustrated as he gamed at his desk. Taking him shopping with you and hearing him whine in complete and utter boredom… It all brought you joy. There was no awkwardness, no trying too hard. It just all came naturally. You worked perfectly like this. 

The Pet names started. The first time was when you’d been in near tears on the zoo date. Hating the way the animals were all so far from home and trapped. Seokjin had felt beyond guilty, a distraught, panicked look on his face as he apologised for even thinking of taking you here as a first date. He even said sorry for being shit at comforting you, but as soon as the Baby, please don’t cry had rolled so casually from his tongue, so endearingly in fact, and gentle and soft, he’d done his job perfectly. It was your turn to comfort him. No matter what, your first date wasn’t a complete blow out. You got to feed a giraffe and watch the guy you were crazy about lose his shit over a cute little deer. All while skipping class… Couldn’t get much better than that. 

And for someone who’d never been on a proper date before, Seokjin sure made up for it with you. You tried the fancy dinner route. Found out it wasn’t for you when you accidentally rubbed the eyeliner from your right eye. Seokjin thought about waiting until you realised, but inevitably couldn’t do it to you. Although you were sure it was because he couldn’t hold his laughter in. You both enjoyed simpler, less showy outings, and of course you planned stuff too. When you took him to the gig of one of your favourite groups you thought his head was going to explode. He complained his ears hurt all the way back home. You took the time to rinse him on his own music taste. 

“It’s okay, next time Taylor Swift goes on tour I’ll get you tickets,” you teased. To which he scoffed. 

“You seem to forget I work in a gym. I listen to whatever comes on the radio.” 

Of course you had a comeback. Quick and witty, you were an unyielding duo. “You seem to forget earphones exist.” 

.

.

You weren’t one for posting your life on social media. In fact, you didn’t really post on there much at all. Mainly because you sucked at aesthetically pleasing photos on Instagram and regretted every time you overshared on Twitter. And yes, by oversharing you meant an I’m tired after a full day of classes and a shift at work… Seokjin was little of the same, but the first time he uploaded a selfie of you two (a highly unflattering one at that, but hey ho) you may have melted… Made it all feel so real. 

Caption: Me and my baby 🤧💞 80 likes

You: Yes! You’ve finally given in to that emoji life 🤗😍😭 Seokjin_Kim: Yes! You’ve finally learnt proper grammar (Capitalising correctly) 😘  itsholly: so cute!!!  JungHobi: @Joon94 @San_deul That’s it guys… we’ve lost him to luuuv 🥺 hi_itsbri: Legit?! Congrats man!  Seokjin_Kim: @hi_itsbri Legit! Much appreciated!  Seokjin_Kim: @JungHobi So glad I’m free ^_^ Joon94: RUDE  Joon94: @Seokjin_Kim  San_deul: @Seokjin_Kim Nice try. You live with me 

.

.

After that, it didn’t take you long to start double dating. Seokjin wasn’t brave enough to accompany any of your friends yet, despite Lina being adamant her and Jimin wanted to hang out, but you went plenty with Sandeul and his girlfriend. You favourite was the time you went to the VR arcade with them. You’d never laughed so much in you life—nor felt so scared! You also seemed to hang out with Hoseok, Namjoon and their girlfriends a lot, who preferred to stay in most of the time, eating take out or drinking some. It was on one of those occasions that Seokjin adorably got moody because you laughed at Hoseok too much…

“What’s up with you?” You asked, coming out from the bathroom to see Seokjin still sitting on your sofa with the same frown he’d had since you’d left Hoseok’s place. 

“Nothing.” 

You sighed and bounced into the seat next to him. “Are you in a sulk?” As if it wasn’t obvious. 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Jiiin!” His name left your mouth in a whine as you pounced on him, climbing onto his lap. Despite his one word answers, he reached for you hips naturally. “You’ve been acting strange since the ride back to mine.” You paused to side eye him, sounding snippy yourself now. “Maybe you should’ve just gone home…” 

“No,” he answered immediately, clinging to you tighter. “No. It’s nothing.” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. He hesitated. “Do you think Hoseok’s funnier than me?” 

You stared at him for a moment, a bemused look on your face, because no, that couldn’t he it. Could it? How adorable. “What kind of question is that?” 

“Is that a yes,” he pouted, dropping his hands from you. His jaw tightening. 

“Not at all. It’s a reply of confusion.” 

He sighed. “You’re delaying” 

You had to laugh then. He was being ridiculous. Was he really self-conscious about it? Hoseok was a funny guy, he knew how to entertain, but it wasn’t something you took notice of much. You leaned in, making sure Seokjin was looking at you and spoke slowly. “No. I don’t think he’s funnier than you.” 

It didn’t work. In fact, he averted your gaze to look down at the arm of the sofa. Pout in his voice. “You were laughing all night at him. Ignored me when I said something. I’m used to the guys brushing off my jokes and never laughing, but you…” 

Wrong. You had not been ignoring him all night, but he sounded so dejected you really did think he believed it. You cupped his cheek. “I always laugh at your jokes.” 

“Yeah, probably because you think you have to.” Voice a mumble, you rolled your eyes. 

“Have I, or have I not always thought you were funny?” You’d been laughing because of Seokjin for as long as you’d known him. Even when you didn’t want to admit it. “You’re much funnier than Hoseok. Namjoon? No question. Never met someone so unfunny.”

Seokjin actually managed a little smile at that. Your lame attempt at being funny yourself.

“Yay. That’s what I want to see. A smile.” To emphasise, you pulled the corners of his mouth up with your thumbs.  

“Get off,” he grumbled, but there was now a gigantic grin on his face. “I just need to make sure, y’know? My humour is all I have.” 

You scoffed. “Shut up.” 

“Okay, humour and face.” 

You leaned in once more, tone sincere. “You have way more important qualities.” 

“Great.” He sighed. Fairly dramatically. “Now you’re calling me unfunny and ugly?” 

But mouth already open in argument, he was kissing you with an amused chuckle, not knowing you’d never let him forget the day he worried Hoseok was funnier than him…

.

. 

After a few weeks the novelty of going outside wore off, and soon you were back to staying in. Sharing time between homes, although yours was the preferred, living alone and all. It got pretty domesticated some nights, cooking together, back hugging him as he cut onions because you complained it made you cry. When you said you binged TV too much, you weren’t playing. Somehow you’d completed The Vampire Diaries and were onto The Walking Dead now. Zombies made you a bit uneasy, but actually you found yourself getting quite into it. So into it you searched spoilers ahead of time, too guilty to tell Seokjin your secret. It turned out he was doing exactly the same thing behind your back… You’d both found out your favourite character was soon to die, and reading it had already emotionally broken you, so for now, binging was paused. 

Not that you had much time these days. College was kicking up a notch. You had a final piece that needed to be finished by the beginning of February that was a large percentage of your grade this year and Seokjin seemed swamped with assignments and tests. Along with a part-time job, it was a struggle to find some time to spend together. And that’s how Seokjin convinced you to join the gym again. It was a hard no at first, but he put up a good argument… You could hang out together while he worked and you found not everything was completely body destroying there… You could keep up a worthy enough pace on the treadmill. Look somewhat passable on the elliptical… They were both also very great vantage points for some light viewing (perving) of your man… Squats really were invented for him. Just no one tell him that because he’d get a big head… 

Caption: The only plus side of going to the gym 🏋🏻‍♂️🍑🤤🥵 43 likes 

Linaa: GROSS  Linaa: can you not publicise your weird kinks 🤮 You: @Linaa were you or were you not going on about Jimin’s booty two nights ago ????  You: @PJM tell your girlfriend to shut up  PJM: Guys 😩😩 me and Jin really don’t deserve this  Seokjin_Kim: WHEN DID YOU TAKE THIS?! 

He may have seemed outraged but that wasn’t what he sounded like over text two minutes later… 

Jin💞 (5:47pm)  So I hear you have a thing for my butt   ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“You know I can’t control myself,” you told him later on that night when he’d come over, pinching said butt as you hugged. 

“Stoppp,” he whined, bottom lip jutting out but he didn’t sound very believable. 

“What? I can take full advantage of butt squeezes now.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing the same. You try getting to sleep with two hands cupped firmly around your ass. It got annoying after a while… 

He shook his head slowly. Like he was disappointed. His arms still slung around your waist though and a small smirk itching its way across his mouth. “Twisted. Should’ve known… I still get nightmares.” 

You met his eyes, a glint in them. You knew exactly what he was referring to. To avoid all the crude details, let’s just say an experiment might have occurred…to see how much pleasure one could derive from the prostrate gland…  “Shut up. You’re the one who brought it up, so like, obviously you enjoyed it.” You moved in slowly as you spoke, looping your arms around his neck, a grin on your face. 

He sighed your name quietly. “I’d enjoy anything if it was with you.” Dead romantic over some anal fingering. No sarcasm. It really was. You lips were centimetres apart. So close you could almost taste him, but then he pulled away abruptly. “But that’s besides the point. You obviously told Lina–mfphh!”

You couldn’t wait any longer. Kissing him was your favourite pastime, and well, there had been a lot of kissing this past month. Lots of cute kissing. Chaste or stolen. Soft and gentle. Slow. Fast. Lots of fast kissing. Messy and wet. Eager, sometimes impatient. Lots of heavy breathing, warm bodies and ruined underwear on your part… Although Seokjin had his fair share of problems in that area too. An overactive erection. Taking it slow didn’t mean you couldn’t kiss until you were overheating, grind until you were shaking… Grope until you were moaning. 

You were straddling him on the couch doing just that when you heard a voice calling outside your door. Sounded like your mom but god, that would be the worst thing ever. 

“Yoo-hoo! Are you in?” 

Nooo. It really was your mom. Who needed a cold shower at a moment like this? You were pulling away from Seokjin immediately, hazy mind clearing like magic. No one wanted to be caught getting frisky by a parent. It had happened once a couple of years ago and you in no way wanted to relive that. 

“My mom,” you groaned at Seokjin, answering the puzzlement on his face. 

It quickly turned to panic. “Oh shit. What?” You nodded, quickly getting off him to make your way to the door. “Where are you going?” He panicked harder. 

“To open the door.” You laughed. “Can’t leave her out there.” 

He jumped up. “Hold on. Hold on. My dick”s half hard.” Luckily he did remember to keep his voice down, shoving a hand down his pants. “Shit. Try fully hard.” 

“Hide it.” You hissed, not bothering to check what he was doing as you turned your back to him and ran for the door. He was a big boy (HA), he’d work it out…or not… 

You took a deep breath, smoothing down your hair as you composed yourself and pulled it open. “Hello mother. You do realise most normal people ring the doorbell.” 

“I did.” She sassed you right back. “You took too long.” Really? You must have missed that…too distracted. Oops. She walked inside, stopping when she saw Seokjin stood awkwardly by the coffee table. “Oh.” 

You took a glance at him, eyes wide, like a rabbit caught in headlights. You mean, it could’ve been the erection, but also, this was the first time he was coming face to face with your mother. You’d been too flustered to realise that before you’d flown open the front door. Hadn’t had time to reassure and ease him. Poor guy. 

“Mom, this is Seokjin.” You introduced, walking towards him for some moral support. 

“I know who he is.” She smiled at you, before turning to him. “It’s so nice to meet you finally.” Ugh. That was right. You’d spent a lot of time talking about him these past few weeks. Mostly done subconsciously when you were still in the “friends” phase. Yeah. You didn’t think she bought it either… Especially when you told her you used to “be involved” in the past but things didn’t work out. What? You couldn’t call it hooking up could you… It was a nicer way of putting it. Sort of. She’d been eager to meet him for a while now, ever since you’d started dating. Probably why she’d shown up without notice… 

“Hi.” Seokjin smiled. You moved closer to him. Reassuring him without touching him directly. 

“Even more handsome than his photos.” 

You groaned loudly. “Mom, you’re embarrassing him.” And you. For multiple reasons. Yes. She had made you show her pictures. 

She shook her head. “Nonsense. What are you two up to then?” 

She was looking at Seokjin when she asked so he really had no choice but to reply. “Uh… Uh, we were just… just hanging out.” The smile on his face didn’t look too natural. You nudged him. Hopefully enough to settle him. 

“Seokjin had a late class so he’s only just come over. We were gonna watch some TV.” You helped instead. 

“Oh. Sorry for interrupting.” Like hell she was. “You’re a business major, right?” Seokjin nodded, curious as to how she knew. Uh oh. “My daughter’s told me all about you.” 

“She has?” He sounded surprised. Good surprised. Like a lot of gloating could come of it later surprised. And of course, even when he was still inwardly shitting himself, he turned it around, charming your mother expertly. “That makes me nervous.” 

“Only nice things of course.” Your mother reassured. “She never shuts up about you.” 

“Mom!” You exclaimed. This had been what you were dreading. You changed the subject real fast. “What are you doing here anyway?” It worked. 

“Leftovers.” She replied, pulling out a plastic Tupperware box from her purse. “Your dad was cooking again and thought we were a family of ten.” You chuckled, taking the container from her. Classic. You were sure he’d always thought that. You mom took another look at both you and Seokjin, a smile on her face, before she spoke again. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it.” Seokjin couldn’t help himself and laughed at her choice of phrase. You elbowed him. Childish fucker. 

“Thanks for the food, Mommy,” you smiled sweetly. 

She laughed. “Oh, now you’re nice.” 

“I’m always nice!” 

“That’s what she tells me too,” Seokjin piped up, making your mother laugh.  

“Nice meeting you Seokjin. Eat some too.” She told him, directing her head to the container.  “Sorry for my husband’s cooking.” 

He chuckled. “Nice meeting you too.” 

You followed her to the door, nodding in agreement when she told you she’d see you soon. Like you said, life had been busy. You were spreading yourself thin, but not thin enough to go visits your parents. 

“That went well,” Seokjin said as soon as you closed the door. He sounded relieved. 

“It did.” You agreed, placing the leftovers on the kitchen counter before walking towards him. 

“Didn’t have time to overthink too much. Which is odd considering I was hiding a terrified boner.” You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. He reached for your waist. “It’s gone now, thank the lord.” 

“You’ve been overthinking it?” 

He nodded “Yeah. Meeting parents is a big deal.” That made you smile. Cute. “Thanks for talking about me so much though. It definitely worked in my favour.” 

There it was. One simple gloat. He couldn’t help it. You pushed at his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“Okay, I’ll keep my ego down.” He laughed. “Whew. Meeting your mom, huh. It’s getting serious.” 

“Giving you permission to back out now.” You rolled your eyes, but despite playing it cool you couldn’t help but feel giddy at his words. Serious with Seokjin. It was all you’d ever wanted. 

He scoffed, leaning down to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Never. You’re stuck with me now.” 

You tried suppressing your smile but failed. You managed to sound casual though. “Doesn’t seem like a bad thing.” 

He smiled back and you hugged him to you. Couldn’t help it. He squeezed your middle as he pulled away to speak. “Maybe it’s time you met my parents soon?” 

Oh boy. Serious it was. 

Not surprisingly, Lina couldn’t comprehend the taking it slow aspect. She knew your history with one another. Heard a few stories she’d rather forget. The fact you were starting from the beginning again – well, you’d never really started from the beginning in the first place, but y’know… The fact you were waiting boggled Lina’s mind. 

“I really did think you’d last a week holding out.” She said tonight, girly night in taking a turn with boy talk. Check you two out, couldn’t last an hour without talking about your men. What had you both become? 

“Like how come you don’t have all this built up sexual tension going on? It’s a love story like no other. You both waited so long to get together, you should be tearing off each other’s clothes. Going at it animal style.” 

“Oh, my god,” you laughed. “Okay, maybe too much wine for you.” You took her empty glass and placed it on the coffee table. She had never been able to handle wine. It turned her into a different person. Tonight, one who was very passionate about Seokjin and you, it seemed… 

“It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with him.” You explained. “Of course I do. But…” You paused, face flushing a little. Maybe the wine was getting to you too. “I know when it finally happens, it’s going to be amazing. The waiting is only going to make it better.” 

That made you both giggle, giddy from the wine and sex talk. Lina reached over for some chips, crunching loudly as she thought something over in that (drunk) head of hers. “Maybe he lost his dick in an accident in between?” 

“He didn’t lose it in an accident!” You laughed. It was like you hadn’t gone into full detail about last night’s vigorous palming activities not half an hour ago. He still had his dick alright.

Lina shrugged, stuffing her face again. “Maybe he has stage fright…” 

She really was determined to get an explanation. Jesus, who’d have thought she’d wanted you to have sex with Seokjin this much? “I don’t know, I find it cute,” you shrugged yourself. He definitely wasn’t suffering from a case of stage fright. He’d had a healthy case of Erection every time your tongue slipped into his mouth. “Romantic.” You mused. “It’ll happen when the time’s right. Until then, we’re building this whole other layer to our relationship.” 

If truth be told, you’d never felt like this in a relationship. All the others seemed like a joke looking back. Even with Yoongi. You’d been searching for these feelings with the wrong guy. Too dumb to see you could have everything you’d ever wanted with Seokjin. You’d never felt this comfortable. This happy. He really was the other half of you. You didn’t care how cheesy that sounded. Even if maybe you wouldn’t admit it to him yet. 

“Yet he hasn’t made it official…” Lina couldn’t help herself. Muttering under her breath but loud enough for you to hear. 

“Will you stop,” you told her. She was also waiting “patiently” for Seokjin to put a label on it. You, not so much. At this point you knew you were both serious. You were in a relationship, just not technically confirmed, and that was okay. Even if you were yet to call him your boyfriend out loud. (Read: You really wanted to.) 

“What?” She feigned ignorance. 

“Being negative. Me and Seokjin are happy. Everything’s amazing.” 

Lina couldn’t stop her smile then, seeing your grin. “I know. I like seeing you like this. I’m just… You know me, I’m suspicious of everything.” 

“Suspicious when it comes to Seokjin.” You corrected lightly. 

She laughed but didn’t deny. Baby steps. She’d gone from despising the poor guy to practically ordering you to make a move in a year, so it was definitely getting somewhere. You wouldn’t forget she’d referred to you both as a “love story like no other” in a hurry though… You wouldn’t let her forget either!   

“Oh, by the way,” she began, changing the subject – kinda. “We haven’t had a chance to double date yet… My parents are out of town for the weekend. What do you think about this: Lina’s Fancy Dinner Party. Got a ring to it, right?”

“I’m shitting myself. I’m actually shitting myself.” 

“Will you calm down,” you laughed, hooking your arm with Seokjin’s as you stood in the doorway to Lina’s parents’ house. “You’re going to have fun.” 

He’d been dreading this night ever since you’d told him about it a couple of days ago. It wasn’t just Lina and Jimin now, she’d also invited Yumi and her boyfriend, Taeil. The impending doom was real and the whole Uber ride here had been pretty amusing. You’d never seen him so nervous. It was cute. He really, really wanted your friends to like him. Not that they didn’t already, but could you tell him? No! He wasn’t listening. 

“Fun? I’m pretty sure all your friends hate me.” He muttered, before his eyes widened comically. “This isn’t some kind of satanic sacrifice, right?” 

“You’ve seen too many horror movies,” you tutted. You glanced at him, sighing softly when you saw the pitiful look on his face. Despite the jokes he really was anxious over this. You unhooked your arms and rubbed his back before straightening the collar of his dress shirt. This was a fancy dinner party after all. There was a dress code, and you weren’t complaining. Seokjin looked hot all fancy like this. 

“Only Lina had some… misjudged opinions on you, and it’s past tense for a reason.” 

Seokjin pulled a face. He still wasn’t too sure about that, but the kiss you landed on his mouth seemed to help. 

“They’re here!!” Interrupted by the clicking of the door and Lina’s loud voice, you broke apart. “Found them kissing on the doorstep!”

You rolled your eyes and clasped Seokjin’s hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. “We hadn’t even rung the doorbell yet. How did you know we were here?” 

“Porch light.” She replied flatly, pointing at you both and stepping aside to let you in. “None of that once you get inside. This is a sophisticated dinner party.” 

“Got you,” you nodded, walking into the lounge to find Yumi, Taeil and Jimin already sat around the coffee table. “Here I was thinking it was some type of orgy…” 

“Now that sounds like a party,” Taeil cheered. 

Everyone laughed at that – apart from Lina of course… and surprisingly Seokjin, who looked too scared to even think about joking around… Or perhaps he just didn’t want to piss Lina off. Suck up. 

.

.

“Get a room you two,” Yumi teased, wiggling her eyebrows as she watched you and Seokjin from over her wine glass. The dinner had been a success – Lina could actually cook. Who knew? Not you because you ordered takeout every time you hung out – and swiftly after that you’d moved onto entertainment. In the form of drinking games. Seokjin had seemed to loosen up by then, actually beginning to enjoy himself without any nerves. He and Lina had a few conversations. He’d even made her laugh which you thought he got rather smug about… After a good old game of beer pong (which wasn’t very fancy at all) you quickly moved onto ‘Never have I ever”, which of course had turned the three of you girls into a cackling mess. Things were said, things were confessed, and you were sure the guys didn’t know how to handle the details. 

Now it was getting late, you were all winding down, sipping on wine or beer. Lina and Yumi were sharing the sofa with Jimin and Taeil, and Jin and you were curled up on the love seat. Definitely a little drunk, giggling and flirting together. His hand casually up your dress a little as he stroked your thigh. 

“Surprised they got out of one long enough to come here,” Taeil commented. 

“What do you expect? It’s only been a few weeks. They’re fresh in the feels.” Yumi almost pouted, turning to her boyfriend. “Babe, do you remember when we were like that?” 

“How long have you been together?” Seokjin asked, and you kissed him on the cheek, proud he was making conversation. You’d been hanging out with his friends so often now it was normal, so it made you happy to know the same was beginning to happen with yours. 

Taeil grinned and got Yumi into a bear hug, rubbing his cheek into hers as he answered. “One year, one month and 8 days. Want me to add the hours, baby?” 

“Shurrup,” she shook him off her, but she was grinning from ear to ear at his dramatic display. 

“Hey, Lina. Will that be us one day,” Jimin teased, draping his arm around her shoulders.

She played nonchalant, sipping on her wine. “Possibly.” Jimin just laughed, greatly amused by his girlfriend’s antics. It was obvious to anyone that she had fallen for him hard. Despite her cool façade. 

“You guys were together before though, right?” Taeil directed the conversation back to you and Seokjin. 

Your eyes widened, unsure on how to answer. “Uh, kinda.” Little did he know that every single thing you’d both answered during ‘Never have I ever’ had been about one another. Poor innocent Taeil…

“Big history,” Lina explained, puffing out her cheeks as she exhaled. They were bright red. She was drunk. Could tell by the way she was keeping everything that came out of her mouth short. 

“I was there when they first hooked up,” Yumi added excitedly. “Well, not actually there. I was at the party.” Valid correction. “I didn’t know until a few months later though.” A pause. 

“Honestly though, it was such a shock. Who would have thought it?” She continued. You shifted a little uncomfortably. You were never good with attention. “You and Kim Seokjin. Mind blown. I always thought you’d rather take a vow of celibacy than get dicked down by. Kim. Seokjin.” 

Okay. So everyone was drunk, and here you were feeling like you were sobering up now. The sound of Jin’s laughter beside you eased you a little. “Let’s quit with the full name talk.” 

Everyone laughed bar Lina, who turned her head to Yumi. “That’s why she kept it to herself for so long. He was her dirty little secret.” 

“Hardly,” you piped up. You got she was kidding around, but for some reason you felt defensive. “Just know what you guys are like.” 

“Well I think it’s cute how you guys decided to give it a proper go,” Jimin smiled. “You’re good together.” 

Before you could say thanks, Lina was butting in. “I didn’t say they weren’t good together. They are! All we have to do now is wait for Seokjin to pop the question…” 

“Marriage?” Taeil asked uncertainly.

“No, you idiot,” she laughed. “Girlfriend! They haven’t made it official yet.” You felt Seokjin freeze beside you. You didn’t dare look at him. Lina was in deep shit when you got home. Wrath over text was a scary thing. 

“Oh, well no rush,” Taeil shrugged. “It took me two months to ask Yumi to be mine.” 

“That’s true. Remember?” Yumi directed at you and Lina. “I was getting pretty panicky.” 

“Awh, I’m sorry babe.” Taeil apologised. You all wrinkled your noses as they kissed, thankfully distracting the conversation long enough for it to change. 

Surprisingly thanks to Lina herself. It was her groan that did it, as she buried her head into Jimin’s shoulder. “My head hurts and I need to stack everything in the dishwasher.” 

“Didn’t you say no more wine a few nights ago,” you chuckled, throwing a cushion at her. She yelped dramatically. When you put your hand down, Seokjin clasped it, entwining your fingers. You snuck a smile his way. Knowing he wasn’t too traumatised by the direction of tonight’s conversation relieved you.  

“Yeah Lina. C’mon. Lightweight,” Jimin prodded her. “We can clean up everything in the morning.” 

“Noo. I think I’m going to be hungover tomorrow.” She whined. “Can someone help?” 

“I will,” Seokjin offered. Shocking you, and everyone else in the room while he was at it. “Maybe some water will help you too?” 

.

. 

“Lina doesn’t hate me,” Seokjin sang in the back of the Uber. En route to his place. 

You were wrapped into him, warm, cosy and a little sleepy. You couldn’t wait to crash out in bed. “Oh?” This piqued your interest though. He just sounded so pleased. 

“Uh huh,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “We talked while in kitchen.” Oh okay. So he had ulterior motives when he helped her load the dishwasher. “She’s just suspicious of me. I get it. I don’t have the best track record. I think I put her mind at ease though.” He squeezed you happily. 

Even though you were curious about their conversation you didn’t pry. “She still embarrassed you in front of everyone though.” And you… She still wasn’t let off the hook regardless of how drunk she was.  

“It’s fine,” he sighed. “She put my mind at ease too. Told me I was worried for no reason.” 

You frowned. “Worried? About what?” 

“Asking you something.” Your heart stilled. Oh shit. He squeezed you again, murmuring in your ear. “Wanna take this further. These last few weeks have been amazing, huh?” All you could do was nod. You were getting all hot, cheeks a rosy hue no doubt. Forgetting the Uber driver could probably hear everything despite Seokjin’s low voice. Not that you really cared. 

“I already think of you as my girlfriend. Just too scared to call you it. In case I jinx things. In case you’re secretly sick of me already.” 

You managed to give him a tiny scoff. Voice shaky. “As if.” 

“So…” He whispered. “Will you do it? Be my girlfriend?” 

You swallowed, composing yourself and glanced at him. “You’re really asking me in the back of an Uber?” 

He grinned. “I spot a moment and I’m going for it. Lina’s orders.” 

You laughed, cupping his face. “You know you don’t have to listen to her, right?” 

“I know,” he nodded. “She was just right this time.” 

You turned, resting the back of your head on his shoulder. “I’ll only be your girlfriend under one condition.” 

“Hm?” He placed another kiss on the top of your head, both arms wrapped around your chest. 

“You’ll be my boyfriend.” 

He hummed in contemplation. “That doesn’t sound too bad. May have to think about it for a few hours or so though. Maybe a night–ooff.” 

You cut him off with a whack to the chest, twisting around to face him again. “It’s a yes or else.”

He curled his tongue against his cheek. “That’s hot.” You waited patiently. “Of course it’s a yes.” 

.

.

“Wait. Wait, wait,” Seokjin half panted, breaking away from your mouth. It was a wonder you’d made it as far as his bedroom, let alone his bed. As soon as the Uber had dropped you off, you were on one another. It had finally happened. You were Seokjin’s girlfriend. He was your boyfriend, and now everything was right with the world. 

“Let me do something.” He reached for his phone in the back pocket of his pants, rolling off you to unlock it and start clicking away. “Check your phone.” 

On cue it pinged, still in your purse which had been slung on the floor. You sat up and rushed for it curiously. Laughing along the way because what was he up to? You laughed even harder when you read the notification. 

Kim Seokjin sent you a relationship request. 

Facebook official, huh? Check you two out. He came up from behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his breathing still a little heavy. You had quite literally kissed his face off. “Was just gonna ask you like that but I thought it might me too lame.” 

“Aw. That would’ve been cute.” 

“Fuck,” he cursed, looking regretful. “Second guessing the Uber now.” 

“Shush.” You murmured, leaning back to kiss him softly. “I liked that too.” You were sure the driver really appreciated the cringe fest too… 

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. 

The noise from both your phones interrupted you this time. You begrudgingly pulled away, looking down at the screen. 

Jung Hoseok commented on a post you were tagged in: HOLY SHIT  Jung Hoseok commented on a post you were tagged in: IT’S HAPPENING IT’S HAPPENING IT’S HAPPENING  Hwang Lina commented on a post you were tagged in: FINALLY thnk me later Seokjin 😘 Kim Namjoon commented on a post you were tagged in: marriage next 😉

Seokjin read them over your shoulder, laughing at your idiot friends as you groaned. “God. You’ll get scared away before we even start.” 

He hugged you closer, kissing your cheek. “Not a chance in hell. Wanna elope?” 

“Shut up,” you giggled. Despite your joking around, you didn’t think you’d ever been happier. You wanted to tell him that but then his mouth was on your earlobe. He knew that was your weakness. He was on his back and you were straddling him as soon as his tongue slipped inside the shell. If he wanted to make you all hot and bothered, a heads up would’ve been nice. You definitely weren’t tired anymore. Even more so feeling his hands drag up your thighs where your dress had ridden up. You viewed him from above, realising you must’ve tugged at his shirt a little too hard already. It was stretched around the collar, a button undone. He looked amazing. You tilted your head to the side. “Did I tell you how hot you look in a dress shirt?” 

He paused to think. “Hm. You may have mentioned it a couple hundred times.” As he spoke he grabbed your butt, pulling you down to level with him. You giggled, letting him kiss your face like something possessed. He paused before he got to your mouth, murmuring sweetly. “You looked beautiful tonight.” 

You pouted. “Don’t use big words to brag on my shitty vocabulary.” 

He looked at you questioningly, amusement dancing in his eyes. Maybe you were still a little tipsy. That paired with the giddiness of tonight’s turn in events and it really felt like you were floating on a cloud of happiness. But it was really Seokjin’s body. Firm and large underneath you. 

You really couldn’t get enough of his mouth. His taste. You think you’d kissed him way over a couple hundred times since you’d gotten (back) together. He argued and said it was more. You didn’t know, you had trouble keeping count. You couldn’t get enough of him. All perfect and pretty and amazing. He was yours. For real this time. Confirmed. Boyfriend. You smiled into his mouth at the thought again. 

“What?” He chuckled, grin just as wide. He knew what. He felt it too. 

“Tonight is the best night ever.” 

“You’re drunk.” 

“Am not.” You quipped. “You’re drunk.” 

“Am not.” His lips were mashed with yours. “I’m just really fucking happy.” 

You slipped your tongue into his mouth, not caring if you turned it sloppy. You wanted it to be messy. You wanted to just let yourself go. To give into every little feeling of pure joy you had in your body. It was wet and warm and sticky, and Seokjin’s hands were naughty. They slipped up your dress, over your ass, rubbing the flesh and pinged your thong with two of his fingers. Your stomach flipped. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched you like this in a while but it was the first time he’d been so blatant about it. The snap of elastic stayed ringing in your ears as you moaned. You uncontrollably rubbed against him. He grunted into your mouth and something throbbed. 

You broke away from his mouth with a pop, sitting up on him wobbly. “You’re naughty, Kim Seokjin.” You scolded.

He just looked smug, a shit eating grin on his face. “Not anymore than you are.” Had you pulled at his hair without noticing? It looked a little wild. Regardless, you were getting distracted again. His hands still up your dress, gripping your ass as he rubbed you against his crotch. He was fully hard. You felt it strain against his pants and press into the pulsing between your legs. 

“Mario is watching us,” he whispered. “Wants to be me.”

“Ew.” You wrinkled your nose. You’d forgotten all about that creepy figurine. 

“Want me to turn him around?” 

You shook your head. “He can watch.” If truth be told you couldn’t bear it if Seokjin got up right now, even if he was coming straight back. You circled harder into him, such a simple pleasure never feeling so good. Moisture grew and collected in your thong. Barely. You were a few minutes away from spoiling his dress pants. He held your weight as you leant back, letting you grind to your heart’s content. 

“Does it feel good? Grinding on my dick like that?” 

“Mhmm.” It was all a moan. Couldn’t think to do anything else. Such a simple way of words but it had you burning up. You’d missed what his mouth could do to you. You’d missed him like this. Memories came back, swarming the front of your mind. Clouding it. So when you felt gravity leave you, back landing on the mattress with a silent thud, you were momentarily stunned. Pinned down, wet and horny. 

“What are you doing?” You gasped, which flew into a moan when you felt his crotch thrust into you.

He spread your legs, dress riding up even more, bunched up around your waist. “Protecting your modesty. Mario’s a pervert.” To give it to him, he really did want to sound causal, but his voice was strained, breathing hard and you rubbed against him shamelessly. 

It was odd. You were beyond frustrated. Craving him like you never had before, but this became enough. Feeling him solid against your barely covered core, starting to thrust into you like he was actually fucking you. It was hot. It was working. It was enough. Just as pleasurable as his dick would be inside you. 

Needy and raw. Messy and crude, but just so amazing. Pent up feelings finally getting their own way. You clung to him, wrapped your legs around him, rutted against him obscenely until you were a moaning, sweaty mess. Simulating sex desperately, because you needed him and wanted him any which way. 

Seokjinnn,” you whined, unsticking yourself from his mouth to catch your breath. Back arching as he gripped your legs from behind the knee, thrusting forward hard. 

He was panting, sweat collecting between his brow which was furrowed in effort. “C-can you cum like this?” 

“Y-yeh,” you nodded eagerly. It was great you were on the same page. Sweet relief was close. It tingled through your body and curled your toes. You were so turned on you’d cum from anything right now. “Can you?” 

“I think so,” he breathed into your cleavage. Mouth now distracted with kissing the tops of your breasts. Your nipples were painfully hard, desperate to be freed from the dress and desperate to feel his tongue. But not tonight. “Actually.” Seokjin knelt up, shaky hands undoing his fly and pushing his pants down to the middle of his thighs. His erection strained against the underwear and you throbbed at the sight. 

“Now I can,” he grinned goofily. He moved closer, and you flattened one of your legs to the bed, letting him slide in between it and the one still folded at the knee. “I’m so hard,” he laughed breathlessly, a hand reaching down to grip his dick. You followed, unable to help yourself. Squeezing tightly. Greedily. “Fuck.” He sounded impatient and desperate, rushing to thrust into you once again. You moved your hand to his hip, holding it tightly as he held onto your knee, gaining leverage to begin rubbing into you hard. “This feels so good.” He astounded and you nodded wildly in agreement. 

You were close. Not long left, and as soon as he began circling into your core, swollen and dripping by now surely, that was it. The final push. “Don’t stop.” You begged, reaching for him any way you could. “I’m g-onna… I really am…” You trailed off, laughing in disbelief.  

“Yeah?” 

You nodded again, words now failing you as the heat built up, body shuddering to its orgasm. Seokjin didn’t relent, circling harder as you came, until he couldn’t take it any longer and collapsed onto your body. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He was spent. Exhausted, sweaty and near orgasm himself. You shifted a little so he didn’t rub against the sensitivity still hot between your legs and let him finish off on the inside of your thigh. You could tell by how his body stiffened, a moan like grunt dragging from his throat. You moaned back, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he burrowed his behind your waist. You clung to one another, both masses of sweat. Heavy breathed and unable to talk for a little while. 

It was Seokjin that came to first surprisingly. Despite practically dying to get you both to cum. He laughed into the crook of your neck, and you looked down at him curiously. He rolled off you a little. Hair stuck to his forehead.  “Jesus fucking christ. Feel like a teenager just done humping my pillow.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t do that anymore?” 

His eyes widened. “You do?” 

You nodded as you wriggled free from him fully and pulled down your dress. Your underwear clung to you. You felt extra sticky now that you’d cooled down. “It’s a valid form of masturbation.” 

“Well, shit. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

You laughed, sitting up. Seokjin stayed lying down, looking up you with the softest look in his eyes. He was definitely exhausted from all the humping. “Shit. Sandeul isn’t here right?” You hadn’t thought about that before, severely distracted as you’d rushed into the apartment. 

“I dunno. I can’t remember if his door was closed or not.” Jin rolled onto his back, shimmying his pants up. “Oh well. Not like he wasn’t used to it before. Won’t take him long to adjust again.” He shot you a smirk and you giggled. “Wanna shower or something?” 

You groaned. It was too late to shower, and you were tired again, but there was no way you could stay like this. You jumped off the bed, grabbing your stuff that had a permanent home at his place already. “I’ll clean up quick and get ready for bed.” 

“I’ll go after you.” He pulled a face, adjusting his crotch. “Bit gross.” 

Laughing, you stopped beside him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Wanna go first?” 

“Nah. It’s fine.” He smiled. “I need a moment anyway. Whew.” 

On your way out you paused by Mario, twisting him to face the wall. You winked in Seokjin’s direction. “For next time.” 

.

.

You were tucked up in bed trying to stay awake on your phone when Seokjin came back from his shower. “Near naked?” Damn. What did you do to be gifted with such a sight. You’d seen him come out the shower a few times since you’d gotten together, towel slung around his waist, or watched him get dressed before you went out somewhere, but he hadn’t gone to bed in just his boxers. He better watch it, you’d jump his bones again. 

“I’m so hot.” He moaned. Tell you about it. Although you didn’t think he meant that type of hot. “That was a bigger work out than the gym.” 

“Not used to it anymore.” You teased, pulling up his side of the duvet so he could get in. As soon as he did you were attached to him, cuddling up. “You lied to me by the way,” you murmured, pulling away as you dragged your hand down his chest. 

“Hm?” He looked confused. 

“Remember you said you didn’t have abs anymore…” 

He took a moment to think before he scoffed. “That was ages ago, but these are not abs regardless.” 

“Are to.” 

“Are not.” He tried to pull the comforter up, attempting to cover his body. “This is just normal. I mean, I can try and get them back for you?” 

“Shut up,” you exclaimed. “Really, Seokjin?” You clung to his neck. “I don’t care about things like that. I like you any which way. I really like you.” You emphasised, placing a lingering kiss on his cheek. 

“Get off,” he chuckled. You could feel his grin underneath your lips. 

You buried your face in his neck instead, showering it with little kisses. “I think you’re hot, Hot, HOT anyway.”

He was laughing loudly now, grabbing your elbows to try and push you away. “Tickles,” he whined. “You’re crazy.” You sprung from him as soon as he began tickling under your armpits. Relenting instantly, head falling back into the pillows with a cry. 

“I think you’re hot too,” he whispered, leaning over you, mouth now on your neck as one of his hands ran up your side, cupping your boob gently. “Grinding on me. Making me lose my shit. Only you could make me cum like that… In my fucking underwear.”  You giggled, squirming under him as he growled and nibbled your earlobe. You were heating up again, a fool to his words. But of course your body had to betray you. A yawn escaped. You didn’t even know you’d been holding it in. 

“You’re tired,” he commented, pulling back to push stray strands of hair away from your face. 

“Mmm,” you admitted, eyes heavy and begging to be closed. 

He kissed the tip of your nose. “Let’s go to sleep.” 

There was no point arguing. Besides, it just felt too good being wrapped up in Seokjin’s arms once he’d flicked the lamp off. “Goodnight girlfriend,” he murmured in your ear, shaking you a little when you only hummed in response, half asleep. “Say it back.” 

‘Goodnight girlfriend.” 

“Nooo,” he whined, squeezing you. 

You giggled, entwining your hand with his. You were just teasing. “Goodnight boyfriend.” 

Written 2019. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

[luninosity]

Working on the last (?) Character Bleed bonus story, today...

#

James Parr, clutching six bottles of wine, stared at the door. He hadn’t knocked or rung the bell yet, partly because of the armful of wine and partly because he was busy telling himself to remember to breathe.

 The door gazed back, pale blue and noncommittal. Maybe it didn’t approve of his choice of shirt, or his hair, or his sudden complete panic. What if Colby Kent’s door didn’t approve of him?

 He shifted weight, did not turn and flee, and murmured, “Knew I should’ve worn the blue shirt…”

 He didn’t know why he was here. More accurately, he knew why he’d come: Colby and Jason Mirelli had extended an invitation for dinner. And no one in any sort of right mind would turn down that invitation. Between Colby’s sweetness and Hollywood power, as movie star and writer and producer, and Jason’s muscles and family legacy, interwoven with the whole history of the industry, anyone would say yes; they might also say yes out of sheer curiosity, as Colby tended to be adorable and precious but private, and any glimpse inside was an honor.

 Also, industry legend said that Colby was a genius cook, and Jason wasn’t half bad either. James’s stomach suggested pointedly that he go ahead and knock.

 He couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. Could he?

 He knew they’d asked him. He didn’t know why him, why they’d taken an interest, what’d prompted the invitation. He’d never even met Jason, though they’d been at the same events on occasion; he had met Colby, briefly, during the auditions for Steadfast. James winced, remembering.

 He’d wanted the role of Stephen, as quite a few people had, and he’d been lucky enough to get a call to come in. Colby Kent was non-negotiable as Will, obviously, as producer and—though the world hadn’t known it yet—scriptwriter. James had done the scene with Colby, and it’d been a gorgeous scene, lush and clever and full of first meeting anticipation on a balcony. He thought he’d done all right, but he also knew he hadn’t been quite right; he’d wondered even then. Colby was so very good—the awards attested to that—and had balanced Will’s privilege and sarcasm with delicate unexpected vulnerability, and James had possibly been just a little too flirtatious, treating Stephen’s lines about choices with not quite enough weight. He’d hoped he’d get a chance to do it again for real; he could take director’s notes readily, with humor and without argument.

 He hadn’t had the chance, of course, because Jason Mirelli had walked out of formulaic action-hero thrillers and right into Stephen’s Royal Navy boots and also into Colby’s heart. Jason had shown the world that he was brilliant, and James knew he’d been the right choice; everyone knew. No resentment possible, not with that performance. Only admiration.

 He’d be seeing Colby again tonight. If he managed to knock on the door. He did some more silent communing with it. That wasn’t the only reason for his nerves.

 Jason, on the phone, had said casually, “Oh, there might be four of us, you know my friend Evan, he’s been the stunt choreographer on all your superhero movies, yeah? He’s in town too, so he might drop by, if that’s cool with you.” And James had squeaked out some sort of embarrassing high-pitched affirmative, and collapsed back against his front door, because he’d just walked in from the gym when Jason had called.

 Evan. Evan Richards. Who had, yes, been orchestrating and choreographing and training everyone for all those stunts, for all four films so far. Who was devastatingly competent and patient and gorgeous in every conceivable way, as far as James could tell. Who was, in fact, the man James’s pathetic heart had fallen head over heels for, literally, because he’d walked in to meet their choreographer and learn the first-ever set of moves for his super-soldier character, and then he’d tripped right over a mat, because holy shit the muscles and the motion, fluid and flexible and fast and smooth as silk, on display and glorious…

 Evan, who’d been practicing some more complicated moves that he himself would be doing as James’s double, had spun around and run over and been at his side in a flash. Had held out a hand, while James sat on the floor and stared up at strength and power and big brown eyes and, oh god, dimples.

 Evan Richards was kind to everyone, even actors who forgot their own names while ogling him. Evan when not working on a film taught Krav Maga and self-defense classes at a local LA place, and offered classes for all levels and ages. Evan never seemed to be upset about anything, not even when someone hadn’t practiced enough or wasn’t getting a move; he’d just calmly explain it all again, with demonstrations, without making anyone feel guilty or inadequate. Evan tended to look at life that way, with calm good humor and excitement about challenges; he possessed a level of self-discipline that James’s impulses could only dream about, from morning workouts to the literal three alcoholic drinks James had seen him consume in nearly six years to consummate professionalism on set, but he managed all that in a laid-back sort of way, never judging anyone else for different decisions, which was good, because James himself had very definitely made some terrible ones regarding vodka and fluffy pink feather dusters, on occasion.

 Evan made all their movies better; he made James’s life better, and James’s heart had never recovered from that first tumble into pink billowing clouds. He’d thought it might; he’d thought it would get better, with time and Evan’s apparent lack of need to stare at him in turn.

 Nearly six years in, it hadn’t.

 He’d tried flirting with Evan. James knew he personally wasn’t some sort of heaven-sent sculpture of male athleticism, definitely not compared to Evan in a clinging super-suit. But he thought he was reasonably attractive—thick dark hair, blue eyes, good chin, what an ex had called “that wholesome young Superman look”—and he was pretty good at sex, and he was—he hoped—a decent guy to have around. That might be something Evan liked, right?

 He’d always loved falling into bed with friends, making people happy, any and all genders welcome, sometimes all at once. He could be, and had been, up for just about anything, and he liked people who were enthusiastic and kind and confident about what they wanted and liked. He’d thought, well, if he’s interested—I’m interested, and maybe—

 He really had tried. Complimenting Evan’s skill. Complimenting Evan. Asking Evan out for dinner—not drinks; James had noticed that—which had gotten a yes, but a complete and baffling immunity to flirtation over excellent sushi, as if Evan thought he really just wanted to be friends. Learning some good massage techniques and offering to give Evan a backrub had led to, well, him giving Evan a backrub, on set, both of them fully clothed, and Evan had thanked him after. Pretending to not understand a tricky bit of choreography had worked to the extent of getting Evan’s hands on him, but they’d been profoundly professional hands, and James had finally given up and pretended to get it at last.

 After that one he’d gone back to his co-star’s trailer, flung himself dramatically across her couch, and despaired, “What am I doing wrong? Is it me? Am I unlovable? Elizabeth, help me.”

 Elizabeth, who’d known him for years, had moved his legs, sat down, and patted his hip. “To be fair, darling, you’re kind of a slut. Perhaps he’s not into that.” In that amused years-faded English accent, the affection shone.

 “I am,” James had said, “but I just like making people happy. I want to make him happy. How do I make him happy?”

 She’d patted him some more. “Perhaps don’t throw yourself at him quite so hard? He might be shy.”

 James, who’d seen Evan welcome a new pair of stunt guys to set by running over and immediately diving into a recreation of the famous fight scene from the third John Kill movie, which both guys had jumped right into while grinning, had said doubtfully, “I don’t think so…”

 “Perhaps he’s not in fact into men?”

 James had sighed. And had drunk far too much of his hotel’s mini-bar, later that night; had winced at sunlight, on set, and had opened eyes to discover Evan holding out Gatorade and painkillers and a protein bar.

 He really had given up, or mostly. Stopped trying to flirt. Dated a couple other people, not seriously. Started trying to get used to being a friend, resigning himself to making Evan happy that way.

 He’d noticed that Evan liked travel and exploring new locations; James had made sure to do some research and to mention historic sites or local marketplaces or neat old castle walls they were allowed to ride bikes on. Evan had an astonishing sweet tooth for someone with those abs, and James found a tiny ice cream shop in Prague that deserved every bit of its reputation and brought him there, and loved the way Evan’s eyes lit up and the way Evan wanted to try every flavor and the way Evan licked a sample spoon.

 He’d wanted to hold Evan’s hand, walking back to their hotel along medieval cobbled streets under a low-hanging moon. He’d wanted, and he knew he was still and maybe always would be in love; he knew that like a stab to the heart. It felt like the moonlight and tasted like cookies-and-cream, sharp and sweet.

 He’d called Evan after they’d wrapped, after they’d all come back home to LA. He’d tried not to. Not being pushy or needy. He’d made it three days. He’d just wanted to hear that voice, calm and happy, talking about an upcoming martial arts class or ideas for changing up some heroic choreography. Evan had answered promptly, and they’d talked for two hours before Evan had headed to bed, having an early morning. After, James had started looking up the address of a secret jazz-themed speakeasy he remembered—they had a good non-alcoholic cocktail menu, too, and to-die-for chocolate cake, and spot-on historic recreation—because he thought Evan might like it, and then he remembered that they weren’t actually dating and they weren’t on location and Evan had no reason to put up with his company day after day.

 He sighed again, in the present. Clung to wine. Tried not to drop any. Evan might be here and see it.

 He hadn’t managed to knock, but the door opened anyway. James almost took an inadvertent step back, because muscles, but caught the reaction in time.

 “Oh, good,” Jason Mirelli said, grinning at him, “you’re right on time. And you brought, like, all the wine. Here, I can take those.” Boulders shifted and mountains bulged; the sleeves of Jason’s shirt stretched outward in forest-green despair as big arms collected all of James’s offerings. “Come on in.”

 James shook himself out of fascinated speculation about how Jason ever hugged Colby without crushing adorable blue-eyed slender height. “Um. I didn’t know what you, um, liked? So I just…brought a lot of things?” Good god. He was an actor, a successful veteran of press and publicity tours, and a grown man of thirty-two years. Surely he could talk. “Thanks for, um, inviting me? I mean…yeah. Thanks.”

  “Hey, we’re fans. We’ve loved all the Star Captain movies.” Jason sounded sincere, too. Honesty in craggy features, deep velvet-brown eyes. Casually upending the world: in what universe were Colby Kent and Jason Mirelli fans of James Parr? “By the way, Evan’s already here.”

[soundofseventeen]

13 Days of Christmas (Kim Mingyu)

Happy Saturday! The most exciting part of my day has been knowing I’m cleaning my bathroom. I’ll see y’all tomorrow! gif credits to owners! (Unedited!)

Word count: 1846

You had known that you hadn’t been in a relationship in sometime. You couldn’t remember when someone had asked you out to grab a coffee or go to the movies or anything. You missed someone holding your hand and holding you close, but you had a good reason. After two years, your ex-boyfriend had just dropped you like you didn’t exist. He kept everything you bought him of course,and he refused to take everything back you bought him, so it stayed in the corner of your room, haunting you for months on end.

And then one day, Mingyu offered to help you burn it all: the clothes, the pictures, the stuffed animals, everything that came from him went to the fire and the smoke polluted the sky. Everything that survived the first round, went to a secondhand store where you traded that junk for money and you treated Mingyu to smoothies to repay him for freeing you. Mingyu helped mend your broken heart; you weren’t oblivious to how he cared for you during that time. It didn’t matter if it was two am or two pm, if you had a breakdown, he was a phone call away. You would’ve texted him but the sound of his voice calmed you and over time, it gave you the strength to help you heal. 

Mingyu had helped you in more ways than one, and you didn’t know how to repay him. 

It had been a tough year but you persevered and you planned on ending it as strongly as possible. And you wanted to thank him for everything, so you decided to invite him to a holiday party a town over. It wasn’t a luxurious thing but people would be exchanging gifts throughout the night and the present wrapped up nicely on your bed seemed like it would make up for it. 

You planned to meet up with him there due to a difference in your schedules so you weren’t in a rush to shower to get ready, but when you had nothing else to do, you still managed to arrive 45 earlier than expected. You mingled with some acquaintances from a few classes and some of your coworkers while you waited on Mingyu.

And then there were people rushing past you, making you spill your drink everywhere and sent your present flying out of your hands. You didn’t know how they could be so careless around others. (You already knew the poor host was gonna be in for a long clean up session...and if they had money, then their poor cleaning people for having such entitled bosses.) You could already see the red drink seeping into the white, white carpet and had you not heard Mingyu’s name, you would’ve stayed behind to clean it. 

It didn’t take long to spot Mingyu; he was always the easiest to find in a crowded room. However, he didn’t look happy; he looked like he was out for blood and upon closer inspection, you found him holding your ex-boyfriend by the collar of his Christmas sweater. And if there was anything you knew about Kim Mingyu, it was the fact he wouldn’t strike unless provoked. So, he must’ve heard something, and while he glared daggers into your ex’s eyes, you weren’t afraid for Mingyu’s safety. (Mingyu’s height and frequent visits to the local gym made him scary to the wrong people.)

“Say it again,” Mingyu threatened him, not knowing that you could see him.

“Hey man, look I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”

“Y/N is not a toy or an object for you to be talking shit. You wanna talk shit, I’m right here.”

“You got the wrong idea; you guys just seemed really cozy lately-”

“How the fuck is any of that your business?”

You wondered why no one tried to diffuse the situation. Sure they had their phones out and everything, but no one was stepping in to try to convince Mingyu to let go.You had to admit how amused you were. You could feel the tension yes, but it didn’t stop you from enjoying the scene. You had suffered for so long, shed too many tears, and stopped taking care of yourself all for no good reason. You weren’t the type to tell anyone who hurt you that you still wished them the best. No, you wished all kinds of pain on them, for them to feel what you did. (It wasn’t your healthiest trait if you were honest, but you weren’t perfect and you were only human.)

Seeing him the way you felt for so long gave you a sense of power. They couldn’t see you and you knew that if you came into view Mingyu would immediately let go and your ex would scurry to the opposite side of the house...if he didn’t leave right away, that is. And that made you smile...a lot. Hell, if Mingyu wanted to deck him in the face once, that be the best Christmas present ever.

“Y/N, control your boyfriend,” you heard a friend whisper to you. “It’s Christmas and this is a time for all of us to be together, happily.”

“Ahh, you’re the one. I get it. Are you afraid that Mingyu’s gonna hurt your boyfriend?” You didn’t say that Mingyu wasn’t your boyfriend...or that he wouldn’t actually hurt him. You’ve seen how soft-hearted this boy really was. He sang Christmas carols at a hospital not too long ago. Part of you wanted to see how much longer this would play out, but you actually saw people getting too scared now to actually intervene. So, you broke it up yourself. “Mingyu?” you managed to say as quietly as possible. How pulled off a scared look, you didn’t know but hey it worked.

As predicted, Mngyu’s hand gripping at the collar went slack and he pulled back. The anger you saw on his face, however, surprised you. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Your ex finally had some color on his face and somehow managed to spit out, “You two deserve each other anyway.” and ran to go hide. No doubt come Monday, the shit-talking would start and he’d try to make himself look good. Not that you cared or that Mingyu cared.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he apologized. “Traffic. But this party already sucks. So I’m just gonna head out. Do you wanna come with me?”

You didn’t give it a second thought as you nodded your head, and you walked out the door with him without saying goodbye to anyone. “Where are we going?” 

“Well, unless you have a different idea, I’m thinking we could just drive around.” He opened the passenger side for you and once you were in, he walked around and started his car. “By the way, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. Your ex really likes to talk, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about him...what did he tell you anyway?”

“Well, he’s convinced I’m dating you due to all the times he’s seen me come out of your apartment...so early in the morning. But he also wanted to know some information that really wasn’t his to know.”

“What -”

“You’re a person, not a toy that can be played with and then be put to the side. God, I wish I could’ve hit him. Are you cold? Let me turn on the heater for you.” He fumbled around with knobs nad buttons until a burst of warm air hit the car and then you were on your way. He turned on the radio and quickly changed stations as soon as he heard the Christmas songs. It’s not that he hated them, he just hated how overplayed they were. “So, what’d you get me?”

“What makes you think this is for you?”

“The Mingyu in bold letters does the trick. And if it was yours, you would’ve unwrapped it by now and showed it off.”

“I really hate that you’re a good guesser.” You turned the present around in your hands so the friction could keep them warm. “It’s just a cologne. I smelled it when I was on my break once, and I thought it’d be a good scent for you.”

“You have amazing taste.” His eyes widened at the sight in front of him as the roads soon became covered in snow. He drove a little further along until he could stop at the side of the road. He pulled out some gloves in the backseat and then got off. He waited for you to get off on your own because he knew you didn’t care much for snow or the cold weather in general and he felt like he could wait. He liked snow; it was temporary and it brought people close together, be it making forts, building snowmen, or trying to catch the flakes on their tongues. 

“Why’d you stop here?” you managed to chatter out. You blew on your hands to keep them warm and then stuffed them into your jacket.

“It’s quiet and calm. I don’t think it feels like Christmas until it’s cold and dark. And even with all the lights decorating the houses, it’s still too dark to see unless you're in the neighborhood.” He leaned back, watching the cars speed by, most of them carrying trees to decorate once they got home and he smiled, thinking of all the kids who’d put the ornaments and fighting over who got to the star on top. Mingyu watched you struggle to keep warming your hands to he reached over took them into his. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed one a little and then put it in his pocket. 

He took the other one and blew on it, not giving up until it was a lot warmer than when he started. Although, his gloves helped in the process. “Better?”

“A little.” You liked how close he was to you,and you could smell the peppermint creamer from his coffee. You liked his company...and him in general. He was warm. You let go of him then, only to wrap your arms around him. And you liked the pressure he put on his arms as he hugged you back. No one did it quite like Mingyu.

“Hey Y/N…”

“Yes Mingyu?”

“You’re really cold.”

“So are you.”

You were grateful to him, especially in moments like these. 

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes Mingyu?”

“You smell really good.”

“So do you.”

You felt so content, something you had been lacking for sometime.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes Mingyu?”

“I think I wanna kiss you.”

“Me too.”

Gently, so gently as to not disturb the moment, he angled your face perfectly so that he could give you the softest of kisses and one for every time he wanted to tell you how much you meant to him. The snow brought you comfort for once in your life, and you finally found that missing piece.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes Mingyu?”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Maybe that missing piece was Mingyu.