#and the framing at the beginning is a TINY bit messy but i think speaking through it aloud will help me figure out how to fix it

[whentherewerebicycles]

i think... dare i say it???... i am done prepping this talk

[fandom-puff]

A Lion’s Feast

Pairing: tywin lannister x younger!wife!reader

Requested by: anon ‘Could you write a modern au for tywin lannister x younger wife reader. Maybe they have a Lannister family dinner and its all just chaotic.’

Notes: I didn’t end up doing this as a modern AU, because I found it easier to work with everything in like... Westerosi time frame, but I hope this is okay.

Warnings: older man/younger woman, political/arranged marriage, Joffrey, use of words like slut/whore etc (cheers, Cers), reference to Jaime and Cersei’s incest, awkward family dinner

Gif creds to owner

“We will be dining in the Queen’s chambers tonight,”

You tensed up, staring straight ahead as you walked through the gardens of the Red Keep with your lord husband. “Am I… in trouble?” You asked softly. You were new to King’s Landing, shipped over from the Vale to marry the Lord of Casterly Rock, and you weren’t quite used to the way King Joffrey’s court worked.

“No. I’ve arranged for us to dine together as a family. You have not properly met my children and grandchildren. You are a Lannister by marriage, you are their mother-in-law, whether they like it or not, and it’s high time we acted like it,” his voice had a bitter edge to it; it hadn’t taken long for Queen Cersei to make her distaste clear. While no one in court would dare insult Tywin Lannister, the girl from the Vale was an easy target for gossip. You had been called every name under the sun, but the Queen’s favourite jibe was ‘whore’.

“Alright,” you murmured, lowering your eyes. You knew there would be no point in arguing. You had quickly learnt that when your husband put his mind to something, there was no turning back. As a few men of the court crossed your path, you felt Tywin’s hand come to rest on the small of your back, and it did not move until you were in the tower of the Hand. You smiled softly as you caught sight of the steaming tub of hot water, scented with sweet oils as you entered your bedroom. “You’ve had this all planned out, haven’t you, my Lord?” You asked, a small smirk gracing your lips. “You should’ve just told my handmaidens to do it in my chambers, to save the walk up all of those stairs,”

Tywin smiled ever-so-slightly. “You’re hardly ever in your own chambers downstairs, wife,” he reminded you.

“Only because you’re the only person I really know in this godforsaken keep, and even then I don’t know you that well. Besides, if I stayed in my own chambers, I’d get lost and end up in the maze of dragon skulls below the keep,”

Tywin smirked, giving you a little push by the small of your back. “Bathe. Wear red, and preferably rubies and gold,” he said sternly. You sighed, knowing Tywin wanted you to dress the part, to look like the Lady of Casterly Rock. You bathed and dried, perfuming your skin and hair before pulling on your smallclothes, calling in your handmaiden to tighten your bodice, then help lace up your dress. It was a deep red, with golden embroidery on the bodice and cuffs that glimmered when you moved, just covering your shoulders and showing the swell of your breasts, and you fastened a pendant around your neck- a golden lion with tiny rubies for its eyes, tongue and claws. You braided back the front of your hair, but let the rest fall down over your shoulders.

You emerged from the room into Tywin’s main office, your hands folded in front of you. He surveyed you briefly before nodding, offering his arm.

**

You sat in silence as you ate, eyes fixed on your plate. Tywin was sat to your left, Jaime to your right. Cersei and Joffrey occupied the heads of the table, and Tyrion sat across from you, in between Myrcella and Tommen.

“More wine, my Lady?” Tyrion said out of the blue, holding up the jug. He gave you a slight smile, knowing how you must feel to be the outcast, like a stranger with the people you were meant to call family.

“I... yes, please. Thank you, my Lord,” you said.

Tyrion smiled as he poured, before filling his own glass. “Just Tyrion will suffice. Let us leave formality at the door,” you smiled slightly and nodded.

“I agree,” said Jaime, earning himself a sharp look from Cersei, who was used to her twin almost always siding with her. “Wasn’t the whole point of this evening to introduce you to us? As a family,” Cersei scoffed into her goblet. “We won’t get very far with ‘my lords’ and ‘my ladies’, will we?”

Tywin nodded his approval at his sons’ attitude and you smiled, beginning to relax a little, though the presence of Cersei and Joffrey kept you on edge. “Tell me, Lady YN, how is the Vale at this time? Have the northerners got their grubby claws on it yet?” Joffrey suddenly asked.

You froze slightly. You were here to talk, yes, but not talk politics. “The Vale... your grace, is not quite like the Reach, or the Riverlands, or even like Winterfell or Casterly Rock,” you said carefully, fully aware of all of the eyes on you. You looked at Tywin, and when he gave you an approving nod, you turned back to the king and continued. “The majority of the Vale is mountain, with the valley you desire buried between them. Even Robb Stark’s best men couldn’t seize it. No one could. To take the Vale, one must take the Eyrie. To take the Eyrie... well... you just couldn’t,” you were happy sharing this fact, as it was known across Westeros that the Eyrie was impenetrable.

“There are other ways to the Eyrie, though. Marriage,” Cersei said. It was the first time she had spoken, and she had a conniving gleam in her eye.

“There is only one heir to the Vale. Jon Arryn was murd-died before he could have any more children. Only little Robert Arryn is the Lord of the Vale, and he’s just past his sixth name day I believe. Besides, his mother is... very protective of her boy. As I’m sure you can understand, your grace, as a mother yourself,” you said cooly. You didn’t know what possessed you to speak that way to the Queen, but something about speaking of your home, your true home filled you with confidence.

“Indeed. There is nothing quite like a mother’s love,” she responded, fixing you with a cold stare.

“I’m unfamiliar, having lost my mother when I was seven,” you said.

“Does the Eyrie really have a trap door that leads nowhere?” Tommen Baratheon suddenly asked, breaking the silence between you and his mother.

You smiled softly at the little boy. How could someone so innocent come from the loins of a beast like Cersei. You supposed some of the good nature came from his father- his true father, that is, Jaime Lannister. “Yes,” you said. “They call it the Moon Door. It’s a big trap door that opens into the sky. If the Lord of the Vale commands, prisoners can be thrown from it,” you stopped, realising quickly how gruesome that must sound to a little boy.

Tommen simply shrugged. “I suppose that must be less messy,” he said, returning his focus to his food. Soon Tommen and Myrcella were bundled off to bed, and Myrcella told you rather sweetly that she liked the way you did your hair.

Once the children were gone, it left only you and Tywin, his three children and the King. Tywin suggested you move away from the dining table to sit and drink wine. Joffrey excused himself, utterly disinterested with continuing on with the evening. You felt a little lighter after he left, although you could feel Cersei staring daggers at you.

“It must feel strange,” Jaime said. “Coming down here from the Vale. I imagine it’s all rather confusing, and daunting,”

“You can say that again,” you said. “I thought I’d just get bundled off to Casterly Rock, never seen or spoken to,”

Tywin laughed slightly. “Come now, wife, we do have some level of decency in this family,” he said. You smiled shyly, looking at your lap. He was often a little more... relaxed after a few glasses of wine.

“Ha!” Cersei said, having also drunk a fair bit. She had been holding her tongue all night, and it seemed now it had loosened. “Once he puts an heir in your belly, you’ll be shipped off to Casterly Rock. And if it’s a girl, you’ll be spared a visit or two, until you give us a son. That’s all you’re here for, that’s all you’re good for,”

You sat up a little straighter, responding before Tywin could. “I am aware of the general concept of political marriages. Your father gets a wife and an heir, my family gets money, or protection or something of the sort. The Seven know, you Lannisters have gold pouring out of your ears,”

“I believe the phrase is that we ‘shit gold,’” Tyrion supplied with a smirk, making you chuckle.

“You think this is a game,” Cersei hissed. “I’ve seen you, prancing around court, dressed in red and gold, following father around like a lost dog! Fluttering about like a common slut,”

“Cersei-” Jaime said lowly.

“No! No! Can’t you see, she has her claws in father the same way Margaery has her claws in Joffrey! And you want me to accept that whore as my mother,”

It was silent. Cersei panted, now standing up. Jaime and Tyrion looked between her and Tywin. Tywin remained stoic, although his eyes revealed the way he seethed. But it was you who spoke first.

“I don’t expect you to accept me as your mother. I am not your mother. Nor will I ever try to be, or call myself that,” you said quietly, contrasting the Queen’s outburst. “I will, however, do my best to serve my husband, to provide him with the heir that is expected of me, the same way you provided King Robert with his heirs,”

Cersei snorted. “I’m sure you do a fine job of serving, you brazen little who-”

“Enough, Cersei!” Tywin finally said, standing up. “Whether you like it or not, I have married YN. She will give me an heir, or two, or more. And she will remain the lady of Casterly rock, no matter how much you protest,”

“She’s not fit to be lady of Casterly rock. She can barely curtsey,” she spat. “You have heirs, father,” she said, almost pleasing. “What need have you for a little whore,”

“I have a son who swore an oath, another who has more interest in wine and whoring, and a daughter who is not nearly as clever and tactical as she thinks she is. Casterly rock will not be left to either of you when I’m gone. It will be left to mine and YN’s son,”

“It could be! It could be left to one of my children,” Cersei hissed.

“One of your children? I wouldn’t put a bastard on the seat of Casterly Rock,” Tywin said cooly. Cersei opened her mouth to argue but Tywin held up his hand. “Give it up, Cersei. You told me yourself, my legacy is a lie. You have had your chance to build the Lannister name. Now it is time for YN and I to rebuild what you have trampled into the ground with your lies and your... acts,” he said with disgust. “And if I so much as hear the words whore or slut to describe my wife, I will resign as hand, withdraw my knights and my gold, as well as that of the Vale and leave you to pick up the pieces of this kingdom that I have been holding together. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from the Tyrells. Come YN,” he said, turning away from his daughter and resting his hand on your waist, guiding you out of the Queens chambers and back to the tower of the hand, not giving you a chance to curtsey to the Queen.

As the door slammed shut, Tyrion drained the rest of his wine and clapped his hands as he stood. “Well. That went well,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen

[adobe-outdesign]

Thoughts on Arceus? If you haven't done it already.

finally. the time has come. I get to use Judgement on god itself

I’ve gone over reviews for the rest of the creation trio and, as you can gather from reading those, I don’t love their designs. They’re not terrible, but they tend to be overly cluttered and just kind of messy.

But Arceus itself? I actually really like it, mostly because the design is fairly simple. It’s just a vague quadrupedal form with a ring around it and some flow-y bits with the tail and head. The colors are quite nice--just white with gold, black, and a tiny bit of green in the default form- and I really like the overall shape of it, especially the pointed legs, which give it a rather otherworldly look. And while it’s hard to give a design to god itself, I feel like this conveys the feeling of divinity as well as it can.

I know some people argue that it looks too psychical and “normal” so to speak for something that’s so powerful as to be near-eldritch, preferring something more similar to the placeholder beta sprite. However, I always saw this form as how it appears in order for others to comprehend it, with the true form being something more similar to the glowing orb at the beginning of PLA. This lines up with the 1000 hands things and the ability to give you mere pieces of itself. Obviously that’s just my interpretation, but I think this is fine for what we got from a conceptual standpoint.

Anyway, going back to the visual aspects, I also like how they put a lot of thought into how the design works with the plates. The eyes, gems, metal frame, and dark bits all change color while the white stays, which helps with consistency. For the record, I like the electric-type palette the best outside of the normal one, but I also really like the unused ???-type one and wish it had been integrated somewhere:

Aside from that, I do have a few nitpicks of course. First, the eyes:

What’s up with that random green dot under the eye? Definitely don’t need that. The middle is also strange because red doesn’t show up anywhere else in the default colors. I would’ve gone with gold, or even made the outside gold and the inside green to replicate the look of the gems in the middle piece. I also wouldn’t be opposed to it just having hollow rings for eyes, like the beta placeholder does:

Aside from that, the middle of the body is weirdly shaped. It’s hard to see in the official art, but it becomes obvious when looking at the model:

Rather than the torso being normally shaped with the metal braces just sitting around it, its torso suddenly becomes completely round. Everyone makes fun of original Dialgia for looking like it has a fork in its throat but I think we need to dunk on Arceus for looking like it just swallowed a beach ball more often. The point is that it’s really bizarre and throws off what’s otherwise a nice silhouette.

Other than that, I don’t feel like you needed the spikes at the top of the legs or possibly even the neck, and the white bit under the chin could’ve just been all black instead of framing the eye in a weird way.

As a whole however, I’d say this is the most successful out of all the deity designs in Gen 4 and it captures both the mystical vibes of the concept and works in some practical functionality as well.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - The Most Peculiar Wingman

Can be found on AO3 here.

Summary: You recently moved into a new flat and you’re hearing some rather unusual sounds from your next-door neighbour’s abode. You’re worried the mysterious woman next door is involved in something dangerous. Kassandra is worried that you’re the landlord about to bust her for her lease violation.

(Sorry if you don’t like coffee and/or you speak fluent Greek.)

Word count: 2568

.

Damn, you’ve lucked out with your new flat. The area is pleasant, the décor is tasteful – the windowsills could use a bit more greenery, but you’ll get to that – and the letting agent wasn’t a dick. Zero hassle with bills, minimal scuffs on the walls…it’s bizarre how simple your moving process has been.

But nothing can be perfect, can it?

Over the few days you’ve lived in your new home, you noticed some rather disconcerting sounds coming from the apartment next door. Nothing that disrupts your sleep, thankfully, although your post-unpacking nap was interrupted by a very loud thud against the thin wall connecting the two flats. Thumps, crashes and very disgruntled cursing in a language you can’t quite place tend to crop up in quick succession once or twice a day. Today, though, the odd sounds seem to be omnipresent.

The strange symphony is starting to get alarming; you’re beginning to ponder if the seemingly perpetually angry woman next door is involved in violence…or, forbid, organised crime? That would certainly explain the forceful thuds and grumbling. God, what if she manages to rope you into her shenanigans? What if she is armed?

After a loud bang and an exasperated “oh, fuck you” reverberates into your apartment, you decide to investigate.

Anxiously, you pop on some slippers and step into the hall, locking the door behind you (‘I’m not about to get robbed less than a week after moving,’ you think to yourself, ‘Oh, shit, I need to get insurance…’). Stomach churning with speculation, you make the arduous four-metre trek to your neighbour’s door. Biting your lip, you rap your knuckles against the wood.

A chorus of panicked shuffling echoes through the door, causing your throat to tighten. Footsteps sprint from one side of the room to the other, the sound of shattering ceramic shrill against the heavy thudding. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” the woman hisses, muffled by the walls, followed by some shushing and the rattling of something metal. Who is this woman, what the fuck is she hiding, why am I doing this—

Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing…oh, wow.

Your neighbour is an amazon.

Flawless bronze skin, chocolate hair strewn into an unruly braid, tall and shredded with lean muscle. Her eyes are a gorgeous tawny brown, the split second of alarm disappearing from her gaze, replaced by a sparkle that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Very kissable lips upturn into a charming smile, bringing your attention to a small scar above her upper lip quirking adorably. A deeper scar sits on her nose, and the pang of anxiety returns, but your eyes need only flicker back to hers and it melts away.

“You’re not the landlord,” she says with a rich accent and curious lilt. Your cheeks feel warm.

“Uhm, hi.” You fiddle with your thumbs, mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I moved in a few days ago next door. I just heard some loud noises and was wondering if everything was alright?”

Lips curving furthermore, she braces her arms on the doorframe above and, fuck, are they nice arms. Sun-kissed, bulging against her white t-shirt, three gnarly rings cutting into her right bicep that just scream to be touched. Is this her distraction tactic?

“Oh, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t too much of a disturbance?”

When you finally pry your eyes from her arms, a tiny smirk registers on her handsome face. Bashful, you stammer, “No, it’s fine. But, uh, what caused it, if I may ask?”

The woman cranes her neck to scan the hall. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mob boss? Arms dealer? Axe murderer?

Clearly, your nervous speculations are apparent, because her eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, lovely, it’s nothing dangerous. I just have a pet bird.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, you run a hand through your hair. Just a bird. Just a bird. Her face relaxes back into a casual smile. A fresh wave of warmth caresses your cheeks at the name she gave you.

Chuckling, you joke, “Must be one big bird.”

“He’s…an eagle.”

You blink back your shock. “How on earth did you manage to get a pet eagle?”

She laughs, the melody warm and addictive. “Poor fucker followed me all the way from Kefalonia. I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye, even if it violates the lease.” Her tone is affectionate, despite her less-than-endearing name for the bird. Pushing back from the door frame – hands flexing wonderfully while she does so – she gestures for you to step in. “Come and meet him, if you’d like.”

Everything about this woman is so inviting, you can’t help but gravitate into her apartment.

“I don’t think I caught your name?” you ask shyly.

“Kassandra,” she replies, flipping the ‘r’ in her buttery accent. “And what can I call you?”

Anything you fucking want. “(Y/N) is fine,” you manage, debating whether her flat is hot or your face is akin to a beetroot.

“That’s a lovely name. Suits you perfectly,” she winks. She saunters over to a shelf with a blanket hastily thrown over it. You can’t help but observe her firm-looking behind through her jeans. Kassandra tugs away the blanket, revealing a large eagle sitting grumpily in a cage. It remains put when she unlocks the cage, standing almost defiantly.

“Don’t be like that, Ikaros,” she chastises. The eagle – Ikaros – begrudgingly flies out of his confines, perching atop the sofa in the middle of the open-plan room. “He’s gentle, I promise.” You’re doubtful, but he isn’t making any sudden moves.

“He just likes winding you up?”

“Loves it,” she grins. “He’s a little bitter I put him on a diet since he was getting a bit fat. That’s why he’s been throwing some tantrums lately.”

You smile as she scratches the top of his head before heading to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Kassandra asks, giving you another heart-melting beam. “I have coffee, orange juice, I might have some tea somewhere—”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” She asks your preference and you state it, taking in the layout of her apartment. The place gave off a very homely, Mediterranean vibe, with warm colours and white furnishings. A few hand-painted ceramic vases were dotted about – maybe she did pottery – alongside some family photographs. Atop the dining table was a woven basket brimming with ripe fruits, as well as a laptop with a pile of messy papers next to it.

“Have a seat, get comfy,” she calls over the whirring of an expensive looking coffee machine. Shyly you take the chair by the unoccupied end of the dining table. Feeling nosy, you scan the documents by her laptop, but the handwriting was all in Greek.

A minute later, Kassandra joins you with a steaming mug in her hand. “Your coffee, madame,” she announces with a pantomimic bow, evoking a laugh.

“Merci,” you thank her. “How would I say that in Greek?”

“Efharistó,” she replies. You test the word hesitantly, wincing on the second syllable, making her laugh. “Not bad,” she chuckles.

“I butchered it.”

“Try it a little softer,” she smiles, lowering her voice, giving it a sensual cadence that made your head spin. Oh, she knows she’s attractive.

“Efharistó,” you border on whisper, gay little brain surging with the overwhelming instinct to do whatever she tells you.

“There we go!” The proud quirk of her lips is all you need to see.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping the steam from the beverage will help mask your fluster. You blow on the liquid and take a sip, immediately regretting the decision as you scorch your tastebuds, repressing the urge to hiss in favour of looking cool for the hot Grecian.

“Do you, um,” you start, ignoring the numbness of your tongue, “work from home?” You wave your hand at the paperwork by her seat.

“As often as my job lets me.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a museum curator,” Kassandra beams, evidently proud of her job. “A glorified history nerd who couldn’t be fucked with the extra academia, basically.” You snort against the mug, nearly spluttering coffee over her. Smooth.

“What time in history?” Her eyes sparkle at the question, passion shining through her irises.

“Mostly the classics, ancient Greece and Rome and all that. But I did my thesis on the evolution of weaponry.” You prop your chin up on your hand as she talks, eyes lazily focused on her lips. If not for the conviction in her tone, you would have zoned out and chased some daydream about kissing those lips. Kassandra reclines back in her chair. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about yourself.”

“You sounded really passionate, though. I don’t mind if you keep talking about your job.” God, you sound like a dizzy schoolgirl who’s hot for teacher. You scald yourself with another sip of coffee in reprimanding.

Kassandra’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t usually invite beautiful women into my home to ramble about cool swords.” You blush and set down your coffee.

The two of you talk for quite some time, getting to know each other, peppering in the occasional flirtatious remark. In her company, you somehow simultaneously feel comfortable and skittish. She’s so relaxed and easy-going, but her physique and seductive demeanour fills your stomach with butterflies.

An irritated squawk cut your conversation short.

Kassandra shoots Ikaros a look before turning back to you. “Sorry about him.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, really. Damn… What was I saying again?” you ask sheepishly.

Squawk.

“Nevermind, I was probably babbling anyway,” you dismiss, sipping on your now cold beverage.

Kassandra chuckles softly. “Don’t be silly, you have the voice of an angel. You could read me the dictionary and I’d still be interested.” She probably said this to every woman she took a liking to, but you can’t bring yourself to care, far too flustered and feeling, for once, special.

Squawk.

Her eye practically twitches in anger as Ikaros flies over to the windowsill, makes unwavering eye-contact with his owner, and shits on the wood.

Kassandra looks like she wants to be euthanised.

“My god,” she mutters as you burst out laughing. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and grimaces, mouth parted as if trying to form some kind of apology for her eagle’s behaviour.

“I’m guessing you’re used to being the only one doing the flustering?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Her disgraced expression shifted back to a playful one. “If I say yes, do I sound like a whore?”

Grinning, you shake your head. “A little cocky, perhaps.”

“I’ll take cocky.” She winks and gets up. “Your coffee is probably cold, can I get you a fresh one?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“The finest,” she smirks.

“Real smooth,” you roll your eyes, smiling regardless.

Ikaros caws from the windowsill, as if mocking Kassandra’s advances. Once again, her effortless charm dissolves into a look of frustration. She grabs kitchen towels and a bottle of disinfectant from by the sink and walks over to the window, nudging the eagle so he’d move out of the way. “Maláka,” she groans, cleaning up the mess from the surface. “Μη μου το χαλάς αυτό,” she mutters to Ikaros, earning a confused look. Kassandra sighs. “Usually I wait until after the first date before introducing a beautiful lady to this little shit. That way people don’t immediately think I’m just a weird bird lesbian.”

Testing the waters, you remark, “I happen to quite fancy women with an affinity for animals.” You bite your lip and add, “And, well, you’re…very attractive.”

Smugly, Kassandra finishes disinfecting the windowsill and walks to the kitchen with a little more vigour, your compliment proving to be an ego boost.

Once again deprived of attention, Ikaros decides to flap over and join you at the table. Instinctively, you flinch as the large bird flies in your direction, but all he does is stare at you, trying to analyse the stranger in his home.

“Does – does he bite?” you ask, hesitantly standing up.

Kassandra discards the kitchen towel in the bin, washing her hands. “No, he’s very kind to everyone who isn’t me.” She flashes you a wicked grin. “I only bite when asked.”

Stammering, you choke on air, struggling to find a response. Ikaros gives her a disappointed look.

“Shit, too forward?”

You shake your head. “Not at all,” you blush. “I’ve just…never met anyone quite like you before.” Ikaros seemingly gives you a judgemental leer, and you swiftly find yourself adding, “I-in a good way, that is!”

“Oh?” Her brow is upturned, her interest piqued.

“It’s…exciting.” The eagle shuffles towards you and nuzzles your hand, apparently deciding you’re worthy of his affections. The dark feathers atop his head are surprisingly soft to touch. Smiling, you give his head a few pats, inhibitions to the wind when cute little coos vibrate from his throat. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Kassandra says softly.

You look up. “Really?”

“Really.” She joins the two of you and plucks a damson from the fruit bowl, feeding it to Ikaros while you pet him. “You’re the loveliest person to have ever set foot in this building, that’s for sure.”

Ikaros cocks his head in agreement. His beady eyes meet yours, damson juice dribbling from his beak. Do it, he’s silently telling you.

Screw it, let’s shoot our shot.

You clear your throat, mustering up some courage. “Are you free next weekend?”

Kassandra beams amorously. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she grins. “How does dinner sound?”

Fuck yes. “Really good,” you blurt out excitedly.

“There’s this great Persian restaurant a couple streets over. I’ll book us a table?”

You gasp, having seen the building on the drive when you were moving in. “The place with the garden and the pretty lights, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Sounds amazing.” Red in the face and heart pounding, your eyes dart about the apartment, fearing that you’ll combust if you look at Kassandra any longer. They settle on Ikaros, who gently butts his head against your hand, almost like a fist-bump. “Well, uh, I have a home insurance company to ring up, so I should probably get going,” you stutter.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Kassandra says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. Ikaros squawks sadly.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for staying,” she winks. The eagle coos in agreement. You give him one last pat before walking to the front door.

“Oh, before you leave, there is something you should know…” Kassandra calls, moving over to you. She delicately takes your hand, frying your brain, and leans down to your ear. You feel faint. Lowly, she whispers, “…Our Hermes guy likes to drop-kick our parcels.”

Snorting, you look up at her in disbelief. I mean, what was I expecting? A kiss? Get a grip, woman. Kassandra laughs at your expression. “Use the amazon locker down the road instead.”

“You’re amazing,” you murmur, grinning. “I’ll probably see you before next weekend, but bye, I guess?”

“Chaire,” she bids softly, opening the door for you.

When the door closes behind you, you let out a ragged breath, excitement coursing through your veins.

You are so glad you moved here.

.

( The Greek clause is meant to say "Don't blow this for me" but I used 5 different translators and all 5 came back with slightly different things and I sort of ip-dip-doo'd it and chose one at random...sorry. )

[inkykeiji]

day two ❅ cause i’m mrs. snow, til death we’ll be freezing

don’t cry snowman, don’t leave me this way, a puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby

day one ❅ day two ❅ day three | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: weeee yay day two!! touya + co go ice skating :) this, again, was not supposed to be as long as it is, but eh here we are!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), drug use, very rough sex, public sex, generally toxic relationships, size difference, tense family dynamics, reader’s probably a lil too obsessed with touya’s cum, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 8.3k

synopsis:

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side.

    ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅     

The wind howls gently, picking up swirls of snow and dusting it against the window, the snowflakes soft taptaptap’s echoing among the tiny bedroom. It’s grey but bright outside, the morning of December 22nd. Strands of hair stick to your cheeks and neck, chills erupting across your skin as you wiggle around beneath Touya’s heavy arm, laying across your waist in a loose grasp, your movements causing the blanket to slip from your clammy skin, a soft hiss spit through your teeth as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin. Touya’s got his head buried in the pillow, his torso laying half on top of yours, legs intertwined.

“Touya-nii,” you whimper, eyebrows furrowing a little in frustration as you struggle under him. “Niichan,”

“Mmph,” he emits an unintelligible noise in response, muffled by the pillow.

“Niichaaaaan,” the honorific leaves your lips in a whine, giving another weak shove at his arm. “Niichan, you’re so hot, I’m gonna melt,”

“Too bad. We’re not getting up yet,”

You whine again, your squirming becoming more vigorous. “But Touya-nii, I’m so thirsty! Please, my mouth is drier than the desert, I swear to God,”

“If you don’t stop acting like a brat, I’m gonna fuck you like a brat,”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

That gets his attention, fluffy head shooting up, white tufts tousled and standing on end, sleepy eyes squinting against the sudden light as he tries to glare at you. “Excuse me?”

The deep, rough lilt to his voice, heavy with sleep, makes your stomach flutter, blood rushing to your cheeks as you gaze at him.

Even in the morning, he’s stupidly beautiful.

“G-Got you up,” you giggle a little, reaching forward to run your fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down in the process.

He deadpans, glaring at you for a moment, though there’s no heat in his eyes. You stare back, blinking twice, little fingers trailing down the side of his face and then tracing his jaw, murmuring about how pretty he is.

“Pretty, huh?” he finally sighs, a small grin spreading across his cheeks, head tilting to the side as your fingers travel down his neck, tracing the intricate black ink.

“Mm, very pretty,” you whisper to yourself, eyes zeroing in on his adams apple as it bobs with his chuckle. “But I’m still thirsty,”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up completely, sheets pooling at his waist. “Fucking brat,”

It’s just past 9am, but the kitchen is empty. Touya carries you there, and even though you’re more than capable of walking by yourself, you snuggle into his neck, scattering gentle kisses across the scarred skin, head resting against his broad shoulder.

He exhales a sigh as you do so, and you can physically feel the tension leaving his body, a tiny bit more with each kiss you press against him.

A soft yelp hitches in your throat as he places you on the counter, cold marble stinging the bare skin of your thighs, Touya smirking at the sound as he wanders over to the fridge, rooting through it for a moment before turning back towards you.

“Water?” you make a face. Touya deadpans for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“You said you were thirsty, did you not?”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off shyly, hooking your ankles together and swinging your legs a little. “I wanted chocolate milk,”

“No,” he says instantly, slamming the fridge shut with more force than necessary, jars jiggling and clinking together with the motion. “Water first,” he uncaps the bottle and holds it out to you. “Don’t you dare start pouting,” he adds, when your eyebrows are beginning to knit together, voice stern. “You did not drag me out of bed at nine in the fucking morning because your mouth was drier than the desert just to pout when I give you water. You know you aren’t allowed sugar first thing in the morning, baby,”

You suppose he has a point, working hard to smooth your face as you take the bottle from him.

“M’sorry, niichan,” you murmur before taking a sip, gazing at him through your lashes.

He glares at you for another moment before a tiny grin breaks his face, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re really testing me this morning,” he mumbles as large hands pry your knees apart, wedging his hips between your thighs while hands curl around your hips and drag you towards the edge of the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist—an automatic reaction—ankles hooking again and holding him close, bodies pressed flush together.

Something’s still off, you can tell, evident in the way his head drops the moment you’re close enough, forehead resting against the crown of your head, exhaling.

“It’s not very nice, babygirl,” he speaks again after a beat of silence, calloused hands slipping under your—his, your mind reminds you—t-shirt, palming your hips. “Think you should make it up to me, hmm?”

And you want to, God, do you ever want to, want to kiss all of his sorrow away, want to pull those gorgeous broken whines and throaty moans from him, want to help him forget about whatever it is that’s bothering him so deeply, to lock it out of his head, shoving it from his mind as his brain is filled with thoughts of you. But…

“B-But niichan, we’re in the kitchen,” you have to force the trembling words from your mouth, biting down hard on your lip to keep from moaning as his teeth skim along your neck, evoking a full body shiver.

“So?” his lips brush against your skin, nimble fingers dipping into your cute pink panties.

“Anyone could—could come in any second and—”

“What? Catch us?” he pulls back a little, smirking. “And?” sapphire searches your face as heat rushes to your cheeks, rushes shamefully between your legs. He snorts a moment later, pressing two fingers against your clothed cunt. “Exactly,” the word is just a huff of breath as he nudges his nose against yours. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—”

“Don’t try lying,” he sounds bored as he cuts you off, fingers rubbing at your little hole through the damp cotton of your panties. “Your pussy’s very honest,”

And the broken whine that hitches in your chest is nothing short of absolutely pathetic, back arching and eyes fluttering as he begins flicking his thumb over your clit, keeping his touches light and fast.

“Yeah,” he breathes, the word bordering on a growl. “Of course you would. Bet you could cum from just this if Natsuo were watching, huh? Want everyone to know how easy you are for niichan? How much of a good little slut you are for niichan?”

“You planning on testing that theory out?”  

Natsuo’s unexpected voice makes you jump, eyes snapping open and flying to his face as you choke on a gasp, Touya’s thumb choosing then to press hard against your swollen little clit, forcing an embarrassingly loud cry from your lips and paying no mind to his younger brother, who’s leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk decorating his face. In fact, Touya doesn’t react to Natsuo at all—

Because he already knew.

“N-Niichan,” you nearly wail, burying your scalding face in his shoulder, nails digging into the smooth muscles of his back.

“Aww,” Natsuo coos, and he sounds genuine. “C’mon, don’t hide from me, sweetheart,”

“What, now you’re shy? When you were about to get off on the very thought just moments ago?” Touya’s patronizing chuckle vibrates against you, though his hands are on your back, petting you in smooth, soothing motions.

“Niisan, don’t tease,” Natsuo laughs, and you smush your face harder against Touya’s shoulder, whimpering a little as Natsuo’s voice gets closer. “I just figured if you two were gonna have a cheeky lil fuck in the kitchen, the least you could do is let me watch,”

Touya begins laughing again, starts to say something, voice abruptly cutting off. You stiffen, clinging to him, breath bated as you listen.

“Surprised you two were the first ones up,” Fuyumi’s voice floats through the space, tone clipped.

You peak out from over Touya’s shoulder, watching as Fuyumi fiddles around with their extremely expensive coffeemaker, a deep scowl etched into her face.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Touya asks lightly, sounding genuinely surprised, innocently curious.

“You know why,” she snaps, slamming her coffee mug down on the granite countertop and whipping her head around to glare at her older brother.

Touya chuckles and shakes his head, maintaining that he doesn’t, he swears, and if you didn’t know any better, if you couldn’t see the smug smirk on his face, the mocking amusement swirling in his eyes, you’d believe him to be telling the truth.

But Fuyumi knows him better than that, rolling her eyes and grumbling unintelligibly under her breath. Shouto chooses then to enter the kitchen, hair slightly mussed, looking a little like a white and red haystack atop his head, and Touya’s body goes rigid.

He yawns out his morning greeting, glancing around the room, mismatched eyes lingering on your bare thighs for just a second too long.

Touya notices, because Touya notices everything—especially when it comes to Shouto, cobalt eyes sharp and trained on his every movement—moving to shield you with his body as best he can.

“C’mon princess,” he’s mumbling as his hands force their way under your ass, hefting you up again. “Let’s go,”

And no one misses the way Shouto watches the two of you leave, the way his sleepy eyes focus on your ass—just barely concealed by the cotton panties, Touya’s hands providing more coverage than the garment does—then move down to his brother’s shameless erection, partially obscured by your body, inhaling a sharp gasp that everyone hears, that everyone knows what it’s in reaction to, that everyone ignores.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Today’s activity is ice skating, Rei tells you as your exiting the cabin.

She looks excited, a smile on her soft lips, eyes bright as she pats your shoulder, and it makes warmth flutter in your chest, glad to see the events of yesterday haven’t completely dampened her mood.

“Do you know how to skate?” Natsuo asks you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I do,” you say proudly, looking over at Rei as you reach Touya’s car, sharing a grin. “Rei taught me not long after she and my father started dating,”

“Aw, mom,” Natsuo coos, looking over at his mother for reassurance. “That’s sweet,”

Rei hums, nodding as her eyes drift back to yours.

“Hold on a second,” she says as her smile slowly begins to dissipate, glancing from Touya’s hand on the handle of his car’s passenger door, to your face, to Natsuo standing by his own car a few feet away, brows knitting.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in the car?” his response comes out as a question, spoken slowly as he’s worried it’s the wrong answer, tilting his head a little like a puppy.

“There’s no need for you to take more than one car,” Rei says pointedly, her gaze darting to Touya, holding his eyes even though she was speaking to Natsuo. His mouth falls open to protest, but she continues. “The five of you will fit in one. We’ll see you there,”

Her tone is final as she turns away and gets into her own car, the five of you watching in silence as it reverses onto the road, snow and ice cracking and popping under the thick tires. Natsuo turns back to the group, a large, boyish smile on his face.

“It’s fine! We’ll take my car,” Natsuo’s eyes soften a little as he looks over at his silver Porsche, patting the roof affectionately.

“No,” Fuyumi responds immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Stone eyes fly back to her face, alarmed. “What! Why?”

“Because you drive like a lunatic—I refuse to ride in any car when you’re behind the wheel,”

Natsuo frowns as he rounds his car, coming to stand with the group. “Well your car isn’t here, since you came up with mom, so—”

“We can take Touya’s car,”

“No,” Touya nearly growls, the unexpected rumbling deep in his chest causing everyone to flinch.

“Why not?” Fuyumi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as she glances at her older brother. “I can’t think of any reason—”

“He is not stepping foot in my fucking car,”

Fuyumi’s eyes widen slightly, staring at him in disbelief, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding, or are you really that stupid?”

“Touya-nii,” you gasp softly, tugging on his arm a little and then hugging it to your chest. His voice drips with venom, sharper than a tungsten needle, and it makes both you and Natsuo wince, despite not being the object of his fury.

“Fine, Christ, I just won’t come then,” Shouto finally chimes in with a roll of his eyes. “Will that make you happy?”

Touya whirls around to face him, rips his arm from your grasp so aggressively, so suddenly, that it sends you stumbling backwards. Natsuo catches you quickly, righting you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“You wanna know what would make me happy? You fucking de—”

“That’s enough,” Fuyumi cuts him off with a glare so fierce it sends chills skittering across your skin, regardless of the thick sweaterdress and heavy jacket you’re currently wrapped up in. Natsuo must feel it course through your body, because he pulls you tighter against him, fingers digging into your shoulder.

Touya’s eyes snap to his sister, raising an eyebrow as a terrifying smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile you’ve only seen a few times before, gleaming white teeth on display, angular jaw clenched tightly. It’s a smile that makes icy dread pool in your stomach, thick and heavy, and you try to press yourself closer to Natsuo, body flush against his side, partially hiding your face in his chest.

Still, Fuyumi does not waver. “You are an adult, Touya. For God’s sake, act like one! Shouto is not a disease—”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

“—that will infect your car! He’s your baby brother!”

Touya’s eye twitches at the term, painful smile stretching even wider. In the pale afternoon sunlight, those glinting white teeth look pointier than normal, and you whimper into Natsuo’s chest.  

“My car, my rules,”

“Oh my God! Are you being ser—”

“Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Natsuo jumps in quickly, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re scaring our little princess, niisan,” he says, voice softer, a large hand rubbing your shoulder in comfort.

Touya spins around again, wild sapphire eyes finding yours, his face falling the moment your gazes meet.

Little fingers have tangled themselves in Natsuo’s jacket, clinging to him so hard the skin over your knuckles is stretched taut. Your entire body trembles as you blink hard, trying in vain to clear the tears rushing to your eyes. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, so loud you can’t hear what Touya says as he swoops towards you, eyes wide and worried.

“We’ll take my car, and Fuyumi will drive.”

Natsuo’s voice holds the same note of finality that his mother’s does, large hand still curled around your shoulder as firm stone eyes scan the three faces in front of him.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Touya refuses to have you and Shouto in the back seat alone, and Natsuo insists that he sits in the passenger seat, to make sure Fuyumi doesn’t hurt his baby, he explains, which is how you end up smack in the middle of the oldest and youngest Todoroki children.

It’s cramped—they’re both too big to be in the backseat of such a small car—resulting in the three of you being squished together, your body packed in tightly—practically wedged—between theirs.

It’s nearly impossible to keep your thigh from brushing against Shouto’s, but you try anyway, leaning into Touya as much as you can. A strong, possessive arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers fisted in the material of your little sweaterdress, sapphire eyes hyper-focused on the way Shouto’s corduroy clad thigh keeps knocking against your bare knee with every gentle jolt of the car.

But when Shouto idly drops his large hands heavily to his lap with a sigh, long fingers splayed casually, just the very tip of his pinky resting against your thigh—well.

Touya sees fucking red, yanking your body away from his little brother immediately with a vicious growl caught in his throat, the movement so sudden and unexpected it has both you and Shouto gasping, heterochromatic eyes wide and alert as they snap to his eldest brother’s face,

He hadn’t even noticed. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have either if it hadn’t been Touya’s suffocating, overbearing presence beside you—engulfing you, causing you to be excessively aware of every miniscule movement, every jostle and touch and bump.

“Don’t fucking touch her,”

It takes Shouto another half a second before the realization hits him, eyes darting down to his thighs, finally taking note of the placement of his fingers. Then he’s scoffing, rolling his eyes as he huffs to himself, quiet and under his breath, something about Touya being absolutely ridiculous and childish and insecure.

Yet Shouto’s legs spread a little more every time Touya pulls you a few centimeters closer to him, ensuring that your thighs can never quite escape his, his strong muscles constantly nudging against yours.

It isn’t until you push your knee back against his, hard and purposeful, giving Shouto a sharp look, that this behaviour finally halts.

“Who’s being childish now?” you hiss, eyes holding his sternly, widening a moment later as if to say, Stop aggravating him.

Shouto’s face falls, lips tugging down into a frown as his gaze searches your face, head shaking a little. He opens his mouth—to apologize, you think—but is cut off by Touya’s immature snickering, his chest vibrating against your back.

“Fuck you,” he seethes instead, eyes narrowing and mouth snapping into a firm, unimpressed line.

“Watch it—”

“Play nice, you two,” Natsuo warns from the front seat. “I won’t hesitate to pull this car over and beat both your asses on the side of the road for everyone to see,”

“Okay, dad,” Shouto snorts as Touya simultaneously responds with, “I’d like to see you try,”

Nevertheless, Natsuo’s little warning does manage to shut them up for the remainder of the ride, Shouto crossing his legs, knees pressed up painfully against the door in an attempt to stop touching you. You’re practically in Touya’s lap by the time you arrive at the Ena Skating Rink at Crystal Park, seatbelt uncomfortably biting into your flesh through your clothing.

“I don’t understand why we had to drive an hour just to go skating,” Shouto grumbles just as Fuyumi turns into the parking lot, face set in a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed as he glares out the window. “There was a perfectly fine lake like, ten minutes from the cabin,”

“Shou, you sound like a petulant teenager,”

“Technically, he is a petulant teenager,”

“Not for much longer,”

“That’s right, your birthday’s coming up,” you say automatically without thinking, words slipping from your mouth as Fuyumi circles the lot in search of a parking spot. In the past, Shouto would’ve ignored such a slip-up, figuring the politeness of providing you an answer not worth Touya’s wrath, but now he turns to face you with a small smile, heterochromatic eyes almost twinkling, mask of irritability burning off his face in an instant.

“Yeah, in a few weeks,” he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll be twenty,”

Do you have any plans?

The question lingers on the tip of your tongue, words frozen at the back of your throat as Touya’s hand curls protectively around you, strong fingers digging into your plush waist hard enough to make you wince.

But Shouto has become pretty good at reading you over these past few years, no longer needs you to voice your thoughts—the two of you have become accustomed to communicating through looks and expressions alone, to keep from sending Touya into an absolute rampage, to keep the both of you safe.

“Not sure what I’m doing yet,” he answers, keeping his voice light, though those mismatched eyes are sharply trained on your face, ready to analyze and decode whatever expression your features morph into.

This is the first time he’s ever verbally answered, though, and it hits you like a bag of bricks swung at your chest, the realization that this is something the two of you have built up together, something the two of you have spent years doing, working together silently, quietly, subtly, to keep Touya placid, something the two of you have been subconsciously doing to protect each other.

The thought inspires an odd feeling in your stomach, chest tightening with something akin to anxiety, something bitter and heavy rooting in the pit of your belly.

Touya saves you from having to answer, hastily unbuckling your seatbelt for you the moment Fuyumi’s finished reversing the car and nearly hauling you out  before she’s even cut the engine.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

“You’re not coming?” you ask Touya as he slips your foot into a skate, beginning to lace it up.

Touya shakes his head. “No,”

“Touya never learned how to skate—refused to, actually,” Natsuo informs you, sitting down next to you on the bench and playfully bumping his shoulder against yours.

Tilting you head, you stare at him, a soft little oh slipping from your lips. Touya avoids your gaze, jaw clenching rhythmically.  

“It’s for the best. He really shouldn’t be near any sort of blade for an extended period of time, not while Shouto’s in reach,” Natsuo jokes, though no one laughs, because it’s true.

Touya spends most of his time leaning against the boards, bright sapphire eyes trained on you, glued to you, cataloging all of your movements, each of your cute little giggles and soft little smiles, every hand on your shoulder or waist as it steadies you.

It’s hard for him to watch.

It’s hard for him to watch the way your eyes twinkle as Fuyumi speaks to you, the two of you gliding around the ice nonchalantly, hard for him to watch the way Natsuo pulls endless laughter from your throat as his gloved hands hold yours, pulling you along with him, hard for him to watch when Shouto appears beside you, slowing his stride to talk animatedly to you, the two of you absorbed in whatever discussion you’re having.

And yet, he can tell something isn’t right. Your eyes are twinkling, but they don’t gleam the way they do when you gaze at him. You’re laughing, but it isn’t as bubbly and pure as it is when evoked by him. You’re talking, but you aren’t wholly and completely captivated by whatever it is Shouto’s saying to you, gaze constantly drifting just over his shoulder, connecting with Touya’s.

Those ten little words from the night before echo through his mind again, and his molars grind together, but the look in your eyes, the way your face positively lights up when you skate towards him, past him, blowing kisses and giggling behind mitten covered hands, stomps them to little pieces, to dust, your fleeting presence blowing them away. He feels like he can fucking breathe again, each time you glide by him, resolve hardening a little more with every lap past him.

No, he knows he’s the best for you, absolutely is without a doubt the very best for you— and you confirm it with that loving, adoring, doting look every single time.

Despite this, he keeps disappearing intermittently, your heart sinking just a little bit more every time you look over to see him nowhere to be found, a sour taste settling on the back of your tongue. This is only the second day into the trip and you’re already terrified, knowing that he’s filling his nostrils with that fine white powder the moment he begins to feel his high fading, the moment he feels himself beginning to come down.

And by the third time he vanishes within a single hour, you decide you can no longer stand by and do nothing, say nothing—he’s gone for more than usual this time, an uneasy sense of dread flooding your body, making your limbs tingle as your heart begins to race, plopping down on the wooden bench and bending down to quickly unlace your skates. Your voice shakes as you tell the others that you’d like to take a short break from skating, claiming that your feet are sore, and that you’d like to rest for a while.

In actuality, you’re sure they all know what you’re doing, itching to go search for Touya, heart pounding painfully as several scenarios flash through your mind, but they say nothing, nodding with those polite smiles they all plaster on their faces any time something like this occurs.

The muscles in your thighs ache as you jog across the snow-dusted field, eyes frantically darting around the large open space in search for a man with ivory hair and azure eyes. Your feet take off the moment you spot him, an instinctual reaction, breath ragged and burning in your chest as you barrel into him, winding your arms around his waist tightly and burying your face in his strong chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s murmuring softly, arms encircling you and squeezing you against him, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “What’s going on, princess?”

Pulling back, your eyes study his face, stomach plummeting when you see it.

“Out playing in the snow again?”

Cobalt eyes narrow, Touya tilting his head in question as he stares at you. A frown mars your face, deep sigh leaving your nostrils without your permission, and Touya bristles. A tender thumb swipes across his nose, showing him the pure white powder it gathers.

“Slow down,” you say softly, gently, cautious eyes watching him carefully. “I don’t want a trip to the ER for Christmas,”

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you can see it, the blue fire simmering deep within them, but because it’s Christmas—and only because it’s Christmas—he blinks twice, extinguishing the flame to dull embers.

Chest heaving once, deep and heavy, he sighs out of parted lips, holding your hand to his cheek. Sapphire eyes close briefly as he nuzzles his face into your touch, and for a moment—just for a second—you think he’s about to apologize.

But that would be a Christmas miracle.

“Keep me in line,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping a little in defeat, a tiny sardonic grin on his lips as his eyes open again, searching your face. “Okay? Can’t let my best girl down on Christmas, now, can I?”

And although his shoulders are straining under the weight of this new responsibility—to try and restrain himself a little more, to not solely rely on the drugs to numb him to everything, to give up autonomy, power, to you—a weight feels like it’s been lifted off of yours, regardless of the fact that he’s asking you to control him, and you inhale deeply, able to breathe again.

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side. The thought produces an inexplicable lump in his throat and he blinks hard, glittering eyes sweeping across your face before he seizes it, large hands cupping your jaw almost painfully as he pulls your face towards his, lips capturing yours in a crushing kiss.

Niichan! You try to squeal, muffled by his lips, Touya using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, down your throat.

Traitorous as ever, your body melts into his only a second later, fingers latching behind his neck, trying to pull yourself closer.

“I need more,” he mumbles against your lips before pecking them again, eyes still closed. “I need more, baby, I need more right now,”

“Then take it,” you whine breathlessly into his mouth, echoing your words from the night before. “Take it, it’s yours,”

      ❅           ❅           ❅

It smells like damp rubber and stale snow, with a hint of year-old hard candy crushed beneath snow boots, releasing faint scents of artificial strawberry and orange.

The restroom is filthy, but neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to pay much mind to the grime on the walls, or the flaky rust on the faucet—which is quietly dripping intermittently, covered in little droplets of condensation that gleam under the harsh florescent light humming above, tubes exposed.

The cement wall is cold against your bare skin as Touya rucks your dress up around your waist, hands under your ass supporting your weight as your legs wrap around him obediently, praising you for listening to him and never wearing pants, even in weather like this, because god, it makes everything so much easier, baby.

In the past, you would’ve been in a rush, positive you didn’t have much time before someone noticed your absence.

But your family is used to this now, completely unphased by the two of you disappearing for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes and returning with swollen lips and freshly fucked hair.

It’s not like they can say anything, anyway—it’s not like anything is going to stop the two of you now; it’s not like anything would’ve stopped the two of you before, either.

Despite this, Touya still doesn’t exactly take his time with you, large hands pawing at your breasts, your waist, your hips, fingers dipping into the elastic waistband of your panties just to let it snap back against your skin, reveling in the little yelp it conjures from you.

“Already soaked,” he sneers in your ear as two fingers skim over your lace-clad cunt. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I expected any less,” he huffs out a chuckle; a mean, harsh sound that ghosts over the shell of your ear before he captures it with his teeth, biting down hard and forcing a high-pitched squeal from your throat. “Because my baby’s such a Goddamn slut, isn’t she,” his lips are against your ear as he murmurs in that low, sultry voice, hot breath contrasting the cool air of the restroom, and you shiver violently.

“Only for you,” you whine out, already breathless.

And you’ll never get over how easily he knocks the air out of your lungs with just a few dirty words and prodding fingers, stroking your slit through drenched lace in a way that’s almost gentle, careful, purposeful, sure to keep his touches as teasing and not nearly enough.

Still, those three words have more of an effect on him than you would’ve thought, a possessive growl ripping from his chest as he grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh, the denim rough against your soft skin.

That growl in particular is your favourite, and you tell him so.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, pulling back as sapphire searches your face rapidly, wide and bright and alert with the cocaine rushing through his body.

“Makes me—” sharp teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just above your shoulder, a loud gasp cutting you off and bouncing against the walls of the small room. “Makes me wet, niichan,”

He groans into your skin, tongue wet and warm and caressing the skin in little licks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he sucks, branding you with brilliant violet.

“What’s this? My princess talking so dirty without being prompted?” he pulls back to look at you, and you can see the amusement dancing in his deep, deep eyes, endless pits of cerulean smothering everything their gaze touches, almost voracious as they soak it all up, feeling like they’re sucking the very life from you in the most delicious way.

A pitiful squeak escapes your lips in the form of an answer, heat seeping into your cheeks. He’s mocking you—you can tell. Those three words uttered from your lips aren’t even that dirty, are nothing compared to some of the things that have come out of your mouth while you’re delirious on his cock, begging for his cum.

Still, you’re unable to find your voice, staring at him in an almost helpless manner, a little kitten in the clutches of a jaguar, claws beginning to close in on you, trapping you between heavy, sharp paws.

“Ah,” he smirks, eyes darkening dangerously. “Not so bold when niichan’s actually looking at you, are you?”

Front teeth dig into your bottom lip, chewing on it a little as you hold his gaze, feeling heat gush between your thighs, the symphony of your combined slightly ragged breathing ringing in your ears.

“Say it again,”

And you try—really, you do, lips separating as you try to force the words out, a nasty combination of frustration and shame eroding your chest, burning and acidic, then shaking your head a moment later.

“Just,” you whimper as you try to pathetically rock against him. “Please?”

“Nah, nah, nah,” he’s shaking his head, that stupid grin etched across his face, pulling back even more but keeping you up against the wall, hands still cupping your ass, hips pinning yours. “Niichan isn’t gonna fuck you now unless you ask for it,”

Your forehead creases with a deep frown. You usually ask him to fuck you, don’t you? “I alwa—”

“No, no, you don’t,” he says simply with a tilt of his head. “Niichan wants you to really ask for it this time,”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “I-I don’t understand,”

Little breaths are beginning to leave your mouth, speeding up with the racing of your heart, terrified to upset him. Yet he looks amused, looks like he’s having so much fun as he torments you.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos with a false pout, mimicking your own. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”

A little whimper leaves your lips, chin twitching, threatening to begin trembling as you shake your head at him, unable to find words. Heat floods your face again, little pinpricks under the skin of your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your humiliation as he tuts his tongue.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, though you can feel his cock throbbing through the thick denim of his jeans. “Just ask for my cock, babygirl,”

Although oozing with patronization, his voice is soft, blown pupils gazing at you with so much love it’s nearly overflowing from his eyes, slender fingers kneading the flesh of your ass almost tenderly as he waits.

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really.

“I-I want your cock, nii—” you begin, voice fading as your eyes meet his unimpressed gaze, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say Really? That’s the best you got?

A fierce need to prove yourself, to make him moan again, to make his stomach tense from just your words alone, blazes in your chest, burning through your veins and giving you another surge of confidence.

Gazing at him through your lashes, you pout a little more. “Niichan,” you whine out the honorific, back arching a little as you do. “Please, niichan, give it to me, I’m begging, my pussy is aching for your cock, T-Touya-nii—I need it filling me up, need it right now, f-feels so empty without you stretching me wide open,” the sentence fades off into a little whimper, but his lidded, glazed eyes, and the way his tongue runs along his bottom lip as he stares at you spurs you on, more dirty words spilling from your lips. “Feels—Feels wrong without your f-fat cock inside of me,” you nearly weep. “Please, niichan, make it right again,”

The gentle tremble in your voice only adds to it, somehow manages to make you seem so fucking innocent as you whine out such filthy words, and Touya can barely handle it, rubbing against your thigh, the repetitive motion of the denim dragging across your soft skin causing it to chafe.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes slip shut. “I wish I had recorded that,”

A cute, shy little giggle bubbles up your throat, face still burning. “I-I can say it again, if you want, niichan,”

He laughs—a genuine laugh deep in his throat, paired with a smile that meets his eyes—and presses a chaste kiss to your nose.

“One day, I’ll film us,” he vows, and the thought alone makes your stomach swoop. “But now, niichan’s gonna make you feel right again, okay, princess?”

“Oh, please, please,” you’re whimpering, body quivering against him.

“Shh, niichan’s got you,” he murmurs as he fiddles with his belt using a singular hand, your tiny fingers wandering down between your bodies to aid him.

Shoving your panties to the side, the head of his cock presses against you, and you wince in anticipation of the stretch—the stretch you so lovingly begged him for, he reminds you, sapphire eyes soaking up every single one of your expressions as he pushes in; reveling in the way your shut lids tighten, face screwing up in pain as the softest little yelp hitches in your throat.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, abused cunt still sore and raw from the night before, from being fucked so ruthlessly less than twenty-four hours ago.

But you’re so wet, he breathes, rolling his hips slowly, stretching you little hole out just a bit more with each unhurried rock of his hips against yours. The wetness does nothing to stop the sting that accompanies his motions, though, reopening the tiny superficial fissures in your sensitive skin, quite literally tearing you apart, again, as your cunt yields to his girth.

“Niichan, hurts,”

“Yeah, baby?”

Little fingers curl in his thick sweater, and you whimper out an affirmative, head nodding lethargically against his shoulder.

“I thought you wanted niichan to fill you up?” he speaks as though he’s confused, a hint of condescension sown into the question, never halting his thrusts.

“I-I do!” you say quickly, head shooting up to gaze at him with glassy eyes, thick shield of unshed tears causing them to gleam in the harsh light. “I do,”

“Well then,” he smirks at you, hips pulling back, slow and controlled, before thrusting back in, sharp and fast, so hard it shoves your body up the wall, head whacking against the concrete with such force it sends agonizing pain shooting through your skull like lightning strikes. “Stop being a fucking brat, and take what niichan’s giving you,” he scolds over the piercing cry that falls from your lips, voice rough, deep, rumbling the way thunder does, buried in thick clouds on a humid summer’s day.

“Ungrateful little slut,” he snarls out, panting a little as his hips set a punishing pace, rapidly slamming into you, his jutting hipbones digging into the fresh bruises from the night before.

And you’re powerless to stop the noises you’re emitting, catching in your throat in time with his harsh thrusts, little mewls of niichan! and broken whines bouncing off the solid, cold walls, each one reverberating in his skull, forcing his hips to drive faster, harder, deeper.

But it’s fucking intoxicating, the way he’s pulling those needy little sounds from you as tears slip down your cheeks, pompously spitting demeaning words at you, sugarcoated in a thin, gleaming layer of praise. He’s a goddamn drug, words invading your mind and casting a thick haze over it, and during that moment all you can see is him, hear is him, taste is him—you swear you can feel him rushing through your veins, his heady scent of expensive cologne mixed with hickory campfire and a hint of Marlboros filling your lungs, the organs swelling painfully as you hold him inside your chest, trying to keep a piece of him close to your heart.

He stops to readjust your position, grunting as hooks an arm under your knee and yanks, ripping it from around his waist and forcing it toward your torso, your ankle nearly resting on his shoulder, his hand splayed flat against the dirty wall, using it as leverage. Your other leg clings to him, wrapped so tightly around his body that the muscles are beginning to quiver. Still, this brief pause affords you a much needed moment to catch your breath before his hips piston into you again, harsh, strong, fast, cockhead slamming against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Each thrust forces another yelp to tear from your throat, your voice hoarse and raw, as he bruises your abused cervix, sharp spikes of pain shooting up your lower back and down your trembling thighs. He’s a watery blur at this point, eyes overflowing with tears, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as you clutch him, arms beginning to ache from holding yourself up.

Tufts of white hair stick to his neck and forehead, clumped together with sweat. He’s almost whining out curses, slipping from between clenched teeth as his thrusts continue to pick up speed, although you can barely hear him over the sound of your own ragged breathing, peppered with pitiful little sobs that leave your chest heaving.

“Look at you,” he gasps out, wild sapphire eyes searching your face. “So fucking beautiful, taking my cock so well,”

And even in such a position, inebriated from the potent combination of pain and pleasure and him, his praise still makes your heart soar. A little pink tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips, bitten raw by him and salty with your own tears. Strand of hair stick to your puffy cheeks, though you’re unsure if they’re coated in sweat or tears.

“C’mon, baby,” he nearly keens. “Want you to be a good girl and cum for me,”

And those two tiny, four letter words are the magic words, like they always are, your head nodding vigorously, incoherent babbling bubbling past your lips; yes niichan, of course, wanna be a good girl for you, touya-nii, the best girl, your best girl.

He gives you permission to touch your clit, swollen and aching from neglect, your fingers sneaking between your bodies to rub at it, pussy clenching almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Yeah baby, just like that, milk niichan for all the cum he’s got,”

The praise, mixed with a direct command, has your fingers speeding up, moving in rapid circular motions, that cord of heat in your stomach coiling tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until it finally snaps, your little cunt throbbing as you gush around his cock.

He follows immediately after with a dark growl of your name, hips stilling as he finally cums, pinning you against the wall, cockhead pressed tightly against your sore cervix.

It’s thick, scalding, and copious, wrecked little noises getting caught in your throat as his cock pulses, filling you with endless spurts of cum; so much, too much, and you’re sure your womb isn’t nearly big enough to take it all, positive that it’s leaking out of you, running down your ass and down his balls.

You still haven’t caught your breath by the time Touya’s releasing you, hands firm on your hips as he places you gently on your feet, keeping you steady as your legs shake. You can still feel his cum leaking out of you, and you wish you had something better than your thin panties to keep it inside of you. With a pout, you tell him so, voice absolutely ruined as you wheeze out, “I-I wish I had a-a plug, niichan, to hold all of your cum inside me,”

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes twinkling as he gazes down at you, brushing his slender fingers through your sweaty hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

      ❅           ❅           ❅

You don’t remember much of the drive home, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from falling shut. Touya’s half dried cum is sticky—now practically gelatinous—in your panties and the mere thought of it makes you whimper, wiggling your hips a little, trying to shuffle closer to him.

It makes you feel needy. It makes him feel wanted.

“Niichan’s here, baby,” he’s murmuring into your hair as he readjusts his arm around your waist, pulling both your legs over his lap, your side still pressed firmly against his. “Niichan’s here,”

A pitiful whine slips from your lips, little fingers curling in his hoodie as warm hands travel up your dress, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs. Fingers press into the bruises he knows are there without even having to look, smirking at the way you hiss, contrasted by the way your thighs spread just a bit more, giving him more room to work, to play. The pads of his fingers graze the tiny raised cuts that the rough denim of his jeans left behind, tracing the raised little scabs.

“Sleep,” he tells you softly. “You did so good today, such a good little girl for me, my best girl,”

And his voice is the most soothing lullaby, smooth like melted platinum and quiet enough that only you can hear it, undoubtedly drowned out to the others by the staticky car radio.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The dark bedroom is bleary, as if you were gazing at it though a thick slab of glass, eyes scanning the room slowly, mumbling out something that’s unintelligible even to yourself.

You’re not exactly sure how you got here, sitting on one of the twin beds in yours and Touya’s shared bedroom, propped up against the tiny headboard like a doll.

Touya’s murmuring to you softly as tender hands find the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly, slowly, slowly, a low whine getting caught in your throat as your soft skin is exposed to the cool air, until he’s removed it from you completely. The clasp at the back of your bra snaps, and you want to tell him to be more gentle, this is your favourite bra, but you can’t seem to make your tongue move, the muscle sitting slimy and heavy in your mouth. Your vision disappears entirely for a second as something soft is slipped over your head, your body engulfed in the scent of hickory wood and Marlboro smoke.

Then large hands are all over you, maneuvering you onto your side then rolling you onto your back, gently prying your thighs open a moment later as he kneels between them, the springy mattress dipping with his weight.

“Touya-nii,” his name escapes your lips in a jumbled whine of protest.

“Shh, baby,” he hushes you, pulling your soiled panties down your legs.

Every muscle in your body aches, weighted down with fatigue from the long day, a few weak kicks—more of a fluttering of your legs, really—being all you’re able to manage in resistance.

“Hurts, niichan,” you whimper, through your eyelids are already falling shut again, exhaustion tugging at your consciousness gently.

“I know, princess,” he responds, and you’re just awake enough for the words to register, brow furrowing. His body heat disappears for a moment from between your thighs as he leans over to grab something, then returns, waves of comforting warmth rolling off of him.

Your body flinches ever so slightly as you feel something cold and smooth being spread across your swollen folds and puffy little hole. Cream, your mind supplies feebly.

“Niichan—”

“Quiet now,” he says, voice firmer than before. An order, this time. “Go to sleep, baby, and let niichan take care of this,”

Hot, tingling sparks blossom deep in the pit of your stomach, making your entire body buzz, like you’re high off him again, the sensation causing your chest to swell. This is what love feels like—Touya rubbing cool, soothing cream into your raw skin as he murmurs soft praises to you—you’re absolutely positive about it.

“I love you,”

The words leave your lips as a dreamy sigh, body finally relaxing against the mattress again.

He presses a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the soft skin a mosaic of crimson and violet from his previous ministrations. “I love you more,”

And that’s the last thing you feel, the last thing you hear as your mind slowly drifts into unconsciousness, filled with hazy images of a pretty boy with glowing sapphires for eyes and ivory for hair, of slim veiny hands decorated with the most magnificent black ink, the pads of their fingertips dancing along your skin, of a deep, sultry voice smoother than satin murmuring how much it loves you as lips crawl up your body—up your thighs, over your stomach and ribs, along the curve of you neck, until finally, they reach yours.

[theimmaterialplace]

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 1: prologue

Summary: Emily is an easy person to love, even if you shouldn't. This becomes apparent when she leaves you after two years of hiding your relationship, if you could call it that, with just a text. It's not long after that you are alerted with news of her death and you break down completely. Confiding in Spencer, the one to introduce the two of you, seemed like a good idea at the time but it becomes something more. You slowly begin to heal and then one day you see her, alive and well, and every feeling you have for her comes back to you. You're met with both your present and your past and you don't know what to do.

Contains: female!reader, bisexual!reader, friends with benefits/ hidden relationships, mentions of death, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2k

A.N: I like making things complicated and messy so here we are! I hope you enjoy whatever the hell this is! Also, this is first time writing for cm so sorry if the characterization is off; we’ll get there eventually!

masterlist | read on ao3

I want to be the power ballad that lifts you up and hold you down

I wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery

And I can wish all I want, but it won't bring us together

Plus I know whatever happens to me

I know it's for the better

- Phoebe Bridgers, "Waiting Room"

It’s not uncommon for you to wait on Emily but even this is a new level of tardiness you’ve never encountered with her. She’s nothing if not kind and always alerts you when she’s on a new case or has to reschedule. It worries you to say the least.

You really shouldn’t care this much for her but mistakes are supposed to be made. It’s just that you can’t even begin to consider Emily a mistake but if she is one, she’s the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Sometimes, you think she looks at you with something akin to adoration in her eyes and it takes every bit of your control not to look at her with that same exact look. She’s a profiler, after all, and you’re typically one to wear your heart on your sleeve but she made herself very clear in the beginning.

Your agreement was simply just a friends with benefits situation, no feelings involved. That lasted for a while, truly. You had managed a little over a year with her before you realized that the feeling in your stomach was the fluttering of butterflies. It had frightened you but you decided that she was worth it, even if the decision might come back to haunt you.

Twirling the wine of glass in your hand, you contemplate calling her but decide against it because you don’t want to seem desperate. It may be an accurate description but you weren’t going to show that. Ignoring the waiter who’s been shooting you knowing looks for the past hour, you decide just to leave. You call the waiter over and ask for the check. He just nods at your words; his eyes filled with pity and it pisses you off more than anything,

It’s not that you care that you got stood up because you understand that her work is demanding. It’s more that you’re worried for her because she’s been inactive and short in her recent messages. You hadn’t received a good morning or good night text in days. It makes you wonder if she’s finally gotten sick of you. You’d like to believe that she would at least grace you with a text informing you of this decision but you’re not the best at predicting her.

Emily is a very closed off person and you respect that, you do. It’s just sometimes you wish she didn’t compartmentalize every part of her life into tiny, separate boxes. She likes to pretend that you and Spencer aren’t friends, even though it’s how you were originally met. She tells you that no one needs to know and at the beginning, you were okay with this but lying to Spencer is something you wish you didn’t have to do.

You have to pretend not to know every little bit of Emily she shares with you that she also shares with her team and try not to focus on every little detail he shares about her that you don’t already know. You feel a bit guilty but you figure that she wouldn’t really mind. The only thing that would make her annoyed, never mad because she says anger is useless, is if you mixed her personal life with her work life. You understand to a degree but you also wish that you didn’t have to hide.

Clearly, you were too far gone for her. You always had to take a step back and remember that you weren’t in a relationship with her. If only she didn’t make it so easy to love her. When this ended, you were going to end up heartbroken and that was okay with you. You had accepted that a long time ago but now that you’re actually faced with the inevitable, it scares you.

Emily Prentiss was not the first woman you were with but she’ll be the one to always haunt you. She’s shaped you into the person you are today without even knowing it. You’ll never regret your decision to be with her but you’ll always be left with the “what ifs”.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the man who sits across from you and it’s only until he coughs that he brings you back to reality.

He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way. If you weren’t so enamored with Emily, he surely would have fired something in you but as it is, she is the only one able to cause a spark in you.

“Hi, I saw you here and couldn’t help but notice how you’re alone. Such a shame since you seem like such a catch.” His voice fits him well and he has a nice smile despite its crookedness.

“Ah, my date couldn’t make it. I guess he got busy with work or something. It happens to the best of us.” His eyes narrow the slightest bit at use of “he” and you wonder why. He’s the one hitting on you, after all. It’s gone as soon as it comes and he’s back to those kind eyes.

“Oh, he’s one of those. Well, I know when I’m unwanted when I hear it. Have a lovely night…” He shoots you one last smile and gets up and leaves the restaurant. The waiter shows up and you pay immediately and get into your car as soon as you can.

It’s only when you arrive at home do you see it. You have one new message from Emily and it brings a smile to your face until you see the contents.

Emily <3

I think it’s time we called it quits.

Don’t contact me anymore.

Goodbye.

At first, you feel nothing. You reread it and reread it until it’s practically ingrained into your vision. You knew it was coming but seeing it actually made it real and before you know it, you’re crying.

You feel like a fool because you’ve known that this was just a casual thing for her. It doesn’t make it any easier to accept. Perhaps what hurts the most is her demand to not contact her anymore. You would have been fine, loving her at a distance but remaining friends. Emily cutting you off completely had never been a possibility in your mind. It almost makes you want to laugh though because although you’d never thought of it, it’s such an Emily thing to do. You just never thought it’d be something to happen to you.

A fool, you might be, but better to have loved than to have not. It’s like you had thought earlier, Emily would never leave you, even if she had in person. There would always be reminders of her in your life; in the interior design of your home, in the music you listened to, in the movies and books you had shared together, and in the hidden, ignored corners of your heart.

It hurt. God, did her short messages pain you but you’d seen it coming. You had time to accept it but that did nothing to quell the tears that fell down your face or the sobs that wracked your body.

You cry yourself to sleep, still in the dress she bought you, the one she said you looked your best in and always brought out her coyness to the fullest.

When you wake up, you’re thankful it’s a Saturday because you can’t imagine facing anyone today. The most you want to do is get drunk on every bottle of wine you own, which is quite a few. You hope it’ll be enough to keep your mind off of Emily.

You go to the bathroom and you can’t help but wince at the image you make. Your makeup has run all over your face and you look like la llorona with the mascara and eyeliner running down your cheeks. Your lipstick is smeared beyond comprehension and overall, you look like a mess, not even a hot one at that.

You look like the stereotypical girl who has just gotten heartbroken and so you scrub it all off until your skin is clear of the previous night’s emotions. You change into something comfortable, throwing the dress into the hamper rather than the trash because you can’t bear the thought of throwing away things from her. Maybe it’d be the smart thing to do but you can’t.

You’re in a sort of limbo and you’re unsure of where to go from here. You’ve accidentally built up your life around her and now that she’s gone, you’re left with nothing but yourself.

-

It’s only a week later that Spencer shows up to your place, looking worse for wear. He looks like you did on that day when Emily broke up with you but worse. His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is bright red against his pale complexion.

“Um, could I come in?” His voice cracks and he only shrinks further into himself and you nod at him, opening the door to accompany his skinny frame.

You guide him to your couch and place the cup of tea you had made for yourself into his hands since it seemed like they needed something in them with all the twitching they were doing.

You sit in silence, knowing that whatever he had to say would eventually come out.

His tea has stopped steaming when he finally speaks up. “Today, my colleague was taken by the person she had been chasing after. We found her and apprehended the person she had been chasing but… But we were too late. By the time we had gotten there, she was already wounded and she was pronounced dead two hours, thirteen minutes, and twenty seven seconds ago. She’s dead and I never got to say goodbye.” With his proclamation, his tears begin again and you take the cup from his hands.

“May I hug you, Spencer?” He nods and that’s all it takes for you to take him into your arms. He sobs into the crook of your neck. It’s hard to connect the image of the nerd you know and care for to the man who’s breaking down in your arms. You rub soothing circles on his back and try to keep up with his words but they’re too quiet and unintelligible to your ears.

The both of you sit there like that for a while. It could have been five minutes or an hour but you can’t tell and you bet he can’t either.

When he finally runs out of tears, he whispers something so quietly that you think you’ve misheard him.

“I never got to say goodbye to Emily.”

Emily . She’s his colleague. He had said she in his retelling of the events. It takes your breath away and you have to stop the tears from coming on because you’re not supposed to care for her, not like this. Not in front of anybody, especially not Spencer.

She’s dead. Emily is dead. It’s a truth you don’t want to accept. It makes you glad that Spencer is still hidden in your neck because you’re sure your face can only show the agony you feel over such a reveal.

Your worst nightmare has come true, it seems. You don’t want this. Anything but her leaving you permanently. She can’t be dead, not the woman who’s changed you so irrevocably and made you feel like life was worth living.

You could accept loving her in quiet, away from her, but not at the cost of her death. You can’t deal with this, not when Spencer needs you so push it away. You shove the pain and agony down until you’re numb.

You’re supposed to be nothing but an acquaintance to her. She hadn’t even loved you. You shouldn’t feel like your heart has been ripped violently from your body and that your soul will always have an Emily sized hole left in the wake of her death.

You focus on Spencer so that you don’t break down and you’re grateful that he doesn’t notice your little episode. You can’t confront this in front of anybody. It’s better to deal with your grief in private, just like everything else you did with Emily. It made sense for the last thing you’ll ever do for her to stay quiet and watch from afar.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

YESS!! OMG!! your recent post ... a prompt where he gets out and he’s just trying to get used to the normal life again and one day he has like a break down at their apartment and when yn comes back from work her heart just breaks :( she comforts him and tells him how much she loves, cares, and missed him and he just feels so loved after being in prison for a long time and not really loving who he is in there

Oh, god. Sweet baby-

Mess.

When she stepped foot through the front door, she tripped over an overturned book that had somehow ended up in the entryway of their apartment. Her brow furrowing in confusion because it was a rather inconspicuous place to leave an open book... but, as she looked in a little further into their home, her eyes were met with an empty bookcase and a floor full of books that were open and face-down and seemingly thrown haphazardly. 

It was a mess.

When she closed the door and picked up the books in her path, rounding the corner into their living room, she was greeted with smashed glass and a broken lamp that laid shattered upon the linoleum wood of their floor-plan. A lightbulb crunching under her footsteps, ceramic turning to dust beneath her shoes and she caught the toe of her trainer against the covered wire that had been torn free from the plug still in the wall socket. 

It was a mess.

Her first thought was that they’d been robbed, as anyone would think if they saw what YN had seen upon her arrival home. That someone had broken into their home and taken some of their most valuable possessions and smashed up their belongings because destruction was all these criminals lived for to show a dominance they only dreamed of having. Expecting her jewellery to have gone missing, her second set of credentials, her photos overturned and her drawers completely ransacked.

But a tiny sniffle and a wet cough muffled behind the bedroom door brought her back to reality and she wanted to laugh at herself - Spencer had been at home all day so how the heck would a robber even make it through the door and be as silent in this amount of ruckus? 

“Spencer?”

She taps her knuckles against the wood of the bedroom door and wrapped her hand around the knob, twisting it and slowly pushing it open, a creak filling the silence of the house. Not really sure of what she was expecting, hoping for the best and expecting the worst so she was prepared on both ends.

But the bedroom was empty and there was a huge contrast to the living room; the bed was still neatly made and the bedside lamps were still intact and their clothes weren’t thrown on the floor from the open doors of the wardrobe. One of her sweaters was missing, she could see from the empty hanger that was swinging on the rail, and she could feel a pit in her stomach beginning to form. But she felt a wash of relief over her because it was far from a break-in and her mind felt a little more at ease given that she wasn’t a victim in her own home.

There was still a sense of unease though... over her loving boyfriend.

“Spencer?”

“YN?”

Her name comes out in a whimper, almost surprised at the sudden presence of his girlfriend, spoken in question. A soft, wet and shaky whimper that he most definitely would have considered pathetic if he heard himself speak with a tone. The bathroom door was open, with just a slither at the frame, and the light was switched on and she didn’t understand how she’d missed it when she entered the bedroom - she wasn’t really looking there yet so she blamed the ignorance on the matter. 

When she opened the door, he was in the bathtub. His long legs bent up to his chest, arms holding them to his body with his socked feet pushing against the side of the tub, her sweater draped over his legs and clutched in a tight fist like it would disappear if it touched the floor after he dropped it. His cheeks were red, his eyes were bloodshot and his lips were bitten raw and his hair looked messy and like it had been pulled over time. 

“Spencer-”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. And it’s broken. He looks broken. His eyes innocent and lost and she hated seeing him like that; this wasn’t the Spencer she knew and it most definitely wasn’t the same Spencer she had picked up from prison after he was freed. This was the shell of a man she once knew, someone she longed to have back, someone she loved with all her heart and felt heartbroken by the changes he was forced to make to survive. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head and swallows back a lump in her throat, climbing into the tub beside him and laying an arm over his shoulders, pulling him into her side.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Spence.”

“I trashed our house,” he scoffs heavily and it’s filled with tears, “I-”

“That doesn’t matter, baby. We can buy new lamps and we can buy new bulbs and some new books, Spence. That’s all material stuff that we can replace. But, we can’t buy a new you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and inhaling the sweet scent of her own shampoo that clung to the curled strands of his hair, “I don’t want to replace you.”

There’s a sob that breaks free from his chest. A loud, guttural sob that shook his body to the core and she swore it brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t the upset he was feeling, it wasn’t the stress he was going through and it wasn’t because of the changes he needed to get used to... it was the sob that tore her to bits. A dribble of tears leaking down her cheeks.

“You won’t have to.”

“Good,” she smiles wetly and he looks up at her, “I missed you. I missed you all the time and-”

“I missed you, too.”

His forehead bumps against hers and his eyes shut in contentment, his warm breathing flushing over her face, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks with both palms, thumbs brushing over his wet cheeks to wipe away the falling tears and the moisture that was left behind in their tracks.

“Whoever you were in there, whatever you did, it’s over. You never have to go to that place again, you never have to think about it again, you never have to think about leaving me or our home or the team again,” she presses a kiss to one of his wet cheeks and then presses another kiss to his other cheek, “you’re back here, you’re safe, you’re not on your own anymore. I’m right here. I hated seeing you in there, I hated thinking about you in there and I could see how you hated being stuck in there as an innocent man.”

An eye peeks open and looks at her.

“We knew you were innocent. I knew you were. I’m never leaving you, okay? I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to go somewhere,” she nuzzles her nose to his as he grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners and squinting up and it’s the first proper smile she’s seen from him in a long, long time. “I love you, Spencer Reid. And I’ll love you, always.” 

“Thank you for trusting me, for believing me, for staying here and standing by my side.”

His lips look inviting to her and all she’s wanted to do, from the moment he came home, was kiss him for every second they missed together and she takes that opportunity without letting another minute go missing and cups his face in her palms. Tasting the salt from his tears and feeling the moisture from his tears on her own lips, hard and deep and one that had pent up emotions behind it. A kiss he had longed to have, one that he wouldn’t take advantage of, a fear in his chest because he didn’t want one kiss to be their last. 

“I really do love you, YN.” xx

[lady-charinette]

For whenever you have time: Marichat choosing each other over each other (Ladrien) could be hurt/comfort or fluffy/funny but like I just really love it when that happens. Thanks in advance 🥰😉

A/N: Alright, I wrote this at the speed of light because a scenario immediately formed in my mind. I hope you like it anon! If this isn't what you had in mind feel free to specify what you want me to write in another ask and I'll write it better! :3 Get ready for a world of HURT! and fluff

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"Adrien, I'm...sorry." the spotted heroine returned the gift box but Adrien didn't take it immediately.

The teen model's eyes were burning, but he tried not to let the sorrow swallow his heart until he let her speak. "W-What for, Ladybug?"

He knew from the look in her eyes how sad she felt, knew the look well from all the times his lady would despair over whether or not she was a good enough hero to protect Paris.

He wished he could protect her heart too.

"I'm sorry, I...can't. It's not right. I'm sorry." those were the only words her mind was capable of forming on their own and her hands clasped together tightly after Adrien took his gift from her hands.

He gazed at the half opened box, at the letter in it, his letter, and at the red rose tucked safely into its side.

His lips formed into a thin line. "Its okay Ladybug, I understand." the smile was the smile he reserved for his photo sessions, for the cameras who only activated when he seemed happy.

There were no cameras around them now, but Adrien felt like he needed her to know he'll be okay.

Even if that was a lie.

Ladybug's own lips trembled and her eyes shone with unsched tears.

He wished he had his mask to hug her in comfort. Protect her from himself and the pain he caused.

"I understand, really. You're a...hero after all and I'm...just a civilian." the smile was firmly in place, years of careful practicing in front of the mirror ensured that, but he felt his resolve wavering in the face of her despair. "I, um, I better get going. I still have Chinese lessons! Bye, take care Ladybug!"

If she hadn't been preoccupied with having rejected her secret crush, Ladybug would've remembered that Adrien didn't have any Chinese lessons today as he ran back to the mansion.

"Plagg, claws out!" The words brought a wave of freedom to him as he leaped onto the side of the mansion, away from prying eyes, especially hers.

Once he reached the highest point on the roof, he held his gift in his hand. "Cataclysm," the command was a soft whispered order, and the destructive power rushed over the gift box in sickening tendrils of black.

It crumbled to dust and fell from his fingers like sand, the wind carrying the remains of his confession as if it never existed in the first place.

He didn't know when his transformation had dropped, he only felt a familiar warm ball of fur nestle into the crook of his neck, purring loudly to soothe his holder.

Adrien held onto Plagg as the world around him turned dark.

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Marinette had never expected to feel the crushing sensation in her ribs and her entire body. There was no akuma to punch the air out of her lungs, no Lila who tripped her and she fell down.

Tikki was gently stroking her friend's head, trying with all her tiny might to comfort her chosen as best as she could.

She was so old, so ancient, but the pain of witnessing love breaking before her eyes was always so painful for her. Especially love as pure as Marinette's was.

Tikki could only hug the girl as she sobbed her heart out for rejecting her crush for her duty and all the little kwami could whisper was "I'm sorry, Marinette," over and over again.

Kwami and chosen held each-other close, drawing comfort and strength from one another as the girl's heart lay in pieces.

-------------------------------------------------------

Pots too old and cracked to use were organized into a corner to discard later, new pots were moved into another space on her balcony to relocate her plants.

If Marinette's mind was kept busy, her heart would be too focused to mourn.

Marinette had thought tending to her plants on the balcony would soothe the ache in her chest, but all it did was add aches in her arms as she moved around heavy plants and pots.

When she lifted the large weeping fig into her arms, her legs shook from the weight of it as she tried moving it to the other side of her balcony.

Leg giving out under the weight, Marinette yelped as her hand slipped and she threatened to fall along with her plant.

Closing her eyes to brace for the impact, Marinette froze when the plant in her arms crashed into something else than the floor.

A slight huff was heard from behind the big plant, and Marinette wondered if the weeping fig had come to life to weep with her over her failed love life.

Instead, she saw a shock of blonde messy hair peek over the green leaves. "Careful princess, that was a close call." her eyes widened at finally recognizing the bright green eyes framed by the familiar black mask.

"C-Chat Noir?"

The hero took the heavy plant from her slack arms and effortlessly held it. "Where does this belong to?" almost robotically, Marinette pointed to the place she wanted to put the plant and Chat Noir carefully lowered the plant down onto its designated area. "Phew, that's a big plant, must have taken a while to grow right?"

The lack of puns didn't shock her as much as it should've, his presence on her balcony was enough of a shock to her system. "Chat Noir, what- what are you doing here?"

The bright green eyes, now that she had time to look at them better, seemed a little red and puffy, but he turned his head too quickly for her to be sure. "Patrol. Just strolling by in this Parisian night." he glanced at the scattered bits of earth on the concrete and empty pots near Marinette's feet. "Gardening work at this hour?"

She finally fell out of her stupor, shoulders sagging as her gaze fell to the floor. "Y-Yeah, I uh, I noticed a lot of my plants were um, everywhere so I tried to remove them- no I mean, move them around. But also remove some because some of them were, um, wilted and..."

Chat Noir observed the way her hand clutched at her other arm tightly, the way her shoulders were hunched and her head bowed. She looked like he had felt on the rooftop of his home, destroying the remains of his heart.

"Marinette," the use of her name made her head snap up, "Everything alright?"

That question seemed to be the only thing that had kept her tears at bay, until they finally flowed freely down her cheeks.

-A few moments later-

"I'm sorry for keeping you Chat Noir." Marinette wiped at her tears, her eyes red and puffy as his looked when he first landed on her balcony.

The hero shook his head, hand comfortingly placed on Marinette's shoulder, squeezing now and then to offer the comfort he could provide with his own heart in shambles.

"You're not, trust me princess," He offered her a sad smile. "Actually, I felt the same today."

Marinette's head shot up to him, eyes searching for his amidst the messy blond locks. "The same? What do you mean? Did...did you have your heart broken too, Chat Noir?"

The imperceptible nod of his head made the burn in Marinette's heart worse. How could someone hurt his feelings like this? Despite all the bravado and smugness he displayed whenever they faced akumas, she knew he was a kind boy deep down.

Marinette's own hand found Chat Noir's shoulder, normally held high and proud but now low and hunched. He looked as miserable as she felt. "I'm so sorry Chat Noir." she felt the tears beginning to return and threaten to spill from her eyes again.

Chat Noir smiled, his hand lifting to clasp over her own on his shoulder, squeezing in appreciation. "Its not your fault." Marinette wished it was, so she could take the blame for breaking his heart, that way the resentment growing in her would be aimed at her, not the girl who broke Chat Noir's heart.

She might have had her reasons, but Marinette still felt sad for her partner.

"I'm sorry for getting your heart broken, kitty. If anyone didn't deserve that, its you." Her words were softly spoken but sincere, it made his lips pull up into a genuine smile.

Chat Noir nudged her shoulder with his gently, "On the contrary princess, I know one other person who didn't deserve getting her heart broken."

The meaningful look in his eyes made her heart feel just a bit lighter and Marinette laughed, "I did deserve it, I wished I didn't have to do what I did."

"Then...why did you?"

Marinette bit her lip. "Because...its complicated but...I just had to. There's something else keeping me from being honest with him and...I can't afford to hurt him like that."

Chat Noir wrapped one arm around his knee, keeping the other on top of Marinette's hand on his shoulder, "You know, if I had heard this a few hours ago, I would disagree but...having listened to you, I think I can understand a little bit where my l-I mean, the friend who rejected me came from."

His friend lifted her head curiously, tears dried. "What do you mean?"

"Well...I think you're right, but I also think, if you did tell him the truth, he would've understood. He sounds like an understanding guy to me, at least." Somehow Chat Noir felt like he resonated with the boy whom Marinette had rejected, he hoped the guy understood and didn't resent Marinette for her actions. "Keeping secrets from each-other may be neccesarily at times, and you feel like the only way to keep from hurting people you love is by keeping secrets, but sometimes telling the truth might hurt worse in the end. But it will get better later on, trust me. Even if the truth hurts worse than a lie, I think the truth can be forgiven easier."

He spoke from the heart it seemed, Marinette had to blink rapidly to keep the fresh tears at bay, but for some reason her heart did feel lighter as she listened to Chat Noir.

He was right, hurting Adrien with a lie is far worse than the truth. But she hadn't thought of it like that, she only wanted to keep him away from danger.

Marinette bit her lip, fingers squeezing Chat Noir's shoulder. The hero turned his head to look at her curiously. "Thank you, Chat Noir," Marinette spoke softly, those words alone seemed to heal some of the wounds in Chat Noir's heart.

He nodded, squeezing her hand back.

Marinette had more to say though, "I think... with you too, I think I can understand the girl who...who rejected you a bit better. Maybe she had her own reasons for doing what she did, but thinking that she didn't want to hurt you with the truth, she lied."

Chat's ears sperked up at this, "...You think so?"

She shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe she saw no other way but to lie to keep you safe."

He hummed thoughtfully and stared up at the sky. Yeah, that did sound like something Ladybug would do. Especially since she didn't know he was Adrien and a miraculous holder himself, she would hurt him at the cost of her own feelings to protect him.

He shook his head, who was he kidding? His lady didn't feel that way for him, but he knew it was true that she tried to protect him from danger. His lady was just like that.

Chat Noir gazed back at his friend and classmate, who didn't seem as dejected as when he first saw her on her balcony. "I hope the boy who rejected you knows what he missed."

Marinette laughed out loud and Chat Noir couldn't help but grin, "I doubt that Chat Noir."

He rolled his shoulders, "Well, maybe this tom will have to pay him a visit and teach him a lesson then."

Marinette shook her head, her hand falling away from his shoulder. Chat Noir reluctantly let her hand go, even if he did miss the comforting warmth it gave him.

But the smile she bestowed him with seemed to give his heart all the warmth it needed to melt. "Thank you, Chat Noir. You really are my hero." she grinned playfully, but he took her words to heart, even if they were exaggerated. Chat Noir he couldn't save her from a broken heart, just like she couldn't save him, but at least they could help pick up each-other's pieces.

"Heh, always happy to rescue you, princess." The playful glint in his own eyes was something he hoped conveyed just how deep his appreciation for Marinette's words rang.

She nudged his shoulder playfully and that seemed to spur his next words into action. "Even if you don't have the mouse miraculous anymore, you're still a hero in my eyes."

Marinette seemed to blush at his words, and he marveled at the way she always grew shy at compliments from her friends. He hoped with these compliments that Marinette could grow to see what an amazing person she really was.

"I'm happy to help and, even if I'm just a civilian, you can come to me if you ever need to talk, Chat Noir." his heart felt as light as a feather at her kind offer.

Marinette tried to concentrate on cooling off the sudden inferno in her face.

'No, I'm just comforting him. This doesn't mean anything. He's my friend.' Even as Marinette's thoughts circled around those words stubbornly, her heart couldn't help but pick up speed when Chat Noir's gaze softened while looking at her.

"Thank you, Marinette. I appreciate it." his words sounded so sincere, so soft spoken. This soft side of Chat Noir came out in brief instances, short glimpses between akuma battles and their de-transformation period that allowed for calm and peace.

Even those instances were rare, but here, transformed but not in battle, mask up but a different mask down, he felt so raw to her. Like she caught glimpses of himself he didn't often show to others, not even Ladybug.

Marinette shook her head, trying to will those thoughts away. How could she be thinking that? He was her friend and partner. And she'd just had to turn down Adrien today as Ladybug, had to turn down the dream she'd always had.

Chat Noir noticed her dampening mood and his lips pulled up into a small smile with the idea forming in his head.

He jumped down from the balcony railing, like a cat off a high shelf, soundless and effortless.

"Hey, why don't we watch that movie you mentioned a while ago? The one with the witch and her familiar?"

Marinette blinked, but before her brain could process at what instance she specifically told Chat Noir of her movie preferences, she was already heading towards the hatch to her room.

"Oh! Thats right, I did want to watch that. Wait here Chat Noir, I'll get everything ready." With that, her head disappeared beneath the wooden door, sounds of rummaging through her room audible from the half opened window.

Chat Noir sighed deeply, letting the cool night air fill his lungs and soothe the burn in his heart.

He hadn't planned for his night to go like this, especially since Ladybug had turned him down today. Certainly hadn't expected Marinette to have more than a willing ear to listen and send him on his way.

She listened, and comforted him and offered solace at a place he least expected.

He always thought Adrien Agreste was a boy Marinette Dupain-Cheng could grow to like as a friend at least. He was grateful for their friendship, as distanced as it seemed sometimes. He was grateful she didn't dislike him after some of his social blunders.

Chat Noir gazed up towards the sky, twinkling dots greeting him back. He wished every day would feel as peaceful as he did in that moment.

And it was thanks to his amazing friend.

The hatch opened and his head whipped towards the pile of blankets, projector and white sheet hiding one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

With a chuckle, he helped her set up everything for their movie, pulling the white sheet taut and connecting the string attached to its ends to either side of the roof and chimney down to the edges of the balcony. It covered up nearly the entire front view of the balcony, but he felt like this was their own cocoon of privacy. Of something that felt like comfort and home.

Even the cookies, croissants and other pastries she brought smelled like the home he remembered being in before his mother disappeared and Chat Noir tried not to let the glistening in his eyes show too much.

Tucked tightly into the blankets and nestled next to each-other, Marinette pressed a few buttons on the yellow beamer and the white sheet came to life with moving pictures and sounds.

Chat Noir had thought his heart would burst simply from this, it certainly felt full enough to, but when Marinette had slowly moved closer to him during the movie, subconsciously on her part, his beating heart felt ready to explode.

Shoulders touching and head nestled against the side of his, Marinette felt safe in a way her suit didn't make her feel and she partly blamed the atmosphere, partly the purring cat next to her.

Chat Noir knew they were friends, but as he allowed some of his weight to settle against his classmate and his chest vibrating with purrs, he couldn't help but feel like this would've felt different if Nino or Chloe had taken Marinette's place.

Marinette's own thoughts swam with much of the same sentiments as the boy nestled against her side was experiencing, her heart warm and alive as it hadn't felt in a while.

She felt like despite all her duties and problems, she could take on the whole world.

Marinette hadn't remembered the fact that she only mentioned that movie to her friends during lunch, to Alya and Nino...

...and Adrien.

As the city of Paris darkened with the passing of time, the little balcony above the bakery was alive with quiet laughter and flickering lights.

Thanks for reading! :)

[kookiesjoonies]

come home | myg.

another collab w/ my platonic soulmate, @ppersonna​, abt bad hookups and how members of bts fix it n make you feel good. it took me awhile to get my part up, so i want to thank lindy for the millionth time for being so patient. i hope u all enjoy. read her part of this collab w/ jin here!

main pairing: min yoongi x reader (exes to lovers)

fic type: one shot

word count: 3.2k

genre: smut

warnings: language, mentions of smoking/nicotine, mentions of penetrative sex, dry humping, light dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, angst if you squint?, tiny amount of fluff (if i forgot any warnings, i apologize! i have been working on this over the course of a week or longer. if i missed anything major, let me know pls! xo)

summary: you just want to feel good. and seeing as how no one has been successful in making that happen for you, you go to the one person who never fails to get you off. who just so happens to be your ex boyfriend.

The last person in the world that Yoongi expected to be knocking on his door at eight o’ clock at night was you. You’d been broken up for over a year now, and sure, the two of you were on good terms. Hell, you even considered yourselves friends, but rarely ever did the two of you hang out or speak more than a few times a week through text messages.

So naturally, his first thought was that something was wrong. He was standing in the doorway, staring straight ahead at you, trying to read your face for any indication as to why you’d shown up at his house unannounced. Your expression was stoic, though, almost bored. Your hair was shorter though, he’d noticed. Had you gained weight? He couldn’t have been sure, but your thighs definitely appeared to be thicker, and your bra fuller than he remembered.

You caught him eyeing your cleavage and you rolled your eyes. Same old Yoongi, same old habits.

“Are you going to invite me inside?” You asked, arms crossed over your chest and effectively pushing your breasts up.

Yoongi was sure he would be drooling any moment now, and he hadn’t even heard a word you’d said. Fuck, he’d missed staring at you like this.

“Yoongi,” you reached a hand forward, pressing a freshly manicured finger underneath his chin and pointing it up toward your face, “my eyes are up here.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, “And?”

You tilted your head to the side, eyebrows pushing together in annoyance, “Would you just move so I can come inside?”

He obliged, stepping away from the door frame and gesturing you, albeit dramatically, inside.

His house hadn’t changed much, but it definitely wasn’t as well kept as it was when you lived with him. The coffee table was cluttered with assorted take out boxes and half empty water bottles, and you never understood why he didn’t drink the entire bottle of water. It annoyed the piss out of you, and you were still convinced that was the only reason he did it.

Blankets and coats littered the sofa, throw pillows pushed off of the couch and onto the floor. You always hated when he did that. He claimed the pillows made the couch uncomfortable and hard to sit on, and you’d called him insane, telling him that the entire purpose of the pillows were to make it comfortable.

You were curious to see what his bedroom looked like. Well, you were mostly curious, and a tad bit frightened at the thought. Yoongi wasn’t a messy person, but he didn’t mind clutter. You, on the other hand, despised it.

Yoongi took note of the way your eyes danced around the room, taking everything surrounding you in.

“Yeah, it’s messy, I know.” His tone of voice shifted to one of nervousness. He was suddenly very aware that you we’re here, in the house the two of you used to share, for the first time in what felt like forever.

You sensed his awkwardness and turned your attention from the living room and into him, placing a hand gently around his bicep. He instantly relaxed under your touch. You always did know exactly what he needed and when he needed it. He still didn’t know how the fuck you managed to do that.

“I don’t care if it’s messy, Yoongi. I don’t live here anymore.”

“No, you don’t. Which brings me to ask, why are you here?”

“Actually,” you began, leaning against the back of his sofa as you slowly raked your eyes up and down his small frame, “I was wondering if you wanted to fuck.”

Your question clearly caught him off guard, his face immediately contorting into one of utter confusion. Eyes slightly widened, mouth agape.

“Hold on,” he shook his head, a poor attempt at collecting his thoughts as he tried to make sense of what you’d just proposed, “are you high?”

Was he serious? You rolled your eyes at him yet again, convinced they were going to get stuck in the back of your head.

“No, Yoongi. I am not high. I’m just horny, and want to fuck. Simple as that.”

He carded his long fingers through his hair, eyes focusing on yours and fully taking in your serious expression.

“You couldn’t find someone on tinder? I mean, not that I’m not flattered that you came all the way here, but. I’m just a bit confused.”

“I could’ve, yeah,” you nodded, “and I have, in the past. But I’m sick of bad hookups, I have to fake it half the time anyway. Nobody knows my body like you do. I just want to feel good, but if you don’t want to, or if it’s too weird then I can leave. No hard feelings.”

Yoongi took a minute to weigh out the pros and cons in his head. On one hand, he’d kill to be inside of you again. He’d had hookups of his own, sure, but none of them even came close to what you felt like. But on the other hand, you’d broken up for a reason. And this could complicate things.

Who was he to deny you, though? He never could, not when you were together, and he wasn’t about to start now. If all you wanted was to feel good, then goddammit, he was going to make sure that you did.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

Your eyes grew wider than quarters, and you stared at him in disbelief, “Really?”

“Were you expecting me to say no?”

“I don’t..” you paused, “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Well,” he took a single step forward, hands easily falling down and onto your hips, “I did.”

All it took was the feeling of his hands on you to make your breath catch in your throat. It’d been over a year since he’d last touched you, his hands felt like they were burning your skin through your shirt. You stared up at him, eyes fixated on his as his mouth slowly crept down and onto yours.

It felt like sparks of electricity were coursing through your veins. Your body instantly reacted, legs jumping up and off of the ground to wrap around his waist. He was quick to catch you, hands cupping your ass to hold you up and pressed against him. His lips moved against yours easily, his tongue gliding into your mouth and wrapping around yours perfectly. Kissing you was muscle memory, he knew every crevice of your mouth, which moves of his tongue would have you wrecked.

He took advantage of that, lapping and twirling his tongue against yours in a way that had you moaning into the kiss. The vibrations going straight from his lips and down to his dick, and you could feel him hardening against your thigh. Your hands found their way into the dark hair at the nape of his neck and you twirled it around your fingers, all the while giving a quick swivel of your hips that had Yoongi groaning into your mouth.

He carried you away from the couch and down the hallway into his master bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot once inside. He had your back pressed up against it instantaneously, grinding his hips up and into yours at a steady pace. You were holding onto his neck for dear life, letting out a whine as he hit your clit perfectly.

“Y-yoongi! Right there, oh my God, do that again.” You pleaded, and he happily obliged by thrusting his hips in the exact same way, causing you to cry out and bite down on your lower lip. If he kept this shit up, you’d be cumming in your pants.

His lips were attached to your neck now, attacking the skin there with sloppy kisses and occasional suction. You knew there would be bruises, but you couldn’t be bothered to give a single fuck. Your body was elated, you felt like you were floating. And all of it was from a fucking make out session and dry humping. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to feel once he was finally inside of you. The thought of it alone had you soaking wet, and you could feel how damp your panties had gotten, sure that your jeans were soon to follow suit.

His hips never slowed, in fact, they only sped up. You were bouncing against him now, attempting to gather even more friction than what he was giving you. His fingers curled and squeezed your ass, holding you still as he ruthlessly humped against your core.

“Gonna cum for me, huh? Right here? With your clothes still on?” He was nipping at your jawline now, and the sounds you were making sounded like you were trying to speak, but nothing you were saying was coherent.

“What was that?” he rolled his hips hard against your aching cunt, and you immediately saw black, “Words, baby. Or I’ll stop right now.”

You panicked, trying to muster up any sort of response that you could manage, even if you did sound completely fucking pitiful.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” You mewled, and one final jolt of his hips had you coming undone.

Your thighs contracted around him, shaking and attempting to pull him closer and keep him trapped between your legs. Your hands were tugging on his hair, burning his scalp and causing him to groan at the sensation. Cries of his name and a slew of fucked out curses made their way past your lips as you came, head knocking back against the wooden door.

Yoongi had pulled away from your neck so that he could watch you, his eyes darkening with want as he witnessed you lose yourself from just grinding alone. He thought you’d never looked sexier than you did right now. And all he could think about was how badly he wanted to clean up the mess he’d just made in between your legs.

“Let me eat you out.” His voice was rough, raspy, and hot. How could you say no to that?

You hadn’t even completely come down from your high yet, stars still circling above your head as you blinked rapidly in an attempt to get them to go away. But still, you nodded.

He was quick to drop to his knees after setting your feet and shaky legs back down onto the ground. Your fingers threaded through his hair, hips pushing forward and toward his mouth. You’d never wanted— no, needed his tongue against you so badly before. But you couldn’t help the breathy laugh that pushed out of your throat.

“What’s so funny?” Yoongi prompted, mumbling against the skin of your lower abdomen as he pressed wet kisses there.

You lightly twirled his hair around your index finger, a small sigh making its way through your lips as you felt him begin to undo the button a zipper on your pants.

The whole situation was fucking hilarious to you. You ever imagined you’d be here again, with Yoongi in general, let alone with his head between your legs. But that was too heavy of a conversation to have at the moment. You knew that if you said such things, he’d want to have a deep, touchy feely talk and all you were interested right now was him making you cum for the second time today.

So, you decided to play your laughter off, sounding as nonchalant as possible.

“Just find it funny that our bed is two feet away from us, yet you’re still going to eat me out while you’re on the floor.”

Yoongi had taken to ridding you of those god forsaken jeans, kissing from your knee up to the tops of your thigh. His actions coming to a still in the middle of your sentence.

“Our? bed?” He cocked an eyebrow, deep irises flickering up to look straight at you.

“Just habit, I guess.” you shrugged it off, but internally, you were kicking your own ass for making such a slip up, “Are you going to go down on me, or not?”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes. This was so fucking like you, brushing off your true emotions and covering them up with something sexual. Had you forgotten he knew you better than anyone else in the world?

Still, you’d come to him for a reason. You wanted to feel good. He was determined to follow through with your wishes, but made a mental note to get you to tell him how you were feeling afterwards.

“You’re so fucking bossy.” He spat out the words, though they weren’t laced with any real venom. It was too playful, too Yoongi.

You were going to offer him a smart ass remark, a witty comeback on the very tip of your lips. However, the feel of his tongue dragging through your folds had you moaning instead.

His arms linked around the backs of your thighs to hold you in place, keeping your cunt pressed firmly against his face as he nudged your clit with his tongue. A small, barely there flick that had you whining in a high pitched fashion. Your eyes had screwed shut, hand tangled in his hair and pulling it from the root.

One of his hands moved from your legs so that he could hover his index finger over your entrance, circling around it and gathering up your wetness. He groaned at the feeling, at how absolutely fucking soaked you were for him. It was something he never, ever got tired of. And it was definitely something he’d grown to miss.

All at once, he was pulling your clit into his mouth. Teeth lightly grazing it before he took his time suckling on the bud, quick, exasperated whimpers coming out of your lips as he did so.

You offered him fucked out praises, telling him how good it felt, how badly you wanted more. His finger pushed into you, and your walls immediately squeezed around it. Once you’d loosened back up, he added his middle finger and slowly began to fuck into you.

Your mouth was left agape at the feeling, his tongue now swirling at a steady pace against your bundle of nerves. Your nails dug into his scalp, and you’d begun to shamelessly ride his face. He was loving every minute of it, every wanton noise that came out of your mouth.

“I—I need—,” you stuttered, unsure of exactly what it was that you needed from him, “God, Yoongi, please—”

Even when you didn’t know, he always seemed to. His long fingers curled inside of you, arching and pressing against that glorious spot that had you screaming out a line of curses.

He quickened the pace of his tongue up, the speed of it ruthless against your clit now. Your eyes were beginning to well up, and you were sure you’d never felt pleasure like this before. Not even from him. There was something about this time that made it feel like you were floating on cloud nine. And you never, ever wanted to come down. You wanted his head buried between your thighs for an eternity.

One more push of his fingers and lick of his tongue had you bucking your hips against his face, and you weren’t sure how he was managing to breathe. Your lower stomach was knotting, heat spreading from your core throughout your entire body as your orgasm washed over you. Both of your hands were in his hair now, gripping onto the soft strands of it with all of your might. You were squirming, trying to get closer to him, and away from him all at the same time.

Black dots were all that you could see, your head spinning and making you feel like you were floating off of the ground. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you attempted to catch your breath and regain your composure.

You groaned at the empty feeling as you felt Yoongi pull his fingers out of you, glancing down at him just in time to watch him insert the digits into his mouth and swallow your release. Your eyes rolled back at the sight, a huff leaving your lips.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You joked, and he rewarded you with a chuckle as he stood up and pressed his lips to yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth with ease.

You could taste yourself on him, and that alone had you aroused again and ready for orgasm number three. And hopefully four and five. You could feel yourself growing wet again, and took the opportunity to grab one of his hands and bring it down and onto your soaked pussy.

He groaned into the kiss, tongue moving with more fervor, more hunger.

You were pulling back, and he was chasing your lips with his. You giggled at his actions, your fingers toying with the fine strands of his hair.

Without giving it a second thought, he was lifting you off of the ground again and taking quick strides toward the bed.

It seemed like the two of you had spent the better part of the night fucking. But by your fifth orgasm, you were too fucked out, and way too sensitive to do it again. You could barely walk, your legs the equivalent of Jell-O. Yoongi insisted over and over that you just spent the night with him, offering to take the couch if that would make you more comfortable.

“I just spent the last two hours with your dick buried inside of me,” you pointed out, “I think we can share a bed.”

He laughed as he laid beside of you, still completely naked and on full display for you.

“Touché.”

“I need a cigarette, but I can’t even walk to get them out of my jeans.” You groaned as you stared at your pants lying in front of the door, and you could hear Yoongi sighing beside of you.

“What?” You cocked an eyebrow, rolling onto your side so that you could face him.

“You know how I feel about you smoking. I wish you’d quit that shit.”

“Well,” you started, “at least you don’t have to smell it on a daily basis anymore. You know, since I don’t live here.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, turning over on his side to match your position, “kind of miss it.”

Your eyes slightly widened, and you were left speechless. Because what were you supposed to say to that?

Yoongi sighed, giving you a quick roll of his eyes.

“Come on, Y/n. What are we doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You lied.

“You mean to tell me you don’t feel comfortable right now? Like we never stopped this in the first place? Never stopped.. us?” He studied your face as he waited for your answer, fingers instinctively reaching out to trail along the curve of your bare hip.

“Yoongi..” You sighed, unsure of what else to say. Because he was right. This felt normal. It felt right.

“Just come home.” His voice was sincere, his eyes soft and pleading as he looked at you.

Usually, this was the kind of big decision you’d have to think about, outweigh all of the pros and cons. But this time, you didn’t hesitate to respond. Because this was Yoongi, and he was home.

“Yeah,” you nodded, gently rubbing your thumb along the top of his cheek as you offered him a gentle smile, “okay.”

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 1 | scheme

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Shouto Todoroki was standing outside your workroom.

This was unusual, as in the three years you’d both been attending UA, Todoroki had hardly been spotted anywhere near the support course rooms. Class H was typically avoided by anyone who didn’t want your classmate Mei to catch wind of them -- and very few hero course students had proved willing to do so, once they’d encountered her the first time.

Todoroki was one of the smart ones.

He looked incredibly out of place and yet almost comically festive in the doorway of the studio, his red and white mop of hair matching the horrible red and white heart banner someone had tacked above the entry for Valentine’s Day. He stopped midway through the door, eyes flicking over the other offensively bright decor, including several violently pink heart balloons and heinous red streamers that hung from the ceiling like sausages curing in a deli.

A ripple of interest went through the female segment of your classmates at his arrival, and despite yourself, you perked up too.

You didn’t know much about him, but Shouto Todoroki had the most interesting quirk you had ever worked with. You’d been paired for a project earlier this year where you’d helped develop an adjustment to his temperature jacket that used pattern recognition to help it anticipate changes in his quirk, in order to begin applying temperature controls sometimes even before he’d made the switch from hot to cold or vice versa.

You hadn’t spoken much on topics outside the project, but on the subject of your work, Todoroki had proved himself smart as a whip, asking insightful and probing questions, and making sensible suggestions based on what he learned from you. He’d been so keen on your ideas and so shockingly easy to work with that you’d lamented the project’s end.

It had only lasted two weeks, unfortunately, wrapping up before you’d had the chance to really delve into his personality or the actual science behind his quirk, and you’d been dying for the opportunity to pair up again and really study him since.

Less importantly, Shouto Todoroki was also inarguably the most handsome boy in your year, maybe even at all of UA. He was tall, strapped with lean muscle, and equipped with a facial symmetry that was almost more deadly than his quirk. Even his scar did nothing to deter from his good looks, only adding a roughed up, roguish charm to his otherwise pretty features. The first few days of your project, you’d had to pinch yourself on the leg more than a few times in order to reroute your brain from his face to the actual jacket.

You’d since put effort into ignoring his appearance, but you couldn’t really help that your eyes were pulled to him like a magnet whenever he stepped into a room.

Like now.

Todoroki’s own grey and blue eyes scanned over the faces of your classmates, stopping when they landed on you.

“Y/N,” he said in greeting, and you raised a bewildered hand. Several nearby girls shot you betrayed looks, like you’d been keeping an association with him secret. You’d have shot yourself something of a questioning look, too, if you could have. What reason would Shouto Todoroki have to seek you out outside of class? It had been almost a month since the project together. What might he want with you now?

“Hi, Todoroki,” you said, wondering if you’d awoken in some parallel dimension where he thought you were friends. “Uh, what brings you here?”

“I have a personal request,” he said in his low, soft tone, stepping into the room and making his way over to your worktable. He’d shed the grey blazer of the school uniform for the crisp white dress shirt and tie, and he looked unbearably good. As he drew closer, you could see the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt.

You self-consciously pushed around the messy wires and metal framing on your worktop, trying to clear space.

A personal request. Had he come for some kind of support item? Your mind suddenly ran with possibilities, and a thrill went through you at the potential to study half hot half cold in earnest. This was the kind of extracurricular project you’d been dreaming of, maybe even something that you could scope out and build as your submission for your senior project next month!

“Sure,” you said, gesturing to the other stool at your worktop and rifling around in your bag for a pen and paper. You’d probably need to take notes.

Todoroki stared at you. “Ah, not that kind of a request,” he said, eyeing your pen and paper.

Your cheer dropped. Oh.

“I had hoped to ask you in private, actually,” he said, something like discomfort flashing across his handsome features. He looked almost nervous, and you wondered wildly what kind of support request would make one of UA’s big three this awkward. Was he having a problem with his quirk that he didn’t want to cop to?

“Okay,” you said, looking up at him, “lead the way.”

A cool hand came up to grasp your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. Your face burned at the casual touch, and you felt the curious eyes of your classmates on you as you were led from the room.

Todoroki steered you through the hall and around the corner to a small alcove out of the way of student traffic. The alcove had clearly had the same treatment as your workrooms, festooned with a banner boasting a bizarre pattern of tiny All Might silhouettes interspersed with hearts. Your eyes felt like they might catch fire if you looked at it for too long.

“How have you been since the project?” you asked Todoroki, in the interest of being companionable. “Is everything on your vest still working well?”

A smile touched the corner of his mouth as he turned to face you. “It’s incredible. It still surprises me that it can predict what I’m going to do before I even think to do it.”

You flushed at the praise. “I’m glad. It was really cool work on. Your quirk is awesome - normally there are only so many variables with pattern prediction like that but the two sides of your quirk increased the possibilities exponentially, so the algorithm was hard to code. I had to get a little extra help from an actual computer scientist,” you admitted, before slapping a hand over your mouth, realizing you were rambling.

His smile widened and your traitorous eyes caught on his mouth. “You sound exactly as you did the last time we talked.”

You winced. “Yeah, sorry.”

His eyes widened and the hand on your wrist tightened. “No, I didn’t mean--it’s nice,” he said. His fingers seemed to grow the tiniest bit colder where he held you. “I would have liked to have worked with you longer.”

You tamped down on another blush, looking away. “Yeah. It’s too bad.”

Just then, footsteps sounded in the hall, and Himari Honda came wheeling around the corner.

Himari was another student you’d been paired with for a project at one time, and she hadn’t worked nearly as well with you as Todoroki had. A general course student with a quirk that let her track anyone within up to a mile of her person, Himari’s goal after graduation was to become an actress, with a particular focus on playing the love interest of powerful hero characters. She was certainly pretty enough, with large eyes, high cheekbones, and shiny pink hair that she wore in a long plait down her back, but that’s where her appeal ended. She wasn’t horrible, but she was a little too self-interested and it had certainly shown in how she’d handled your pair project.

Himari smiled winningly at Todoroki, and it became clear to you that she’d tracked him with her quirk. You knew instantly why she’d come to find him, today of all days.

“Hi, Shouto,” she purred. His fingers tightened where he still held your wrist.

“Hello,” he said politely.

You stifled a laugh at the carefully blank look he’d suddenly adopted. You guessed he’d been fending off advances of this type all day -- you’d caught sight of his shoe cubby when you’d changed into your own uniform shoes this morning, absolutely bursting with chocolate and brightly-colored valentine's notes. He was too handsome for his own good, it appeared. Still, it was interesting that Todoroki seemed not the slightest bit interested in what someone who looked like Himari had to say.

“Maybe I should go,” you said, tugging your wrist back, but Todoroki gripped you tighter.

“I still need to talk to you,” he said. He fixed you with an intense look like he could pin you in place with his gaze.

Himari seemed to ignore you. “Shouto, I was hoping to talk to you alone.”

“I’m a little occupied at the minute,” he said, gesturing to you. You gave a little wave.

Himari shot you a betrayed look like you’d beaten her to the punch, then puffed up like she was drawing up her courage. “Don’t accept her confession! Accept mine! I like you -- please go out with me!”

Your jaw dropped. You’d definitely not been in the middle of asking Todoroki out, but damn it took balls to cut another woman off like that. You couldn’t tell if you respected her or hated her for her shamelessness.

Todoroki shifted uncomfortably next to you. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t accept your feelings. You see, I was just about to ask Y/N out.”

Your mind went blank.

He what now? Is that why he’d brought you to this alcove to speak to you in private? Is that why he’d been so nervous back in the support studio, asking to talk to you alone? Shouto Todoroki had wanted to ask you out?

You wondered at that. You couldn’t understand why, when he could have his pick of any girl at UA. You were fine, sure -- reasonably smart with good grades and a neat appearance, but you weren’t anywhere near his level of mind-numbing attractiveness. More than that, you didn’t even have a quirk, and it was impossible that someone who wielded a power like half hot half cold was going to wade that far into the bleak depths of the dating pool. He had plenty of other options, so why come to you...?

Then, like a slow sunrise, it dawned on you what he was actually up to.

Todoroki was trying to get rid of all the confessions in one fell swoop. If Himari went back to her classmates and told everyone what had happened, rumors would spread very quickly that Shouto Todoroki was a dead-end bet. No one would try to ask him out anymore if his heart purportedly belonged to another.

That sneaky little fuck.

“Right,” you said, perking up and playing along gamely. “And I was just about to accept,” you announced to Himari.

Todoroki threw you a wild look like he hadn’t expected you to take this track. Shit, had you been supposed to reject him instead? You could, you supposed, but what hot-blooded woman in possession of sound mind and sound body would possibly do so? Did he also want to start the rumor that you were a complete nutjob?

“Um, I mean, I was about to respond privately,” you backpedaled. “Uh, nothing confirmed at this point.”

Himari gave you a furious look, her large eyes filling with tears, and turned on her heel, storming off. Your heart went out to her, just a little.

“You’d really accept?” Todoroki asked you as soon as she’d gone. Something unreadable glinted in his two-toned gaze.

You thought for a moment. Did he actually want to do this? It was barely a couple months until graduation, but you had nothing to lose in helping him. Maybe this was also your opportunity to study his quirk more closely, if you were going to be spending more time together to keep up appearances. You might actually be able to use him for your senior project.

“Sure,” you said, smiling up at him. “If you wanted this, I mean.”

A smile curved the edges of his mouth. “I did, yes.”

“Great,” you said, “Then you’re officially my boyfriend, Todoroki.”

His smile widened. “It’s Shouto.”

You looked at him in question.

“My name, it’s Shouto,” he said. “I’d like it if you would call me that.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. This was all pretend but damn it was cute anyway. “Shouto,” you tested it out, liking the sound of it in your mouth.

Shouto seemed to like it too, unwinding his fingers from your wrist to slip his hand into yours. The cool of his fingers between yours was soothing, and you quite liked the way it felt.

“Are you free Saturday, then, for a first date?” he asked.

He did nothing by halves, huh? You laughed. “Yes, I’m free. Text me the time and place?”

He agreed and you traded phones, plugging in each other’s numbers. Then he walked you back to your workroom and left you with promises to see you Saturday, after sending you a characteristically straightforward this is shouto text to confirm.

You smiled as you watched him leave, pleased to be in on his little scheme.

You’d never fake dated anyone before so you didn’t really know what you were getting into, but you thought this could be fun. You were looking forward to whatever Shouto had up his sleeve.

[matthewtkachuk]

mistaken identity - jj maybank

jj mistakes you for a touron, despite the fact that he’s been copying your test answers for years and pined after you just as long. will you let him take you on a date to make it up to you and win you over?

warnings: none i don’t think

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1.9k

a/n: hello loves, despite a rude anon’s best efforts i’m still here. wrote this little something on the plane ride home yesterday night to distract me from 1) the terrible turbulence and 2) the feeling of my heart literally breaking. i’ve missed my little klepto baby, hope yall enjoy this cute lil jj fic. also 10/10 i will be calling my future sig other ‘bud’ and yes i literally wrote @girlsru1eboysdroo1into this, sue me or w/e feedback makes my heart happy.

You don’t quite know how it happened. One moment you were just the girl JJ cheated off of in math when Pope wouldn’t let him, a member of the math team and all around nobody at Kildare High. Sure, you had friends you sat with at lunch and no one really had a bad thing to say about you. Though, if one really thought about it, no one really had a thing to say about you at all - good or bad. You were the definition of a wallflower, content to sit on the sidelines, observing but never interacting fully. The next moment, you were somebody.

Contrarily, you know exactly where it happened. The same place where residents of both sides of the island come together alongside the hapless tourists with only a few goals in mind: drink, dance and find a warm body to cozy up to for the night. This location is, of course, a boneyard kegger at the beginning of summer (one of the first in fact), and those activities are, of course, not quite in line with your typical Friday night. 

It’s your best friends fault you’re here, you muse, hand wrapped tightly around a red solo cup containing three quarters of the warm beer you were handed nearly half an hour ago. You didn’t have anything against drinking, or anyone who drank, your parents were just a little more present than your classmates. You were staying over at Pen’s that night, her mom was really cool, but you couldn’t shake the imaginary hand of your parents and found yourself looking over your shoulder, prepared to drop the cup in the sand and run. Pen had been the one who was adamant that the two of you make an appearance, “you didn’t come to a single kegger last summer, and it’s our last summer before college, c’mon live a little!”. She was nothing if not persistent, and so you agreed if only to get her to let it go.

She had promised she would be by your side ‘the entire night’, but of course fifteen minutes in and she was nowhere to be seen. Also suspiciously missing, despite his two cronies still standing within your peripheral vision, was one Rafe Cameron. You didn’t know what Pen saw in him, she was the literal sweetest person in the entire world and he was... well himself. Of course no one is perfect, she did ditch you after all, and no one is entirely bad either. Since whatever was going on between them started, Rafe hadn’t been bothering you at all and you considered that a win in your books. 

Girl code and euphemisms about female friendships being more important than romantic ones aside, you couldn’t stay mad at her for long and wanted her to be happy. For some unknown reason, he made her happy and you had to support that.

You just wish she had supported you a little and been upfront about you. That way you could have been home, maybe with a book, maybe with netflix. Either way, you wouldn’t be sitting alone on a piece of driftwood slowly sipping on a warm beer as some of your classmates chatted up a group of tourons. You weren’t alone long, however.

You felt his presence before you saw him. JJ Maybank of all people sidled up beside you on the log, toe tapping and hand fidgeting with his rings as he sat silently for all of thirty seconds. Having been in the same class as the boy for more than a decade you recognized his antsy antics as ones that he often acted on in class. If you took a moment to think about it, you could admit that he was conventionally attractive, his whole devil-may-care attitude and golden surfer tan only made him all the more appealing. However, you had known the boy (or at least known of the boy) for so long, you never let that feeling grow into anything tangible. Besides, you were going to leave the small island in the fall and you were never looking back.

The silence only lasted for a minute longer before he broke it. “First time in the outer banks?” the messy blonde boy beside you asked, and you felt the scowl overtake your face.

“JJ we’ve been in the same class since the first grade, and you’ve been cheating off of me in math the entirety of our school careers,” you rolled your eyes and downed the almost full cup before throwing it to the sand and walking away. JJ stared after you with his brow furrowed, brain trying to connect the dots and reconcile you with one of his many classmates. It wasn’t entirely JJ’s (or the six beers he had consumed)’s fault, one could also blame his tardiness and absences for his lack of recognition. And of course there was the fact that you had let Pen dress you up, slap some light makeup on your eyes and curl your hair. Ordinarily the only products you bothered with were sunscreen and lip chap and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn anything other than a baggy t-shirt over ripped denim. So maybe you should have given the blonde some slack. 

Or not. “Y/n?” Pope asked confusedly as you stormed past him. The two of you weren’t friends, not exactly anyway, but you were both on the math team and that leant itself to a certain amount of camaraderie. At the very least, Pope remembered your name and that was more than his best friend could say. He reached out with a hand to lightly grasp your bicep, pulling you back towards him and scanning your face to see if he could figure out what was going on. “You okay?”

“Never better,” you bit back, feeling bad instantly. “Sorry Pope, your friend is just kind of an idiot.”

“What did John B do now?” Pope sighed. John B hadn’t had a lot of luck in the ladies department lately and Pope was worried about what his latest gaffe had been. Judging by the look on your face it was bad, like call you by the wrong girl’s name bad. 

“Not Routledge,” you rolled your eyes before continuing, “JJ. It doesn’t matter, Pen ditched me and I'm going home.”

Pope let you go this time, turning toward the aforementioned blond who was slowly making his way over to him. 

“Who was that?” JJ asked with narrowed, red rimmed eyes. Pope laughed out loud, knowing his best friend was about to be incredibly mad at himself. 

“How high are you? The girl you just offended was y/n,” Pope told him, causing JJ’s wide eyes to widen even further 

“Wait, y/n y/l/n? The girl of my dreams y/n y/l/n?” JJ smacked his own forehead in frustration. So that’s why you had looked so familiar. He had never seen you look so put together, and he had definitely never seen you at a kegger or under the influence of any substance before. When Pope nodded, JJ patted him on the shoulder before rushing after your retreating frame. 

He called your first name, watched as you stopped walking and stood in the sand with your back facing him. “I’m sorry, let me make it up to you.”

You turned to look at him, resting your hands on your hips. “High schools over JJ, you don’t have to pretend to be nice to me so that I’ll keep letting you cheat off me in trig.” 

“That’s not-“ he paused, eyes downcast before they flicked up to look at you. You took note of his slightly dilated pupils, the way they were rimmed with red and recognized he was under the influence of something. Gathering courage, he quickly spit out “go on a date with me.”

“I-“ you sighed deeply, eyes rolling up toward the night sky as you contemplated his offer, “you know what? Fine, one date. You better knock it outta the park and blow me away cause it’s your only shot.” You began walking away, back turned to him so he couldn’t see the small grin on your face or the way your hands shook a little. Every girl with two eyes and a heartbeat had to admit to at least a tiny crush on the reckless boy, and you had both of those things. To be asked out on a date by him made you feel special, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Not that I need it, but you don’t believe in second chances?” he shouted at your retreating back. Without missing a beat you turned to look at him over your shoulder, “this is your second chance bud.”

A few days later had you sitting in shock and disbelief as JJ Maybank admitted his years long crush on you. 

You laughed so hard that you almost snorted, stifling the instinct with both of your hands before the sound could betray you. “You’re trying to tell me you’ve had a crush on me since we were kids? And you couldn’t recognize me because of a little bit of eyeliner?” you asked skeptically, brows raised at the boy who sat beside you on the blanket in the sand. 

“Not my finest moment,” he admitted, grabbing a grape and tossing it in the air before attempting to catch it in his mouth. It bounced off his nose and rolled into the sand, causing you to giggle. He brightened up considerably with the knowledge that he had been able to make you laugh, even if it was with his stupid antics. 

“So, your idea of flirting was what? Copying my test answers and never actually speaking to me?” You laughed at the look of indignation on his face. “You’ve got no game, bud.”

“I’ll have you know I have plenty of game, you should hear what the tourons-“ he began to brag, stopping only when you threw yourself at him, covering his mouth with your hands as you had done to yourself only moments earlier. It was only when he shrugged that you pulled back from

his personal space. 

“Pro tip for Mr ‘plenty of game’, girls don’t like to hear about other girls on first dates. Especially not girls you’ve...” you fake coughed and raised your eyebrows hoping he would get the meaning. 

“Right, sorry. You just make me nervous.” He admitted, rolling his pink lips into his mouth briefly. 

“What, why?” you asked, sitting up on your knees and tucking your hair behind your ears. 

“Are you kidding? You’re smokin’ hot and really smart. Like maybe even smarter than Pope smart,” he paused, “don’t tell him I said that.”

You laughed again, face hot from the compliment as you mimed zipping your lips, “Your secret’s safe with me, I’ll take it to the grave.”

You sat in a comfortable silence, staring at his strong side profile before he turned to you, eyes darting down to look at your lips. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, lip darting out to lick at his bottom lip. 

“Depends,” you giggled, sitting up further and wrapping your arms around his neck before whispering into his ear, “Do you remember who I am this time?”

He laughed, cheeks reddening as he returned your whisper, “I could never forget you y/n y/l/n.” 

“You better not, bud,” you replied, grinning up at him before you captured his lips with yours, eyes fluttering shut as you relaxed in his embrace. 

everything taglist: @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @rekrappeter @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @sunwardsss @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @hoodpankow @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @euphoricmalfoy @anxietyandtacos @diverrdown @stargazingstarkey @rae131415 @rafej-cambanks @stfukie @obxmermaid

[ukiyo-jaem]

NCT Dream Reaction to You Wearing a Short Skirt

Renjun

he was helping you clean out your old closet at your parent's house. both of you had just bought an apartment together so your parents left you the house keys, expecting all the moving hassle to be done when they come back next monday; a road trip being paid by their jobs.

jun spent his time sitting in your old bean bag occupying himself with your old journals and photo albums. "you went to a school with a uniform?" he asked and you looked to see him looking at your old school's photo album.

"wha- oh yeah." you breathed out a slight laugh and dug a little deeper into your closet. "speaking of uniforms." you chuckled and held up the plaid skirt to your body, looking into your mirror.

"i wonder if it still fits." your head leaned to the side. "im gonna try it on." you finally decided and walked to the bathroom and wasting no time. it fit perfectly...just...shorter than you remembered.

you were gonna take it off yet remembering your boyfriend that was sitting in your bedroom.

you tucked your graphic tee into the skirt and went back to your room, his gaze still stuck to your old photos. "so what do you think?" you saw him do a double-take, his eyes landing on your ass that was practically hanging out the bottom.

"it...it fits nice." he nodded, his hands setting the book down beside him on the floor.

"i remember i would get in trouble everyday because the teachers didnt know how to mind their stares." his answer was delayed as he swallowed hard. "i mean..." you noticed a more fidgety renjun as he thought for a moment. "i can't blame them." he whispered but it was enough for you to hear.

you smiled, walking closer to him and lowering yourself onto him so your legs were straddling his thighs; the fabric of the old skirt becoming bunched up at the top of your thighs.

your hands rested on his shoulders, his frame relaxing at your touch as his hands rested on your exposed thighs.

"you're so cute and blushy." you pinched his cheek and his smile fell. a more unsettling tone took place as his eyes seemed to get darker. he took your wrist and gripped your hand roughly, forcing your hand down to his now apparent bulge.

"and you're such a brat. you know what you were doing, baby." an airy laugh escaped his chest as your hand could feel him getting harder by the second.

"so...are we going to do something about this or are you going to keep grinding on my lap acting like i don't notice?"

Jeno

he was finally off and agreed to go on a small date to relax and unwind. "im going to go get ready." you said getting up and kissing his cheek. "alright. ill just wait for you here." he smiled and watch you walk off.

you wanted to do a coupley outfit today. you grabbed a tighter white t-shirt and a shorter pink plaid skirt with one of his oversized flannels. you walked down and he immediately almost started choking on the water he was drinking.

"isnt it so cute?" you asked as you did a little spin infront of him. yet, his response was just picking you up and holding you tightly as he walked back to the bedroom.

you didn't know he was going to react the way he did. jeno saw you in the short and flowy skirt and thought he saw red.

the coffee date seemed so distant as you were both in bed now, entangled in eachother. his hands would grip your thighs with such force it felt like he could break you in half if he really wanted to.

"you just look so good." his lips attacked your neck and painting it with dark hues. "i just can't control myself." your hands gripped and pulled at his hair; messiness setting in and making him look absolutely euphoric.

his hands got lost up your shirt and was just grabbing and pulling roughly. he couldn't take it anymore and just ripped your shirt down the middle, your chest now exposed, rising and falling quickly.

"you look so nice, babydoll." he fawned at you, his hand coming to brush your hair back out of your face.

"you should wear this kind of stuff more often." he winked, laying a more softer kiss against your lonely lips.

[you're mark]

Hyuck

all day...games...after breakfast...games...after lunch...games...after you fell asleep in his arms for nap, you woke up to the constant keyboard clicking...after dinner he was right back in his chair with the rest of the boys on a conference call on his phone; shouting following you down the hall and into the living room.

you were done though. you wanted to have your time with hyuck. it was your turn. you went to your dance bag, grabbing your old costume skirt from a previous dance competition. you went to the bathroom and changed quickly. you added the finishing touch which was one of his shirts; his weakness for seeing you in his clothes running through your revengeful mind.

no time was wasted as you went to the shared bedroom. "no go to the left, jae!" "the other left." your boyfriend yelled at his computer screen.

your soft steps went unnoticed until you were right next to him. you set your hand softly on his shoulder. he only looked at you for a second though. "hey, babe." he spaced back out, not even noticing your attire options.

"jaemin if i have to tell you one more time on where to go i am goi-" your fingertips grazed up the side of his neck, slowly tugging on his hair at the back of his head.

his eyes closed as he leaned his head back and let out a deep sigh. his hands became limp at the keyboard and his friends began calling out for him. you had gotten him exactly where you wanted him.

his gaze became more glazed over as both of you became caught up in each other. "im so lonely, hyuckie." you whined and his hand began trailing up the back of your thigh.

"you just had to ask." he smiled a little and his eyes finally caught his t-shirt hanging from your body.

he turned his chair and leaned forward to grab your body and put you on top of him. "LEE DONGHYUCK WHERE ARE YO-" "im busy. bye." and he hung up quickly as they tried to make him stop.

"now where were we?" he asked as his hand came to both sides of your face, guiding you to kiss him softly, hands then coming down to just go back up his shirt.

yet when he took his shirt off your body, he was met with a pleasant surprise. a white skirt laid bunched up at your hips. his hands came to your exposed ass and began forcibly grind you on his lap.

your soft touches drove him absolutely wild as he wanted to make you more vulnerable as the minutes ticked by.

yall shoulda known where I was bout to go with this...

Jaemin

you went and grabbed one of your skirts you had bought awhile ago and slipped it on with some thigh high socks. you went out and started to clean up a little bit. you began to tidy the living room where jae sat on the couch watching a random show he found.

you bent over and began to clean off the coffee table. "oh sorry, am i in the way?" "a little." he said, craning his neck around you to continue watching the show.

you wanted to face palm and walk off. yet, you were going to push on. you grabbed your phone, checking random emails as you sat in the seat next to him. "hey, jae?" you asked and he only tilted his head toward you, his pinkish hair being contained by a black baseball cap.

"im gonna go out with jeno for a little bit. i'll be back in a couple hours." you said and grabbed your keys from infront of him and trying to walk over his legs.

his arm flew forward and wrapped around your body, pulling you down towards him quickly.

"you're not going anywhere dressed like that, princess." he said, gaze looking down at you in his lap.

"well i want to do something then." you sat up in his lap and crossed your arms over your chest. "then do something. but you're not going to go do something with my friend dressed like this." his touch slowly going up under your skirt.

"well come on, princess. do something." his hands then went behind his head. a smirk sat on his lips and he felt as if he won. he really did and at this point you were desperate.

"please, jaemin. just touch me." you pouted and he wanted to coo at your cute ways but he bit his lip and waited. "i don't think you need me ye-" you grabbed his hand and put it on your clothed heat.

you grinded on his hand desperate for some friction. you were ready for him but he didn't want to give you that satisfaction yet.

he wanted to keep you in this skirt forever and you be his little princess that only he could do this to.

he froze in his position, his eyes locked onto his hand that disappeared under your tiny skirt.

his other hand grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down towards his lips where he was ready to give you what you were wanting and waiting for.

Chenle

this baby wouldn't know what to do when he saw you in your tiny skirt.

he would feel turned on definitely but didn't want to act out of line and touch you if this wasn't your clear and true intention.

you would have to guide him a little bit on what to do but once he started going, he found it hard to stop. you were a new drug-like anomaly he was completely addicted to.

this was still new to him so you doing this for the soul purpose of getting this kind of reaction...well...he didn't mind it all too much.

he asked you for permission to touch you even when you guided his hands onto you.

"can...can i-" "you don't have to ask lele. just do what feels right." you smiled a little, beginning to kiss up his neck softly. "even if you know it's completely wrong."

boyfriend lele vibes are strong in this one uwu i just had to put it in

[petalbrooke]

ace fic ace fic!

I want to thank @runawayface for inspiring me to write some ace content and actually post it! This is a very short and self-indulgent fic where Elliott discovers he’s ace - I have a lot of headcannons around that possibility and maybe I’ll dig into them one day.

Here is the link if you want to give me kudos/comments on ao3, which are always appreciated, and the full fic is below.

Thanks for reading :)

Elliott had wanted desperately to fall in love. He’d read and written about it in so many ways, had seen it in blossom like flowers in the couples around him, but had yet to experience it – truly experience it. The heady feeling of falling for another, of long nights and early mornings with that person by his side. Of years and years of getting to know them better than he knew himself. In a town comprised of about thirty or so people, half of which were married or otherwise committed, Elliott had always thought that it wouldn’t happen to him.

At least, until the new farmer rolled into town.

Everyone was interested when they heard the local farm was being taken over by the previous owner’s granddaughter. A new face would be interesting under any circumstances, but one who was going to transform the weed-ridden farm? Well, that was something else entirely. He hadn’t met her until about a week after she’d moved in, when she’d gone to visit Willy at the docks. Elliott had been on the docks, bare feet dangling over the side as he scratched out several lines from a poem he was trying to write.

“Are you… Willy?” the woman had asked, hesitating outside the door that would actually take her to Willy. Elliott was immediately struck by her appearance – chestnut hair she had pulled back in a messy bun, dirt streaked on her slightly burnt face that matched the hue of her eyes. She was, he supposed, beautiful, though not in the same way as the heroines he often read about.

“No,” he laughed, gesturing towards Willy’s home. “He’s in there. My name is Elliott, and I live in that little ramshackle shack on the beach. You must be Elona, the new farmer?”

She beamed, and Elliott tried to imagine how he would write her if she was someone in his novel. He’d make sure to mention that slight gap in her front teeth, and the way her cheeks flushed when she smiled. Or perhaps that was the sunburn the work on the farm must have given her.

“That’s me. Well, it was nice to meet you. I really need to talk to Willy, but… I’ll see you around?”

“I hope so.” Elliott returned to his poem, changing one phrase five times until finally settling on the one he had originally chosen. Later – he wasn’t sure how much later, but the back of his neck had started to feel rather toasty – she had emerged, a new fishing pole in hand, and had joined him. They sat in companionable silence, each occasionally asking the other a question, until dark.

This was how it had all begun. Elona would come by every day, usually just after noon, with some products from her farm and fishing rod in tow. They would sit and talk and Elliott found himself craving every moment he would get with her – every minute spent with her was the best of that day. Afternoons turned into evenings turned into nights, and Elliott was finally beginning to understand the feelings of the characters in those romance novels he so loved.

Well. He was understanding most of them. There was one aspect he still didn’t understand was hoping might change with time, and it was the… intimacy aspect. He’d always tiptoed around the idea, even in his novels; all his knowledge had come from other authors and not from experience. After months of time together, he felt sure he loved her. Reasonably sure. What else would this feeling in his chest be, his desire to spend his life with her? To grow old with her? But there was still one thing – the marriage bed – that he couldn’t figure out how to navigate. (Well, not always the marriage bed, but he’d always been a bit of a traditionalist.)

He’d always thought that the swell of desire would come when he fell in love. That was always how it seemed to work in the novels. Sometimes it even came first. But even with Elona, even with everything he felt about her – he just couldn’t see beyond the fact that she was pretty. Elliott could tell when a person was attractive, objectively speaking. But it didn’t make him feel anything. He thought it would come with the right person. But Elona felt right in every way, and still, nothing.

She hadn’t brought it up yet, and neither had he, but tonight was the night, he had decided. It wouldn’t be fair if she had expectations he couldn’t meet. Or perhaps he was just completely broken, and could never love, not the way he was supposed to.

They were having dinner that night, at his cabin. Not homecooked – Elliott was never meant to be a chef – but seafood from the Saloon on his own plates worked just as well. It was quiet dinner, and Elliott’s hands betrayed his nervousness.

After three unfruitful attempts at conversation, Elona slammed her fork on the table, startling Elliott. “What’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange all night. Barely talking, you’ve hardly touched your lobster, and I know that’s your favorite.”

Elliott glanced at the aforementioned lobster, unable to meet her steady gaze. “Yes, well, there was… there was something I wanted… something I needed to talk to you about.” He took a deep breath, suddenly at a loss for words, despite having rehearsed it endless times. “I don’t think I can be what you need me to be,” he said, the words tumbling out, unbidden.

Elona’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Clearly, whatever she’d expected him to say, this hadn’t been it. “What… what do you think I need?” she asked.

Elliott cleared his throat. Yoba, why was this so hard to say? “I don’t think I can… I mean, you’re beautiful, and I hope you know that, but I’m not… I don’t feel…” he stammered, unsure how to say what he wanted without wounding her. That it wasn’t her, it was him, it was that he couldn’t make himself feel that attraction he thought all couples had.

Her eyes softened, and she reached out and took his hand in her own, her fingers small and rough from hard labor. “Elliott, honey, I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?”

“Unless I’m wrong – and I rarely am,” she laughed, “you’re trying to tell me you don’t feel any sexual attraction towards me. Is that right?”

Elliott could feel heat creeping to his cheeks with how outright she was about it. “I, um, I…”

“And let me guess,” she continued, giving him a knowing smile and a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve never really figured this out about yourself and you feel broken. You see what everyone else has and you don’t understand why you don’t.”

“Yes,” he whispered. He could feel tears forming behind his eyes, though he couldn’t explain why.

“Honey, that just means you’re asexual. Or somewhere on that spectrum. It’s fine.”

“What… I don’t…” Elliott’s head was spinning. He’d never heard the term before, though he could figure out what it meant. “You mean… it’s okay?”

“More than okay,” she said, giving him that huge smile, the one that reminded him of the rays of the sun. “I was going to talk about this with you soon, because I wasn’t sure. But it had never come up, and I was nervous to be the one to do it… I’m the same way. I don’t feel that kind of attraction. But I still feel love. And I love you.”

The tears flew unbidden now, though he was smiling as they did. “So… so it’s okay?” he asked again, not quite able to believe it.

Elona stood and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “More than okay. Let’s finish dinner up and we can talk about it some more.”

Elliott swept her tiny frame into a massive hug, so overcome he was with emotion. He had agonized over this conversation, had been so sure it would lead to the loss of this woman he loved, and instead it had proven that nothing was wrong with him, with them. He was whole. They both were.

Never had he been more excited for his future.

[mediocre-writerr]

yellow [dani clayton]

Dani Clayton x fem reader

Request: Hey !! I want to know if you can write something with Dani Clayton and the reader where the reader is an art teacher who help miles and flora in art classes. The reader fall in love with Dani like love at first sight ! Something cute with fluff please ☺�� thank you PS: I love your imagine it’s incredible !! ❤️

*not my gif*

“Miss. Clayton! Miss. Y/L/N is coming today for art class! I’m super excited! She always makes the best art!” Flora exclaims to Dani.

“Well I can’t wait to meet her and see all the art she teaches the two of you!” she responds smiling down at the innocent girl. 

You exit your car as you pulled up to Bly. Already welcomed by Jamie who was fixing the bushes in front of the doorway. Then once you entered the familiar manor you saw the two children standing there with their new au pair. 

You’ve been to all the art museums in the world to study. From the worst to the best. All of the best arts in the world. Yet Mona Lisa has nothing on her. The stunning beauty of the au pair was so amazing. 

Her blonde hair was the perfect shade. All of it framed her face perfectly. But those eyes. Those piercing blue ocean eyes...God to paint those eyes. To be the one to love her would be the luckiest human being in the world. 

Because every night, every day, every moment in your life, you’d be swimming in Van Gogh’s Starry Night. 

“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. The children’s art teacher.” you say softly putting your brief case full of canvases and paint under arm to shake her hand.

“Dani Clayton.” she says matching your tone. 

The feeling of her soft hands in your rough painter one’s was comforting. If only you knew you were meeting such a beauty. You would’ve worn better clothes. 

You were wearing the clothes you wear anytime you were about to paint. Your hair was up in a messy bun. The overused, a little stained from getting paint on them previously, and somehow ripped white t-shirt. And your distressed jeans. 

You break out of thoughts to face the lovely children, “Who’s ready to paint?” you exclaim and the two nod excitedly before dashing off to the classroom. 

“Will you be joining us Miss. Clayton?” you ask politely.

“Oh I wouldn’t want to oppose.” she says softly. 

You shake your head, “No it’s perfectly okay. I always bring extra canvases just in case others would like to join.” 

Dani ponders it for a mere second before shaking her head. The two of you walk in step with each other to the classroom where the children already have their aprons on. 

“What will be painting today Miss. Y/L/N?” Flora asks as you open your brief case taking out each canvas and placing them on the already set up easels. 

“We’re going to do a little scenery today, Miss. Flora.” you answer. 

Everyone sets up behind their easels as you explain what to do. They watch your every move as your hands work magic on the canvas. 

Dani’s mind wanders...oh what those hands could do to-

Her inappropriate thought is cut off when Flora’s voice squeaks through the room, “Miles! You got it all over my face!” 

Miles is standing there with a menacing smirk on his face, “Miles!” 

“What? I thought it would be funny.” he replies nonchalantly with a shrug. 

Flora grabs her paint brush full of green paint and smears it onto Miles. Miles stood back in shock before ultimately regaining composure. And with a flick of the wrist, his paint goes splattering back onto Flora. 

A full on paint war ensures throughout the classroom. The paint staining the children and the walls and pretty much everything else in the area.

“Miles! Flora!” Dani yells, looking super tensed and stressed out.

But you come next to her smiling softly. A paint brush behind your back to get her as well, “It’s okay Dani. It’s a little paint plus I can clean this all up so Hannah doesn’t have to. The children deserve to have a little fun especially after all the pain that they have gone through recently.” she looks at you with a soft smile, “And so do you.” 

You smear the yellow paint all over her cheek. Her mouth drops down all the way to her feet. But she grabs her paint brush and runs it all over your face. You let out a tiny groan at her going over your lips with her paintbrush, disgusted at the feeling. 

The four of you stayed there for what seemed like an eternity chasing and running after each other with paint brushes. Dani was running away from you, but you managed to catch up to her as you wrapped an arm around her waist so she couldn’t go further. Pulling her into you in the process. 

Her cheeks and neck were stained yellow paint. As the two of you just gawked at the feeling of being held by one another. She turned to face you and despite all of the paint, her blue eyes still shined through. Complimenting the paint that stained her once fair cheeks. 

“Yellow is your color.” you whisper softly, “It matches your eyes.” 

She blushes and begins to trip over her words, “Thank uh thank you.” 

Neither of you spoke after that, but rather just stood there in a comfortable silence. Drowning in each other’s eyes and the only noise that filled the room was the children’s pattering footsteps and little squeals. 

Someone at the doorway cleared their throat. You immediately removed your arm from around Dani, turning to look at the sound. Hannah was standing there with her arms crossed at the mess we’ve made.

“I’ll clean it.” you say giving her a tiny wave.

“Good because I wasn’t going to.” she responds with a small smile before walking away, “You know where the mop is.” 

“Speaking of cleaning I should uh- Kids! Let’s get you cleaned up!” Dani says still stumbling over her words. 

You began cleaning the room: mopping every bit of paint that got onto the floor, scrubbing the walls clean, and the desks as well. The kids and Dani weren’t back yet when you were done. So you made it your duty to just hop into a spare shower (of course after asking Hannah for permission). 

You exited the bathroom brushing through your nappy wet hair when you ran straight into Dani. 

“Oh sorry about that.” you say, continuing to brush your hair.

“It’s no worries at all.” she replies and the two of you fell into another comfortable silence. 

You smile at her softly, “Do you maybe want to go on a date one night?” you ask her confidently. 

Her eyes widen at the question, but a huge smile breaks out onto her face, “Yeah. I would love that!” 

“Great.” you say matching her smile. 

You lean in softly, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek, before bidding your goodbyes. 

Blue your new favorite color. 

[sunnysviolin]

Reading that one post it makes me imagine Mari comforting her Mob Husband when he had those nights where he feels horribly guilty about those three deaths.

Nonnie....I kinda went off with this ngl. I didn’t really stick to your prompt but like...I went off with this. Hero is my favorite character and I love him so much in this AU and if you want to resend this and get bulletpoints or something then aok but I think you’ll like what I have. I’m...obsessed with it ngl. I’ve been working on it all day long, and I think it’s not half bad. But also ummm Huge fucking TW on this one guys. 

TW: Death TW: Violence TW: Mafia TW: Knives

In his dreams, Hero always ends up back in that parlor. 

It was an opulent room, extravagant to the point of garish. There was a tall ceiling with a simply enormous chandelier hanging down. The tiny crystals glittered in the light, sending dancing shadows along the walls. Along one wall was a bar with a gleaming gold rim. It was gilded with real gold, Hero knew on instinct. He had become an expert in finding the truth since he had taken his place at Mari’s side. 

The only ordinary thing in the room was the knife. Just a straight butcher knife, polished clean. It sat on the table in front of the couch he sat at. Everything else was excellence, the best of the best. This one thing was average. The thing that Tommy “Hedonist” Barone was going to use to kill them was average. The irony would have been funny if it didn’t make Hero feel sick. 

Those are the things that stick out to him- the glittering chandelier, the glowing bar, and the knife. 

Hero knows it's a dream because he’s wearing his pajamas. Just a t-shirt and boxers, remarkably plain for everything in the room. That day he had been in a custom made suit, tailored to fit his exact frame. He had burned that suit, it no longer existed. It had been a beautiful thing, the fabric sinfully luxurious against his skin and light enough he barely noticed. Barone had apparently paid an italian seamstress thousands for each piece of the ensemble, just for the perfection of that night. Hero had hated every second of wearing it. 

He knows its a dream, but he’s still terrified. He’s still shaking as he sits on the too soft cushions of the couch and waits alone in this too big room. There’s no point in trying the doors, he knows that right outside wait two burly guards. They are the same people who marched him here from the cell they had been holding him in. The cell Tommy Barone had tortured him in. 

The cell where he had laughed about how he would kill Hero’s family. How he would rip apart his brothers, Aubrey, Mari, his father, even his mother though she had been dead for over a year. Over and over he had taunted Hero, cutting him and beating him and burning him, all in an effort to get him to scream. Hero had stayed silent. 

The human part of Hero wants him to run and hide or pick up the knife and prepare to go down fighting. Hero keeps himself still and straight. He is the consigliere of the most powerful crime syndicate in the world. His wife is Don Migliore, a legend. Tommy Barone was nothing. He would not be what made Hero break. If he was going to die, he would die, but he wouldn’t be turned into a puppet for Barone to use against his family. The door opposite the one he came in opened, and in walked the Hedonist. 

Tommy Barone was every stereotypical mobster- his greasy hair and his rotund belly. He hid himself under fancy shirts and fingers fat with rings, but Hero had known him most of his life. Hedonist was a slimeball who liked to pretend himself into being a capo. Hero hated that there was fear inside of him from this man, this pig of a man. 

“Well well. You shine like a jewel. I dare say you didn’t even look this nice at your wedding Henry!” Hedonist taunted, the words forever branded into Hero’s mind. He would remember the exact words said to him that night for the rest of his days. Hero loathed being called Henry. Only his mother had ever gotten away with it, but that didn’t matter to Barone. Hero shot a harsh glare towards Barone but kept his mouth shut. 

“Still not talking? And after all the trouble I went through to get you that suit.” Barone stepped further into the room and waddled his way over to the bar. He grabbed a crystal decanter and poured himself a glass of amber, continuing to speak, “I have a little jewel myself- my own personal seamstress. Of course she lives in the old country, she would never want to leave, but I pay her well to be available whenever I need her. She handcrafts everything I wear. Isn’t her work magnificent?”

Hedonist turned from the bar and began to walk to the lounging area. He took a second to do a slow spin, turning to Hero with an expectant look. Hero bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth. A beat passed and Hedonist sighed, coming to sit on the couch directly opposite Hero. 

“I’m fine with continuing to talk if you don’t want to, Henry. You were always a bit quieter though. Your brother, what a chatterbox!” Hero couldn’t help the slight jump in his shoulders when Hedonist mentioned Kel. Barone noticed this and jumped on it, continuing to ramble like the pathetic old man he was, “Even when you two were little you were always teaching him when to be quiet. You should hear him on the phone when your little wifey is arranging your safe return to her. I offered to send them a little piece of you when she tried to say I didn’t have you. Ha I think they had to drag him kicking and screaming from the room,” 

Hero was going to kill him. Hero was going to fucking kill him. Barone had been a part of his father’s business, had watched him and Kel both grow up. Tommy Barone was one of his father’s bannermen, a staple of their organization, but Hero had never liked him. When Mari had taken over she and Hero had cleaned house. Hedonist had been one of the first to go, his methods too messy, his tastes too extravagant. Barone had always lived up to his nickname, and Mari hadn’t wanted to deal with his exorbitant costs. Hero didn’t see it as a waste, and now he knew it wasn’t. 

Barone took a long slow sip of his drink, appraising Hero who continued to stare him down. Hedonist was forced to look away first, and his congenial attitude quickly soured, small blue eyes blown wide in fury.

“You should blame her for this, you know. Your precious Mari. Your family used to be powerful, one of the greats.” Barone sneered, downing the drink and slamming the glass down next to the knife. Hero jumped, his hands trying to pull away from one another. When had he been bound? Weren’t they free only a minute ago? 

Hero looked down at the rope rubbing angry red bracelets onto his wrists. Barone was still going on, but Hero was able to ignore it in favor of looking down and trying to remember how he got this way. He had been forced to listen to Barone’s drabble on an endless loop for the three weeks since he had been taken from outside the Bakery. Hero couldn’t remember anything from before he got in this room, but he knew it had happened. He knew he had been taken, he knew what Tommy had done to him, but it all felt murky. The details existed, but they held no meaning. Barone, clearly done with being ignored, leaned up and grasped Hero’s shoulder, pulling him roughly forward. 

“Now look at you, heir to nothing but being a bitch for some uppity woman who calls herself a Don.” Hedonist leered. Hero shook the man’s hands off of him, leaning back as far as he could. There were a thousand and one things right on the edge of his tongue, but he held himself back. He had gotten this far, he just had to keep playing the game. 

Barone laughed at the boy’s fire, a twisted noise that Hero had always loathed. He had heard it more than he ever wanted in the last few weeks, as Tommy took his pleasure from doing everything he could to get him to buckle. Barone stood, walking towards the door Hero had come in. 

“I hope I do get to hear you scream eventually, Henry. Maybe when Mari gets here,” Hero couldn’t help his quiet gasp. His heart beat a thunderous pattern, sick both with longing and fear. His girl couldn’t come here, not near this monster. Not for him. Hedonist saw that he had gotten a crack, and he chuckled again, “She’s coming herself to get you tonight. Mistress was finally willing to pay the price for her lost puppy back. I told her to come alone, but I’m sure she won’t. I’ll get the satisfaction of wiping your whole miserable family off the planet. At least the last time she sees you, you’ll look perfect. Aside from a few bumps and bruises.”

Barone locked the door, and Hero’s head spun. Mari was coming for him. He knew she had been looking for him, he knew that they had sent her pictures of the damage they had done, humiliating photos that Hero hoped Mari had destroyed before anyone else saw. He knew Mari would eventually come, but now that the reality was at his doorstep, Hero felt his control beginning to slip. Hedonist turned back around and with slow sloping steps began to get closer. Hero was never more aware of the knife in the room, the same knife that had given him the injuries that were still healing all over his body. They pulsed with a familiar wave of pain, and Hero tried to define the exact moment he had gotten so hurt. He didn’t understand, he hadn’t been hurt before. But he had? This was a dream. This wasn’t real. Why did it feel so real?  Hedonist was speaking again.

“The silent treatment is getting boring kiddo, and you know what I’m like when I’m bored.” Hero knew. Hero knew all too well. He had the evidence written into his skin. Hero kept his mouth shut. Mari would be here soon. Mari would make everything okay. Mari would make sure that Tommy begged for mercy, and then she would deny him. 

“Just a few more minutes… actually, I think I’ll kill you now. I was going to kill Mari first, just to get you to finally do something, but it would be more fun to throw your corpse down in front of her and see her lose it.” Barone’s face contorted in glee at the thought, and Hero’s stomach bottomed out. A few more minutes. Mari was coming. Mari would be here soon. 

“You’re the reason she killed her daddy after all. So...maybe all of this is your fault then.” No that wasn’t their fault. That wasn’t Hero’s fault. That was Mari’s father. Mari’s father had made his choices, and forced their hand. Mari had killed him to protect Sunny, to save their families. It hadn’t just been for Hero. It couldn’t have been just for Hero. He couldn’t have been the reason behind everything. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. Barone twisted the knife in his hands, throwing his final punch to Hero’s mind, “You’re the reason your family is nothing. You’re the reason your mother is dead.” 

Hero breath began to quicken, and Hedonist jerked him up by an arm, pressing the knife tip against his throat, tracing it almost lovingly against his pulse point. Hero was nearly hyperventilating, his eyes up, staring at the chandelier shaking. Was it the chandelier? It looked fuzzy. Maybe it wasn’t a chandelier at all. This was a dream? Why were his palms sweating? Why was he so terrified? If it wasn’t real, it wouldn’t be like this. He would wake up. 

Please wake up. Please wake up.

“Any last words? Anything to say?” Even if Hero had any, he wouldn’t be able to speak. His mouth was a desert, his throat closed tight. There was no air. This wasn’t a dream. He was going to die. He was only eighteen, and he was about to have his throat slit by an ex-mobster in a parlor. They were using him to get to his wife. Hedonist was going to hurt his Mari. “How disappointing,” 

A series of gunshots tore through the air, throwing them both out of synch. Hero took the two seconds that afforded him. He slammed his bound hands into the side of Tommy Barone’s head, taking all of the rage he had been storing up in the last 24 days and unleashing it. Barone stumbled back and Hero surged forward. He grabbed the blade end of the knife, wincing in pain as it cut into his palms. Hedonist’s grip was loose from disorientation, and that was enough for Hero to wrench it away, spin it around, and thrust it deep into Tommy Barone’s stomach. 

All sound cut out. A high pitched whine was shrieking in his ears. The knife handle was sticky in his grip from the blood. 

Tommy looked at him, confused as a lost child. Hero ripped the knife out of the other man’s gut and buried it in the side of his throat, joined hands holding fast to the black plastic handle. Hot blood sticky and disgusting sprayed out, staining Hero with it. The fabulous suit that Tommy had commissioned was destroyed, ripped from their scuffle and forever marked with red. 

Hero pulled the knife out with a horrific squelching noise, and Tommy fell back. His pale fingers went up to his throat, trying to stem the bleeding. Sound cut back in, there were people yelling and shouting outside. Someone was banging on the door. Hero took two stumbling steps towards it, then paused. 

He was panting from exertion, the feeling of the suit and the blood curdling in his stomach, but he wasn’t done. Not yet. Not after what Barone had done to him. 

Hero turned back. Tommy was a lost cause, panic racing across his features as mortality flew towards him. Hero felt a cruel smile settling on his features, so unlike anything he had ever done before. His face felt like wax, molded and shaped by some unknown force. He practically slid over to where the dying Hedonist lay, tilting his head and staring down at the monster turned human. He stepped over the older man so one foot was on each side of him. 

“You’re going to kill my wife?” Hero’s voice was shredded after so many days of keeping from speaking, but he kept going. He doesn’t recognize his own voice, “Kill my family? You want to hear me scream?” 

Hero turned the knife so the point was directly above Barone’s heart. The man was making a horrific wheezing noise, and the stench of death hung in the air. Someone was rhythmically pounding against the door, clearly trying to break it. Hero ignored them. He had a job to do. He had to protect them from this monster. He had to do what had to be done 

Hero fell to his knees, drove the knife deep into Barone’s chest, opened his mouth, and screamed. 

Hero wakes up still screaming, the iron taste of Hedonist’s blood heavy on his tongue. He thrusts himself into a sitting position, pitching forward and letting his head smack down onto the mattress. A broken howl of agony heaved from his chest, and he continued to wail. His joined hands were pressed up against his chest, no longer bound to one another but stuck in the position all the same.  Hero’s voice gives out on the fourth cry, and Mari’s hands are cool on his back as she runs her fingers along his spine and hushes him. She is speaking to him in soft whispers. He can’t hear her words, but the smell of her shampoo is strong in his nose. She is here. She is safe. 

Hedonist is dead, his body burnt and ashes scattered in a dump. Hero is not bound, his injuries long scarred over. The horrible suit was destroyed. It was a dream. He was safe. He had saved his family. He had done what he had to, and it had broken him, but he had protected them. 

Hero continues to cry out silently until the sun rises pale in the sky.

[dreamieofu]

100 Reasons Why

pairing; classmate!haechan x reader - mention of other members  word count; 8.0k genre; strangers to lovers!au, classmates to lovers!au, angst, fluff, slice of life, slowburn(?) tw; alcohol consumption; (i’m not saying everyone was drinking, it’s just mentioned) pls let me know if there are others.! summary; you’ve been in love with haechan for the longest time, and when both your parents go on a business trip; you’re both left alone. 

a/n: hi, honestly i wrote this with no prior thoughts. mostly written blindly and i wrote so much of it, but i couldn’t just delete it... so i finished it lmao. i hope you enjoy it though, i kinda like it haha. please don’t hesitate to give me feedback >:( yeah... i have no clue. enjoy ♡♡♡

You had a 100 reasons why you shouldn’t be in love with Haechan. Biggest reason? He was your bestfriend’s crush. She fancied him for the longest time, dare say you did longer. But she was vocal about it first. And everyone knows the rules of dibs. You’d sulk around it forever, listening to her words about Haechan, knowing full well and agreeing with all the compliments she’d praise him with. 

You and Haechan are in the same class, have been for years. But the year of blooming cherry trees and spring flowers, you fell in love.

The way the sun peaked through the strands of his hair, the kiss of warmth on his skin and the glow that was shining from his eyes as laughter hugged his smile. You couldn’t help but stare, and you found yourself doing so, shamelessly on different days. His soothing voice echoing through the classroom as he joked around with friends. You and Haechan weren’t the closest pair of classmates, you only had your bestfriend for the most part. But that didn’t stop you from overanalysing every little thing Haechan did in relation to you. That one day he opened the door for you, or when he’d ask to borrow your pencil. Tiny interactions that were all stored in your heart, but… You never really did anything about it. A part of you gave up on the fact that Haechan would notice you anything different than from a classmate. You didn’t really stand out, you blended in the background. Never had top marks, or the lowest. You were average. Nothing in comparison to your bestfriend. Not only did she have the beauty, she also had personality. She was undoubtedly one of the most prettiest girls in your class. But she was a dear friend, someone you didn’t want to fight over with, because of a boy. 

“Did you see Haechan today? Wasn’t he so handsome? I think he did something different to his hair,” She grinned, lips wide and eyes sparkling. You smile meekly at her words, biting into your lunch. You noticed he did change something with his hair, but you didn’t want to speak up in case you were wrong. Lunches were usually filled with comments about Haechan, other than small talk about other news. Your days revolved around him though, regardless of anything. Especially with your bestfriend giggling with hearts all over her head thinking about Haechan. You were sat near the far back of the lunch hall, Haechan just a few tables away with his friends. Some weren’t from your class, again confirming how sociable he was. You always admired his way with people, regardless of his teasing and extroverted behaviour. He was really likeable to everyone he met. You watch as your bestfriend turned around, evidently catching eyes with Haechan as he sent over a slight smile in her direction. A bit of jealousy tapping at your heart as you diverted your attention from their little interaction, beginning to play with your food. From the corner of your eye, you were greeted by a pair of black converse, gaze following up the legs of the figure to meet eyes with none other than, Haechan. “Mind if I take a seat?” His voice like honey, and you’re all flustered that you don’t respond at all. Your bestfriend however, bravely reached out for his wrist and gently brought him towards her side of the table. “Yes.” 

“-Urm, weird to say but my friends told me to come over and say hello,” He confesses, looking back and gesturing at the boys who were laughing to themselves at the table. He turns back to look at your bestfriend, a sweet smile, as he proceeds “One of them has a crush on you.” Haechan’s words were direct, to the point and he looked so cool and unbothered, hand clasped in front of him. You again, couldn’t stop your staring. Eyeing the rings on some of his fingers. Then again, it made sense why he would say that, it wasn’t the first time someone tried to pursue your bestfriend. You look at her though, to find her a bit defeated that Haechan wasn’t the one with the crush. “Which one?” She asked curiously looking back at the boys, a small pout playing on her lips as Haechan looks at her. He coughs briefly into one of his fists, turning his body to look back with her, “You see the guy with the silver hair, that’s Jaemin -“ Haechan proceeds to explain about Jaemin, helping her distinguish which boy it was. She nods along with his words, “I see…” She speaks softly, she stays watching Jaemin for a few moments while Haechan has his attention back at the table. You catch his view, and he smiles at you. His hair was different, now that you’re looking at him closely. Honey locks, and the way it was styled all messy. It suited him, all too well. You return the smile back earnestly, giving him a small but awkward wave. His smile only grew bigger at your gesture. “Hey,” Haechan finally greets you, his gaze familiar. Your bestfriend turns back from hearing his words, “Did you do something to your hair?” She speaks up, breaking the moment between you two. His eyes leave you and falls back on her, a hand reaching to the back of his head to ruffle his hair a bit. “Yeah, did you notice?” You managed to catch a tinge of red at the top of his ears. His hand moves to pat his hair back in place but your bestfriend is twice as bold, doing it for him. She hums in response, “Yeah, I really like it. Don’t you Y/N?” You clench your jaw, to swallow the nerves. Haechan’s soft eyes returning to yours. Even with him looking at you, your eyes divert toward her hand at his neck. The way she grazes the small tip of her nails against the back of his head, with her wrist relaxed at the crook of this neck. “I like your hair,” your words simple, a reassuring nod at his way as he beams at your response. “Also…Tell Jaemin, I’m not really interested. I like someone else,” Your bestfriends words were suggestive to him, and honest as she scrunches her nose. Already grabbing his attention once more. By now she was used to rejecting boys, although she’s had her fair share of her tiny flings. Her eyes were always set to Haechan after each boy. It discouraged you because you never did get your chance with him, even platonically. She was always first to pick. With her hand still at his neck, Haechan peeled it off. Hands returning back to his sides, glancing down at you for a split-second. “Alright cool, I’ll be sure to tell him,” He uses his hands on the table to help push himself off the seat before he made his way back to his original table. Your heart following his walk, as you sigh to your bestfriend who too was watching him leave. “Do you think Haechan got the clue? That I’m into him?” She speaks mostly to herself, her hand blindly out for yours in seconds looking for comfort. You slowly look away after seeing Haechan, who is now sat back down continuing his talk with his friends. You notice Jaemin shrugging at Haechan’s words, continuing off. And they all laugh. “I mean, you were kinda obvious… It was hard to read him,” You tell her, this time squeezing her hand back reassuringly. She only nods at your response, before letting go and carrying on with her little ‘ I wonder if Haechan… etc.’ for the rest of the lunch break. Your mind not focusing, the only thing you were thinking about was his smile.  

That same day, you arrived home to be greeted with emptiness. Confused you make your way through the entry until you hear chatter in the living room. Your head popping through the doorway for you to squeak a small noise. What’s he doing at your house? From the small glance you gathered, your parents, Haechan and his… parents? It was quiet, probably due to your abrupt appearance. Your back against the wall next to the doorway, hands in your face. Your mind couldn’t really process it all, but you’re called back to reality when your parents call your name. Your head sprung up, and you drop your bag slowly trying to gain composure. You exhale a puff, hands flattening your clothes. You make your way back into the view of the doorway, small steps and eyes definitely avoiding everyone. The atmosphere was without a doubt awkward, close to unbearable especially since you felt everyone’s stare piercing though you as you walked further into the room. “Over here darling,” Your mum calls out for you softly as you waddle towards her voice. Her hand padding the extra seat next to her on the couch. You sat in between your parents, finally raising your head from the wooden flooring. Haechan and his parents offered you encouraging smiles, as you made yourself more comfortable. They’re sat across from you, another couch in your rather large living room. Open curtained windows behind them, as the sunset defined Haechan’s frame with a soft glow. You curse at yourself for not being more composed. You look back to your mum as her hand rubs your back briefly. “Y/N, this is the Lee family. We were just discussing plans about an upcoming business trip me and your father have to go on. You know, the one I spoke to you about yesterday,”. 

You scanned your mothers features, furrowing your eyebrows trying to remember what she told you. “Anyway, the Lee family will also be joining us. And we decided as a collective that it would be better if Haechan stayed with you whilst we were all gone,” She continued explaining through your silence, eyes diverting between the Lee family and you. Your mind slowly linking the information you were digesting. 

Another reason you couldn’t be in love Haechan. Both your parents worked in the same company. Although, there’s no real reasoning behind that. It felt weird how your parents would talk about how you were classmates. You’ve spent time with each other outside of school, on brief occassions, but you never really spoke to Haechan. The continuation of praise that beckoned Haechan was never ending, and you were all here for it. Lee Haechan was a piece of work. You always felt undeserving of him.Your whole world had echo’s of him, it was hard for you to distract your mind from him. Sometimes, it was confusing to figure out how your memories seemed like they were all connected with him in the background. It was strange, how frequent a boy would be mentioned and how much he was present around in your life, without the both of you being close friends. You never pushed friendship onto him either, partly because of the opposite personalities. But could it be that this was an oppoirtunity that could ignite something closer between the both of you? Your mind then drifted to your bestfriend, only imagining the kind of reaction she’d have once she hears Haechan would be staying with you for a couple of days. 

“Is that alright with you Y/N?” Your dad’s voice rings you away from your thoughts, and you find yourself looking at Haechan as he said his words. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been left alone whilst your parents had to go for a business trip. Maybe it was because this trip was a lot longer than other ones, they couldn’t leave you alone. A guess: Haechan would also be left alone. These thoughts weighted down, as you tried to find excuses for this arrangement. In all honesty, you didn’t know how you felt. Sure your house had the right amount of rooms, it would be fine for the most part. It was just a week or so. You could handle that. 

“If it’s okay with Haechan, it’s okay with me,” You nod. Your eyes never left each other, as Haechan gives you a warm smile. He felt reassuring, like this was completely normal. As if both your parents weren’t leaving a the both of you alone for a week. 

It was a Saturday when Haechan would be making his way over to your house. Your parents went over rules, about which numbers to call, what to do in a certain situation, never hesitate to call them for any extra money and most importantly, be nice to Haechan. You spent most the morning cleaning up the house, so it was well presented for the Lee family’s arrival. Today was the day your parent’s were going to leave. Nervous was an understatement for how you felt. It was around midday when you heard a ring at the main door. You were in your bedroom, listening in, as your parents invited them into the house. Everything was all set. “Y/N! Aren’t you coming down to say goodbye?” You mum calls out for you. You quickly pace down the stairs, with a genuine smile as you greet Haechan’s parents. A little small talk, and you notice Haechan wasn’t with them. You tried your best to give them all of your attention but, your mind couldn’t help but drift off to where he could be once you realised his absence. Wasn’t he meant to keep you company? Your thoughts were confirmed as your dad came jogging towards everyone, Haechan’s presence following behind. Fitted in a big white tee and black shorts. You would never get used to him with casual wear on. You start feeling a little flustered the moment he was steps away from you. His graceful smile now held by his cheeks, you even swear you saw a small tinkle in his eyes as they finally approach the group.

“Ready to go?” Your dad speaks, an arm reaching past you towards the luggage. You guess your dad was escorting Haechan to one of the guest rooms before he came down the stairs. There was a mumble of agreements, before you exchanged farewells and hugs with your parents. Haechan does the same. 

You both watch them leave into the car before the air between you got thicker. Your parents really left you with Lee Haechan. 

A lump is formed in your throat as silence swims between you and Haechan. He’s first to speak, “Hey, I know we never really spoke, or really had a choice about this. But thank you for welcoming me into your home.” His voice was assured and was lined with concern for you. His back leaning against the hallway wall, small strands of hair framing his forehead. His calm aura already making you nervous. Maybe because of the kind of energy you were giving off. You didn’t want to meet his eyes. This has been the first time you’ve ever been properly left alone with Haechan. “It’s nothing really,” speaking softly, “I see you around in school, we’re in the same class,” You try making conversation with him. Hearing his laugh makes you bring your head up towards him, “I know that,” He confirms with you, his hand forward harmlessly nudging the side of your arm. You laugh with him, feeling relaxed. He really knew how to lighten the mood. “Would you like to watch a movie?” You suggest, it felt like the best option. You didn’t need to talk with him, and it made time pass by. You weren’t really expecting anything much, but he chuckles at your suggestion. “Nah, we’re going to throw a small party,” a devilsh sly smirk grows on his expressions, as your eyes widen at his statement. “We’re young, our parents are literally out of town. This is the perfect opportunity!” He grins, already pulling out his phone tapping away. His back lifts up from the wall. 

“But- The house will be a mess… I haven’t got anything to prepare for it. How many people will come? I don’t think I can pull this off. Are you out of your mind? A party? I don’t know,” Your mind is running your mouth, you knew Haechan was popular. But a party? First night he comes over at yours? ‘I mean, it is a Saturday’ you thought to yourself. 

“Don’t worry so much, just a few friends. And I promise, I’ll do the cleaning,” His hand motions towards your face, bringing his small pinky out for you to link yours with, marking a promise. “Okay.” 

“I cannot believe. Lee. Haechan. Is staying at your house for a week.” You bestfriends words squeal near your ear, as she combs your hair. You called her earlier to tell her about Haechan’s plans, and to ask her a favour. You wanted to look pretty for this whole, ‘Party’. You wanted to show Haechan you were confident, that you could be pretty too. “Tell me about it,” your eyes scan yourself in your mirror. You put a little more effort in your looks, and even if Haechan didn’t see your efforts. You still felt beautiful nonetheless. “I’m so jealous though, all that free time you’ll have with him.” She trails on, but you actually felt really nervous. A week is sort of a long time, if he’s so spontaneous like this, you have no clue what tricks he had up his sleeve. He said he’d invite around 6 of his friends, to not worry you. A small bit of him urging you to also invite your bestfriend, exaggerating how Jaemin is still interested and then maybe he can meddle between and make them all ‘buddy buddy’ with each other. You’re wearing casual clothes, something that flattered your figure. Nothing too tight fitting or too revealing, but you thought this was a nice look on you. It seems your bestfriend also thought so, by the way she would gleam at you, as you stood up from your chair, away from the mirror. “I have no idea why you don’t try to look like this, always,” She teases you as your eyes roll. You wipe your slightly clammy hands against your denim jeans before pressing your lips together. You both hold hands as you walk out of the bedroom, skipping down the stairs. 

Haechan changed clothes, from his lounging shorts to some nice trousers and a fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but trail your eyes by his waistline, following the motion of his legs as he places a bowl of snacks on the table in the living room. You feel your pace get slower as your bestfriend squeezes your hand. A silent message most probably similar to the way you were feeling. Haechan’s hair framed his face just right, his gaze looking up from his eyelashes as he catches your presence at the foot of the staircase. His posture gracefully straightens, eyes never leaving yours as he does so. But what you don’t notice is the way he would look you up and down for a short moment, a small smile forms barely at the corner of his left lip. 

“So when is everyone making their way?” Your bestfriend perks up, letting go of your hand to leap on the couch, her hair flowing behind her. He glances at his watch, as you find a seat. “Alcohol…” You mutter, mostly to yourself. You’re not too familiar with alcohol, but you guess a party without alcohol wouldn’t be a party. “They should be arriving anytime now,” Haechan answers, he places himself next to your bestfriend though. Opposite you. Your heart slightly inflates watching how his arm reaches out to spread against the couch. His hand slightly grazing the back of your bestfriend as they look at each other. She moves her body, to be more faced towards him. They start small talk, and you feel kind of left out. Rolling your shoulders back, your hand absentmindedly grabs hold of the neck of the nearest alcohol bottle to you. You grab three cups, although they’re too busy to mind you, you still pour them a drink. Maybe swinging a little extra in your cup as you pour the mixers after. You make a small gesture to slide the drinks towards them. You gulp down a few sips, before the door rings. Figuring that they’re still immersed in their own company, you make way to the door holding onto your cup as you open it. 

You’re greeted by 6 other guys, all admittingly handsome. You’re familiar with their faces seeing as you attend the same school, they’re loud as they make their way through the door. Your gaze falls back watching them pile into the living room. You overhear Haechan’s excited voice as they all talk over each other. You look at your cup before deciding to just, drink it all. After doing so, you shut the front door. A small fuzz settling in your mind as you pave your way back to the now dimly lit living room. 

As the night played on, you got more comfortable and decided this wasn’t that bad. Even though you had small but reasonable amount of drinks in you. It fuelled you with that confidence, to speak up and actually enjoy yourself. You actually found yourself laughing along with them. You’d sometimes catch eyes with Haechan’s. But you chose to ignore it, to focus your energy on letting yourself really enjoy this moment. Besides your bestfriend seemed to be just as confident as you, but ten-fold as she clings onto his side most the night. “You know, Y/N, you’re actually kinda cute.” The boy Renjun speaks out as the laughter quieted down, taking a swing at his beer. This made you feel shy, everybody's eyes slowly falls onto you, putting you in the hotseat. “You don’t talk much in class do you?” Mark calls out after before you could say anything. Your nibble on the inside of your bottom lip, you weren’t sure how to respond. Somehow you look at Haechan, finding something to say, “I guess I don’t really talk often,” You trail on, giving Mark a small smile. Haechan notices a dimple on the left side of your cheek. Mark returns an even bigger smile, “You should, you’re really funny too,” Jisung sings, your bestfriend speaks in agreeement with him. All this sudden attention really started to make you nervous, so you just drank more of your drink. 

“I think we should hang out more often,” Jaemin resorts, his eyes now on your bestfriend whilst saying so. She giggles though, and agrees. You guess, maybe you’ve gained more than just confidence from this party. But more friends. Your bestfriend, flips her hair and claps once, gaining everyone’s attention. “And with that being said. Shouldn’t we get to know each other more?” She cocks up one of her eyebrows teasingly eyeing everyone.“Never have I ever…” She continues, a grin reaching her lips, “snuck out the house,”. The sentence she chose wasn’t as out there as you’d originally thought, but gingerly enough you take a small sip. Noticing a few other people doing so. The next few ‘never have I ever,�� questions felt innocent until… “Never have I ever been kissed,” Jeno smirks and everyone takes a gulp besides you. This doesn’t go unnoticed by others as you start to feel awkward under their stare. “No way? For real?” Jeno speaks after, his question moreorless directed towards you. You bite on your lower lip, feeling a little inexperienced from everyone else. But you nod at him, “I’ve never been in a relationship,” You confess with a shrug. Your bestfriend points a finger towards the boys her next words suggestive and intoxicated, “Maybe one of you can snatch her up,” She teases, giving you playful eyebrows. You laugh at her words, but hear near to nothing else from anyone else. The tension in the air shifted a little. You glance towards Haechan to find him already looking at you. Even with your eyes connected for those few moments you couldn’t really read what emotions he had behind them. You look at the other boys, feeling shy under Haechan’s gaze. “I hope you know she’s not being serious,” You attempt to make the atmosphere lighter, and back to playful. Chenle speaks first, “You never know…” taking a sip from his drink. It’s not that you didn’t want a relationship, you were just not given the opportunity. “Whatever,” you reply back. You all continue the game, but as the night continues Haechan can’t get his mind off the fact that you’ve never been kissed. 

The night was fun, but soon died out as the night got later. People made their way home. Your bestfriend kisses both your cheeks before blowing a last one to Haechan’s direction as she slips out the front door. You shut it behind her, leaning back on the door and sighing. Your eyes shut, tiredness holding them down as you stand there. You really had a lot of fun, a new memory as you playback some moments that happened tonight. “So I’m guessing you enjoyed yourself?” Haechan’s voice wakes you from a sleepless daze, as you open your eyes. He’s stood closer to you than you thought from the sound of his voice. Your eyes take in his features, realising the height difference a tad bit from the closeness. You nod slowly at his words, “I did… I had a lot more fun than I thought. I like your friends, they were really nice to me I think,” You speak your thoughts, looking at his shirt. “Well, you are a cute girl… Boy’s are always nice to cute girls,” Haechan interrupts with his voice clear and laced with no other intention but to edge you on. You narrow your eyes at his comment about to say something, but he turns his heel making his way to the guest room. “Goodnight, Y/N. And as promised I’ll clean it up tomorrow,” He waves one of his hands in the air, turning his head behind his shoulder to give you one of your favourite smiles unknowningly. You watch him leave, as your heartbeat becomes more prominent. His words highlighted as you repeat in your head: “He thinks I’m cute?”

You woke up the next morning to the sun behind your eyelids. Blindly searching for your phone, checking the time. It was 1pm, you slept in. You get out from the bed and brush out your hair, and clean your teeth. Your feet padding towards the guest room, to knock on this door to see if he was awake. When you get no answer, you find the living room clean. As promised. That brings a smile to your face knowing that Haechan really did stick to his words. Before you know it, you hear keys behind the front door. Haechan swings the door open with his foot keeping it placed open as he holds groceries most probably for breakfast and coffee with his other hands. You’re quick to meet him, a “Good Morning,” exchanged in whispers as you help him hold the things. He follows behind you into the kitchen, “I bought breakfast,” He states the obvious, taking a seat at the table, his hand reaching for an energy drink from one of the paper bags. 

“Thank you, but you didn’t have too. Also… thanks for cleaning up,” He grins at your words, taking a sip from the drink. His hand reaches out to ruffle your head a little too roughly. Taken aback, your hand shadows after his, fixing your hair. “It’s nothing really, it wasn’t even that messy. Don’t mention it,” You nod at his words, reaching for the eggs in the bag. You get up from the seat to grab a frying pan, “So how do you like your eggs?” You offer to make the breakfast as compensation from him doing all that cleaning and purchasing some things for breakfast. He gleams at your direction, his eyes curving as you turn on the cooker. “I’m good with any,”. 

Days went by really quickly, considering how you also had a week off school. You spent a lot of time with Haechan and his friends. Your bestfriend included, but it was during night, when the streets were empty, and where the street lamp would slightly cast over the living room whilst you had late night talks with Haechan. Mostly about random things. It was nice getting to know him, knowing more than how you’d perceive him in class. And each time, he’d confirm everything you thought you already knew about his personality. It was a nice feeling, getting to know each other, and laughing. You really begun to feel comfortable with him, and you thought there was a chance, maybe he felt the same. 

“You know, I have noticed you before. Hard not to… My parents talk about you sometimes at home,” He confessed into the night. 

It became silent, and you could feel your heatbeat against your temple as he fidget’s with the end of his sleeves. “Same,” You reply, noticing his small habits of nervousness. This Haechan was different from the upbeat one that he’d always portay himself as in front of his friends. You always thought he was the happiest and that he would always carry the mood of the group. But this Haechan who sat across from you, felt real. More real than you thought, in a weird sense. Like all the good things about him were undeniable, but in this moment he feels vulnverable. He feels down to earth. A comfortable silence surrounds you, and the lights from the street glazes his eyes, like he was gifted all the stars in the universe. He shines so brightly even under the moonlight. His lips slightly parted, as he watches his hands. It’s been a few days, and soon this little thing you have going on will come to an end. Although you have no clue what will happen, you feel grateful to the times you did spend together. He makes being around him feel easy, he was really understanding and took his time with you. “I’m really glad we got to know each other better,” You smile to yourself shamlessly, avoiding his eyes. You could hear him chuckle a small bit, and it makes you feel warm inside. “You’re not too bad yourself,” His fist gently nudges your shoulder playfully. You laugh with him, and suddenly meet eyes. 

There were a shift in his gaze, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He looks at you through his eyelashes, and you can’t help but scan his expression. The tiny moles that were on his face, the natural soft shaped heart of his lips. He really was beautiful. Haechan doesn’t look past this though, his eyes never leaving yours as your mind rolls, he watches the way your eyes flicker between his facial features. His heart tightening a bit as he shifts in his position, you’re watching him none the obvious but he still doesn’t speak out about how your staring makes him a bit shy. “I liked spending time with you. It was fun,” He continues, in attempt to make you stop your movements. You sink, shyness from his words making your frame appear smaller. Your eyes now averted. Suddenly hyperaware that you were staring, again. 

The atmosphere being a bit too much for your soft heart you blurt out, “You know, my bestfriend likes you.” It was random, and althought you didn’t mean to tell him the way she felt towards him. Having want to put yourself out there. Somehow, she came to mind in that moment. Furrowing your eyebrows your mind drifts; thinking about how you always felt that she was more deserving of Haechan, that they suited each other more. You don’t know what came over you, your mind scattered with thoughts of what if’s and questions. Haechan’s been kind to you during the whole time he was staying with you. A part of you felt as though, maybe that’s all there was to it. He was just a kind-hearted person. There’s no real way he was ever going gain such romantical intentions with you, within a span of a few days. For some reason your feelings for him, that have been living rent free in your mind, have blinded you and painted a picture you knew was far from your true reality. Maybe having this friendship, was enough for you. And you didn’t want to change that. “I know,” He says with a shrug, “She makes it kind of obvious,” Haechan’s soft laugh calms you down. Your inner mind agreeing, that it was okay if Haechan never reciprocated your feelings. Maybe you’d just have to move on from it, but there was no denying you did grow a whole lot closer and more comfortable with each other. Maybe more than you both could have imagined.  

Your heart felt confused. Ever since Haechan went back home, you felt as if things have changed. When you said goodbye to each other after your parents came back, you didn’t know it was going to be a real one. When you got back to school, it was like the whole time you spent together was a dream. He didn’t approach you, at all. 

And it hurt, because this whole time you thought it was a step forward to building something with him. Anything with him. But you’re proven wrong. You wanted to talk to him, ask him why he wouldn’t talk to you. But you didn’t feel like you were in the position to question his motives. It wasn’t like you could talk to anyone about how inwardly frustrated this made you feel. He was his own person, and nothing during that week together established that he needed to keep in contact with you at all. You were still hopeful though. So seeing him walk along the hallways with his friends, and have him walk past you. Made you feel empty. You wanted to understand him, figure it all out. His friends still kept in contact with you, but they rarely spoke about Haechan. Your mind just wondered why he didn’t keep in contact the same.  Scenarios of: Maybe If I was more obvious with my feelings, would he have spoken to me? Did I do something wrong? All those nights, where you’d catch him taking another energy drink from the fridge at midnight while he was playing his computer games, for him to stop and have long conversations with you, were all empty to him. You were just the main company he had around. You had no reason feeling this way, but yet you feel some sort of betrayal. Days went by where you’d go to sleep thinking about Haechan more often than not, trying to figure out a way to talk to him. Thinking about the way he’d tell you jokes in the morning to wake you up with smiles, as you ate breakfast together. How he sometimes would shout at his laptop as he games at one in the morning. Times where he’d feel lonely and want to play in the living room so you could watch and cheer him on. Others just, because it felt nice being in each others presence even when you weren’t doing anything. 

You really missed the sound of his voice. Maybe this was another reason to try stop this feeling you have toward Haechan. Even after all these years, you still couldn’t connect to him even if it felt almost effortless when you were alone in his presence. 

It’s been three weeks since Haechan left your house. You heard something about the Lee Family coming over for dinner tonight, a part of you wondered if Haechan would join. Feeling not so surprised that he didn’t show up. His parents gave the excuse he had other things going on, so he had to make a rain check. After the business trip, it seemed your family and his enjoyed each others company even more so than before. You thought it was nice that your parents also had friends they could invite home more regularly. But your mind still seemed to drift off about Haechan as you played with your food at the dinner table. You kind of just, expected things to follow this pattern after the first week of him not trying. So you tried your best to let it go, by finding other things to preoccupy your mind. It was working so far, but it was hard doing so when you were sharing a meal with his parents and he falls in as the subject of the conversation. Ending the meal, you helped clean up afterwards, before making your way to your room. Jogging up the stairs towards your room, you switch on the light in your bedroom to be welcomed with a notification. Your phone lighting up by your table dresser with a *ding* , you walk towards it and see several messages from your bestfriend. 

Missed call (1)

[8:09pm] bestie: pick up ur phone!! 

[8:09pm] bestie: you’ll never guess who asked to meet up !!!!! 

[8:10pm] bestie: hello..!!!! r u here?? 

[8:15pm] bestie: omg slowpoke.!! it was haechan 

[8:15pm] bestie: msg me when you get this x 

You literally feel weak, mindlessly walking backwards to sit at the edge of your unmade bed. Your thumbs barely touching the screen as you re-read the messages over again to ensure you weren’t hallucinating. Your bestfriend was the raincheck he needed to take to skip out on having dinner with you? You choke back on small tears, you feel stupid. You almost laugh at the fact that he was able to be in contact with her rather than you. It bothered you a lot more than it should considering how you’ve been left out in the dark. But still, it affected you just as much. The constant questions of ‘why?’ Being hung on a thin thread. It was so clear now, he didn’t like you or have intentions of doing so. Platonic or not. Your back falls onto your comforter, a dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you stare at your glow in the dark sticker stars on the ceiling. You decided you wanted the final answer to come from him. You couldn’t deal with the distant gazes you noticed that he’d give you in class sometimes, without him coming to talk to you. The way he would walk and smile around like you were nothing but a classmate. You were so foolish to actually find him as a friend, from all the moments you shared together during that week. Even before. Dumbfound you tap your head with your hand palm flat, groaning inwards. You were going to find him, and ask him. 

It takes you an hour of prep-talking to yourself about the pro’s and con’s about going to find him at this hour of the day. Not knowing where he is, what he’s doing. But the feeling was eating you alive, to the point where you couldn’t properly think. Your mind blank, as you swipe your phone unlocked. You search for his name in your contacts, eyes tight shut as you press the call button. Your hand on your heart trying to calm the nerves, while the other hand held the phone by your ear. You pace around your room, listening to the phone ring a few times. 

He actually answers. 

You then realise how much you really did miss the honey like tone of his voice as he speaks, “Hello?”. You stop your walking, taking the phone away from your ear to double check you’ve actually called him. “Hello…?” He calls again, whining a little impatiently. You cough up courage and say, “Hey.” You give yourself a questioning look, hearing nothing else on the other end of the phone, partly also because of your bluntness. “I wanted to call you, I think we need to talk,” You continue. You hear a small sigh, and shuffling. Sounding like he’s fixing his position. There’s silence in the call, a few moments before he replies you with, “I agree, can you meet me?” You feel shocked because his words were so quick to decide. “Okay,” you reply, looking around your room. “Now?” You question. He laughs lightly over the phone, hearing how frantic you sound. “Yeah, why not? I’ll pick you up in a few.” He confirms with you, before you could say anything else, he hangs up. You were in disbelief, you rush to put a cardigan on and grab your keys and phone. You decided it was easier for you to leave and wait outside, his parents were still downstairs. You jog down the stairs and shout. “I’ll be home in a bit!” Before anyone could reply, you slip out the door. 

The cold air meets you as you stand outside your house. You didn’t really know how you felt. It didn’t take as long as you thought before Haechan pulls up and climbs out the cab. There he was walking towards you, dreamy as ever. And all your pent up anger and questions disappeared with each step he took in your direction. The way he smiled upon seeing you reset everything, and you’re weak in the knees. Once he got close enough to you, you swore that being with him felt right. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” You suggest, quick at the balls of your feel to turn left towards the park. Street lights marking the way, as you felt him walk next to you. It was silent at the beginning of the walk. The sound of your footsteps and the cars driving by was all you could hear besides you heart. “Your parents are at my house,” You explain, hoping to break the ice. You hide your palms under your sleeves, as he laughs inwardly, “I know…” You furrow your eyebrows as he follows your steps. 

“Why didn’t you join?” A part of you knew already, thanks to your bestfriend telling you so, but another part wanted you to hear about it from him. You chew on your lip before looking up to him, he looked a bit sad. You didn’t notice until now, he felt a bit sluggish. Shoulders lower than usual and so you stopped walking. By now you’ve arrived the end of the street, you mindlessly reached out for his hands. You hold both your hands together shocking the both of you. He’s quick to look at you, obvious confusion at your actions, but grateful nonetheless. “Are you okay?” You speak softly, trying to coax him into telling you everything. He sighs at your words, “You’re really nice and gentle to me,” He confesses, and it takes you aback. “Thank you,” you whisper trying to understand.

“I wanna apologise for being a dick and not talking to you these past few weeks,” He genuinely feels sorry, and your heart softens at his confession. The glow the streetlight gave above him made him look sympathetic, his cheeks kinda rosy due to the cool air. His hands move from you holding his hands, to the other way around. Hands over yours, “I just wanted to understand my feelings,” You raise your eyebrows at him, “Feelings…?” repeating his words, mind spiralling out all of the possibilities behind his words. Maybe about your bestfriend, because he met her earlier. You let go of the grasp he had with your hands, easily letting it fall to your sides. His hands follow but you don’t notice as he looked even more distraught. “About you.” He finishes his sentence, you don’t believe him though. Your arms crossing over your chest, eyes narrowed at him. His lips are jutted out a little, eyes slightly closed wanting you to read his thoughts. But then again, he always struggled to get the right words across to you. He’s tried for years, but you never seemed to get a clue. You were always off gazing at clouds, and walking with your head down. His week spent with you, alone, solidified his feelings. They never left, he’s always been interested in you. And getting to know you really intensified it all, he was going crazy about you. But on the night he was going to confess to you, you brought up your bestfriend. “What about me?” You ask, not being able to understand him at all, or where it was all coming from. He doesn’t answer you though, his hand goes towards the side of your face to gently caress it. His hands were soft too, the way his fingertips traced your cheek made you flustered. “I like you,” He confesses enernestly. But you scoff at his words, moving your face away from his touch. But he just lets you figure it out yourself, and believe him. Watching the way your facial features would relax under his silence. “But my bestfriend?” You question, still having doubts. He just shakes his head, running one of his hands to push his hair back. It’s grown longer, his hair. And you don’t let it go unnoticed. “I did meet her today, but only because I wanted to ask about you,” His hair falls infront of his face again, eyes still casted over with truth, and you start to believe him. “I wanted to ask her how you were, and if you felt anything for me,” He speaks before knitting his brows together, “I know that was stupid, and I could have asked you but… I- I dont know, I couldn’t face you.” He went off rambling. He was true to his words, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his rambling.

 He finishes his sentences with, “I like you,” confessed again, but with more confidence. “And I know about your bestfriend, blah-blah I don’t really care. She told me she thinks you like me too,” Now that had your full attention, she knew all along. “She told me it takes a while for you to get out your shell… and I’m really going to try my best with you. I have it all figured out, I just need you to let me?” He asks, feelings unwavering as he smiles slightly at your expression, your eyes twinkling under the moonlight, and the streetlight making a soft glow on your face. He curses to himself about how cute you looked in your clothes. “I like you a lot, Haechan.” You smile back at him. He’s quick to wrap you in his arms to hold you close and spin you around once. You cling onto him, arms around his neck as he stops. Your faces inches away from each other. His hold on you softens, as you slide down his embrace, eyes locked. Your feet reaching the ground as you both hold that close proximity between you. His arms never leave your waist.

“I know you said, you’ve never been kissed,” He whispers, lips inches away from yours. And you roll your eyes at what he says, about to pull away from his embrace before he firmly holds you back, “Can I be your first?”. 

You nod slowly before watching him lower his head, lips just about grazing yours. You watch him flutter his eyes closed as you mirror him. Haechan really kisses you. A simple kiss, filled with much more love than you would have thought, the way it was so gentle. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, as butterflies lifted you to cloud nine. He pulls away, before recapturing your lips between his. With more intent and deeper, your hands finding purchase in his hair pulling him close. His lips were so soft, and he really kisses you like everything he said was true. And for once, you let yourself decide. Maybe you can be in love with Haechan, and he kisses you with 100 reasons why.