#at least my neighbor in the lecture hall laughed

[therandomfandomme]

sometimes im confronted with how surrounded ive been with the mechs fandom lmao

My lecturer today: There's even space archaeology now!

Me, without prompting: Sparchaeology

[murmeloni]

This is for the DCU Valentine's Day 2024!

Big thanks to @wait-whos-batman for organizing it!

Clark receives a card from a secret admirer on Valentine's Day. There's no signature and no way to see who it's from. It just says to come to the football game that afternoon. Clark is flattered, Bruce is concerned. But really… What could possibly go wrong?

“I'll have the story done by tomorrow, Perry, cross my heart”, said Clark, sandwiching his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he fumbled for his keys, simultaneously trying to shift his grocery bags into one hand without dropping them. 

Clark's only answer was an aggravated sigh and a curt “You better”, before the line went dead. 

“Good work, Kent. Make sure you get a little rest, Kent. Have a nice evening, Kent”, grumbled Clark sarcastically as he finally got the door open. Thankfully without dropping his shopping. 

“Meow.”

Startled, Clark looked at the fluffy white and brown birman cat belonging to his downstairs neighbor Mrs. Hall. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he bent down and scratched the cat's head. “At least you're happy to see me, Lady Pawlington. And happy Valentine's Day to you too.”

The cat pressed her fluffy head against Clark's fingers for a moment, meowing again, before slinking forward to inspect the grocery bags. Laughing, Clark straightened up and lifted the plastic bags out of the cat's reach. “Unfortunately, none of the stuff in there is meant for cats. If a certain friend of mine is to be believed they're not even for humans but I know you can keep a secret.”

Still smiling to himself, Clark moved up the stairs, mind now occupied with thoughts of Bruce as it so often was. Bruce would have a lot to say about Clark's shopping, that was for sure. He was almost tempted to let slip what he'd bought at the Justice League meeting tomorrow, just to hear the lecture again, but he thought that was maybe a bit too pathetic, even for him. Although… It was Valentine's Day and Clark was spending it alone with chocolates he'd bought for himself - again - so he felt he was allowed to make himself feel better any way he could. 

As he stood in front of his door, once again fumbling with his keys, he suddenly became aware of the heartbeat coming from inside his apartment. A very familiar heartbeat. Clark's stomach fluttered and maybe he moved a little faster than a normal human could to shove his key into the lock. The door clicked open and a bump sounded from his kitchen, as if something had been knocked over. 

Clark quickly closed the door again before he used a burst of speed to join Bruce, who was standing beside the kitchen table. He didn’t even look up when Clark came to a halt next to him, the displaced air ruffling his artfully styled hair. Clark wanted to run his hands through it, but he hastily squashed the urge before he could do something stupid. 

“Hey, B. What are you doing here?” Not that Clark cared. He was always happy to see Bruce. But he was also worried that there might be something wrong. It wasn't often that Bruce dropped by his apartment, never mind in the middle of the day and without announcing himself… Clark bit his lip. “Is there something wrong?”

For an endless second Bruce didn't react, just stared down at Clark's kitchen table, his fingers fiddling with a pink envelope. “No, nothing's wrong.” He cleared his throat. ”I was just in the area and wanted to see if you'd like to be Bruce Wayne's interviewer for the night.” A small smile curved his perfect lips and a part of Clark was going feral at the sight of it. So much so that he almost didn't understand Bruce's next words. ”But I guess you already have plans…” 

Bruce's smile disappeared as he tapped the pink envelope on the table and finally Clark's brain switched online again. He stepped closer, frowning a little as he studied the envelope. 

“Why would I have plans?”, he asked and paused. “Is that a Valentine's Day card?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, perfectly conveying his judgment. “What gave it away? The pale pink paper? Or the fact that it is covered in gaudy hearts and glitter?”

Clark ignored the snarky tone and carefully picked the thick envelope up. It was heavier than it looked and upon closer inspection it seemed homemade. Warmth flooded his chest, despite not knowing who this card was from. He'd hoped, for maybe a tenth of a second, that it might be from Bruce but the snark pretty much nipped that delusion in the bud. The disappointment of which Clark was studiously ignoring right now, thank you very much. 

“I've never gotten a Valentine's Day card before.” 

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Never? I find that hard to believe.”

Clark shook his head. “I was the opposite of popular in school and college.”

Crossing his arms, Bruce leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “But you've been in relationships before.”

Clark shrugged helplessly, still not taking his eyes from the envelope. “Most of them weren't serious enough and the one that was… Well, Lois doesn't believe in Valentine's Day.”

“Hn”, made Bruce and that was apparently it for this topic because he began to busy himself with making coffee. He pulled out sugar, milk and two mugs, choosing Clark's favorite Batman mug, which was odd because he complained about the thing every chance he got. Only once the machine was happily gurgling along and there was nothing left to prepare did he turn around again to impatiently wave his hand at Clark. “Open it already.”

If Clark hadn't been so preoccupied with his very first Valentine's card ever he'd have started to wonder at Bruce's odd behavior. As it was, he swallowed thickly and gently wiggled his finger underneath the flap of the envelope, carefully prying it open without damaging it, which made Bruce huff in annoyance. 

Despite the slightly gaudy envelope, as Bruce had so rudely put it, the card was really sweet. It was made from rustic looking carton and on its front were two hot air balloons, their domes made of flimsy pink paper, folded to look like hearts. A ladder was reaching from one balloon's wicker basket to the other. Opening the card, the first thing Clark saw was the ticket to the Metropolis Giants vs. Gotham Rogues football match this evening. A VIP ticket. Clark felt his mouth drop open in shock. That must've cost a fortune! 

And then he noticed the poem. Written in a beautiful, looping script, it took up most of the space on the card. Heart beating a little faster, Clark ran a shaky finger along the lines as he read:

There is a silk ladder unrolled across the ivy

There is

That leaning over the precipice 

Of the hopeless fusion of your presence and absence 

I have found the secret 

Of loving you

Always for the first time

"Always For The First Time" by André Breton

Meet me at the game tonight. 

Love, 

Your secret admirer 

The sound of a mug being practically slammed onto the table in front of him startled Clark out of his reverie. Looking up, he found Bruce studying him with a carefully blank expression, knuckles white as he gripped his own mug a little too tight. 

“Who is it from?”

Clark felt his heart clench in disappointment and realized he'd still held out hope the card might be from Bruce. He didn’t quite understand Bruce's annoyance but he chalked it up to him being like Lois in this regard. After all, why else would he be in Clark's apartment, looking to arrange an interview instead of going out on a date? He probably thought Valentine's Day was a capitalistic hoax or something unromantic like that. 

Wordlessly, Clark handed over the card and while B analyzed it like it was a piece of evidence in one of his cases, Clark picked up his coffee. He realized before he'd even taken the first sip that Bruce had made it just the way he liked it: with a lot of milk and way too much sugar. For some reason that made him feel even worse. 

“So what's the verdict?”, he joked weakly after the silence began to stretch, but Bruce ignored the comment. Instead, he fixed Clark with that intense, icy blue stare of his that never failed to make Clark feel weak in the knees. 

“You're not seriously considering this.”

Frowning, Clark lowered his coffee. “Why not?”

The look Bruce gave him was the one he usually reserved for Hal whenever he suggested something ridiculous, like figure skating, under the guise of team building exercises. 

“Clark… This envelope was already here when I let myself in. You're not currently dating anyone and you said yourself you don't know who this might be from. It sounds dangerous. Too dangerous. You're not going.”

Bruce's patronizing tone had Clark's hackles rising. Defensive, he snatched the card back and held it to his chest. “That's not your decision to make, Bruce.”

Truth be told, Clark didn't even know if he wanted to go to the game tonight. Because Bruce was right, it was weird that the envelope just appeared in his kitchen like this. But that didn't have to automatically be a bad thing. Any member of the League could have left the card there. It rankled, the thought that Bruce found him so undesirable that the only reason he'd get a card and a gift on Valentine's was to lure him into some kind of trap. Plus, Clark could be stubborn and petty, too. And right now he was sorely tempted to let that side of himself take the reins. 

In the end it was Bruce's scoff and the curt “Don't be ridiculous” that made the decision for Clark. Crossing his arms, he raised his chin and glared at Bruce. 

“Are you done? Because I have a date tonight I need to get ready for.”

Bruce's brows drew together, his jaw working. “You can't be serious. Be reasonable.”

But Clark only held Bruce's stare, not budging, until Bruce's eyes hardened. “Fine”, he snapped, whirling around and dumping his coffee in the sink before setting the mug down a bit harder than necessary. “Go. But don't come crying to me if you end up kidnapped!”

It was Clark's turn to scoff, but in his case it was more to cover up the hurt blooming in his chest. Unfortunately, his mouth opened before he could fully swallow back the words. “Because that's the only reason anyone would go out with me, right? Just because the high and mighty Bruce Wayne thinks I'm that unattractive doesn't mean everybody else does.”

Bruce's posture abruptly loosened, as if Clark's response had startled him. “Clark…”, he tried, but humiliation was entering the mix of emotions swirling in Clark's gut, made all the worse by the fact that, despite everything, all he wanted to do right now was cuddle Bruce. Or maybe bend him over the table and gently eat him out until he cried. 

“You should go, Bruce.”

For a long moment Bruce hovered, looking like he wanted to say something else, but in the end he just… left. Clark stood in his kitchen and stared after him, stomach roiling. Maybe he really should go on that date. It seemed obvious now that Bruce would never return his feelings and maybe it was time Clark made an effort to move on. Taking a deep breath, he went into the bathroom. The game was starting in two hours and apparently he was going. The least he could do was look nice. 

By now Bruce was already walking down the street outside but Clark still heard him when he whispered: “At least text me later to let me know you got home safe, Clark. And for the record? I don't want to be right about this. You deserve to enjoy a nice date.”

Clark swallowed, heart aching as he stared at himself in the mirror. “Maybe Lois is onto something with her dislike of Valentine's Day.”

<3 <3 <3 

Bruce decided to walk back to his hotel instead of taking a cab. He needed to clear his head. Snapping at Clark like that… It was unforgivable. But just remembering the awed expression on his face as he’d traced the writing on that card was setting Bruce's teeth on edge. He'd come here to spend the day with Clark, following his heart's foolish impulse instead of doing what he should have done and gone on one of Brucie Wayne's famous ‘outings’. He should have planned something ridiculous to feed the gossip rags for a few weeks. Instead he'd come here and made Clark feel bad for something that was entirely Bruce's problem. 

Striding into the hotel lobby, Bruce arranged his face into a lazy smile, despite the unease and jealousy still churning in his gut. He breezed past the reception and made it into his suite without anyone trying to talk to him. He'd barely taken two steps inside before he froze. There was a pink envelope sitting on the coffee table. It looked exactly like the one Clark had gotten and suddenly Bruce had a suspicion what was going on. 

Setting his jaw, he stomped over and picked the envelope up, opening it with much less care than Clark had done. Just like he expected, it was the same card and there was a second ticket to the football game this afternoon tucked inside. There was also another poem:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

"How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

Meet me at the game tonight. 

Love, 

Your secret admirer

Bruce felt the sudden urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. The poem was beautiful. It encompassed his feelings for Clark perfectly and made his chest feel tight with emotion. It had also most definitely been picked by Jason. Bruce had heard him gush about it to Waylon multiple times. Which was the reason for the headache suddenly brewing behind Bruce's eyes. 

Rubbing at his temples he pulled out his phone and dialed Jason's number. He paced the length of his room as he waited for his son to pick up and when he finally did, Bruce didn't wait for him to say something. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Hello to you too, B. Nice of you to call”, came Jason's sarcastic reply and Bruce ground his teeth. 

“Don't pretend like you don't know what you did. I told you not to interfere!”

Jason scoffed. “It's not like you'll ever get your head out of your ass and do anything yourself! The pining was getting painful to witness. Besides, this wasn't even my idea. The demon brat and I only made the cards. Dickie and Tim were the ones who delivered them.” 

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about.”

“Oh come on, B! You're supposed to be the world's greatest detective! Figure it out! I mean, have you even looked at the fucking tickets?”

“Language–”, Bruce started to admonish, brows furrowing unhappily, but Jason had already ended the call. Cursing, Bruce put away his phone and opened the card once again. He looked at the ticket still tucked safely inside and immediately felt his insides freeze in humiliation. That was Alfred's Wayne Enterprises ID at the bottom. 

Bruce closed his eyes. It was just like Alfred to enact such a dramatic and intentionally obvious plan to finally get Bruce to do something about his feelings for Clark, despite Bruce telling him repeatedly why that was a horrible idea. The question now was, what was Bruce going to do about this? He couldn't very well go to the game. After their fight earlier Clark would think he was trying to sabotage him. But if Bruce didn't go… That would mean Clark would be stood up. And on his very first Valentine's Day date at that. Bruce remembered the reverent way Clark had looked at the card, how he'd so carefully traced the words of the poem. He debated calling Clark now, telling him what Alfred and the kids had done, but… 

But that would mean disappointing - and quite possibly humiliating - him. It would mean the first date Clark had ever had on Valentine's Day would have been nothing more than a poor attempt at meddling from Bruce's family. Just imagining the look on Clark's face made Bruce feel a little sick.

Which meant he had to go to the game and he had to do it right. 

He swallowed, heart racing and palms clammy. This could potentially ruin everything. But the thought of disappointing Clark was simply unbearable. 

Pulling out his phone once more, Bruce dialed Alfred's number. He got them into this mess so it was only fair he should get them out of it too. 

“Master Bruce”, greeted Alfred in a voice that was the perfect blend of polite and smug. “What can I do for you?”

Bruce ground his teeth. “You know perfectly well why I'm calling, Alfred.”

“I believe I do, Sir. Should I make the usual arrangements?” Bruce had to take a deep breath. He could practically hear the self-satisfied smirk in Alfred's voice and it was driving him up the wall. 

“It's his first date on Valentine's Day. Ever. He deserves a lot more than the usual”, snapped Bruce, irritated by Alfred's cavalier attitude. This little scheme could spell the end of Bruce's and Clark's friendship. “And just so you know: if this backfires I'm holding you responsible.”

“Very well, Sir. I'll have everything delivered to you within the hour.”

Bruce hung up the phone before he could say anything he might regret and instead began to loosen his tie with a little more force than necessary. He'd have to make this the best first Valentine's Day ever to make up for the argument and his children's schemes and that meant looking his best. He glanced at his watch. One and a half hours left. Bruce went into the bathroom and got ready for his date. Probably the most important date of his life. 

<3 <3 <3 

Clark was late. 

He couldn't help it. He'd been on his way over when he heard a mine cave in in Africa and once he'd saved the workers he'd had to deal with the ‘representatives’ of the company that owned the mine trying to cover the incident up. He'd held them off, contacted the local authorities and Lois, and surreptitiously gathered what evidence he could while protecting the miners. When help had finally arrived, Clark quickly flew back to Metropolis, picked Lois up and brought her to the scene. The journalistic equivalent of setting the bloodhounds loose. The owners of that company won't know what hit them. Which was cause for celebration, really. Except that now he was late for his date. And he felt bad for even thinking that because obviously saving people was and would always be his top priority. But it sucked that his already pretty abysmal love life had to suffer further blows for it. 

Of course the whole ‘being desperately in love with your best friend’-thing didn't exactly help matters any.

All of that to say, Clark wasn't just late he was also distracted when he climbed the steps to take his seat and meet his secret admirer. Doubts had started to creep in during the past two and a half hours. Because… Because Clark didn't want it to be just anyone waiting here for him. He wanted it to be Bruce. And he felt it wasn't fair to put that on whoever it was that had gone to all this trouble for him. But he'd come this far and if his conversation with Bruce earlier had shown him anything it was that he should really start to make an effort to move on. Going on this date seemed to be a good first step in that direction. 

So Clark hurried to his seat, an apology on his lips. The game had started some time ago and he felt bad for whoever was waiting for him. They had to think they were being stood up. But then he reached his seat and the words died in his throat. 

“Bruce?”, he whispered, and it shouldn't have been loud enough in this stadium full of people, talking and yelling and cheering on their team but Bruce turned his head anyway. Their eyes locked and Bruce slowly got up from his seat. And it was unfair, really, thought Clark despairingly, how utterly gorgeous Bruce looked. His hair was styled to perfection, his face was freshly shaved, and a light layer of makeup covered his skin, emphasizing his already sharp cheekbones and lush lips. He wasn't wearing one of his customary suits or his trusty turtleneck-sweaters-and-dress-pants-combo. Instead he was wearing a white linen shirt, the first few buttons of which were undone, revealing a tantalizing view of his collarbones. The shirt was tucked into dark blue slacks that showed off Bruce's impressive thighs and small waist in a way that made Clark's mouth run dry and his knees feel weak. And other people might think this was Bruce dressing down but Clark knew better. He knew that Bruce never allowed himself to be this comfortable outside of his own home and even then he often stuck to his armor of formal attire. Clark was a little speechless to be honest. Especially once his eyes landed on the flowers and chocolate lying on the seat next to Bruce's. 

“Clark…” said Bruce quietly, a nervous tension around his eyes. “I… I didn't think you were coming.”

Clark blinked. The sole fact that Bruce was stating the obvious like this betrayed just how nervous he really was and that settled the worst of Clark's fears, the irrational part of him that thought this might be a cruel joke of some kind. Enough so that he finally found his voice. 

“There was an emergency at work…”, he explained and abruptly realized that people were beginning to pay more attention to them than the game. Cheeks hot, he gestured at the seats. “Mind if we sit down?”

Bruce's gaze flittered over the people around him and Clark swore a light dusting of pink colored his face as well. “Of course.” 

A little stiffly, Bruce gathered up the flowers and chocolates and handed them to Clark. Who, as he accepted them, noticed with a dip of his stomach that the bouquet was an assortment of his favorite flowers. Chrysanthemum daisies, cornflowers and blue hyacinths. It was carefully wrapped, looked stunning and had probably cost a fortune. Much like the chocolates. They were pralinés from that really expensive chocolatier downtown that Clark absolutely adored but never allowed himself to splurge on. Or rather that he never could splurge on because he'd not have enough money to pay his rent if he did. 

Clark swallowed. “Are those… are they really for me?”

Bruce averted his eyes but nodded imperceptibly and Clark's stomach did another violent flip. “Thank you.  They are my favorite. And they're really beautiful.”

They lapsed into silence as they sat down. It was awkward as heck. Possibly because Clark was stuck racking his brain not only for things to say but for any kind of explanation. Bruce's words from earlier, his expression as he'd looked at the card, they were all still fresh on Clark's mind. His surprise and his concern, even his (likely involuntary) condescension had seemed genuine. It just seemed impossible that this had been his plan all along. Why not ask Clark out? Or admit to leaving the card when Clark surprised him in his kitchen? There had to be another explanation. 

Finally, Clark couldn't take it anymore. He turned to Bruce, leaning closer to speak directly into his ear, not wanting to be overheard. Just as he did, however, a loud cheer suddenly rose through the crowd and the people around them started to wave excitedly. As Clark turned to look, he felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. The kiss cam. He and Bruce had been caught by the kiss cam and their faces were currently plastered all over the huge monitors around the stadium. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”, shouted the masses and the chant was interspersed by whistles and catcalls. Clark turned to look at Bruce once more, who was staring back at him with wide eyes. The stadium announcer was goading them on, the screams of the crowd got louder and Clark… Clark snapped. Without thinking, he darted forward and pressed his lips to Bruce's in a brief, but undeniably electric kiss. Not wanting to push his luck, he pulled back just as quickly, lips tingling and the need to go in for a second, more thorough taste of Bruce's pink lips burning in his veins. He couldn't help but stare. He knew he should turn away, avert his eyes and pretend he only did it to appease the crowd, but… 

Bruce wet his lips, leaving them all pink and shiny, slightly parted and the embodiment of temptation. Their eyes met. And then Bruce's fingers were suddenly curled into the front of Clark's shirt, pulling him in and in and… and they were kissing again. Desperately, wantonly. Bruce's tongue darted out to tease the seam of Clark's lips and Clark was only too happy to open his mouth for him, a low moan escaping without permission as he did so. 

They got lost in each other. Distantly, Clark was aware of the cheers and wolf whistles, of the stadium announcer making some lewd comments and the camera flashes going off all around them but none of it mattered. He was solely focused on Bruce. His taste, his smell, the rapid beating of his heart and the breathless, bitten-off noises he made that no one but Clark would be able to hear. 

It wasn't until Bruce had to pull back for air, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated to the point that only a thin ring of blue was still visible, that reality finally came crashing in again. Clark froze, his mind instantly careening towards a full-blown panic attack. 

What the hell was he doing, kissing his best friend like that? And was this even really Bruce? Or was this a trap after all, some kind of magical doppelgänger trying to trick Clark? It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to him. It wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing this week and that thought was petrifying. Except…

…Except that was definitely Bruce's heart, pounding away in his chest not two feet away from Clark. Clark would know that sound anywhere. But if this wasn’t a trap, then what was it? None of the possible answers flitting through his mind seemed to make any kind of sense and his thoughts began to spiral. 

Something of what was going on in Clark's head must have shown on his face because Bruce's expression abruptly cleared and he looked away, shoulders drawing up defensively. 

“I believe I owe you an explanation”, he said, quiet in a way Clark didn’t know what to do with. Bruce, the real Bruce, was always quiet, but he was never subdued like this. It twisted something in Clark’s chest. 

“I believe you do”, he answered after a moment longer of studying Bruce, but when Bruce made to stand, still not quite looking at Clark, a fresh, unexpected wave of panic rose within him and before he even knew what he was doing he quickly grabbed Bruce's wrist. 

“Can we… Could we stay until the end of the game?”, he blurted and felt heat crawl up his neck. Because the pathetic truth of the matter was: Clark didn't want this, whatever this was, to end yet. Or ever really, but that wasn’t an option. And not just because it was his very first real date on Valentine's Day but because it was a date on Valentine's Day with Bruce. Clark had dreamed of something like this happening for so long he didn’t even know what it was like to look at Bruce and not want. And this right here was probably his only chance to get it. Well, a glimpse of it but it was better than nothing. 

Clark took a deep breath. “I get that this date is probably just part of some plan of yours and that you actually have something better to do and this is not–”

“Yes”, said Bruce, cutting Clark's pathetic rambling short. He cleared his throat, long elegant fingers splayed on his thighs and Clark had to try very hard not to stare too much. Those thighs regularly starred in his fantasies. “I never meant to ruin your date, Clark”, Bruce continued softly, still not quite meeting his eyes. “So yes, we can see this date through and watch the game if that's what you want. I promise I'll explain everything after.” 

Clark’s shoulders sagged. “Okay, yes… Thank you.” 

He even smiled a little, despite being more than a bit apprehensive. The explanation Bruce owed him hung over them like a dark cloud. But he pushed all of that aside and made himself focus on the here and now instead. On his date with Bruce, the game they both loved and the fact that they were spending Valentine's together. It would later all turn out to be a scheme or a publicity stunt or something of the sort but for now Clark would pretend it was real. He only had to figure out how to go about that. After several more minutes of tense silence, awkward shuffling and even more awkward glances, Clark cleared his throat. Now that the decision was made he was determined to enjoy himself.

“If this were a real date what would you do?”

Bruce's gaze snapped to him. “What?”

“If this was actually a date”, repeated Clark, feeling utterly stupid but forging on anyway. “What would we be doing now? What uh…” he waved his hand, his neck feeling increasingly hot. “What moves would you pull?”

Bruce cracked a smile at that and for the first time since Clark arrived his shoulders relaxed. “Well, if this was a date…” Dimples showing, Bruce stretched, lifting his arms over his head. Clark stared, mouth running dry, as the move accentuated Bruce's broad chest and strong biceps and he was distracted enough that the arm coming to rest on the back of his chair was a surprise. Once Clark realized what Bruce had done, he burst out laughing. 

“Very smooth, Mr. Wayne. Did you steal this move from one of your kids?”

Bruce chuckled. “If anything they're the ones who stole it from me. Besides, you can't tell me it's not working. I've got my arm around you and made you laugh.”

“Touché”, said Clark and allowed himself to lean closer to Bruce. The alluring scent of Bruce's aftershave rose around him and Clark inhaled sharply, heart pounding. He licked his lips. 

“What else would you do?”

Bruce hummed, arm tightening around Clark's shoulders. “I would ask you about yourself”, he said in a low voice. “Get to know you and tell you a few anecdotes of my own. I'd try to make sure you're comfortable with me.”

Clark's heart skipped a beat, butterflies dancing in his stomach. “What would you like to know?”

Bruce met Clark's eyes, his icy blue gaze intense in a way that made Clark feel slightly breathless and said: “Everything.”

<3 <3 <3

Bruce forgot they were playing pretend. He didn’t mean to. And a part of him still was extremely aware of the fact that he owed Clark a damned good explanation once this was over. But the bigger part of him was all too happy to just let himself drown in it. To tease and flirt and soak up every blush and shy glance he could get from Clark. Every laugh and smile, every time Clark leaned into him or gave him that fond look he sometimes got… Bruce took it all and locked it away in his heart. 

But then the game was over - the Metropolis Giants had trounced the Gotham Rogues and somehow that didn't feel like a very good omen - and suddenly Bruce's time was up. Abruptly, he realized that he wasn't prepared to let it go, that he wasn't prepared to go back to just being friends, but at the same time he didn't know what he could say or do to prevent the inevitable. To prevent Clark from leaving.

As if by silent agreement they stayed seated a little while longer until most of the people around them had left and the first members of the clean-up crew made their way through the rows of seats. Bruce wondered if Clark was as reluctant to put an end to this as he was. Still, things were different now that the game was over. The spell was broken, there was a distance between them again and it felt insurmountable all of a sudden. Bruce knew he should say something, start the explanation he owed Clark, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was terrified. 

Clark shifted in his seat and looked around, his eyes anywhere but on Bruce. “We should probably head out, too.”

Bruce nodded stiffly and stood. Clark silently followed suit and together they left the stadium. 

“Did you drive here?”, asked Bruce once they were outside and Clark shook his head. 

“Ride with me?” He didn't know where that question came from. Clark didn't need a ride home. All he had to do was walk to the nearest semi-secluded alley and then he could fly the rest of the way. It was a lot faster than navigating a bike through this kind of traffic. 

And yet Clark didn't say no. 

He turned to look at Bruce for the first time in what felt like hours (but was more like fifteen minutes tops) and a small smile pulled at his lips. It was a little tense and didn't fully reach his eyes but it was a smile nonetheless. And then he said: “That would be lovely, thank you Bruce.”

Tongue suddenly too thick to form words again, Bruce quickly turned and led the way to the parking lot where he'd left his bike. It was only once they were standing in front of it that he realized another mistake. “I don't actually have a spare helmet with me.”

The look Clark gave him was unbearably fond that it made Bruce's knees go a little weak. Bruce didn't deserve that look. He'd been so selfish today. Clark should've hated him. And he probably would, once he knew the truth. “I don't need a helmet. Don't get me wrong, helmets are important and I don't like being a bad role model, but this once it's okay.”

Bruce didn't know what to make of that. Clark usually insisted on doing things properly, not just to blend in but to be a good example, like he'd said. Studying him a little closer, Bruce watched as two spots of color rose in Clark's cheeks, but he had no idea what that meant. So after another moment, he simply took the flowers and chocolates from Clark and placed them securely in the tankbag where they'd been stored before. Then he put on his helmet and swung his leg over. 

“Hop on”, he said, patting the seat behind him. Clark hesitated, but then he climbed on behind Bruce, tentatively wrapping his arms around Bruce's middle. It took every ounce of Bruce's self-control not to react to the contact or let himself sink into the touch like he so desperately wanted to. Still, as he revved the engine and pulled out of the lot, his mind was filled with images of Clark's hands sliding just a little lower, leaving his waist behind and dipping between his legs, cupping him while he drove. 

It was a miracle they didn't crash. 

The thirty minutes until Bruce parked the bike in front of Clark's apartment complex simultaneously were the longest and shortest of Bruce's life and he felt the loss of Clark's arms around him so acutely it was like he was losing a part of himself. Which was so pathetic Bruce wanted to bang his head against the wall. Since he couldn't do that without alerting Clark to what was really going on, he busied himself retrieving their things from the tankbag before climbing off and following Clark to his door. Thankfully, the awkward air between them prevented Bruce's mind from wandering again, which unfortunately also meant that his anxiety was building with every step they took towards Clark's apartment. 

“Meow.”

Bruce's thoughts stuttered to a halt as his eyes found the fluffy white and brown cat sitting on Clark's doormat. “Since when do you own a cat?”

“I don't.” Clark smiled and bent down to scratch the little feline gently behind the ears. “Lady Pawlington belongs to my neighbor. She just likes to visit from time to time.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Lady Pawlington?”

Laughing, Clark picked the cat up. “What? Do you not think she deserves that title?”

Bruce snorted, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “Not at all. She looks very regal.”

Giving the cat one last gentle scratch, Clark set it down at the end of the corridor before he returned to Bruce and unlocked the door. They headed inside and with the sound of the door clicking shut behind them all of Bruce's anxiety suddenly returned with a vengeance. He didn’t want to lose this, but most importantly he didn't want to hurt Clark and he feared at least one of those things was inevitable. 

To stall for time, Bruce headed into the kitchen and rummaged around for the vase he knew Clark kept there. He felt Clark's eyes on him the entire time but he didn't dare turn around and instead focused entirely on filling the vase with water once he'd found it and arranging the flowers just so. His hands were trembling, his pulse was elevated and he knew it would only get worse. And yet he couldn't make himself turn around and face this. 

“Are we going to dance around this all day?”, asked Clark, taking the decision from Bruce, who reluctantly turned to face him. ”Or are we going to talk about what happened?”

Bruce told himself to just get this over with and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “I'm sorry”, he began and stopped again because the rest of the words got stuck somewhere in his throat.

Clark sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why were you at the game today?”

Instead of using his words like he should, Bruce pulled out his own Valentine's card and silently handed it to Clark. There was so much he wanted to say but he just couldn't get his tongue to move and he hated himself for it. Clark's brow furrowed in confusion as he accepted the card. “How did you…?”

“Open it.”

Wordlessly, Clark did and the furrow between his brows only grew as he stared at the card. “What is this, B?”

Bruce pressed his lips together tightly before he finally made himself explain: “It was Alfred's idea.” 

Clark looked down at the card again, knuckles turning white with, Bruce guessed, the effort not to crinkle or rip the paper. He was always careful. It was one of the things Bruce loved about him. “What are you saying?”

Closing his eyes, Bruce braced himself. He tried to view this as a case report just so that he could talk but it was difficult. “The cards, the tickets… Alfred organized it all and he roped the boys in to help him.” He ran a hand down his face. “I knew as soon as I read the poem in my card. It's one of Jason's favorites. He confirmed it when I called him earlier.”

Clark was silent for a long time. “I still don't understand.”

Bruce didn't dare meet Clark's eyes. “Alfred and the kids made these cards and delivered one to you and one to my hotel room. They wanted to bring us together.”

“So what was this supposed to be? A prank? A set-up? Were all of you going to have a laugh about it later on?”

Bruce's hands curled into fists at the hurt in Clark's voice and he bit the inside of his cheek as his heart started to race in earnest. This was what he'd been terrified of. This was the part that could ruin everything. “A blind date.”

“What?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “It was supposed to be a blind date.” He turned away, feeling like he was going to throw up but he knew he couldn't leave it at that. He owed Clark more, so much more than this. And he didn't know what made him do it but a reckless part of him thought if he had to hurt Clark and ruin things between them… He might as well go all in. “Alfred knows how I feel about you, how I've felt about you for the past couple of years, really. He was always trying to make me tell you and I suppose he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Clark fell silent once again and Bruce couldn't decipher the look on his face. Usually Clark wore his heart on his sleeve but right now he was surprisingly hard to read. Terrifyingly so. Finally, he asked, very quietly: “Your feelings for me?”

Bruce nodded, still not looking at Clark. He couldn't. He felt like an exposed nerve right now, like one wrong look or word could end him. 

Clark made a soft sound. “You didn't want to ruin our friendship”, he whispered, and then he was suddenly right in front of Bruce. 

“Look at me, B.”

Reluctantly, Bruce did as he was asked, because he couldn't not. He'd do anything for Clark but fear was tying his stomach into knots. Until Clark reached up and gently framed his face. “Why were you at the game today, B? Why did you go along with it? You could've just called me and told me what was going on. Why didn't you?”

Bruce swallowed hard, trembling all over now. “I didn't want to disappoint you”, he said quietly. “You should have seen the look on your face when you opened the card, Clark. You looked so happy. I didn't want to take that from you.”

A soft smile appeared on Clark's face and his thumbs began to softly caress Bruce's cheeks. “Bullshit, B. Tell me the real reason.”

A flush rose to Bruce's face and he looked at the floor. He couldn't stand to look into Clark's beautiful cornflower eyes right now. The last thing he wanted was to make himself even more vulnerable, to show his soft underbelly. But this was Clark. He wouldn't hurt Bruce, not on purpose. And he had yet to tell Bruce to fuck off. Hope swelling in his chest despite his better judgment, Bruce decided to tell the truth one more time. 

“I finally wanted to know what going on a date with you would be like. I've wanted that for so long, Clark, wanted you for so long, you have no idea. When you opened that card earlier and said you'd go out with whoever sent it, I was so jealous I could hardly stand it. I wanted it to be me you were so excited about.”

Clark was so close now that Bruce could hear the way his breath hitched. “Oh Bruce”, he whispered, resting his forehead against Bruce's own. “The only reason I decided to go on that date was because I thought I couldn't have you. You're the only one I want. You always have been.”

“What?” Bruce desperately searched Clark's beautiful eyes for a hint that this was real. 

“I love you, Bruce.”

An involuntary and undeniably needy sound slipped past Bruce's lips as he struggled to comprehend Clark's words and something flared up in Clark's eyes. Something hot and sharp that made Bruce's stomach flip with a mix of nerves and arousal. 

“And you love me too, don't you, B?” Clark's voice was practically a purr as he leaned even closer, his grip on Bruce shifting. One hand slid to the back of Bruce's head, burying itself in Bruce's hair, while the other wrapped around his neck. The touch was so possessive that Bruce's brain immediately kissed its higher functions goodbye. 

“I do”, croaked Bruce, already breathless as his body reacted to Clark's proximity, to the feel of his touch, his warmth and that intoxicating scent of his Bruce could never get enough of. 

Clark's answering smile was nothing short of predatory. “Good.” And then he was kissing Bruce. 

Bruce melted into the contact with a moan, instantly surrendering. Clark's hands tightened a little around Bruce's throat and in his hair and suddenly it felt like those hands were the only things keeping Bruce upright. Clark's tongue plundered his mouth and the kiss was hungry, domineering in a way Bruce didn't know Clark could be. He felt dizzy with it, overwhelmed by how utterly he was at Clark's mercy and loving every second of it. 

After a moment, Clark broke the kiss and crowded Bruce against the kitchen counter. His hands drifted to Bruce's hips, grabbing them tight and in one fluid move that stole Bruce's breath, he lifted him onto the counter. 

“God, B. You don't know how often I've dreamed about this, having you here at my mercy like this.” Clark nuzzled the side of Bruce's neck, sending shivers of want down Bruce's spine. Bruce tilted his head to give him better access and the approving sound that rumbled out of Clark's chest at that, instantly got him from half-mast to rock hard. 

“I can hear your heart racing”, murmured Clark, leaving a trail of wet kisses along Bruce's throat as his big hands landed high on Bruce's thighs, kneading and massaging them and making Bruce feel lightheaded with lust. “I can hear your blood rushing to fill your cock.”

Clark splayed his big hands, the tips of his thumbs and pointer fingers pressing against Bruce's erection. Electricity raced through Bruce's veins and he abruptly felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. He couldn't quite believe what was happening, wasn't sure any of this was even real, but at the moment it didn't matter. As long as Clark kept touching and teasing him like this nothing else mattered. 

“Clark”, he moaned, pleaded, really, and finally allowed himself to touch Clark as well, to wrap his arms around those broad shoulders and hold on tight. 

“I've got you”, said Clark, low and intimate as he pushed Bruce's thighs apart to wedge his hips inbetween. Bruce's blood instantly caught fire and suddenly his clothes felt stifling, restricting. He needed them off. He wanted to feel Clark's skin, to finally touch every inch of it like he'd longed to do for years. Hands trembling with desperate need, he began to tug on Clark's stupid checkered button down shirt. 

“Off”, he growled and the first button gave way under his fumbling fingers. “I swear those fucking shirts of yours.” He pressed a kiss to Clark's throat. “They shouldn't work on anyone but somehow, whenever I see you in one of these they drive me to the edge of reason. Every. Damned. Time.”

Clark chuckled breathlessly and squeezed Bruce's thighs, sending a jolt of lust through him. “You're one to talk. Jesus, Bruce, have you seen your legs? And you always wear these tight pants. It's been driving me crazy.”

“Then do something about it, boy scout.” Bruce continued to unbutton Clark's shirt and nearly salivated at every inch of golden skin revealed. 

Clark smirked and the next thing Bruce knew a draft of cold air hit his suddenly very naked skin. “Fuck!” He gasped, arousal spiking. His clothes were folded neatly on top of the table and for some reason the sight of them, this blatant show of Clark's power, made his cock begin to leak against his naked stomach.

Grinning, Clark crowded between Bruce's legs again and the fabric of his jeans scratched along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Bruce's hands flew to Clark's shoulders, fisting the material. He intended to get back to working Clark's shirt open, even the score and get him naked, but then Clark's fingers were on him

On his chest, trailing over his pecs in featherlight touches, around his nipples and down his ribs, and Bruce lost the capacity for rational thought. He arched his back, pressing his skin against Clark's fingers. 

“So responsive”, murmured Clark, kissing his way down the side of Bruce's neck, scraping his teeth over the delicate skin. “Makes me want to take you apart, B.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Bruce turned his head and captured Clark's lips in a kiss. Clark groaned and crowded even closer, his clothed cock rubbing against Bruce's exposed one, probably smearing precome all over his jeans as he licked into Bruce's mouth and the image of the two of them like this was so unbearably sexy to Bruce. 

After a moment, Clark pulled back. His curls were sticking up every which way, his pupils were blown, his lips swollen and shiny with spit. He looked so beautiful, it made Bruce's heart ache. “Are you sure? We can take it slow, if you want, B. We have time.”

Frowning, Bruce grabbed the back of Clark's neck and drew him back in. “Don't you dare. I want you inside me, Clark. Now.”

Clark moaned and wrapped his arms around Bruce. “Hold on.”

Before Bruce could even fully process the words, everything around him became blurry. It stopped again just as fast and when he blinked his surroundings back into focus he found himself lying on Clark's bed, Clark hovering above him. Literally. But that wasn't what caught Bruce's attention. All of his focus was taken up by the fact that somewhere between one blink and the next Clark had gotten rid of his clothes and was now fully naked as well. All that golden, unblemished skin, the cut of his hips and those perfectly defined abs… Bruce swallowed thickly and lifted a shaky hand to follow the path of his eyes with his fingers. 

Clark shuddered, lowering himself until his body was covering Bruce's, his weight settling on top of him. They both groaned. 

“I can't believe we're actually doing this”, whispered Clark, framing Bruce's face with his hands. “I've been dreaming about this.”

Bruce's breath caught in his throat and he gently carded his fingers through Clark's hair. “Me too. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to experience this.”

Clark's gaze softened and the kiss he pressed to Bruce's lips was so unbearably tender it had tears springing to Bruce's eyes. “I love you, Bruce.”

Bruce's heart stuttered. “I love you, too”, he answered, lips brushing Clark's as he spoke. Then he grabbed a fistful of Clark's hair and tugged lightly as he spread his legs as wide as he could. “Now, I think I was promised to be thoroughly taken apart.”

Laughing breathlessly, Clark leaned back and his fond expression made Bruce squirm. “So impatient”, he said, clucking his tongue. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson and make you wait.” But even as he said that he began to slide down Bruce's body, wedging his shoulders between his spread legs. His hands slid around to Bruce's ass, lifting him up. Anticipation built in Bruce's gut and by now his cock drooled a continuous stream of precome onto his stomach. 

For a long while Clark just stared, gaze fixed hungrily on Bruce's cock, and Bruce squirmed helplessly in his grip. 

“So darn pretty”, murmured Clark and then he was diving forward, licking a long stripe up Bruce's cock, swirling his tongue around the head before kissing his way back down. Bruce shouted in surprised pleasure and arched off the bed. But Clark wasn't done. Not by long shot. He didn’t stop at the base of Bruce's cock and instead moved further south, laving attention on Bruce's balls. 

And then he moved even further down and Bruce's brain short-circuited as he stopped breathing. Clark's big hands shifted on Bruce, spreading his cheeks as he lifted his hips like it was nothing, and then his tongue was licking a broad stripe over Bruce's hole. 

Bruce's entire body twitched as if it was connected to a live wire and his heart was beating so fast he feared it might explode. The pleasure coursing through his veins as Clark licked and sucked and bit at his hole, pushing first one then two fingers inside alongside his tongue was too much for him to take. But he couldn't escape it. Clark wouldn't let him. His grip on Bruce's ass was unrelenting and Bruce was sure he'd have finger-shaped bruises there later. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life, more turned on, and if Clark didn't stop soon he'd come just from that clever mouth and fingers alone. 

“Clark”, he moaned, squirming, torn between getting away from the stimulation and grinding down into it. “I'm… If you don't stop…”, he gasped, trying to warn Clark, but if anything his attempt to get Clark to slow down had the opposite effect. Because Clark slid a third finger into Bruce, pushing them all the way in while his tongue circled around Bruce's stretched hole and then those blunt fingers found his prostate. 

Stars exploded in front of Bruce's eyes. He was distantly aware of the sob he let out, the way his back lifted off the mattress, but everything was hazy as the pleasure consumed him. When Bruce finally came back down, panting and boneless, he quickly became aware of the fact that Clark's fingers were still buried deep inside him. Clark's gaze was fixed on Bruce's face, a hungry look in his eyes. Once he noticed Bruce was back with him he held eye-contact and very deliberately crooked his fingers. Lightning shot up Bruce's spine and a high-pitched whine tore itself from his throat. 

“I want to fuck you, B. Just like this, when you're already sweaty and overstimulated. I want to make you cry.” 

A violent shudder worked its way down Bruce's spine. Clark's voice was completely shot, his mouth was bright red, spit covered his lips and cheeks and his eyes seemed almost wild with arousal. 

There was no way Bruce could deny him. 

Exhaling shakily, he reached down and tangled his fingers in Clark's hair, pulling weakly, but Clark didn't budge. “Say it, B”, he rasped. “Tell me you want me to fuck you till you cry.”

Moaning, Bruce squeezes his eyes closed. His spent cock did its best to rise again even though it was impossible for him to go again this soon. “Fuck me, Clark. Do it”, he gasped, wiggling his hips to finally get Clark to move. 

With a low curse that sent a shiver down Bruce's spine, Clark pulled his fingers free and began to crawl up Bruce's body. Bruce was still limp and sluggish as Clark slid his arms under his legs and lifted them, positioning himself at Bruce's entrance. Bruce moaned again as he felt the wet tip of Clark's cock against his hole, Clark's precome mixing with his spit as he slowly pushed his way inside. Bruce's tired body lit up at the delicious pressure and he threw his head back. It felt like forever until Clark was fully seated inside and when he finally was, Bruce's chest was heaving for air, sweat trickling down his spine as his nerves twinged and prickled with overstimulation. Clark was just so big, filling Bruce perfectly, pressing against his prostate without even trying. 

And then he started to move in earnest and Bruce's brain immediately switched offline. Each and every one of Clark's powerful thrusts hit Bruce's prostate head on, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through his entire system, robbing him of his breath and making him feel like he was drowning in it. Bruce's being narrowed down to Clark. Clark above him, surrounding him, in him… There was nothing else in existence right now. 

“Look at you, B”, panted Clark, hips picking up speed as he rocked into Bruce. “You're a mess. And you're so darn pretty like this.”

He leaned down and kissed Bruce, practically fucking his mouth with his tongue and Bruce felt like he was losing his mind. Weakly, he clawed at Clark's back, tried to hold on for the ride as Clark relentlessly forced his body towards a second orgasm. The coil of pleasure in his belly was wound steadily tighter and tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes. 

“There you are”, breathed Clark, his thrusts growing erratic, his kisses more desperate and when he slammed home one last time, filling Bruce with his hot seed, Bruce tumbled over the edge as well. He'd never had a dry orgasm before. He didn’t even know he could, and it honestly felt like only Clark could have torn the pleasure from his body in this way. 

Afterwards, Bruce's mind went dark for quite a while. He just drifted along in a cloud of exhausted satisfaction, lethargic and completely unaware of his surroundings. 

When he eventually came back to himself, he was lying on Clark's chest, wrapped up in those strong arms. He sighed in contentment and closed his eyes. “That was quite a ride, cowboy.”

Clark laughed, arms squeezing Bruce a little tighter. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me, B.”

Bruce felt himself flush and buried his face in Clark's chest. “I can't believe I actually find that charming.”

Clark began gently stroking Bruce's back. “I can't believe I'm finally allowed to have you.”

Heart stuttering in his chest, Bruce craned his neck and pressed a soft kiss to Clark's jaw. “I'm all yours.”

Clark turned his head and captured Bruce’s lips in a tender kiss. “And I'm yours.”

Smiling, Bruce settled back down. He was in the process of drifting off to sleep when Clark's voice roused him once more. “I guess that means we owe Alfred a gift basket or something.”

Bruce groaned. “They're going to be unbearably smug about this.”

Chuckling, Clark kissed the top of his head. “I'm sure I can think of a few things to make this worth it though.”

Snorting, Bruce shook his head. “You're insatiable.”

“Only for you, B. Only for you.” 

<3 <3 <3 

As it turned out, Clark's first Valentine's Day date was a smashing success. 

[theloveinc]

if i didn't care (more than words can say) - a dabi / touya todoroki x reader fanfiction—NO QUIRK!college-ish!AU

wc: 7.3k — my longest to date :')

sum: a beautiful but notorious shadow keeps following you home. over the course of some weeks, you eventually get to know him.

a/n: more than anything, this is really just a huge ode to my hatred of graduate school, though since the start of writing this, i admit it has gotten a lot better—hence there being a mixture of characters and ocs included. i don't think i was able to nail this exactly the way i envisioned, in clarity and thematically (and it's wordy as all hell)... but i am still delighted by this concept. i hope it tickles you, as well!

a MAJOR thank you to my beloved @weird-dere-writes for beta-ing this! twyla is a a real one whom i adore like the shining sun.

warning: lighthearted in spirit but DARK CONTENT! features stalking, physical assault and mentions of sexual assault, miscommunication, suicidal ideation, talk of death, gore + general sense of unhappiness/unease. gender neutral but some of the pet names include: pretty, sweetheart, lollipop, cookie, hon, baby + etc., also I think you might have a purse?, HAPPY END!

(read on ao3!)

title credit goes to the ink spots.

enjoy!

The sun has just barely set by the time you leave your final class of the day. Fog seeps from over the distant hills that surround your city, subway tracks murmur from underneath the thick concrete, and car high beams yellow in the fading light of the sun and slate blue sky. 

Your classmates—those who have all left the lecture hall before you to give each other rides home—laugh, their voices echoing throughout the campus plaza as they disperse; the last students of the night to begin their trek home, down the hill that is your campus, and far, far away from you. 

You don’t mind. 

…or you tell yourself, at least. 

Your walk home is pleasant enough, not so close that it doesn’t feel like a trip worth making, not so far that it feels like you’re a freshman again, tearing out of class just to run to catch the bus in time. It’s the perfect temperature where walking is comfortable, and if timing allows, you’ll get to enjoy the sunset as you go. Maybe today you’ll see the funny looking tuxedo cat that stares at you sometimes from the ground floor apartment window of one of your neighbors; you only recently found out that they have a little tortoiseshell, too. 

Besides, while it’s not as though you enjoy your time alone any more than you enjoy anything else in life, home has become a sort of sanctuary, the trip to-and-from, a ritual, from school and the tension that sears your nerves on a daily basis. You still can’t help but wonder why it is that you’re only ever regarded by other students with hateful looks or by plain being ignored, sitting in the front corner of every classroom, freezing from both the weather's cooling breeze and the fact everyone just happened to ice you out by sitting in the back. 

It's no surprise that nor can you ignore it, either.

For as much as you try, which is almost as often as you open your eyes in the morning, you simply haven’t succeeded. Hence why, with the cold air nipping at your cheeks and your fingers numbing from a chill you know will only get worse the longer you stay outside… you suppose you should finally start heading back, too.  

-

You notice them first when you stop to adjust a faulty earbud. 

A figure behind you that stops. Waits. Lingers. More than a block away, under the newly darkened sky and opaque clouds. A street light illuminates their body as they appear to dawdle; awkwardly hovering about a pole, staring at something you don’t see on the ground, trotting a couple steps, and then looking up at the sky.

You glance at them, the way one glances, with one hand pressed to your ear, the other gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you turn your head ever so slightly to look out of the corner of your eye and pray the movement isn’t noticed. 

The figure, of course, freezes–like it’s not obvious, like it’s possible you won’t pick up on the sudden shift from dance to pause, autonomous to marionette, breath to stone. You can’t make out much about them aside from their long, dark clothing as their face is hidden by dark glasses and a hood, but when your stomach knots with something sour, nerves that twist and scream, you know nothing good will come from standing around and waiting to find out anything more. 

You let your eyes shift back to the paved street in front of you slowly, as if you just found yourself caught up in the frustration of skippy music. Then, you start walking again, hoping it was all just some coincidence, illusion, pretending that if you were to look back, the figure would have since simply turned the corner and left you behind, like most people almost always seem to do. 

But you look again. Peek, from the corner of your eye, briefly, like you normally would when no one is there and you just want to make sure… but this time, someone is, and by the time you really catch sight of them (closer now, like they were walking fast, jogging maybe, red light, green light), you don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself and turn back before you can make things any worse. 

Your heart beats. Your breath shudders. You flex your fingers where they’re held, stiff with terror, wondering: is this really happening? What should I do? Am I crazy? 

It’s five more blocks until your house. Three stop signs, then two traffic lights. One liquor store, and an empty cafe that has already closed for the day, filled with stacked chairs and little mice you sometimes catch scuttling by the edge of the curb. You live by a school, but since it’s already dark, there will maybe be a total of four cars that pass you by. Maybe. Then there’s a trek up a short hill before you finally reach your street. 

You wonder, not once slowing your step, if this is something you need to be worried about, if you’re really being stalked like you’ve always been warned of before, if anyone would even care if you didn’t show up to class tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that… and then, despite the whisper of your unconscious telling you not to be so self-involved, no one wants you, anyway, you increase your step. You want to look back, confirm what you think is happening, face a fight you don’t think is fair but haven’t yet decided whether or not you want to win.

But you don’t, thinking you can almost hear their footsteps now, though maybe you’re just confusing them for the wild thump, thump, thump of your heart and the catches of your breath. And when you check back, they’re half a block away but feel closer than ever, eyes on you and hands halfway around your throat though they’re still hidden deep in their pockets. 

You feel a little like hurling, a bit more like giving up and letting them have you (though you’ve only ever written a suicide note, never a will)... but the creature of fear in you ends up prevailing, throwing it’s tentacles up through your gullet into your brain and dragging you into the depths… just as you say a prayer for the first, or any, god willing to listen. 

And then you start running.

Heft your bag over your shoulder, suck in an icy breath and charge forward into the night, past the three stop signs and through the red of each stop light that blares at you, really the only thing that seems to acknowledge you as you refuse to waste any time looking back. 

Self preservation is one hell of a drug, you only manage to briefly think in between gulps of air, your cheeks stinging with the breeze and your feet beginning to grate and blister against the friction of shoes that aren’t meant for running. You figure at this point you’re more likely to trip and crack your skull open on the pavement than be caught and dragged away by some freak with a violent agenda. Would that really be so bad? 

But your answer quickly arrives in the form of making it home and climbing the stairs so fast you manage to forget the thought entirely, along with most of the rest of the world aside from the few people you come up with (and proceed to scratch out) when determining who, if there's anyone, you can call for help.

It's inside, silent and alone in the dark, you try to process what just occurred for so long that eventually your roommate comes home from their shift at the bar. It’s only at their surprise from seeing you still awake (ghostlike, on the couch) that you realize hours have passed in the span of what felt like only seconds, minutes, the metronome of a few steps home–and that you hadn’t actually processed anything at all. 

You go to bed that night, not having eaten but not hungry, still feeling the phantom sensations of your bounding footsteps on hard concrete, cold sweat sliding down the slant of your neck, and the feeling of a man just inches from your putting his hands on your back. 

-

The next day during lecture, you are awoken from a hazy daydream by a notification on your phone.

Campus Creeper Found Passed Out in Uni Plaza. 

You blink, exhausted after an adrenaline crash made worse by your night of haunted sleep, eventual overheating, and your roommate taking a shower at four am. You were happy to even drag yourself out of bed this morning and make coffee just tolerable enough not to spit out all over your kitchen floors. 

Local man, you read after clicking, deemed the “campus creeper,” was found passed out on the Student Union steps early this morning. Identified by a member of student patrol at Mustafu University, the man’s name has yet to be released to the public as it appeared he was suffering from a number of wounds, mostly external. 

Despite condition, students have taken to social media to express their relief, as the man has reportedly been following students—

You stop reading, having hardly even processed the words, really, as you try to shake off the fog that keeps you from really understanding what the words are telling you. 

A tightness settles in your stomach, heavy and painful with a nausea you can’t shake, a question you don’t yet realize: is this the same person, same man, who scared you half to death last night by trailing you all the way home? It’s unclear from the article, the timing, the picture with his blurred out features… and the fact that he must've been dragged all the way back up to school because he was found nowhere near your home. 

While you assume you’ll be more excited once the new sinks in and the nerves turn to consolation (and the person to your left stops chattering into the ear of the person sat behind you), you can’t help but shoot to your feet and run to the closest bathroom in a panic, trying not to hyperventilate looking at yourself in the mirror in between splashing water on your face. 

-

The day has once again fallen into night. Your bag is heavy with the weight of books and pens and your schedule notepad that has all your plans for the rest of the week and even the month beyond that. Today, however, the clouds don’t creep and instead, you see stars, maybe only a handful or so, one airplane too, as the sun descends in a tender calm and the windchill greets your cheeks once more. 

You walk, out of class and down the ancient steps of the building, start descending the hill down to the first busy intersection of streetlights where the president of your school was once hit by a car. 

It’s not three blocks into the way home, however, that a shadow appears once more. Distantly, though you’re sure it’s calculated enough so as not to ring as intentional no matter how much you know it is, and can feel it in your bones. 

You thought he had been caught. The creeper. 

You hadn’t realized you were so relieved by the thought. It slipped your mind, the celebration over as quick as it started under the weight of all your schoolwork and the dirty looks your classmates sent you after you came back from dry heaving into the bathroom sink. Maybe it was a different guy they caught, you wonder, then kick yourself for being so naive as to think that maybe you’d been spared. 

Of course not, you think. It’s never that easy, is it? 

Panic once again bubbles up in your throat, anxiety pooling in your stomach like something hot melting through stone, and tears start to sting at the center of your eyes. You do your best to ward away the urge to collapse, instead trying to focus on the fact that everything was fine yesterday and tonight’s just another dream you’ll wake up from again tomorrow…though by now you know it’s not. 

It is easier, this time, however, to begin to run, to bounce on your feet with a purpose you hope isn’t any more transparent than your fear. You’re happy that today you managed to pack light, skipped filling up your water bottle, and happened to put on your sneakers instead of your slip-ons, as if you didn’t spend half of your entire morning trying to convince yourself that potentially saving your own life was a good thing.

By the time you make it to the door, chest heaving with a wheezing heat as your hand shakes the key into the padlock, when you turn back to look one final time before ducking inside, still gasping for air, the shadow is no longer behind you. 

-

The creeper is getting braver, you notice. 

It has been weeks since the shadow appeared and the following began. One week of that same distant trailing which had you sprinting like some sort of track star, two weeks of running only the last block home, locking every single bolt on your door (then unlocking when it was time to let your roommate in), and three in total of squinting behind you in stinted moments and wondering what you see. 

You think his hair is white. 

Now though, tonight, he stays not a block or two behind you but rather, less than fifty feet. You can make him out—see now the faded black of his jeans and the red of his chuck taylors, dirty. He’s young-ish, you think, more noticeable than before, and skinnier–though maybe your eyesight has just gotten worse, or the memories have faded in trying to spare you from another trauma, maybe even from awakening any of the first ones.  

You wonder how he was able to speed up, where he was waiting for you, where he came from that first night, the second, and now. And you wonder why you’ve stopped running as fast, even if you’ve been trying to leave campus earlier and earlier as if that will keep you any safer from walking home at night. 

(You had remained after class one night to ask your professor a question you no longer remember, and a wispy haired girl sneered at you so badly you ended up weeping on your way out the door. Not only did it kill your urge to ever stay longer on campus than you needed to, it also caused a wane to your desire to even arrive home at all). 

-

One day, the creeper catches up. 

Reaches, like he’d be able to touch you, smiles, like his canines are sharp enough to chew through you…hopefully in one bite if he was even able to swallow that much. Maybe he is. 

But you swat back when he does. Hoist your bag in close. Glare over your shoulder. Then speed up, and your lungs tighten into stone almost immediately when he speaks.  

“Hey—” 

“Get the fuck,” you screech, turning back just enough to say the words despite not knowing if you’d even be brave enough to let them out, to get away unscathed, “away from me!”

The shadow, however, instead of shrinking into disparagement like you so hoped… laughs, skipping towards you, laces flying, smiling wide. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he jeers, to which you wince as you try to stomp away from his pull. That is, in between your attempts at keeping your eyes on him so that he doesn’t pull anything else fast, or deadly. 

“I swear to fucking god. I will call the cops.” 

Another laugh, his footsteps now lighter, his voice switching to something airy and cool.

“Don’t be like that, pretty.” 

You barely look, but you see a flash of red as he kicks out his foot, the curl of a grin pulling one side of his lips lopsided as he lazily trots to match your hurried pace. 

You want to start running, to disappear, dissolve—anything to stop things from developing further into a conversation and your possible demise—but he catches up to you again before you can even try to skirt away in any direction other than forward. 

“You noticed quicker than I thought you would,” he almost hums, the words exposing the soft, pink tissue of his gums. “‘didn’t think you would.” 

There is a question in his statement, though his voice doesn’t lilt and only his eyebrows give it away, quirking, stretching, falling, the piercing on his left one along with it, when you slow down (hardly, still breathing rough and nervous, not wanting to look) but don’t respond. 

“Most people…” he shakes his head, “eh.”  

“What?” you stop your stride, more out of surprise than want, and stare at him despite how distinctly you avoid catching his eyes. “Like people don’t know when they’re being followed?” 

“Nah,” he says, his mouth remaining open after, humorously, like you’re supposed to get the joke, think it’s cool, that he’s a zombie, maybe. Something. “Like I thought you wouldn’t care.”

You cross your arms, blink at the ground in trying to hide what is most likely a stupid looking pout in your failing attempt to get hot and angry. You shouldn’t even be speaking. “I care when creepy people follow me.” 

He laughs again, raspy and free. “It’s been weeks.” 

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, but you look at him anyway. Truly focus on the mop of messy white and black streaked hair atop his head, the stained, canvas jacket with extra pockets and copper zippers, and his smile; the delicate, creased skin of his jaw that fades smoothly up his cheeks and down his neck. He isn’t bare of a good amount of piercings, either: he’s got all sorts metal in his ears, nose, and dimples, as far as you can tell by simply looking at him

He’s not really all that creepy-looking after all. To your surprise (and slight disgust), in fact, you find he’s somewhat… handsome.  

You swallow. 

“It’s been three.”

“Hm, baby?” 

You tense, the claws returning, this time aiming for your heart, shredding it open, every insecurity lighting aflame when he smiles that smile again. 

“Three weeks. That’s how long you’ve been stalking me,” you say.

There’s a pause, a shift, something you don’t catch and can hardly read. Then, he rolls his eyes, shoving his white knuckled fingers into the pockets of his coat. He doesn’t move otherwise, doesn’t even look angry, or as though he’s going to take any steps backwards or forward, and not like he’s going to lunge at you as if you’re prey and there’s an animal in him that he’s already promised food.

You feel otherwise, though he shakes his head with a ‘tsk. “I’d say stalking is a little harsh.” 

You’re not sure why you object, “But–” 

“I don’t stare into your window,” he taunts, “don’t have your number, don’t send you stupid love poems every night and every morning that say,‘I love you, be mine!’” He pretends to sing-song, 

You can feel the irony, hear the chuckle but turn anyway to resume your walk into the night. Briskly. Refusing to look back and acknowledge the stranger you’re not sure wants to kill you.  

“I don’t throw rocks at your window,” he continues to call after you, “or approach you in cafes and pretend you’re crazy when you scream.”   

“Then leave me alone,” you shout, hoping the wind carries it far enough behind you to reach him, though you shiver still. 

You don’t see it, but he shrugs. And surprisingly stays where he’s put, watching you try not to look like you’re peeking at him before nearly tripping on your own feet. You’re not sure if it’s a relief.

It’s the first night since first learning of him that you’ve walked home alone. 

-

Later, you learn the creep has two names. 

It’s been five weeks now, just after winter’s turn, the clouds not so big anymore but often dense with the slightest bit of rain you enjoy only when you wake up in the middle of the night too scared to go back to sleep.

The creeper, the shadow, your stalker, basically lives behind you now, grinning whenever you glance, dancing whenever you glare; it’s like he soaks up your, any kind of, attention like a bonfire being doused with gasoline. You’re still scared, unknowing of what he wants, but now that you’ve spoken, there’s somewhat of a static that’s settled, too; it’s tense and awkward, but the horror of it all is stagnant in build, in wait for the spark to light and set your whole world ablaze.

Though he finds you again, two red lights in, halfway to your house. 

“Hey,” he says, following with your name. 

You immediately shudder, jerking away from him in surprise as if there’s anything else you could do, but he just laughs that laugh of his, undisturbed he’s now talking to your back. 

“Where’d you learn that?” you snap, but you can practically hear his grin when he responds. 

“Got classmates, don’t you?” 

Most of your classmates ignore you half the time, the other half just roll their eyes. Most of your classmates laugh whenever you speak, the ones who don’t have made you cry in front of your professors. 

“They wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.” 

“I would,” he says, pausing as if he’s some sort of pensive, then giving you a look that assures you he’s up to no good,  “and they gave me your name. Ibara, Setsuna, Yui–I could go on, you know?”

You’re surprised. You’re disgusted. At him, at them, and you gape, the only thing you can think to do under a circumstance that implies no one has any regard for your safety and yet, hardly leaves you surprised. “I think I’d rather just die.” 

“That’s not true,” the creeper laughs, seeming oddly sure of the answer. You’re too nonplussed to decide if he’s right. 

“I hate you,” you try instead. 

“You don’t even know me.” 

And it’s no nice to meet you, but the words slip out before you can stop them. 

“So, what’s your name then?” 

He hesitates, sucking on the piercing on his bottom lip before letting it pop back out in a sneer that shows pointed teeth. You’re not sure if he’s meaning to come off as upset or pensive, bitter or just plain rude. 

“Dabi.” 

The words fall off his lips, snappy and hot, like you’re lighting the burner on an old stove, or flicking a match against a matchbox for the first time and getting surprised when it sparks.

You pause, peeking over your shoulder. “‘gonna cremate me once you kill me?” 

This time, he doesn’t laugh. “Maybe,” he says, then when you don’t react, “no.” 

Your foot taps the ground when you look forward again. “You should really think about changing it, then.” 

There’s a pause, a shift in clothes and in breath despite the pace at which you walk. You feel nervous, awkward the way one does when someone catches you with bad hair, or wearing the last clean clothes in the house on laundry day. You’re not sure why you care so much about a man who clearly does not care about you. Or does… in the same way a farmer fattens up a chicken for slaughter. 

“Call me Touya, then,” he says, his eyes dark. “That’s what my ma calls me.” 

“Touya,” you repeat, sounding the word out on your tongue soft and slow. Lamp. Arrow. A name from his mother. Your lips wrap around it, caress the warmth of the dip, the bend, the aim… and his face breaks into that knowing, wolfish grin. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

You freeze, one foot freezing in the air, and he bursts into a rasp of laughter so loud your eyebrows immediately shoot up and almost off your head entirely. You go in to shush him like you would as if you were accused of something embarrassing, your expression morphing into a deep frown, and his own lightening with humor but still twisting with something hidden, something you really hope is not satisfaction. His lopsided smile falls just the slightest when he sees you readjust your bag and start, almost, stomping away. 

He lets you find distance, of course, he’s always been a shadow not a stable fly, but Touya once again resumes his lazy trailing, joyously humming now, the sound echoing in your ears much longer than it probably should as he falls into a careful step behind you just as he always does… until you eventually make it home. 

-

At six weeks in, he finally drops you off at your house. 

Normally Touya stops his trail about a block or two before you make it, today, however, by the time you’re on the stone steps leading up to your front door, he’s a mere ten feet from your side like a chivalrous date making sure you get home safe (or like someone intending to grab your hands when you’re opening the door and rush in after you, as if to mount you right there on the floor). Your knees wobble on the first step when he speaks, though he remains standing politely next to the fire hydrant by the curb, playing with an unlit cigarette in between his fingers. 

“Got any roommates?” 

You stop, keys dangling from your fingers as you refuse to turn back and look. 

“Yeah,” you say, staring at the chopped firewood on your porch as you let the silence sprawl. You would’ve said the same even if you didn’t. 

“Good. Smart cookie.” 

Your stomach twists. Your face burns. He bounces on his heels. You can’t move. 

“That bakery down the street,” he begins again, nodding his head when you peek at him, barely. “It got food?” 

You squint, your stiff hands cold and tight, his in his pockets. 

“Um.” 

He waits. 

“It’s got mice.” 

Then he bursts into laughter, quickly quieting to suck his teeth and kick a foot forward like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. There’s a part of you that knows you need to stop indulging this man, for your own safety and sanity, but there’s another part that also doesn’t flip when you think of the possibility of dying. Instead of going inside, you kick your own feet out and ignore your trepidation. 

“Why?”

“Wanna get dinner?”

He grins, and you hate the thought as soon as it arises, but it’s lovely; he has the smile lines of someone who has lived a happy life, and he looks so pretty you almost want to cry. 

(Today he’s dressed in dark, stained jeans and dirty boots. His hair is still a white and black mess and his smile is boyish and toothy. It sends a current up your spine that makes you jerk when you turn back to face your front door.)

“Piss off.” 

You shove your key in the lock to ignore the way he responds with a chuckle as his farewell, goofily waving when you manage to get the stupid thing to turn and yourself inside (which you notice only when you turn to slam the door closed and the curtain ripples). 

But later, when you spare one more glance, the way one glances, out of the window of your living room as if to merely check the weather, Touya is smoking his cigarette on the street corner. 

-

Campus Creep Caught Hanging Around. 

Busted, but this time, not blue! The attacker who was dubbed the “campus creeper” by Mustafu University students was spotted once more about a mile away from the local school. A local cafe owner claims he saw the man being followed by another of a similar size, but is  unsure if the two men are of a related circumstance or other. 

He reports that the neighborhood has been in good spirits lately, so this comes as a shock. As we continue to find out more, the public will be updated—

-

Today your shadow is waiting for you at the end of the block. You spot him from out of the third story window of your classroom, feet sticking halfway off the curb and a lit cigarette between his lips that curls pretty, silver smoke into the golden blue light of the nighttime air. 

“Hey, need a ride home?” one of your classmates asks beside you, the one that has your same name, shocking you out of your stupor as they tap the fingers of one hand against your table and swing their car keys around in the other. 

You can barely tear your gaze away from the window to look at them; their flushed face, their short curls, tight and bouncing, and their awkward, half-assed attempt at generosity. You wonder if this is some kind of exercise they were told to practice in therapy. 

“I heard about the campus stalker,” they continue without prompt. “Shihai and Kinoko are coming too, but you can squeeze in the middle, if you want.”

Their smile looks almost pitying. 

“Uh,” you blink, a little stupefied, a little shy. “It’s alright, but thanks.” 

They raise their eyebrows. “Isn’t your neighborhood a ways down by that cafe?”

“Yeah,” you nod, pausing to flick your eyes upward, “But I, uh...my friend is gonna walk me.”

You point toward the window, where your shadow, Dabi, Touya, whoever, has stopped smoking and is now bent over (teasing, most likely, with a gray-tinted shoelace) one of the mouser cats owned by the keepers of the small temple that sits snug at the back of your school.

You’re not exactly sure when he morphed into your friend. You don’t even think he has yet… but the words feel natural, eager, and easier than sliding onto leather seats in between two people who have never once looked your way with a nice expression and probably never will. 

“Oh good!” same-name laughs, tipping their head back in a way that almost seems exaggerated. “I was scared someone might try to nab you. Not anymore, though.”  

You’re not quite sure if they’re joking, but you try to smile and nod along anyway.

-

By the time he catches up to you that night, he’s half out of breath.

“There you are,” he says, grinning that stupid, wolf-like grin. “‘thought maybe you’d left out the back. Would’ve had to run to catch you.” 

You frown, readjusting the weight of your bag on your shoulder like always, distracted as you multitask trying to make sure your water bottle hasn’t leaked as you run through a list of things to remember as well as double check that you haven’t forgotten anything inside.

 “The north wing is halfway around campus,” you purposely avoid mentioning you took the long way to skip the corner where Touya usually stands. Instead of his face, you stare at the ground instead, by now resigned to the torture of waiting for your end… even if you’re secretly a tad disappointed he hadn’t brought the cat with him. 

“So?” Touya doesn’t look perturbed when you finally face him, almost as if he was waiting for you, “’woulda caught up eventually.” 

You make a note to add that to your list of things to remember, raising your eyebrows. 

“Why?” you ask, and then before he can tease, “Why bother, I mean?” and you can tell he must think you’re joking by the way he doesn’t answer, instead responding by flattening his face–his eyes sinking back into the cozy crevices where they rest and the skin of his chin tightening with exasperation as dry as tinder.

You try not to be too perturbed by it, instead of pressing him for answers, simply turning to set back off as if that will stop the eye roll he’ll give you behind your back and change his mind about following you home. But, as always, or at least, as of more recently, Touya waits a mere five steps before starting right along behind you like the shadow his is. 

-

“What do you want from me, Touya?” 

You ask the question one day, finally, two and a half months in. Classes aren’t over yet, but the end of winter semester is fast approaching. The words seem to scratch at your throat, their destination apparent even if you find they’re hard to spit out and burn on their way out. 

“What?” he asks, falling into a perky step beside you. He’s been that close everyday for the last two weeks now. And now, pressed up against you, near hopping like you’ve been friends for years, he doesn’t back away from the inquiry. 

You’re tired. Sick of waiting. Sad that you let this whole thing last so long when you’ve been quite aware of your impending doom (not that you ever told anyone, not even your roommate) and have done little to try and stop it.

“You wanna kill me or something? Take me home so you can fuck me then run me over?” 

Touya’s footsteps slow, and he halts (for the first time ever of his own volition) a little ways behind you. He’s not as tall as you initially thought him to be back when he kept his distance, but you’ve also since learned that his eyes are the prettiest cyan you’ve ever seen, and his scarred skin is soft and pink. Silver piercings adorn his cheeks like dimples, scars cutting the two different textures right in half. 

“No,” he says, then half heartedly and calm, “you know I’ve done enough of that, already.” 

You glance at him, pulling your head back in a half-horrified glare. But instead of the only half-serious expression you’re so used to seeing on him, however, you find a shit-eating smirk on his face that tells you he’d laugh if he weren’t so obviously trying to yank your chain by not doing so at all. 

Still serious, he jumps at you though, eyes opening wide, hands outstretched and twitching like a monster in a cartoon out to grab you, and you hop back like he’s on fire. No sooner does his face fall that he glances at you as if waiting for some kind of reaction, positive review, happy Halloween (even though it’s ages before Halloween). 

When you stay silent, the hands on your chest not falling, your expression still one of terror but to him quite bitter, he rolls his eyes so far up that only the white are showing. 

“I’m joking,” he says, his baby ocean blues coming back down to settle right on you. “Obviously.” 

You pause, standing still, trying to breathe, comprehend the, the, the predator that has been following you so closely for what you finally conclude has been months now. 

All those torturous moments, since that first night of running, all amounted to something even he won’t name. A silent end, for someone as lonely and pathetic as you; it’d almost be fitting, except for the fact that there’s no specific reason for it to be you. You’re a nobody, friendless and unhappy, waiting for the day you finally graduate and can leave this shitty city behind. It’s not like it ever kept you safe. 

“Then what?” you ask.

You feel resigned, defeated, undermined… yet he looks at you dumbly, as if you’re supposed to know something you clearly do not, and while you’d normally be embarrassed, you find you’re too worn down to care. Touya raises his brows sharply, the bruised-looking (but delicate) bags under his eyes shifting slightly with the tension of an annoyed frown as his voice strains to mock you. “What do you mean, ‘then what?’” 

Your face goes slack, and you think you’d try to hit him if you knew that wouldn’t end up with you on the ground or sobbing alone at home. “Seriously, Touya? We both know you’re stalking me.” 

He laughs dryly, one of the few times you’ve seen him so serious (the last time when he pointed out something dead on the pavement you had to stop him from trying to pray for. ‘I don’t even go to temple,’ he had said at the time, sounding so offended that you decided to drop the subject altogether and just let him go for the little dead bird he said he wanted to give to a friend). “I’m not.” 

“You are. I know you are. You…” 

“I can assure you, hon, if I were stalking you, you’d already be roadkill,” he twists one of his earrings, making a show of staring at the painted nails of his other hand, dark purple, before tsk-ing at you, sassy. “Not like you run from me, anyway.”’

You feel your stomach turn in embarrassment, in shame. You know he’s partly right, but you’re not about to admit that to the man who started it in the first place, who chased you home that whole first month, who, despite the familiarity you share now, still takes pleasure in your pain. 

“Because, because no matter what I do, you won't quit chasing me. I’ve been running from you. ‘Cos you won’t leave. Me. Alone.” 

Touya rolls his eyes, then sighs like you’re being a hassle. “If you really didn’t want me here I woulda left. I’m not stupid.”

“But I don’t want you here. I never did. You show up out of, of, fucking nowhere, acting like you know me—”

“I’m keeping you safe, lollipop,” he interrupts, though the words hardly register.

“Safe? As if it’s my fault you can’t leave me alone?”

You think of all the nights that had you near paralyzed with terror, from that first day onward, of rubbing your feet raw in your shoes, of wishing someone would come save you, of puzzling why you never ended up dead, to now. You never once thought, realized–

“Not your fault. His. The neighbor stalker.” 

You can barely respond, your arms shaking at your sides, eyes watering with distress. 

“But you, you’re…” 

He smacks his lips with a yawn. 

“Yeah, I beat him black and blue, maybe. But only cuz he was trailing you, I wouldn’t…” he shoves one hand in the pocket of his coat, waves the other dramatically in the air, “go after someone unless—” 

“Touya?” you question, your throat rough, your swallows heavy and thick with a syrupy confusion. 

“They did something real bad, like messed with a—“

“Dabi.”

He finally looks at you, the sheen in his eyes, for once, solemn, as if he harbors a genuine concern for your safety all brought on by your confusion. 

“What?” 

It’s a question he asks a lot, but this time, he seems to mean it. 

“Dabi,” you repeat, “you mean… you’re not the campus creep? The one on the news?” 

He gawks at you suddenly. The silence stretching, the night suddenly looming, the breeze even seeming to laugh. His disinterested expression begins to fade into a blank, unreadable nothingness… and then he howls. Hoots. Yells. His smile returning then, wide, blazing, hot. 

He laughs like you’ve never seen anyone laugh before, guffawing joyously and jollily, slapping his hands against the ripped holes of his jeans as his chest heaves underneath today’s thin, white tee. 

It’s almost contagious. Almost. 

“And here I thought we were bonding.”

You prickle like a cat, digging your toes into the tips of your worn out shoes. “Stop it. I’m being serious.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he manages in between snickers, “you thought I was the creeper this whole time?” 

“You’re not?”

“That guy?” Touya straightens up to wipe his eyes, and you finally notice the crow’s feet that crinkle around his eyes, “Hell no. You think I do this for fun? Wear fuckin’ ugly hats and shit to terrorize pretty students at the school my ass of a little brother attends?” 

You say nothing. He starts laughing again, clapping his hands and keeling over. Even in jest, his voice still has that soft, raspy charm as he hoots at the ground. 

“Dabi. Touya. Whoever you are,” you plead, the first time ever you think you’ve voluntarily gotten closer to him, grabbing the rough shoulder of his jacket and tugging. He stumbles, maybe more on purpose than because of your grip, closing the distance between you such that his chest is pressed against yours and his hands are on your hips. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?” 

He snorts, the only difference in sound now that it’s muffled by the closeness of your lips, but responds slowly nonetheless.  

“I beat the snot,” he emphasizes, exposing teeth, “out of your stalker. And you didn’t even know he wasn’t me.” 

“But…” you say, hesitating against him, your hands slipping from the stiff collar of his jacket to the front of his chest, confused. His eyes are as cold as ice but set you on fire when you meet his gaze.  “You didn’t have to. I mean, I woulda been fine, right?” 

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “You tell me, when you’re the one still trying to walk your stupid ass home alone at night.”  

You flush, cheeks heating the skin all the way down to your neck. Touya seems to have clocked you far better than you ever knew it yourself–that he was never the enemy, that you were trapped in a self pity so deep only he could drag you out of it before choking, that dying, being tortured, being stalked, was far from the punishment you needed to get that kind of smoke out of both your lungs and your head. 

And, if anything, that you were lucky to have him.  

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t care.” Touya steps back only to purposely step gently on your toes. When you glare at him, hand still stretched  out to link the two of you together somehow, he only grins. “Buy me dinner to make up for it. Or kiss me sometime. With tongue. Either’s fine, cookie.” 

-

It’s been six months. Summer is just about to begin, your roommate has already left on vacation, and the closer you get to the end of the season, the more you feel your worries begin to melt off of you like layers upon layers of frost on an icy window of a warm cabin. 

The shadow still walks you home, but he no longer trails behind you, and you no longer call him a creep. You call him Touya–now your lamp, now your arrow–and sometimes Dabi (that is, when you feel like he’s not listening). 

Though the sun now sets a whole hour later than it did during winter, excusing as much of a need for Touya’s presence in your routine, you have now welcomed him into it,  (even if you spent the first couple months of your real relationship trying to make up for your initial confusion at his presence with bowls of soap and burnt bread from the cafe near your house.)

It is a Thursday when a wispy-haired classmate comes up to you on the steps that lead away from campus. She’s the one you knew vaguely from elementary school in your distant home town, and who made herself reacquainted by sneering at you once for eating a candy bar in class; she bared fangs at you like she herself had never been hungry, and then ignored you every time you saw her after (even during assigned group work, when you realized she wasn’t even that intelligent). 

But, now, you know, Touya can sneer, too, and sneer for you in ways that light a fire in the hearth of your existence… and he does so, sharply, arrogantly, when she approaches underneath the fading light of the sun and slate blue sky. She looks almost scared, even more so of his smile, big, wide and scary—that is, until you interrupt the moment by calling out to her from behind his back. 

“You ever heard about the campus creeper?” you ask, to which she nods anxiously, big, wet tears welling in her eyes as she hobbles right over to your side, Touya already barking into the warming night air as he begins to walk you both home. 

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Ohana

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer’s in love with his new neighbor- and her son that’s just like him

Word Count: 3234

Warnings: Typical CM stuff (Amplification specifically), Single Parent!Reader, slight angst

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” -Lilo and Stitch

~

Spencer remembered the day you moved in. He remembered you lugging boxes up five flights of stairs by yourself. When he saw you struggling with a heavy box, trying to find your key, he decided to be bold and help. 

“You look like you could use some assistance,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I live right across the hall.”

“Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” you said.

“Here, let me hold the box for you.”

“Careful, it’s heavy,” you said, shifting it into his arms. 

Spencer was jostled for a moment from the weight of the box, which was labeled (Y/N)’s Books. “So, MD or PhD?” he asked you as you searched for the right key. 

“PhD, I’m too squeamish to be in the medical field,” you said with a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Spencer had ever heard. “What about you?”

“What? Oh,” Spencer shook his head, focusing back on the conversation. “PhDs.”

You stopped sorting through your keys and turned to face Spencer. “Plural? Holy shit, are you a genius or something?”

Spencer let out a small laugh before saying, “Yeah, technically. But I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You finally found the right key and sighed as you heard the lock click. “Um, you can set the box with the others by the bookshelf.”

Spencer turned to see a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, much like his own, with boxes upon boxes of books in front of it. Some were labeled Academics, some had the same label as the one he was currently holding, and some had Oliver’s Books scrawled across the top.

“So, uh, where are you moving from?” he asked you, following the maze of boxes to your kitchen.

You offered him a bottle of water. “Erie, Pennsylvania. I got a job at Georgetown as an Associate Professor in the history department.”

“Oh, I guest lecture there every once in a while. In the criminology department. Uh, what’s your concentration?” Spencer took a sip from the water bottle. 

“Medieval and Renaissance history,” you said. “I get to teach fun classes like Medieval Weaponry and Warfare.”

“Well, maybe I can sit in on that class someday.”

You smiled at him and that was when Spencer knew, you’d worked your way into his heart and you were never leaving.

~

Spencer remembered the first time he met Oliver. It was 53 hours, 27 minutes, and 15 seconds since the day he met you. He was coming home from an exhausting case when he saw you trying to balance paper shopping bags in your arms while opening your door. A small boy, no older than 6, stood behind you with oversized headphones and a mobile gaming system. He had a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“Ollie, take the keys. Ollie. Oliver.”

“You need some help?” Spencer asked, setting his go-bag in front of his door.

“Spencer, hi! Um, some help would be great.” Spencer took the bags from your arms so you could open the door. “Oh, uh, this is Oliver, my son.”

“Your-your son?” Spencer asked. If you had a son, it was likely you had a partner. 

“Yep, he’s my boy.” You tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to say hi. The boy gave a small wave before going back to his game.

Spencer cleared his throat. “So, uh, where’s-where’s his father?”

“California. At least, that’s where he went when he left us.” Your hand was resting on top of your son’s head. He looked just like you. “Here, can you just set the bags on the counter?” you asked after opening the door. Oliver started down the hallway when you grabbed the loop of his backpack. “Not so fast. You know the rules. Homework first, then you can play your game again.”

Oliver groaned and handed you his game. You set it on the counter next to the bags of groceries. 

“So, you’re raising him alone?” Spencer asked you. 

You nodded and started unpacking the bags. “Yeah. You know, it’s been hard, but I can’t imagine life without my Ollie. He’s my heart and soul.”

~

Spencer and you became friends quite quickly. He told you about his job as a profiler, and you told him about working at the university. He would come over after cases and watch movies with you and Oliver. He’d help you put groceries away and he’d help you with simple tasks. 

He also picked up on Oliver’s eccentricities. He reminded Spencer of his younger self. He didn’t talk much about kids at school and he breezed through schoolwork. His interests seemed heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a kid his age. One day, Spencer decided to ask about it as inconspicuously as he could. 

The two of you were playing a game of chess when he brought it up.

“So, Oliver seems to be doing pretty well in school. What grade did you say he was in, second?”

“Yeah, the school bumped him up a grade. They wanted me to move him up to fourth, but I know how important it is to have friends your own age. And he already struggles to make friends.”

“He does? Why?”

You sighed, moving your knight. “Check. He was diagnosed as autistic when he was three. He doesn’t quite get social cues so it’s hard for him.”

Spencer moved his bishop and took your knight. “I’m sure his dad leaving didn’t help.”

“Well, he, uh, he never actually met his dad. Leo left me when I was four months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. It was almost seven years ago. I moved on, and I learned to balance motherhood with college. I completed my undergrad when he was only a few months old and I worked on graduate school when he was a high-energy toddler. It just proved to me that I can do anything. Checkmate.”

~

Spencer was enjoying a rare day off on a Tuesday when his phone started ringing. He groaned, thinking it was Hotch with an urgent case. But when he saw your name on the caller ID, his face lit up. 

“(Y/N), hey!” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ollie’s school just called me. He’s sick but I have classes and meetings all day so I can’t go get him and-”

“Are you asking if I can go get him?” Spencer said, cutting off your rambling.

“Yes! Could you, please? I’d be so so grateful.”

Spencer smiled, grabbing the spare key you gave him. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you so much. There’s a spare car seat in the coat closet. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be picking him up. Thank you so much, Spencer.”

When Spencer got to the school, he was fidgety. He’d never spent time alone with your son before. And he wasn’t even sure if the kid liked him. 

He walked into the front office and said, “Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m here to pick up Oliver (L/N)?”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you were coming to get him. If I could just see your ID?” the receptionist asked. Spencer nodded and pulled out his driver’s license. “Great, if you could just sign Oliver out on the clipboard here, you’ll be good to go.”

Spencer scribbled his signature on the clipboard and the receptionist got up to get Oliver from the back office. Oliver followed the receptionist, his backpack on his shoulders and a paper bag clutched in his hands. His face was pale and he was swaying slightly. 

“Hey, Ollie,” Spencer said.

“Hi, Spencer. Where’s my mom?”

“She got stuck at work, buddy. You’re gonna stay with me until she comes home, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.” He followed Spencer out of the school and climbed in the back of his car.

“Do you want me to put the window down?” Spencer offered, looking back at the boy in the mirror. When Oliver nodded, Spencer put his window down and pulled out of the parking lot.

After pulling into the parking garage, Spencer looked in the mirror again. Oliver was fast asleep, his head slumped against the door. Rather than waking the boy, Spencer unbuckled him and scooped him up in his arms. 

Oliver wrapped his little, sweaty arms around Spencer’s neck as he was carried inside. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was how much he cared for the boy, but Spencer pressed a small kiss to the side of his head. Spencer dug your spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, setting Ollie down on the couch.

After covering him with a blanket, Spencer dug around in your kitchen for some ginger ale and crackers. After setting them on the coffee table, he heard a small voice say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Spencer noticed Oliver watching him from the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, handing Oliver the soda with a red bendy straw. “What do you mean, bud?”

“I know you like-like my mom. But you’re nice to me even when she’s not here. Matt didn’t do that. He called me names when Mom wasn’t around. He said I was weird.”

Spencer knew Matt was your ex from your time working at the Erie campus of Penn State. He was the first person you’d been with since Oliver’s father. And hearing how he treated Oliver didn’t sit right with Spencer.

Spencer sighed and looked at Oliver. “I’m nice to you because I like you, too. And I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“You were?” Oliver handed the cup back to Spencer to set back on the table.

Spencer nodded. “People still think I’m weird. But being weird is good. How boring would the world be if everyone was normal?”

Oliver smiled. “It would be pretty boring,” he said.

“Get some rest, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

You finally managed to sneak out of work and get home. When you opened the door, you saw Spencer sitting in the chair across from your sleeping son, reading a book. 

“Hey,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hey. How is he?”

“He has a low-grade fever and he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his stomach. I’ve been having him nibble on some crackers but even that doesn’t stay down.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, for both of you.”

~

The team got back from a particularly rough case dealing with kids. Hotch gave them the weekend off to recuperate. 

“Anyone want to go grab a drink?” Derek offered to the group.

“Or five?” Emily added.

“What do you say, kid? You in?” Derek asked Spencer as the younger man packed up his bag. 

“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, I have plans,” he said with a smile before slipping out of the office. The team watched him hurry out of the building before sharing glances with each other. 

“Spence has a girlfriend,” JJ realized. 

“Pretty boy has a girlfriend?”

“Think about it. When does Spencer ever have plans? And when was the last time he didn’t stay to do paperwork when we were given the time off?”

“And he upgraded his phone out of nowhere,” Emily chimed in. “He went from one that had only the bare essentials to a smartphone he texts on all the time.”

“We need to find out who this girl is,” Morgan decided. 

Spencer had been keeping you a secret from the team on purpose. Not because he was ashamed of you, or embarrassed, but because he knew the team saw him as the baby and they would be invasive if they ever found out. He didn’t want them to scare you away, he loved you too much to lose you. Though, he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

~

You and Spencer were walking down the street, Oliver asleep on Spencer’s back, snoring against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck.

“You have no idea how excited he is for you to see his science fair project,” you said. “It was all he could talk about all week.”

Spencer smiled and adjusted the boy on his back. “I think I’m just as excited to see his project, especially since he wouldn’t let me know anything about it.”

You reached the apartment complex and you dug your keys out of your bag. “Are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? I can wake him if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I got him,” Spencer whispered, moving so that Oliver was clinging to his front rather than his back. He followed you up the stairs to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, he went straight to Oliver’s room and put the tired boy in his bed. He kissed Ollie’s forehead before flicking on his nightlight and leaving the room. 

“Oh, hey,” you said when Spencer came out of the room, “Is he still out?”

“Yeah. I think we might have put him in a coma.”

You laughed and kissed Spencer’s cheek. “Go get some sleep. I know you’re tired, too.”

“I’m not-”

“Spence, you nearly fell asleep at the movies tonight. Go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. But not without a kiss goodnight.”

You gave Spencer a kiss before shooing him across the hall. When Spencer unlocked his door and flicked on the light, he saw his team sitting in his living room. 

“What the hell? What are you doing here? JJ, I gave you a key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency!” Penelope said. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!”

“Kid, please tell me she’s a single mother and you haven’t been keeping a family a secret from us for years,” said Morgan.

Spencer was still annoyed his friends broke into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist talking about you, especially when they’d already seen you. “Her name’s (Y/N), she moved in about a year ago with her son, Oliver. We’ve been dating for three months.”

“Spence, why didn’t you tell us?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked down at his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t want you scaring her off. I love her. I love both of them. And you guys can be intimidating.”

~

“Spencer’s coming to the science fair tonight, right?” Oliver asked you as you got him ready for school. 

“That’s what he said,” you told him. “And you know Spencer likes to keep his promises.”

“I can’t wait to show him my mold project!”

“Okay, kiddo, we have to go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Meanwhile, Spencer was in the conference room at work, worrying about the latest case they’ve been presented. Someone was releasing a new strain of anthrax in public places around the DC area.

But under his stress over the case, he was worrying about you and Ollie. Maybe that’s why he worked so much harder on this one. 

He and Morgan were sent to the suspect’s house, and Spencer entered first. Looking around, he noticed his mistake. When Morgan made his way to the door, he slammed and locked the door. 

“Reid, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer was infected. He knew there was a large chance he would die, but he couldn’t stop working. He needed to find the antidote. HIs breathing was getting heavier and he felt sweat dripping down his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed. 

“Hey, Garcia?”

“Reid! Oh, my god, Derek told me what happened. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“That’s not important right now,” he said. “Um, can you- can you record a message for me? It’s for (Y/N) and Ollie.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He heard her typing. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, hi, (Y/N), it’s Spencer. Um, I-I wanted to let you know that, uh, I love you and…” he paused, taking a breath and blinking tears from his eyes, “and I’m so happy you let me into your life, into your family. And I want Ollie to know I love him, too. You- both of you- you’re my family.”

After that, things happened too fast. Spencer was being pulled out of the house and hosed down before being ushered to the waiting ambulance. He fell out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. 

When he woke up in a hospital bed, Morgan was sitting by his side. 

“Are you eating Jell-O?” he asked, his voice cracking from being dry.

Morgan lit up with a smile. “Welcome back, kid.”

“Is there anymore Jell-O?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, there’s some people here waiting for you.”

“What?”

Before Morgan could explain, you and Oliver burst into the room.

“Oh, my god, Spence!” You ran over and hugged him the best you could with the various medical equipment attached to him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you scolded. 

Oliver climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Spencer. “Yeah, don’t do that again,” he said. “How can I take you to Donuts with Dad if you’re dead?” He looked up at Spencer with his big doe-eyes and Spencer felt his heart break a little bit. 

“You-you want me to go to Donuts with Dad with you? Even though I missed your science fair?”

Ollie nodded. “I don’t care that you missed my science fair. I just care that you’re still here.” He looked up and Spencer and wrapped his arms around his torso. “I love you, Spencer.” He gave Spencer a light squeeze. 

Spencer smiled and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, Ollie.” He looked up at you. “And I love you, (Y/N).”

You smiled and gave Spencer a soft kiss. 

“Ewww!” Ollie squealed, making you both laugh. 

~

Spencer proposed to you about a year later. You’d both decided you didn’t want a huge wedding, just family and close friends. Rossi gave his backyard for you to use for the ceremony. It was simple and small, but it was special and wonderful. Spencer had flown Diana out, and you’d flown your parents out.

After the ceremony, Spencer announced that the both of you had a surprise for Ollie. He went inside Rossi’s house and returned with a manila envelope. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, in this envelope, I hold the most important document I have ever signed.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “This certificate certifies that Oliver B. (L/N) is the adopted child of Spencer W. Reid,” he read.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re- what?”

“Remember all those Saturdays Penelope watched you while Spencer and I went out? This is what we were doing,” you told him. 

Oliver ran over to you and Spencer and wrapped you in hugs. The rest of Spencer’s team and your parents joined in. In just two years, your family had gone from just you and your son to more people than you knew what to do with. And that was more than okay with you.

~

“They may not have my eyes, they may not have my smile, but they have all my heart.” -Anonymous

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Cliff Pantone

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Cliff meet when him and his family move into your city. 

- It wasn’t often that families moved in; at least not families that contained children who were on their final year of high school, so when your teacher announced that you’d be receiving a new student, you were definitely a bit curious to see the person in question. 

- You were even more curious when an incredibly handsome young man stepped inside of your classroom, crooked smile plastered across his face and music still blaring from the headphones around his neck. 

- And, after he was introduced, you found that; just like something out of a movie, the only open seat was the one right next to yours, leaving him with no other option but to be your desk neighbor. 

- The realization sent a disrespectfully strong surge of self consciousness through you and you spent the next few minutes contemplating how uncomfortable you were guaranteed to be with someone who was practically your dream guy sitting right beside you. You should probably try your best not to think about it....

- Alas, not thinking about Cliff was not going to be an easy feat. Not when he glanced around the room and found that his ideal girl was sitting right beside him as well. 

- The boys eyes fell on you that first day and they haven’t left you since. 

- He spent the first week in that class watching you and trying his hardest to think of something clever to say to you …before agonizing over when the right time to say it would be. 

- Finally; after coming to terms with how stupid he was being, he sat down in his seat one day, leaned over, and asked if he could borrow a pencil. 

- Once you’d handed one over to him, he stuck out his other hand for a quick handshake and introduced himself; searching you and your desk for some sort of conversation starter. 

- The two of you talked quietly for a few minutes before your teacher demanded your attention with the beginning of her lecture; though neither of you could really pay attention to what she was saying. All you could really focus on was the obvious spark between you. 

- Once class ends, he jogs after you as your walking down the hall, making up the excuse that he had to return your pencil before you ask if he’d like to keep it; considering the fact that you had more than a few classes left in the day. He opened his mouth with a smile and conceded, telling you that that would make sense before the two of you shared a laugh. 

“So I’ll see you around then?” He said, pointing your pencil at you as he stilled in the middle of the crowd. You turned to look at him as you continued to walk, agreeing with him just before you disappeared out of view and left him with an excited smile. 

- Obviously, you do see each other around, and when you do, you start to talk more and more. 

- During this time, you get to know each other and really begin to develop feelings for one another. And once he’s sure that it won’t completely freak you out, he makes his move, writing a song for you; with the pencil he’d borrowed from you that first day you talked, and recording a rendition of it onto a cassette. 

- He gives you the cassette one day after school, making you promise that you won’t listen to it until you get home. You laugh but oblige, driving home and tossing your bag to your bedroom floor before popping the tape into your stereo. 

- After an endearingly awkward intro, the actual song begins to play, starting off with adorably stupid lyrics before evolving into a genuinely good, somewhat edgy love song. 

- Once you finish listening; and dancing wildly around your room in a lovestruck haze, you grab your phone and dial his number, only having to wait a few seconds before he picks up; as though he’d been waiting right next to the phone in anticipation. 

- You start off the conversation with an “I liked your song”, listening to him somewhat shyly reply “yeah?” before asking if you could come over; a request he eagerly allows. 

- Once you arrive, you immediately launch yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as his shock quickly fades into excitement and his own arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. 

“You must have really liked the song.” He’d teased, looking down at you with his usual crooked smile. 

- Since it was pretty clear that his feelings were mutual, he then asked if he could take you out; which you obviously agreed to. 

- He lets you choose where you want to go for your first date so it really is completely up to you. A restaurant, the music shop, bowling, the park. Ask and you shall receive; he’s just happy that he’s getting to take you out. 

- The two of you share your first kiss that same day while you’re out on your date. You’d just finished teasing and joking around with each other, smiles still on your faces when he’d begun to lean in; prompting you to lean in, until the two of you were kissing. 

- After that, he was completely sure that you were just what he needed....

- Cliff literally cannot keep himself away from you. He’s got the clingy devotion of a beloved pet dog and that’s just something that you’re going to have to deal with because it isn’t going to change anytime soon. 

- Handholding. He does that little thumb rub thing and it’s the cutest things ever. 

- Hugs from behind and kisses on the cheek. 

- He loves assaulting you with affection. Like he’ll grab you so that you can’t get away and just attack your neck and jaw with kisses while you squeal and wiggle in his grasp.

- You cannot sike him out for kisses. He takes it personally and he will launch himself forward and nearly shatter a tooth just so that he can obtain that precious lip lock. 

- Long, passionate kisses. He cant get enough of them. 

- He loves making out so much. He’s constantly trying to keep your lips on his for as long as possible. 

- If the two of you are talking then you’ll cuddle face to face, his arm hooked under and behind your neck while his other hand holds you by the waist/hip. If you aren’t talking then you’ll usually spoon. At first, he was always the big spoon but then he jokingly rolled over and had you be the big spoon and now he’s developed an “embarrassing” love for it. 

- He gives you so many pet names. His personal favorite is “princess” but he’ll use just about every nickname in the book. 

- Please scratch his back and scalp. He loves it so much. 

- Honestly, he really can’t get enough of you. He always has to approach you anytime he sees you out in public and is constantly making up excuses to hang out with you; not that he really needs to. 

- Staying over at his place when his parents aren’t home; especially if Missy's gone too.

- His sister cockblocking him. Oh, I’m sorry, were you planning on trying to smash my dear brother? It’s a shame I’m home now and totally stealing your girlfriend away to watch that movie we both wanted to see.

- Missy teasing the two of you and trying to embarrass him. He calls it cruel, she calls it revenge.

- Smacking his hands away from your butt and covering it whenever you know he’s behind you. He’s a little bastard and he knows it.

- Going thrifting together.

- Hanging out in his backyard and swinging on his swing. He’s got this massive property so you might as well use it, right? 

- Pool dates. Prepare to have water fights and wind up getting soaked for one reason or another. 

- Going to pep rallies together. 

- Junk food binges. He would absolutely be the type of dude who takes you out to pick up a bunch of the same foods so that the two of you could make tier lists together. …Truly ahead of his time. 

- Him always trying to make you laugh and impress you with his humor. His jokes are pretty stupid but they always manage to make you smile; at the very least. 

- He genuinely gets triggered when you talk about him like he’s a friend and not your boyfriend. Like he legitimately cringes whenever you teasingly call him your “best bud”. He either cringes or pretends like he’s angry; which he also jokingly does whenever you mention talking to another guy that isn’t him.

- Talking about bands and music with him. He’s legitimately jumped your bones for bringing up some obscure indie punk band that he’s obsessed with.

- Watching him rock out on his guitar. You’ve probably walked in on him jumping around like a mad man multiple times; though he’s never embarrassed by it.

- Having songs written about and for you. Some are good, some are bad; all are bangers. 

- Going to different music shops for cds, cassettes and records. 

- Receiving mixtapes that he spent hours agonizing over. If he doesn’t choose all the perfect songs than his existence is pointless. 

- Your room. Oh, you mean our room. He lowkey starts moving into your bedroom after the two of you start dating. He also probably gave you one of his favorite posters to decorate with and it still; secretly, makes you wanna cry.

- Being forced to watch obscure films that he only wants to see because they star some musician that he loves. You’re either watching them or documentaries that are either admittedly interesting or boring as hell.

- Movie dates. He usually winds up being forced to watch your pick, because he “always picks those dumb movies that we don’t even end up watching anyway.”.

“But I thought you liked what happens when we cant pay attention to a film?” …Shut up Cliff.

- Friendly competitions.

- Making faces at each other like you’re five years old.

- He’d probably tell you that “aww that suuuuckkks” when you forget your jacket, and brag about how warm he is in an exaggerated fashion. He’d then act surprised and say “Oh! Did you want this?” pulling at its collar before asking what he gets out of giving it to you; or if you’re lucky he’ll unzip and literally cocoon you.

- That smile. That damned smile. You can’t deny that he has a wonderful face …and you complimenting or bragging about him is bound to make him act up. Just saying.

- He’s definitely had you paint his nails black or do his eyeliner or something; to go with his punk aesthetic. He’s also probably “stolen” some of your jewelry.

- Him coming to support you whenever you’re playing sports or doing one of your hobbies.

- Motivational talks and always having him believe in you.

- Him talking you through your problems. He always seems to know exactly what’s wrong without you having to say it.

- He’s not a very jealous person, in fact, he thinks it’s kind of cool that people are interested in his girlfriend; so long as it’s obvious that you’re only interested in him. 

- Cliff is used to girls like Missy so he isn’t all too worried about you. He thinks you’re probably capable of handling your own pretty well; just like his sister is.

- Depending on the situation, your boyfriend can be a real jerk when the two of you are fighting. He’ll be passive aggressive, act apathetic, give you the silent treatment, etc. His sister probably has to talk some sense into him for the both of you.

- When he messes up, he usually takes to sitting outside your house, waiting for you to get home with a bouquet of flowers and a rehearsed apology that he usually can’t manage to remember by the time he lays eyes on you.

- He tells you that he loves you pretty much everyday. It’s usually those quick “love you”s as the two of you are saying goodbye but it’s still nice to hear; no matter how casual it is.

- He’s already planning out how the two of you will survive college together so I don’t think you’re gonna be getting rid of him anytime soon.

[hyungieyoongi]

See You

Pairing: Professor!Hobi x Professor!Reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers + fluff + angst + Hobi and Reader have some personality conflicts at work but should really just make out or something and stop acting like they dislike each other + this entire fic is inspired by Hobi’s look in that gum commercial I mean he screamed professor with that turtleneck and plaid blazer (thank you @moon-write​ for encouraging this vision)

Word Count: 3.2K+

---

“No, no, please tell me you’re joking,” you groaned, eyes scanning over the classroom assignment list posted on the faculty board in the hallway over again, hoping you were seeing things wrong. A third look at the paper confirmed that your fears had in fact come true – you and Hoseok were teaching next door to each other the entire fall semester.

Hoseok was the History of Dance Professor in your department. He was hired at the beginning of last year, three years into your career as one of the youngest faculty members in the Music & Arts program at your university. While he was bubbly and energetic, you were the more typical academic – down-to-earth, a little bit serious. He was beloved by his students for his positive personality and passion for teaching; you were well-regarded as being a natural talent who wanted to hone your students’ abilities.  

It wasn’t that your students didn’t like your course. No, it was well-reviewed and relatively popular considering it was an elective. But once Hoseok arrived, you felt like you were competing with the star of the program. Every student, even the ones who didn’t like dance, were lining up for his course, pushing your class and others into smaller classrooms with dwindling numbers. He, of course, got the large lecture hall this year.

He was the pain in your side, constantly flashing his bright smile to get his way in the department, dazzling your colleagues. Students would often be buzzing in the hallways about how they didn’t have to take an exam in Professor Jung’s class like they did in Professor Y/L/N’s. They got to go to a local show instead and analyze the dance performance. Hoseok was creative and intelligent – that much you could agree with – but you rolled your eyes every time you saw another one of his students attempt to flirt with him.

Hoseok and you figured out you got on each other’s nerves pretty quickly. He would always play music too loud in his office while you were grading papers – he timed how long it took you to show up at his door to tell him to turn it down every afternoon. You would make it a point to have your students play samples of their pieces they’d written on the piano while he was in the middle of a lecture, leaving your classroom doors open so the notes of the instrument would float down the hallway to the lecture hall. You’d have a satisfied grin on your face when you heard the telltale noise of the lecture hall doors slamming shut.

The entire department knew about this little game the two of you would play with each other, not to mention the sarcastic comments from you and teasing jokes from him that were on repeat any time you were in the same room. The bickering was bound to get worse with the two of you in such close quarters all semester.

“Y/N!” you heard a loud voice call down the hallway. You hadn’t heard that voice in two and a half months thanks to your summer vacation. You gritted your teeth, turning with a tight-lipped smile toward your least-favorite coworker.

“Hoseok,” you greeted with a nod. As usual, your semi-chilly behavior toward him didn’t faze him.

“Y/N, come on, I thought I told you to call me Hobi!” he said cheerfully, his eyes squinting from his smile. He was wearing a cream turtleneck tucked into his khakis, plaid blazer over his shoulders. He had dyed his hair from the black you were accustomed to, his strands now a platinum blonde. You realized, begrudgingly, that he looked more attractive than he did last year.

“Well would you look at that, we’re neighbors,” Hoseok said after scanning the list on the board.

“Try to keep the gaggle of screaming fans away from the hallway when I’m teaching, would you?” you said sarcastically. Hoseok’s hand flew to his heart, acting like you had personally attacked him.

“Y/N, I cannot believe you would accuse my students of being so frivolous,” he said dramatically. “Just because we have more fun in my class, doesn’t make it any less serious than yours.”

“Oh, please, save the theatrics for the students who signed up thinking your class would be an easy ‘A’. I know for a fact that you gave out four D’s last semester.” Hoseok’s eyes twinkled at your challenging tone.

“And how many did you give out, Professor Y/L/N?” Hoseok asked in a sweet voice.

“None, thank you very much. Since my students actually learn something in my class, I don’t have to give out such low grades,” you quipped. Hoseok chuckled, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

“Maybe I should sit in on one of your classes this year. Learn a thing or two,” Hoseok said, stepping toward you. You flushed momentarily at his low tone, immediately stepping back. He smirked at your reaction.

“It’s invite only to audit my class, Jung,” you said before turning on your heel to walk toward your office down the hall, “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not!” you yelled over your shoulder.

You heard Hoseok laugh, and you cursed yourself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that his teasing had gotten to you.

You had promised yourself at the end of the summer not to play into it this year – you were going to be professional, courteous. But the first time you see Hoseok, bam, it goes right out the window. 

You would just have to avoid Hoseok as much as possible.

You sighed once you closed your office door behind you. It was going to be a long semester.

---

Two months into the semester, the leaves had turned to burnt oranges and red, signaling the return of fall. Hoseok was sitting in one of the auditorium seats, his legs crossed over each other, looking down at his fingers with a soft smile playing at his lips. The delicate notes of the piano were playing from your classroom, the noise piercing the thin walls separating your classroom from his.

His class had been dismissed half an hour ago, and, based on the lack of students having straggling conversations in the hallway, yours had, too. He often waited after he was done teaching to see if you would play when you thought no one was listening. The notes you played sometimes indicated your mood; the music was soft and flowing, other times dark and intense.

Today it was, melancholic? He couldn’t quite place it, but it made him think about the change in seasons. He wondered if that was on your mind. The song was fluid, making him want to choreograph a piece to it, the dancer’s body matching the tempo of the music. He shut his eyes, picturing the movements behind his closed lids.

He’d never admit that he indulged in this as often as he did – he knew you wouldn’t be playing if you found out he was your only audience member. You had been avoiding him this semester. He had tried all of his old tricks – the loud music during office hours, teasing comments during staff meetings. But you wouldn’t blink.

He opened his eyes, the song transitioning into something light and happy. It made him think of sunshine.  

---

You stopped playing, your hands lifting off the keys like they burned you. You had been playing mindlessly, your fingers starting to pluck away at the keys in the melody that you had thought of when you would think of Hoseok.

The more you avoided Hoseok, the more you seemed to miss his overly positive personality. You would see him at staff meetings, always giving you a big smile. One day you came in late after a meeting with a student ran long, and you came into the room to see that he had saved you a seat next to him, the last one left empty in the room. 

He was still playing his music too loud, but you had stopped bugging him about it, and you noticed that it was gradually getting quieter.

You closed the cover over the keys, willing the thoughts about Hoseok to go away, packing up your papers and laptop. He was just your annoyingly happy colleague; there was no reason he should be taking up this much space in your mind.

---

“Are you honestly suggesting that the music composition class shouldn’t be considered a prerequisite for all music program students going forward?” you questioned angrily. You and Hoseok were at a standoff in the department meeting, his normally pleasant features tense, arms crossed in front of him.

“If that means that it prevents funding from getting diverted from the dance program to the instrumental students, then, yes, that is what I’m suggesting,” Hoseok countered.

“That’s ridiculous! Music composition is a fundamental building block for all students – including dance, Jung!” your voice had risen, and the department head looked between you both, deciding that the meeting had gotten too out of hand to continue.

“Professor Y/L/N, Professor Jung – why don’t the two of you take a walk around the building, get some fresh air. The rest of you, dismissed. We’ll resume this conversation, civilly, next week,” the department head declared.  

You were fuming, angrily shoving your notebook and pen in your bag before storming out of the building. You felt someone else’s presence, and you turned, groaning when you saw the last person you wanted to see standing behind you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“Give it a rest, Jung, I’m not in the mood,” you said grumpily.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bookstore to grab a coffee and put this behind us,” Hoseok scoffed, smile wiped away. “But, I guess not.”

“Not everyone wants to just roll over and play nice when you flash them a smile, Hoseok.”

“Well, not everyone wants to act like they have a superiority complex, either.”

Your lips pursed, hands beginning to fidget with how angry and upset his comment made you. The two of you had been annoying last year, sure, but you had never been mean to each other. Until today.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said quietly, heated tone still evident despite the low volume.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hoseok said harshly. “It’s not like you’ve even tried to get to know me. You immediately disliked me from day one. You never even gave me a chance!”

“That’s rich coming from you. All that shit with the music and the comments – it’s like you wanted me to dislike you,” you replied.

“I wanted you to talk to me, Y/N,” Hoseok said, exasperated. “Forget it, I can see now that it was useless to try.”

“I was trying to play nice this semester,” you said, glaring at Hoseok. “You came in like a damn bulldozer last year, disrupting everything in the department. And everyone just did what you wanted because you’re ‘mister nice guy’, and you make people laugh and people just think you’re perfect. Well, I don’t buy it.”

You took a deep breath, leveling your gaze at him.

“Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” your voice was stone-cold. Hoseok’s eyes flashed, lips in a thin line before he responded bitterly.

“Perfect.”

---

Things had been quiet between you and Hoseok since your fight outside of the building a few weeks ago. You politely nodded at each other in the hallway when you passed by, avoiding eye contact. You would grimace when you heard his laugh during lectures next door to yours, wanting to block the sound out.

You couldn’t get what he said to you out of your thoughts – you really didn’t know Hoseok very well. All you knew is what he presented to the rest of the world. He was bubbly and positive and optimistic; he probably thought you were just some brooding, academic stiff.

Hoseok noticed the songs you were playing lately were rather intense. Sometimes he would hear you smash against the keys like you were angry with the piano for not producing the sounds you wanted to hear.

He knew the feeling. He was spending more time in the dance studio lately, dancing aggressively to loud hip hop music, trying to drown out the frustration he was feeling at not being able to make you crack and talk to him.

That’s where he found himself tonight, trying to get rid of his stress. You were stubborn, but you were also beautiful, intelligent, passionate, tenacious. He turned his music up louder, drowning out the thoughts of you.

---

You had re-read the same sentence four times, red pen poised in your hand ready to edit the student’s paper. The loud beats were still audible from the practice rooms. It was late, and the building had been closed to students for the past two hours.

You decided to go down there. You weren’t going to get them in trouble for staying past close, but with finals coming up, you were sure the students needed a gentle reminder that sleeping was just as important as practicing.

You walked down the dark hallway, going down the steps to the practice rooms on the floor beneath the faculty offices, finding the one with the light on, music blaring through the glass panes separating the space from the hall.

You glanced into the room, seeing Hoseok dancing. You had never seen him in his element before, and it was captivating. He was wearing a black pair of sweats, an oversized yellow t-shirt adorning his slender frame. The music seemed to be moving through his body. He was grounded in the floor, an intense expression on his face as he hit heavy movements on the beat, fluidly moving through other parts depending on the music. You felt like this was personal, like you weren’t allowed to be watching, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

Hoseok looked into the mirror, his eyes looking toward the shadow in the hallway. His eyes met yours, his gaze burning into yours through the glass. You gulped.

He turned, grabbing a bottle of water and pausing the music. You figured that was your cue, opening the door to the studio and stepping inside.

“Was it too loud?” Hoseok asked, voice light despite the obvious tension in the room.

“No, it’s okay uh – I was grading papers, and I thought a student was still down here,” you explained softly. “I thought I’d tell them to go home, get some rest.”

Hoseok had a curious expression on his face. If he was surprised to hear why you were down here, he didn’t mention it. You felt the need to fill the silence, so you spouted the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re really talented, Hobi,” you said quickly. His eyebrows shot up at the sound of the nickname you never called him. “Hoseok – sorry, I meant Hoseok.”

“Watch out, people might think we’re friends,” Hoseok joked, but it came out strained.

“Hoseok – Hobi. I’m sorry about what I said a few weeks ago. I was heated, and I apologize,” you said, looking down at a scuff in the hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry, too. What I said was uncalled for, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Last year, this semester. Anything I’ve done that has made you mad or annoyed. I’m sorry,” Hobi said sincerely. “I-um, well…”

You looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“I just wanted your attention.”

“What?”

“I wanted your attention. I wanted you to want to talk to me. I wanted you to get to know me. Not the version of me that I show my students. I wanted you to see me. Really see me.”

You gulped, Hobi’s vulnerability making you nervous. He took a step toward you, and you willed yourself to stay in place.

“I know you do the same thing; you hide. Hide behind this persona you’ve created. I think it goes away when you play piano.”

“How do you–what do you mean?” you asked incredulously.

“I hear you play. After class. I never told you because I selfishly wanted to keep listening. Your music it – it tells a story. About your day, your feelings. If you didn’t tell me yourself, at least your music did.”

Your cheeks burned knowing that he was audience to all of the time spent in your classroom, working out your feelings on the piano like it was your therapy.

“Everything goes away when I play,” you stopped, thinking about how distracted you had been lately trying to compose. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”

“That’s how I feel when I dance,” Hobi admitted with a gentle smile. You nodded, realizing that the two of you had this in common, at least.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you said, backing away from Hobi toward the door.

“Wait –,” Hobi said, slightly flustered. “Dance with me.”

Your eyes widened. Hobi laughed, and you hated to admit that you had missed the sound.

“Come on, just trust me, Y/L/N.” You waited while he picked out a song, holding out his hand. You placed your fingers in his, and he pulled you close to him, leading you around the studio floor to the song. He made you feel light on your feet despite your lack of dance experience, his hand tightly gripping yours, his other floating over your waist. Your skin tingled from the contact.

He spun you around twice, your hands landing on his chest as you tried to regain your balance. You looked up at him, genuinely enjoying yourself. His bright smile you used to roll your eyes at lit up his features, causing your smile to match his.

“Can you see me now, Y/N?” Hobi asked, referencing his earlier confession. “Because I see you when you play. When you tell a student crying in your office that everything is going to be okay. And I see you now when you’re dancing with me like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Remember when you said I didn’t know anything about you?” You nodded, recognizing his reference to your fight outside of the department building. “I don’t think that’s true. But I know there’s so much more to know. And I want to know everything.”

Hobi’s hand came up to your cheek, softly placing it on the side of your face.

“I want to know you, too, Hobi,” you whispered.

He leaned forward, his breath fanning over your lips, “Want to start now?”

You gripped his t-shirt in your hand, pulling him the last few inches to your lips instead of answering. You felt him smile against your lips, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him.

He pulled back, his forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“Does this mean I can start playing my music loudly during office hours again?” Hobi teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater, brushing against your skin.

You made a face at him, causing him to laugh. He kissed you on the forehead, then on the lips again to make you smile before answering.

“Not a chance.”  

---

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[evolmaze]

bts hyung line find/hear your confession

summary - hyung line finds or hears your confession

pairing - jin x reader, young x reader, hoseok x reader, namjoon x reader

genre - fluff, angst, comfort

word count - 3.1k words

warnings - some angst, otherwise pretty harmless!

a/n: parts for the maknae line will be out soon!

masterlist

JIN

You had spent weeks racking your brain for some sort of answer, for an explanation why you suddenly thought your friend and neighbor from down the hall was the only person for you. It had happened so quickly, you didn’t even realize. One night you’re watching a movie together, something you’ve done at least once a month, and the next thing you know your heart is racing at the idea of him being in the same room as you. You had no idea why you started to feel this way, but the instant you realized, you couldn’t stop yourself from constantly watching him, thinking of him, wondering what in the world you were gonna do.

You were currently on the phone with your best friend, complaining to her for the hundredth time about how rude it was that Jin thought it was perfectly normal to walk around the laundry room shirtless, “I mean come on f/n, he’s so hot it should be illegal. The man has the body of a god, and I as an innocent bystander should at least be given a warning before walking into it!”

“What do you mean ‘walked into it’?” she asked, amusement in her voice, and you groaned.

“I was doing laundry the other day, and I ran right into him as he was leaving the room, I dropped my clothes everywhere, and he totally saw my underwear and bras, but that’s not the point, the point is that he was shirtless, he was laughing at his clumsiness, and it was the hottest thing I had ever seen.”

It was at that moment that Jin had walked up to your door, preparing to ask you to borrow your hammer, when he heard your voice faintly through the wall.

“F/n, I don’t know what to do, I’ve literally never felt this way about someone before, and it’s not like I can even say anything, we barely know each other--yes I know we’ve hung out before, but everything feels different now, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll probably pass out the next time I see him, and if he’s not wearing a shirt again, oh my fucking god, plan my funeral please.”

Jin laughed quietly, deciding he could ask for the hammer later, he had other plans to attend to, like making sure to ask you about this supposed incident the next time he was in the laundry room; shirt conveniently off for your viewing pleasure.

YOONGI

“Hey I have a question,” Yoongi mused, turning down the radio. You and Yoongi were on your way to a cabin up north, planning to meet some friends there for a fun weekend getaway. You’d been on the road for almost two hours now, and he had decided that it was time to break the silence that had settled between the two of you.

“Yeah what’s up?” you asked, closing your book, and setting it in your bag. You waited as he beat his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel.

“Who’s Voldemort?” you froze in your seat, and turned to him slowly, gauging his expression. How the hell did he know about that?

“Why do you ask?” you said slowly, thankful for your sunglasses that hid your panicked expression.

“When you asked me to grab your bag from your room, there was an envelope addressed to ‘Voldemort’sitting on it. Do you have a pen pal or something?”

No, no you did not have a pen pal. Stupidly, you had written your feelings to Yoongi out on paper, an ode to all the boys i’ve loved before. You  planned to store it away forever, never to be read again, in hopes of riding this stupid crush from your heart. All you wanted was peace, and the ability to hang with him without the looming cloud of love stalling over your head, but you must have forgotten to put it away before you left.

“Uh, no, no it’s not that,” you muttered, trying you best to sound nonchalant. “Just a letter I was writing to someone, probably won’t send it though.”

“Their name isn’t actually Voldemort, is it?”

You laughed, “No it’s not. It’s a pseudonym, my friends and I used it all the time to talk about boys we liked in middle school.”

Yoongi sat in silence for a second, and you hoped that that was the end of the conversation. “Do you like this Voldemort?”

You paled, and cleared your throat. “Uh, I don’t know, it’s complicated. I’m trying to get over them, so it’s probably best to not talk about it.”

Yoongi nodded, and didn’t say much for a while, and you assumed that was the end of it, thank god. The drive went on in silence, and you calmed down a bit, mentally cheering for evading a disastrous situation. You even talked with Yoongi about other topics like the weekends upcoming events, and how excited you were to try this new soju flavor. It was nice, peaceful, and definitely less stressful then the previous conversation. That was until you both started talking about college and first impressions. You had been explaining your thoughts on your other friends Namjoon and Lia when he stopped you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, “Didn’t you and Lia have nicknames for everyone?”

“Yeah, we made up nicknames for everyone based on Harry Potter characters...” you said, trailing off on the end as you connected the dots.

“Yeah!” Yoongi exclaimed, oblivious. “Like yours was Ginny, Joon’s was Lupin, mine was..” he paused, looking over at you suspiciously. “Mine was Voldemordt, right?”

You shook your head, “Noooo, yours was something else I think.”

“Hmm, no I’m pretty sure it was Voldemordt,” he said. “Cause you and Lia always joked about how I was pale just like him,” You didn’t say anything in response, instead finding the dirt under your nails way more interesting.

“Y/n...” he called, pulling you from your thoughts. You didn’t look at him, too embarrassed to talk about it. “Hey, it’s fine, seriously.”

“Ah, can we please not talk about it,” you whined, putting your head in your hands. This was so awkward. You had written a middle school crush letter to the man sitting right next to you, and you still had to spend the whole weekend and ride back with him, great.

“Okay,” he said simply, tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel again. “I guess I’ll just have to wait to read it.”

“Oh no way, you’re not reading it!” you yelled, facing him as adrenaline raced through your veins. “I’m burning it the second we get back.”

“But why? I wanna hear all the nice things you said about me, you never compliment me in person.”

“Shut up,” you said, a blush blossoming on your cheeks. He laughed, lightly swatting your knee.

“So mean,” he teased. He lifted his hand to pull your hand from your face. You looked up, surprised by his action. He was never one for skinship, especially with you. “You know I’m joking, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, no, I do, no worries, it’s fine”

“Good,” he said simply, bringing his hand back down the arm rest, except he hadn’t let go of your hand, so yours followed suit, held in his grasp. You stared intently at your intertwined hands, and then looked at him, confused. He was staring straight ahead, but you could see the smile forming on his face, and the red hue on his cheeks as well. Looks like you weren’t the only one with a secret.

HOSEOK

Hey y/n! Do you have a copy of the notes from last class that I can borrow?

You smiled at your phone, Hoseok had definitely slept through class again this week, and as always, you were more than willing to share notes, any excuse to talk to him, right?

Yeah for sure! Give me one sec and I’ll send you a link to my notes

You had always preferred to take notes on your computer, you could type way faster than you could write, so in fast-paced lectures it just made sense. You found the document within a folder the two of you shared information. With Hoseok consistently sleeping through one class every other week, and you having such detailed notes, it made much more sense to just put all your notes in a folder he could access. You found the latest document with your notes, and quickly shared it with him.

Just sent it now, it’s in the folder with all the other ones in case you need them too! Let me know if you have any questions!

Sounds great, thank youuuuu!!!

You grinned at his response before going back to your studying. He usually had questions, so you were a little surprised when he never texted you back. You figured maybe he understood it better than you, and made a mental note to ask him some questions next time you saw him. You went about the rest of your day, finishing up your homework, getting your laundry washed and put away, and four hours later, still no word from Hoseok.

“So weird,” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed your keys. You had talked about meeting him for dinner tonight, so you wondered if he was still up for it.

Hey are you still up for dinner tonight? Hope studying is going well!

After 10 minutes, and no response, you grew worried and annoyed, so you decided to just walk over to his place yourself. The walk was short, you jammed the whole way, wondering what you’d get tonight, and hoping that your professor would put out grades soon. Walking into the dorm, you passed a number of doors before standing outside Hoseok’s.

You knocked three times, and waited patiently for him to answer. The door creaked open slowly, and you watched as his head appeared in the crack. He stared at you and said nothing.

You cleared your throat, “Uh, hey. I texted, but you didn’t answer, are you still down for dinner tonight?” He said nothing still, and you sighed. “It’s fine if you’re busy, I can go. Text me next time you’re free to hang.” You didn’t mean to sound annoyed, but you were hurt, confused why he was acting this way all of the sudden, especially with no explanation. Waving goodbye, you turned on your heel and walked down the hallway. You made it about three steps before he called out your name.

“Y/n, wait, I’m sorry.” turning around, confused, you saw him open the door. “Please come in.” He gave you a half smile, and you sighed, ignoring the smile that sat on your face as you entered his dorm. It was dark, his blinds were drawn, and it looked like a hurricane had come through here, which was odd since he was usually so clean.

“Hey what happened here? Everything okay?” you asked, worried, when you turned to face him he was standing by his desk, computer in hand.

“I--I, um, need you to read this,” he said, handing you his computer. You raised an eyebrow, and turned the computer around. As your eyes adjusted to the bright screen in the otherwise dark room, your heart dropped into your stomach.

It was about a week ago when you wrote a letter to Hoseok. It was 2 in the morning, you were so tired, but you couldn’t sleep, the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind were too much to handle, so you wrote them all down. Wrote down everything you wanted to say, and closed your computer, never intending to read it again. What you had failed to notice that night was that you created the document inside a folder, the very folder you shared with the man in front of you. You had carelessly titled the document to hoseok so it’s no surprise that he clicked on it, he probably thought it was a funny message to him, but instead he got a look right inside your heart.

You looked up to see him already watching you closely. He looked pained, confused, and most of all angry. “Why would you say those things?”

“I, I, uh--” you paused, you knew at the time it was wrong to write them. He had a girlfriend, they’ve been together for almost a year, and they were so happy together, and you had no problem with that. You loved Julia, and had even introduced the two, but you also couldn’t help how you felt, you had no intention of him ever reading this, you felt awful. “I swear, I didn't realize this was in here, Hoseok I’m so sorry.”

“But you wrote it, and put it in this folder, you must have known I would have seen it at some point.” he protested, coming closer to you.

“I swear, I didn’t do it on purpose, I opened it in the wrong folder, I, oh my god, Hoseok I swear to god I never wanted you to read that.” you said, tears filling your eyes. You had jeopardized everything with your carelessness. He took the computer from your hands and set it on the desk. You couldn’t look him in the eyes as he sat next to you on his bed.

“I believe you,” he said quietly, and you nodded. “I’m sorry there’s not more I can say.”

You shook your head, “Why are you apologizing, it’s not your fault. I was the one who put it in the wrong folder. At least the worst part is over though,” you laughed weakly at the statement, the worst was far from over, but at least you could stop staying up at night wondering what he thought about you. “I’m sorry that you’re in such a weird position, I promise that I’m working on it, I’ve been trying to get over it.”

“You don’t have to apologize for what you feel, y/n.” he said, standing up in front of you. “This is nobody’s fault, let’s go get dinner and talk it out, yeah?”

You smiled at his attempt to smooth things over, you agreed, but a part of you wondered as you walked out the door how long it would last before you grew distant and never spoke again. For now, you’d cherish these last few memories with him, and always remember the times before it.

NAMJOON

“Just say it,”

“No!”

“Why not?!”

“Cause I already told you no!” you sighed in annoyance, flipping through another page in the magazine you were currently reading, or trying to read at least, until Namjoon showed up and rudely interrupted you.

“Come on, y’n, I need to practice!” you laughed at him, practice? What in the world was he thinking?

“You’re not seriously saying you want to practice this,” you said, setting down the magazine and facing him. He looked at you, and you realized he was serious. “Ugh, fine.”

He grinned, happy that he had finally convinced you to help him out. All of this started about a week ago when Namjoon caught wind that a girl in his bio class had a crush on him, the man absolutely lost it, so flustered and confused, he didn’t know what to do. You felt like you were watching a cheesy romantic comedy with the way he came to you, pacing back and forth in your living room. He was totally clueless, had no idea what to do, and came to you for help. You had been around the block a time or two when it came to dealing with situations like this, so it was no surprise that he wanted your expertise on how to politely reject someone.

It wasn’t that the girl in Namjoon’s bio class was awful or anything like that, it was the fact that Namjoon barely had time to live his own life, let alone make room for someone else. You were lucky if you spoke to him once a week, you practically had a heart attack when he showed up today. He explained to you the rumor he had heard, and how he had also heard that she was going to confess after their next class together. All of that combined was enough to stress the man into oblivion, so he desperately asked for your help.

“y/n thank you so much, I just don’t want to hurt her feelings, you know?”

“You’re literally the nicest person I know, there’s no way she would leave feeling anything but mildly sad, knowing you, you'd probably offer to pay for her bus fare home.” The look on his face had you laughing as it looked as though he was seriously considering it. “I’m kidding, Joon. Don’t do that.”

“What?” he said, “I definitely wasn’t gonna do that.”

You smirked at his obvious lie, “Whatever, let’s get this over with.” Taking a breath, you tried to get into character: a biology girl who likes Namjoon. “Hey Namjoon,” you said, trying to sound flirty and leaned casually on the side of the couch.

“Hey, y/n-”

“Don’t use my name,” you laughed, “use her name.”

“Oh okay,” he said, and he took a breath before looking into your eyes, “Hey, Emily. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about,” you said, getting up from the couch, and walking over to where he stood by the kitchen island.

“Oh what’s that?” he asked, moving away from you just a bit. Your act must have been spot on, you smirked.

“I have feelings for you, Joon.” you said, trying to sound nervous and excited, however the hell someone sounded when they admitted their feelings. You were never one to discuss such personal topics, probably the reason why you were single at 23, but whatever, you liked it that way. Poor Namjoon looked terrified, and you’d take being single over being the cause of a situation like this any day.

“Oh,” he said simply, and you raised your eyebrows at him. “I-oh, I’m sorry, y/n--Emily, I’m way too busy for a relationship right now, I’m sorry.”

You grinned at his attempt, it was weak, but you’d work on it. By the end of the night, he’d be confident and sound sure of his feelings, you could feel it. 

“Okay,” you said, patting his shoulder. “That was good, but next time sound more sure of yourself, your reasons are perfectly valid, and if she’s as nice as you say she is, I’m sure she’ll understand. Again.”

[dynyamight]

meet cute number 47 is interesting!

send me a writting ask

47. Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

“You got all that, right?” Shinsou asks, readjusting his stance, so others can leave their classroom door easily.

Midoriya hums absentmindedly. He’s still quickly jotting down the last few digits onto his planner. “And, you said tomorrow morning, around 7? At the library?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou shrugs, “Or anytime really. The deadline isn’t until next month, you know.”

“I kinda just want to get it done, as soon as possible.”

Shinsou breathes out a snort. “Figured you’d say that much. Just make sure you got my number. Repeat it, if you need to.”

“No time.” Midoriya drops his bag to the side, shoving his now closed notebook inside. “Thank you! I’ll text you later tonight!” He offers hurriedly, before taking off down the campus halls.

Shinsou’s warning falls deaf to his rushed mind.

He has to run the entire way, in order to graciously catch the last bus for the hour. Sweaty and flushed, Midoriya slumps into his seat in relief. Fortunately, he was able to cop a seat for himself, settling by the window and his backpack right next to him.

Staring out, Midoriya tries to remind himself of the rest of his priorities he needed to do.

He still needed to start on Doctor Chiyo’s online Physiology exam, and gather his notes for the open book portion. It was a bit bothersome to handle tests online, but if the rest of class prefers it, there’s nothing Midoriya can do about it.

Speaking of which, Ochako had requested for copies of those exact same notes, since apparently she barely writes anything during lectures. He wants to suggest to her to just simply take better notes, but alas, he will gladly help her out.

And, finally, Midoriya has to collect reliable, approved research articles for his and Shinsou’s debate, in their argumentative project in Communications. Being assigned “PRO SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCE”, while being the most uninvolved people on the internet, Midoriya and Shinsou had a lot of work to do.

Not to mention it was already 18:00 by the time he reached the school’s dormitories. And yet, he needed to shower, make dinner, water his plants, and watch the newest episode of his favorite drama, airing tonight.

University was eating him alive.

Thankfully, he’s able to complete half of his list.

He finishes the exam with a 98%, and quickly snaps the pages of his notes over to Ochako and Iida, making sure to highlight the main topics questioned in the exam. Ochako sends a ‘thank you’ gif, and Iida texts a long, yet endearing message of gratitude.

Midoriya doesn’t have time to shower, instead blasting the TV volume loud, as he waters his indoor plants at the same time. He overwaters them a little bit, busy glancing back at the screen for too long. But, at least he’s able to watch the episode. He pouts when it ends on a cliffhanger, almost drowning his bonsai tree in frustration.

He’s only able to warm up a plate of leftovers, and read through only one research article, by the time it’s already blinking 21:30 on his phone. Sighing, Midoriya closes his laptop and grabs his cell phone instead.

An all nighter wasn’t preferable. But, if Shinsou is working overtime at his late night job, Midoriya supposes he can stay up and keep looking through more articles, until he has at least the required ten.

Flipping open his planner, Midoriya inputs Shinsou’s number into his phone. He adds his name, a contact photo of him sleeping, and finally taps a quick message.

(21:38) < You working?

When Shinsou doesn’t respond right away, Midoriya simply sets aside his phone on his desk. Stretching his arms, he sighs in defeat, now expecting Shinsou to be stuck at work.

He’s never worked at a restaurant, but he bets Friday nights can get pretty busy. And, Shinsou always complains that group outings and dates tend to stay over, even after the place is supposed to close. And, Midoriya trusts his word.

So, by the time his phone dings, Midoriya has been clicking through more articles on social media, bookmarking a few to go over later, as he went.

He lifts his phone, and with a bright screen, a message stares back at him.

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > Who’s this

Oh, he did forget to specify. But, Midoriya smiles, having a small prank in mind. There was no harm in teasing his friends, let alone Shinsou, who definitely needed a good laugh, now and then.

(21:58) < It's the cutie from your communications class ;)

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > So, no one

(21:59) < Haha! I guess you’re right about that

(21:59) < Anyways, it’s Izuku! You still working late, Hitoshi?

shinsou hitoshi (21:59) > This ain’t Hitoshi

Midoriya's face drops, blinking. Oh god, did he mistype the number?

(21:38) < Wait, you’re not???

Another text pops up, shortly after.

shinsou hitoshi (22:02) > You got the wrong number

Embarrassment burning his entire face red, Midoriya wishes he could delete himself from the world.

(22:03) < I’m so so so so sorry!

(22:03) < God, I thought I wrote down my friend’s number right

(22:03) < But, I was in this stupid rush to get on the bus that I didn’t make sure

(22:04) < And, listen, if I had missed that bus, I would’ve had to wait

(22:04) < Not like a few minutes wait

(22:04) < Like, a whole two hours wait!

shinsou hitoshi (22:05) > I didn’t ask

Deleting the conversation, Midoriya erases the new contact completely. And instead, he looks back to his planner, and retypes the numbers in his phone onto a new conversation.

Hopefully, he has typed the correct series of digits.

(22:07) < Hey, Hitoshi! It’s Izuku

unknown (22:08) > ...

unknown (22:08) > What the actual fuck

unknown (22:08) > You've still got the wrong number, you goddamn idiot

Slamming his phone onto his desk, Midoriya grabs a pillow off his bed and shoves it in his face. The temptation to scream sounds awfully pleasant, but it’s too late at night to do so. His dorm neighbors would definitely wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

What’s wrong? Oh, he has completely done one of the most dreaded imaginary scenarios in his head; text a complete stranger. Twice.

What was he supposed to do now? Never text back? Delete it? Block it?

How is he supposed to contact Shinsou now?

His phone dings again.

Lifting the pillow off his face slightly, Midoriya eyes his phone warily from his swivel chair.

That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Another text from the same stranger sounds a bit unheard of.

After a seconds-long hesitation, Midoriya lifts his phone and opens it once more.

unknown (22:13) > Double check next time

unknown (22:13) > You can fucking wait the two hours, dumbass

Midoriya grows a little irked. He has a bad feeling that his stranger isn’t too friendly, to say that least.

There was literally no reason to text back something so rude.

(22:14) < Well, that wasn’t nice

unknown (22:15) > Wasn’t trying to be

(22:15) < ..Are you always like this?

unknown (22:16) > Pretty much

(22:16) < That’s sad

unknown (22:17) > What’s fucking sad is that I was woken up from my sleep

unknown (22:17) > Because a damn moron didn’t write down the right number

Midoriya winces. He hadn’t even thought about the other person’s predicament, let alone if he had interrupted anything.

(22:20) > I really didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry :(

unknown (22:22) > Yeah whatever

(22:24) > You should try to go back to sleep, then

unknown (22:25) > I was

unknown (22:25) > But the same moron from before keeps texting me

(22:27) > Who?

(22:33) > Oh.

(22:33) > It’s me, huh?

unknown (22:34) > No shit

(22:35) > Right, of course. My bad!

(22:35) > I’m going to just stop now

unknown (22:36) > Thanks

(22:36) > For the umpteenth time, sorry! ><

(22:37) > Okay, Okay! I’m stopping now, for real

Midoriya desperately needs to call it a night.

After going through his nightly routine, he slips under his bedsheets, exhausted. He sets an alarm for 5:00 on his phone, hoping Shinsou will show up at the library, regardless of the missing confirmation text on Midoriya’s end.

He keeps his phone on awhile longer, swiping through his professors’ emails, before a surprising text notification pops in front of him.

unknown (23:01) > FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

(23:02) > …

(23:02) > What was that for??

unknown (23:04) > I CAN’T SLEEP

unknown (23:04) > GOD, I CAN’T GO BACK TO FUCKING SLEEP

unknown (23:05) > AND IT’S YOUR FAULT

(23:06) > What do you expect me to do????

unknown (23:07) > HAHAHAHA OH DON’T WORRY

unknown (23:07) > IF I CAN’T SLEEP, NEITHER CAN YOU

unknown (23:08) > AND IF YOU TURN YOUR PHONE OFF I WILL SEND HELLFIRE

(23:09) > Wait

(23:09) > No, please

(23:09) > My alarm is on my phone, I need it on

(23:10) > I need to go to an important meeting for a group project at 7:00!

unknown (23:10) > Aw, really? :0?!

(23:11) > Yeah! I really do!

unknown (23:11) > Sike. I don’t fucking care

unknown (23:12) > Hope you eat shit tomorrow

(23:13) > ..Why are you like this?

(23:13) > I could literally be a twelve year old, for all you know

unknown (23:14) > I doubt fucking twelve years do group projects

unknown (23:15) > But whether you’re a damn infant, or grown adult, I hate you

(23:16) > I wouldn’t say I hate you. That’s too harsh

(23:16) > But, wow, you are very unlikable :/

unknown (23:17) > That’s the fucking nicest thing anyone has said about me

(23:18) > It wasn’t supposed

(23:19) > Nevermind.

(23:19) > Do you have any friends? Just might as well ask

unknown (23:21) > Surprisingly yeah

(23:22) > Oh, so you also agree. That it’s a surprise

(23:22) > At least you’re self aware :0

unknown (23:23) > Yeah, they are annoying as hell

unknown (23:24) > But, also pretty good people, I guess

(23:25) > Pretty good or pretty dumb?

unknown (23:26) > SHUT IT

unknown (23:27) > Only I can make fun of them

unknown (23:27) > You. Don’t.

(23:28) > You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that

(23:29) > I’m sorry :(

unknown (23:30) > You like apologizing, huh

(23:29) > There’s a lot to apologize for tonight

unknown (23:30) > Still, you don’t have to say it every damn minute

(23:32) > You probably don’t ever apologize

unknown (23:33) > Fuck no

(23:35) > Right, of course

(23:36) > Well, you know what I need to do tomorrow

unknown (23:37) > Unfortunately

(23:38) > What about you?

unknown (23:39) > I’m covering a shift at my shit job at the ass crack of dawn

(23:40) > Unnecessary visual, but I digress

(23:40) > Uh, where do you work?

unknown (23:42) > No. I don’t even know your damn name

(23:43) > I told you?? It was in my first text

unknown (23:44) > Yeah, I ain’t scrolling

(23:48) > Well, it’s Izuku. Midoriya Izuku :)

unknown (23:49) > Great. I still ain’t giving you mine

(23:50) > ?? Is there anything I can know about you??

(23:50) > You know more about me, than I do about you

unknown (23:51) > You know I hate you

unknown (23:51) > That’s plenty

(23:52) > But, I have been staying up for you :(

unknown (23:53) > Because it’s your fault I can’t sleep

(23:54) > You aren’t feeling sleepy yet?

unknown (23:56) > ..Are you

(23:57) > I asked you first

unknown (23:58) > I asked you second

(23:59) > That

(23:59) > Look, it’s almost midnight

(24:00) > Oh, now, it’s actually midnight

unknown (00:01) > I have fucking eyes. I can see the time

(00:02) > And we BOTH have places to be tomorrow

(00:02) > So, let’s just sleep. Call a truce, please

unknown (00:03) > What about my petty retribution

(00:04) > PLEASE LET ME SLEEP

unknown (00:10) > FUCK

unknown (00:10) > FINE

unknown (00:11) > I STILL CAN’T SLEEP BUT WHATEVER

unknown (00:12) > HOPE YOU FUCKING OVERSLEEP TOMORROW

The rest of the night, Midoriya hears his phone go off, but he doesn’t bother to open the messages. Fortunately for him, the time staying awake quickly catches up to his body, the moment he shuts his eyes. And, in an instant, he falls asleep, heavy.

However, he’s jolted awake by the ringing of his phone, the tone alerting him of an incoming phone call. Banging his head on the headboard, Midoriya blindly grabs and answers his phone. “Uh, H-Hello?” He blurts quickly.

“Tch.” A low voice emits, “You owe me, Deku.”

Click. The phone call ends.

Confused, Midoriya hurriedly rubs his eyes open. Running his messy curls through his fingers, he lifts his bangs up, in order to correctly look at the time.

The time was 5:10. And, his 5:00 alarm had been off the entire time.

And, instead, that same unknown number from last night was his saving grace.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 11*

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

Alright this one is kinda short but I needed a cliffhanger, and I need to get to fifteen now. Also, I had to write the ending of this in the car and it's difficult so I ended it where I did. Plus I love watching y'all squirm. SUFFER.

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

Rafael hadn’t texted you back since you told him you didn’t care whether he believed you or not, maybe he had gotten the hint and decided to leave you alone. Why didn’t that make you feel any better? You knew what you had told Sonny was true; you couldn’t be in any kind of relationship with anyone but alcohol. 

You’d never admit it to Sonny since he was so proud of you lately, but the monster inside you may be present more than you let on. It wasn’t big things that set you off sometimes, sometimes it was just one bad grade on a test, or being lonely. 

You knew you needed to reach out to someone, anyone other than Sonny. Get some friends of your own, people you could talk to. But you were too ashamed of your problems and your life to ever approach anyone. Even when students in your class would ask you to go out with them after school, you’d always decline in fear of what you might do while you were out. You could keep yourself from having more than one drink on your own, but the social pressure of being around other people drinking made you just want to keep going. And you knew where that led. Where it always led. 

You had kept the monster at bay for so long, it was exhausting most days. And now that you had fed it and let it loose, you were too tired to even try and reign it back in. So here you were, practically unable to move from being so sick from drinking fucking mouthwash rather than ride out your cravings. 

You looked up at the sky and began to pray for God to just take you right there and then, just so you would have to stop feeling like this. Not just physically ill, but completely devastated and heartbroken that the one time you had ever opened yourself to someone, opened yourself to love, the monster inside you killed it. Just like it killed everything. Now you just wanted it to kill you. You were just about to grab some pure rubbing alcohol from under your bathroom sink to drink, you knew it was lethal if you drank about a capful. You had it up to your lips when you heard a banging on your front door.

“Y/N! Y/N open this door!” 

Were you still that fucked up or was that actually Rafael banging on your door? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? You decided it was worth at least checking, if you had hallucinated it you could always come back to the bathroom. You forced yourself to stand up and hobbled towards your front door, still afraid to open it. If it really was him, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Your t-shirt was covered in bright green vomit stains, your hair was messy from puking, your hadn’t checked but you figured your face was probably disgusting. 

“...I’m not home!” The words came out before your sense kicked in to tell you that was literally the most idiotic thing you could say. Clearly he’d know you were fucked up now.

“I’m not kidding! I’ll break down this door, I swear to God,” His voice was angrier than you’d ever heard him. Well, that wasn’t saying much considering you hadn’t known him that long but still. 

“Uh...okay, just a second!” You called nervously, doing your best to quickly change your shirt and fix your hair. 

You grabbed a semi clean t-shirt laying on your couch and threw your hair up in a messy ponytail, wiping the dried vomit and drool from your face. You glanced in the mirror, you looked messy but just messy enough you were pretty sure you could pull off “I’m emotionally destroyed because of you” not “I’m totally trashed and fucked in the head because of you,” You tried walking as straight as you could to the door and softly opened it a bit, not letting him inside.

“Hey…” You gave him a sheepish smile. Wait, weren’t you supposed to be mad at him? Don’t act nice now just because you’re trying to act sober. 

“I mean...that’s a pretty lively looking corpse there, counselor,” You smirked. 

“...What?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you the one who said you’d never be caught dead in Jersey?” You smirked harder. Damn, even when you were on the verge of dying you were smooth.

“Let me in,” Rafael said flatly. 

“Uh, no,” You said mockingly. 

“Let me in,” He repeated more sternly. 

“Do you have a warrant?” You asked with an amused smile. 

“Dammit Y/N don’t make me shove this door open,” 

“Oh okay so now you’re threatening to break into my apartment? Why don’t you yell that a little louder, maybe my neighbor will call the cops,” You yelled at him while gesturing down the hall. 

“...Please let me in?” His voice lowered, his eyes softened. You were a sucker for those eyes, no matter how mad or worried about appearances you were.

“...Fine,” You sighed and released your hold on the door and walked away quickly to sit on the couch. You didn’t want him to realize you couldn’t stand without holding onto something. 

“Fuck, I knew it…” He muttered as he glanced around your apartment, then focused on you.

“Knew what?” You crossed your arms, playing it cool. 

“You’re drunk right now, aren’t you?” He looked at you pitifully, not livid like he was a minute ago. 

“What?” You kept your composure. “Uh, I’m sorry Rafael, do you see any empty bottles here? Any FULL bottles for that matter?” You gestured around your apartment while acting offended he would even think that.

“My dad was an alcoholic, Y/N,” He said softly which made you angrier, why was he doing this? 

“Um okay, so that has to do with me why--?”

“Tell me right now if I smelled your breath that it wouldn’t be overwhelmingly ‘clean’,” He talked over you.

“....What?” You blinked, trying desperately to act oblivious. 

Fuck, why did he know that was a thing? Well, obviously he just said it. If you weren’t so angry or out of your mind right now, you’d feel absolutely terrible for being like this around him now that you knew he’d been through this before.

“So it’s a crime to have dental hygiene now?” You smarmed.

“Dammit Y/N I know what you’re doing!” Now he was getting angry again, he couldn’t stand that you weren’t taking this seriously. He couldn’t stand watching another person he cared about completely shit faced in front of him, acting as if he was the one in the wrong. 

“And what am I doing, Rafael?”

“Sonny might be naïve, but I know what it looks like when an alcoholic is hiding their drinking!” He accused you.

“God dammit…” you muttered. 

So many things were buzzing in your head at that moment. One you now felt ashamed that he was seeing you like this, two you were upset that he knew all your tricks, and finally you were somewhat happy and hopeful that he cared enough to come for you. 

“Did you have an actual reason for coming over here, or did Sonny just send you to lecture me because he’s tired of doing it?”

“...Can you drink some coffee or something?” 

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?” 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” 

“What? Oh suddenly I must be out of my mind trashed because I’m mad at you? Guess what Barba, this is 100% snarky sober me,” You lied. 

“Mad at me?” He laughed. “Why in God’s name are you mad at me?!” 

“After the way you treated me--”

“The way I treated you?!” He cut you off angrily. “I treated you with nothing but caring and respect, Y/N. Even after you sat there in my apartment throwing a temper tantrum like a petulant drunken toddler!” 

“You--” You were livid at him calling you a toddler.

“Just because Sonny told you what I usually act like towards-- lovers, doesn’t make it true with you. Did I ever, ever act like you were some ‘conquest’?” He asked you.

“...No,” You bit your lip nervously.

“Did I ever make you feel cheap, or unwanted?”

“No…” You looked at the floor.

“Didn’t I tell you that you were different, that you meant something to me?”  He gave you a sad look, as if he was crushed that you didn't believe in him.

“But how do I know that wasn’t just a line?!” You protested.

“Because I’m here!” He gestured around your apartment. 

“And why are you here?” You pressed him.

“I don’t know!” He put his hands over his head.

“...That’s not an answer,”  You crossed your arms.

“It’s the only answer I can give you, Y/N,” He finally sat down next to you on the couch. 

You curled up your knees to your chest instinctively, still trying to hide your inebriation and the smell of your breath; even though you knew it was futile at this point.

“So, you come all the way here to bang on my door and yell at me, but you have no idea why?” You continued to be defensive, trying to keep him off your scent.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? Huh?” He threw up his hands. 

“Do you want me to say it’s because I’m in love with you? Because for the first time in my life I found someone that I want to be with all the time, because you make me the happiest I’ve been in a long time, maybe ever?” 

“Uh no,” You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to lie,” 

“...I’m not lying,”  He looked at you very seriously, trying to take your hand.

“Yes, you are,” You shook your head and pulled away from him. “In fact I know exactly why you’re here,”

“....What is happening right now?” Rafael asked himself softly. He had just sat there and poured out his heart to you, and you were dismissing him completely. This is exactly why he should have just let you be.

“What’s happening, is that you-- you feel bad that you couldn’t... I don’t know, ‘deal’ with your Daddy issues," You air quoted Daddy, making him shift uncomfortably.

"That is so--" He tried denying it.

"True?" You gave him a look. "Let me guess, you couldn't 'save' him as a kid, right?"

"...That wasn't on me," He muttered, looking at the floor.

"You don't believe that," you scoffed. "I know you don't."

"And how do you know that?" He looked at you skeptically.

"Because I feel like I failed my parents, and they were the shittiest people on earth!" You exclaimed.

"How did you fail them? You weren't even--"

"By being born, Raff," You clarified.

"Carino, don't--"

"Look, my point is you've got this 'white knight syndrome', but you know what I learned? You can't save everyone, so you shouldn't even try,"

"That's a great philosophy," he scoffed. "So you don't even try?'

"Oh fuck off," You rolled your eyes. "I can't even save myself, let alone anyone else,"

"That's not true," he protested. "You saved me,"

"Oh my god," you made a fake gagging noise. "You're just saying that so it'll appease some kind of guilt,"

"I have zero to feel guilty about," he shook his head. For some reason that made you even angrier. 

"Alright well good! So you can leave,"  You pointed towards the door.

"No I'm not leaving, not until you acknowledge what I said," He crossed his arms.

"What? About you being in love with me?" You scoffed. "I told you that's a load of shit."

"And why do you say that?" He asked.

"For one, because you don't fall in love with someone just because they're good in bed," you gave him a look.

"That's not why--"

"And for two, nobody can be in love with a monster," You finished over him.

"You're not a monster--" he tried pulling you towards him but you stood up.

"Yes I am!" You screamed.

Well that was a bad idea. All of a sudden it was as if the chemicals from the mouthwash were sizzling around your insides. You doubled over in pain, the room was going dark. 

"Y/N? Oh my god, baby hold on--" he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap while he dialed 911.

"It's okay, you're okay...just...just hold on, please…" he pleaded with you while stoking your hair and kissing the top of your head, gripping you as if you were going to disappear if he let up.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

[garlichoisan]

Singing in the shower | liu yangyang

➸ Genre: Fluff

➸ Pairing: Yangyang × f reader

➸ Word count: 7 197

➸ Information:

college!au, childhood friends, friends to lovers, friends!NCT Dream 00 line, bestfriend!Yeji (ITZY), very slight NoMin references (Jeno + Jaemin), mention of Mark Lee, reader is a few months older than YangYang (born in the same year)

➸ Warnings: A lot of fluff as usual.

➸ Plot:

You're forced to learn how to live without your closest friend from childhood who has to go live in Germany with his parents, leaving you heartbroken. You thought YangYang was going to be by your side forever. As years have passed and you've almost started to forget about him, he suddenly appears in your life again, turning it upside down, and this time, nobody's leaving.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

➸ A/N: This oneshot took me over 2 months and a half to write and was written as a part of my dear @renjunniehome's song fic challenge (?)

Not really a challenge, but it's an event where diffent NCT writers write fanfics based on songs so make sure to check it here: PLAYLIST FICS MASTERLIST

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“I don't know, it's just something about ya

Got me feeling like I can't be without ya

Anytime someone mention your name

I be feeling as if I'm around ya”

YangYang and you have always been a package deal; you were so close as children that at one point people couldn’t imagine one of you without the other and honestly, you also couldn’t imagine what your life would be without your best friend. There was something about him that made you feel butterflies in your stomach, even though as a child you could not identify and understand clearly what it was.

Besides that, your parents and YangYang’s were very close so you sometimes had family dinners together; that happened often, since you were neighbors and your houses were literally right next to each other. Your parents loved YangYang like their own son, maybe because he spent so much time in your house, had dinner there, and even stayed the night quite often for your sleepover parties. Of course, his parents were also very happy when you went to his house in order to spend time with him. Everyone in the neighborhood thought you’d end up marrying each other when you grow up, even if your child selves denied it with disgust. However, you couldn’t deny that your face always lit up when your parents told you YangYang and his parents would be coming over for dinner. Just the mention of his name made you start jumping with excitement.

But apparently everything good had to end sooner or later. You could still remember the shock you felt when you learnt YangYang would be leaving his house which was right next to yours in order to go live and study in Germany. He explained with glossy eyes that his parents have found better work opportunities there and that this probably meant you wouldn’t see each other very often. When you first heard this, you burst out crying, hugging him tightly, begging him not to go. Even though he also didn’t want to go, he was just a child so he had to leave with his parents. That left you heartbroken; you tried to text him in the beginning in order to keep in touch but it was getting difficult because of the time difference, as well as the lack of personal contact. Slowly you started to get used to life without him, no matter how much you wanted him back, but you couldn’t really learn to be happy without him.

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“Ain't no words to describe you baby

All I know is that you take me high

Can you tell that you drive me crazy?

'Cause I can't get you out my mind”

As the years were passing and you were growing up, you started to understand what your feelings for your childhood friend meant. Before you heard the word “crush”, you thought you just loved to be next to YangYang because he was funny and was making you laugh. But as a teenager, you realized you still missed him, even though you had no idea what he looked like now, how much he had changed, and most of all, you felt how you haven’t gotten over him at all. People your age started to date, but you weren’t interested in anyone, since subconsciously you kept comparing them to your childhood friend. You never even went to dates, and you realized how childish your behavior was, but honestly, nobody seemed like your type anyways. You barely had any friends, since the overly-romanticized idea of YangYang has turned into a standard for your friendships as well. You felt as if you were going crazy because of him as you only thought of him and how you would feel if you could meet him now.

* * *

A few years have passed and you were now in university, trying to live without the thought of YangYang as you realized you were probably never going to meet him again. Now you had some amazing friends who were bringing colors into your life and sometimes distracted you from thoughts about your childhood friend.

You were currently having lunch with your friends from your class. Suddenly you saw Jaemin, one of your friends, running towards your table and finding a place to sit, as he looked as if he was excited for some reason.

"Guys, big news! Apparently we're gonna have a new guy in our class. I heard he's German. I can't wait to meet him! European peopleare so good-looking!" Jaemin said with a dreamy gaze.

“Why would there be a German in our class?” You asked confusedly.

“I don’t know, that’s what the rumors are.”

As you heard the word ‘German’, you suddenly thought of YangYang again, trying to stop the association in your mind before it was too late. For the rest of lunch time you were a lot more silent than usual, quietly eating your food as Haechan was telling jokes, Renjun was laughing, and Jaemin kept annoying Jeno.

The next day you had an early class and as you heard your alarm ring, you groaned softly in annoyance, turning it off and literally rolling out of bed, as you fell to the floor, hugging your blanket, together with your bunny plushie which was actually a present from YangYang.

“Stop overreacting, you drama queen. Nobody has ever died from early morning classes,” your roommate and best friend, Yeji, said.

Sometimes you wondered how could she be so energetic, enthusiastic and optimistic, even early in the morning.

“Yeah, I might be the first one though,” you cried out, while holding the plushie tightly, refusing to accept the reality.

“Come on, if you get up now, I’ll buy you something delicious after classes,” Yeji promised, taking your hand to help you get to your feet.

When you heard her offer, your eyes lit up.

“Really?” You were still a little skeptical about believing her, even though you wanted to.

“Yes, knowing you, you’re probably just going to ask me to buy you a chocolate. Completely affordable,” Yeji chuckled, knowing she was right.

“Correct. Make it two, though. I feel this is going to be a difficult day.”

You finally took her hand and let her help you get up from the floor. After that you quickly put your plushie back in your bed, laying its head on your pillow, as you took the blankets from the floor and put them over the plushie, wanting it to feel warm. Yeji watched your actions with a wide smile on her face.

“Aww, you’re so cute. Now go get ready, or we’ll gonna be late.”

“Oh, how tragic that would be,” you said sarcastically, before going to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

* * *

When you and Yeji entered the lecture hall, you found your classmates being more energetic and chattier than usual. You also noticed your friends, who were talking to a new guy, probably the one Jaemin mentioned the day before, as you recalled.

“Honestly I was a little disappointed to find out you weren’t actually German,” you heard Jaemin say and you giggled quietly.

“If those weird comments don’t scare the new guy off, I’d be really impressed,” Yeji noted, as she found a place near the window and you sat next to her.

“I agree,” you laughed, turning around to look at the new guy once again.

He looked somehow familiar to you, but you couldn’t tell why. When he noticed you looking at him he just stared at you for a couple of seconds while Jaemin and the rest of your friends were probably bothering him. You could swear you’ve seen those shiny dark brown eyes somewhere else before. But as you realized you were still looking at the guy, you quickly averted your eyes, so that he wouldn’t think you were some kind of a creep. You thought that maybe there was not a particular reason for his familiar vibe: maybe he just looked like somebody you’d befriend, that’s why he looked as if you already knew him, or at least that’s what you believed.

“I see the new guy has already caught your eye. The question is, how did he achieve that? You’re not usually interested in others,” Yeji pointed out.

“I-I’m not looking at him,” you denied, shaking your head. “Guys are basically a loss of time, except for my friends. But they’re too dumb for me to date one of them. Besides, only two of them are boyfriend material, they are Jaemin and Jeno, and they’re basically almost dating each other, even though they don’t know it yet,” you explained, taking your textbook out.

As you mentioned Jeno, you saw him coming to you and you looked at him questioningly.

“We promised to show the new guy around after this class, and then we’re going to have lunch with him. You and Yeji can also join us,” Jeno suggested and Yeji nodded.

“We’d love to!” You smiled and Jeno smiled back, returning to his seat, next to Jaemin.

When English class ended, you and Yeji went out of the lecture hall, waiting for your friends and the new guy. They were soon here and you all started walking around the hall, as you heard Haechan talking about the variety of books in the university’s library even though you’ve never seen him actually go there, so you were wondering how he knew this information. Meanwhile you and the new guy continued looking at each other and then averting your gaze without saying anything. You realized he still hasn’t introduced himself to you, but you couldn’t ask him for his name, because you were shy, so you just continued walking in silence, as the ones who were talking were mainly Haechan and Renjun.

When you went to the cafeteria and found a table, you left your things, so that the guys could watch over them, and you went to buy food with Yeji.

“Seriously, what’s going on between you and the new guy? You can’t stop looking at each other. You’ve never looked at a guy like that, so you can’t convince me you don’t like him,” Yeji stated, demanding an answer, as she took a bowl of rice.

“He just looks familiar, I don’t know why though. That’s all.”

“You know that when you meet your soulmate for the first time, you feel as if you already know each other?” Yeji asked, as you paid for your food and started walking back to the table with your best friend walking after you.

“Shut up,” you hit her arm playfully; you really wanted her to stop saying things like that.

When you went back to the table, you noticed only Jaemin and Jeno were there. Jaemin was feeding Jeno, holding a spoon of rice which he put into his mouth.

“Eat a lot, handsome,” Jaemin winked at Jeno who averted his head with discontent. “Do you want some kimchi?” He asked, as Jeno nodded, even though he didn’t want his best friend to feed him.

“Why are you feeding him? Can he not hold the utensils himself?” Yeji asked, as you hit her arm again.

“Be quiet, you’re ruining the romance,” you scolded her, as you continued looking at your two friends, as you sat across from them.

“What romance are you talking about, I just lost a bet,” Jeno groaned in disagreement with your statement.

“Was the bet letting Jaemin show his love for you freely?” You questioned him, as Jeno looked too flustered to answer.

“Something like that,” Jaemin confirmed. “Ah, Jeno, you’re such a messy eater! Here, let me wipe that off,” he said, as he wiped the rice off Jeno’s lips, using a tissue.

“Cute,” you whispered, looking away as you started eating your own lunch.

“Jaemin’s actions are making me want to throw up,” Yeji confessed, taking her fork and starting to eat her food in silence.

“You’re not the only one, I feel the same way,” Jeno agreed quietly, looking at Jaemin as if he was going to kill him every second now.

A few minutes later the new guy approached your table, holding his own tray of food, setting it down and sitting next to you. Your heart skipped a beat just because of his decision to sit next to you. You didn’t know why him being close to you was making you feel this special, so you tried to brush it off, but you couldn’t; so during the rest of the lunch you were actually in a very good mood, even though you and the new guy still haven’t talked to each other directly at all. When Haechan and Renjun joined you, you talked to them a lot, trying not to think about the stranger next to you, since you were too shy to ask for his name, and he apparently didn’t want to say it to you or ask you about yours.

As you were done with lunch, you stood up from the table and took your tray in your hands, looking at the new guy as he was doing the same. When he took his own tray, though, you noticed he dropped something. You quickly bent down to get it and give it back to its owner. But before handing it to him, you took a quick look at it – it was a discount card for the food in the cafeteria. You saw his picture and you read your name, saying it out loud as you realized something.

“Yang… Yang?” You looked up in disbelief.

He looked at you with a smile and he nodded.

“Yes, YangYang is my name, not a nickname as people usually think. Sorry for not introducing myself to you earlier, I was just distracted since you seemed really familiar for some reason,” he said, as you handed him his discount card.

“Um, I… My name is Y/N,” you introduced yourself quietly, as you waited for his reaction.

There were two possible ways this could go: he would either recognize his own childhood best friend, or he would take your hand, as he hears your name for the first time, if he wasn’t your YangYang, but some other guy with the same name. But to you, now it all made sense. The visual resemblance, his voice, his cheerful personality… But you still wanted to be sure it was actually him, before hugging him excitedly.

“You… Bunny?” He called you by your nickname he came up with when you were younger. He thought you looked energetic and playful, just like a bunny.

You nodded, as you couldn’t stop smiling.

“You don’t know how much I missed you!”

Before you could do anything, he put his tray and card down on the table as he hugged you tightly. You were a little taken aback for a couple of seconds, slowly realizing your wish has come true. You and your best friend were finally together.

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“Thinkin' of ya when I'm goin' to bed

When I wake up think of ya again

You are my homie, lover and friend

Exactly why”

As you and Yeji went back to the dorms, you didn’t even have any motivation to study, because you were too busy thinking about your amazing day. You still couldn’t believe this was actually him, your childhood best friend who you were meeting so many years after he left for Germany, after you had lost hope of seeing him ever again. You were hugging your plushie, as you were jumping around the room, repeating that tomorrow you were meeting YangYang after classes in a café, where you could talk to each other and get updates on his life, even though everything seemed as if it was still the same; even YangYang haven’t changed in your opinion, except for becoming more handsome now as an adult.

Yeji was smiling at you, as you told her about your long story with your childhood friend. She was sincerely happy to see you so excited and she wished everything would turn out well for you. You kept thinking about him before going to bed and even after you woke up, starting your day with a smile on your face.

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“You light me up inside

Like the 4th of July

Whenever you’rearound

I always seem to smile”

A few weeks have passed since your reunion with YangYang; now you were used to hanging out together all the time, just like before, realizing that neither of you really changed. You craved each other’s attention and presence just the same way as when you were kids. Today you decided to visit a café with a nice atmosphere, suitable for a cozy afternoon and long conversations. After classes were over, you said goodbye to Yeji, as she wished you to have a good time on your date, but you were quick to correct her this wasn’t a date (even though you secretly wanted it to be) and went out of the classroom together with YangYang.

On the way to the café you couldn’t stop talking to each other. Your topics were never ending and it was always exciting spending time together for both of you. You couldn’t stop smiling as he said funny things to you, or even when he didn’t say something that entertaining; you just loved his company so much, that you enjoyed every second you spent with him. Around twenty minutes later you got to your destination and he opened the door to the café for you, then you found a nice table near the window. You both ordered hot chocolate as you continued with your conversation.

“Do you wanna go watch a movie tomorrow? They’re projecting a Marvel movie,” YangYang asked as he gave you a little additional information.

You smiled, even though you honestly disliked these movies, but you only watched them so that you could spend time with YangYang. You’ve watched every single Marvel movie, since your best friend was obsessed with them for some reason.

“Of course, I’m so excited!”

“Great, I’ll book the movie tickets now,” YangYang said with a wide smile on his face, as he unlocked his phone and typed the website’s name to book the tickets.

“Um, Yangie,” you hesitantly started speaking, not knowing if you should continue your sentence.

“Yeah?” He asked, not looking away from his phone.

“I’m going home this weekend, in my hometown. Do you wanna go with me?” You suggested, even though you felt a little shy to be inviting your childhood friend in your house and have the same sleepovers you used to.

“Really? That would be amazing!” Fortunately, he seemed really happy to hear your idea. “Your parents are also going to be there, right?” After you nodded, he continued speaking. “Can you tell your mom to please prepare my favorite cream cheese muffins for her special guest?” He looked at you with pleading eyes you could never say no to.

“Hey, YangYang! Do you only care about food?” You scolded him, as you playfully hit his arm.

“This is my main priority, yes.” He answered, matching your energy. “But you take the second place, you’re the second most important thing to me other than food.”

He looked at you and for a moment you forgot how to breathe. You were looking at his eyes, getting lost again and again; it felt like you were getting out of the trance he put you on, only to fall deeper the next time you looked at him.

“Are you okay?”

His voice showed concern, but his face had a unreadable look; not worried, but also not calm. It was like he knew exactly how he made you feel.

“Uh, yes, sorry, I just zoned out for a second,” you explained as you avoided his gaze. “I’m gonna call my mom later and ask her to prepare the muffins,” you informed him, as you took a sip from your hot chocolate.

“You know I don’t really care, right? I just want to be with you,” he admitted, as you coughed when you heard that. “Are you alright? First you zoned out, now you can’t drink your hot chocolate… So my theory must be true,” he said with a content tone and you looked at him in surprise.

“What theory?” You asked as you continued coughing until you were okay.

“Never mind. Just be careful next time.”

You nodded as you silently took another sip, trying to avoid his eyes.

Around an hour later it was time for you to leave, so you went back to the dorms. He smiled and waved at you, and after you waved back, you finally entered the room you and Yeji shared. You closed the door as you rested your back on it, breathing loudly. Your heart was beating fast and you wanted to make sure you’ve calmed down before you greet Yeji. Now you were absolutely sure you were in love with your childhood best friend and that fact made you quite nervous. You never felt that way before and you weren’t even sure if he felt the same way about you. But despite your worries, you smiled widely before knowing it. You felt like you couldn’t even control your emotions and it made you very confused. You slowly went to your room, then you left your bag on your chair and you took a step towards your bed and you just laid on it for a minute, staring at the ceiling, trying to stop thinking about YangYang, but it was more difficult than you expected.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t the date with YangYang go well?” She teased you and you turned to look at her, rolling your eyes with annoyance.

“It was nice, except it weren’t a date,” you corrected her, sighing loudly. “But why is my heart being like that?” you whispered, putting your head on your heart as you kept looking at the ceiling with concentration, as if you expected to find all the answers of your questions there.

“Maybe because you wanted it to be a date?”

You decided to ignore her, but then she spoke again.

“Look at me, the ceiling won’t talk to you like I can,” Yeji reminded you as you looked at her discontentedly.

“Yes, but it also won’t make fun of me like you do.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just find it amazing that you’re finally interested in somebody,” she said, as she smiled excitedly.

“You could have stopped after ‘sorry’, you know?” You shot her another annoyed look and she raised her eyebrows as if to say she didn’t care. “Never mind, I��m going to take a shower.”

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“And people ask me how

Well you’re the reason why

I'm dancing in the mirror and singing in the shower”

As you felt the hot water running down your body, you felt a wave of calmness washing over you. Your mind kept going back to thoughts of YangYang and your incredible day with him, as well as the excitement of going home together with him. It was something you wished for so many years, just having him back with you, the two of you together in your room, playing Plants vs. Zombies or Mortal Kombat, some of your favorite PC games back at the time, when you both were around 10 years old.

Without realizing it, you started singing a random song you’ve heard in school today that somehow happened to be a romantic one, matching perfectly with your good mood and your feelings for your childhood friend. Around half an hour later, you got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around your body. Then you took the hairdryer and stood in front of the mirror, drying your hair, but you felt so energetic and happy that you started dancing in front of the mirror. You were holding the hairdryer and you were moving your body randomly, keeping a smile on your face, even though that way drying your hair took much longer time than usual.

When you finally turned the hairdryer off, you noticed Yeji standing in the doorway of your room, looking at you with a wide smile. You rolled your eyes at her for the millionth time today, realizing she may have witnessed at least a part of your dancing in front of the mirror. She giggled, but you decided to act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you were always that cheerful.

“Why are you laughing?” You asked, as you put the hairdryer back in its place.

“Someone has a crush,” Yeji almost sang that sentence. “I’ve never heard you singing in the shower and seen you dancing in front of the mirror before… Is it really possible that YangYang is the reason behind all that? Could he have changed your usual grumpiness into cheerfulness?”

“What do you mean? I’m the same as usual,” you denied all her claims coolly, sounding credible enough, since you weren’t such an inexperienced liar; you couldn’t say the same for your love life though – you really lacked experience in that part, knowing that calling yourself a “dater” would be factually incorrect.

“Yeah, okay. But if things between you really do work out, I want to be the first one you’re going to share the news with! You’re gonna tell it to Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun and Haechan later,” Yeji stated, as you were looking at her with confusion.

“Calm down, there won’t be any news to tell,” you laughed as you quietly went back to your shared room.

But the part of you that you tried hard to suppress, really hoped you were wrong.

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“All I want, all I need is your lovin'

Baby you make me hot like an oven

Since you came you know what I've discovered

Baby I don't need me another”

The next day was Friday, the day you would come back home together with YangYang, being there with him for the first time in many years. A few days ago you’ve told your mother about reuniting with him and to say she was ecstatic would have been an understatement; she felt as if she was welcoming her second child who has been away for a long time, so she wanted to make sure everything was perfect for him. She even cleaned your room since you weren’t there to do so and its usual state was beyond messy; definitely not the best place to show to such an important and dear guest.

You couldn’t wait to go, but before that, you had classes that seemed endless to you; time seemed to be passing too slowly and for a moment you even thought about suggesting YangYang to skip school today, but your good girl reputation prevented you from doing so.

When the professor said his last words for today, concluding the lecture, you took your backpack. You had put your stuff in it a few minutes ago, while the professor was explaining something about an exam or an “extremely important” group project; you weren’t sure, since you weren’t listening after all. You took out the little mirror you kept in your bag to make sure you looked alright. You tried to comb your hair with your fingers, then you applied a new layer of your favorite pink lipstick; you took so much time with your make up today, even though you usually didn’t wear a lot. When you were ready, you ran to the exit of the auditorium, as YangYang was already waiting in front of it.

“You might need to turn Yeji down,” he said, as you raised your eyebrows questioningly. “The group assignment Mr. Lee mentioned, groups of two are also allowed, so you’re with me.”

So this was what you missed as you were too busy putting your stuff in your backpack in order to be able to leave as early as possible. You smiled at him when you heard his words that made a warm feeling blossom in your body.

“Are we ready to go? All I need is in my backpack, so I don’t need to go back to the dorms, unless you want to.”

“I’m also ready. Let’s go,” he smiled, taking your hand and leading you to the exit of the university.

As you were walking next to him, your hand in his, you felt your heart beating unusually fast; but instead of this making you feel nervous, you felt the same warm feeling spreading through your whole body and this time, you were ready to let go and have fun, without holding back anymore.

“So we have a bus in 15 minutes,” you informed him, as you looked at your phone.

“A bus?” He asked before he stopped walking and you stopped looking at the phone and noticed an expensive black car parked in the university parking. “Why don’t we take a ride in my car?” He leaned on it, tapping the roof softly.

“This car is yours? I can’t believe it, you’ve really grown up, Yangie,” you said with a disbelieving voice in order to tease him, but you still sat next to the driver’s seat in his car, as he has opened the door for you before getting on himself. “Even though I’m a few months older than you, I still don’t have my driver’s license, but I’m working on it,” you said with a discontented tone. You were nervous about driving and when you were stressed, you couldn’t do well so you were trying to get your driver’s license for quite some time now.

“You can do it,” he encouraged you with his usual cheerful tone, holding his fist in the air for a second as a sign of encouragement, as he started the car and left the university parking.

* * *

When you were finally in front of your house, you quickly got off the car as you started jumping around with excitement. He smiled at you as he also got off and when the both of you took your backpacks from the car, you rang the bell of your house. A few seconds later your mom opened the door, welcoming you with warm hugs and her usual good mood, as well as a wide smile.

“Wow, I haven’t been here for such a long time,” YangYang mentioned, as he kept looking around. “Wait, what is this smell? It’s amazing!”

“Oh, it’s the muffins,” she smiled again. “By the way, Yangie, you’ve grown so tall! And my little Y/N is still the same as before, she didn’t really grow up a lot,” your mom teased you,

“Hey, you’re shorter than me, so you aren’t allowed to make fun of me!” You playfully scolded your mom, as you sighed in annoyance.

“But you like girls shorter than you, right, YangYang?” Your mom asked your childhood best friend and you wanted the ground to swallow you up right now since you were so ashamed.

You knew she was only asking this since she shipped you and YangYang romantically ever since you two met. She was truly scared for you not to end up single, while you were living your life, rejecting every guy that tried to flirt with you, especially because they weren’t YangYang. You perfectly understood your own feelings so you knew that you didn’t need and didn’t really want a relationship if it wasn’t with him.

“Actually, yeah, I really like girls like that,” YangYang smiled confidently, looking at you. “They are adorable,” he looked away and only then you could breathe. “And they make me feel tall even though I’m not,” he laughed, as your mother was looking at him with pure adoration in her eyes.

“Ah, you’d be such a perfect son in law! Handsome, good mannered, with a good height and you also know a lot of languages, just like my Y/N! I’m honestly so jealous of your future mother in law,” your mom continued to make you want to disappear and you were on the verge of just taking YangYang’s hand and leading him somewhere far away from that house.

“Believe me, you do not need to worry about that,” YangYang said as he kept smiling at your mom.

Even though you didn’t know what he meant, you really wanted to take him somewhere else, where he wouldn’t be able to talk to your mom.

“Dad is still at work, right? Please ask him to buy iced tea and tell us to come when dinner is ready, see you later,” without waiting for your mom to answer, you took YangYang’s hand and led him upstairs and then into your room.

He was looking around as if he was visiting a foreign place he has never been to before.

“You changed your room color…” He said as he touched the wall. “Baby pink suited you though. Also your curtains are different. I liked the old ones with teddy bears on them, but these are fine too. And the bed… It’s seems suitable for more than one person,” he kept commenting the details about your room, but this time his tone was different, and his look was honestly making you nervous. “Have you invited many guys here, Y/N? In this room, on this bed?”

His question made you choke on air; you were looking at him with shock written all over your face.

“W-why would I…”

You wanted to be honest with him, but then realized that this would probably make you look so boring to him.

“It’s not your business.” You quickly answered, sitting on your chair.

“Ah, my innocent Y/N… I guess I’m the only guy who is not a family member that has been to your room,” he continued teasing you as you glared at him warningly.

“That’s not true! Jaemin, Jeno, Haechan and Renjun have been here too!” You quickly denied his claims.

“Yeah, but I doubt you felt something for any of them.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds before deciding to change the topic.

“Do you wanna play Plants Vs. Zombies?” You suddenly asked.

“Of course! Let’s go!” He answered enthusiastically, seating on the chair next to yours.

It was a whole miracle how you could change the atmosphere and his demeanor just by mentioning a PC game. You started playing and suddenly he was the same old YangYang you knew and loved.

“Plant a sunflower, quickly!” You said, as you were looking at your laptop’s screen.

He did as you said, waiting to get another sun so we could buy another plant.

“Quickly, the zombies are coming!” You were clapping excitedly, looking at your childhood friend play the game you used to play all the time when you were kids.

You were so happy that you got closer to him without realizing.

“You’re making me nervous by staying so close to me,” he confessed, giggling softly.

“A-ah, s-sorry,” you quickly apologized as you moved away from him.

When you decided to take a break from the game, you offered him to watch a movie and he agreed, laying on your bed and you reluctantly laid next to him, trying not to get too close to him. You opened Netflix on your TV and the two of you took some time to choose a movie.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“No, no all I know (know)

Only you got me feelin' so (so)

And you know that I have to have ya

And I don't plan to let you go”

You haven’t watched the movie even halfway when he pressed the pause button.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, sighing deeply as if he had something that caused him a great amount of stress.

“Do what?” You asked him worriedly.

Was he sick? Was he bored? You thought of so many different things that you could have done which could have irritated him.

“Pretend that everything between us is still the same. Pretend I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

Your eyes widened with shock when you heard his confession, but before you could say anything, he continued talking.

“We’re not kids anymore, Y/N. And I think we did change through all these years. It’s our chemistry that’s still the same. Tell me that you’re feeling it too,” he was talking in a husky voice which made you imagine things you thought you shouldn’t.

YangYang looked at your eyes hesitatingly, then at your lips, or at least that’s what you thought you saw him looking at, even though for you, it didn’t make any sense for him to be looking there, even after hearing him say he wanted to kiss you. You felt as if that whole situation was just a dream and nothing that happened was going to affect reality in any way. But as you were busy overanalyzing things as usual, you felt a strange, yet addicting sensation. As your eyes were still open, you looked at YangYang who was kissing you. You couldn’t believe that was happening, but you quickly closed your eyes, enjoying his lips on yours. Your heart was beating fast as you tried to remember this sweet feeling, savouring the taste of his lips. When he moved away, you slowly opened your eyes, looking at his with confusion, yet with trust. You were sure that whatever was going to happen, you were safe and happy with him.

“I- You… Uh, did you like that?”

You nervously nodded, as you were wondering what to say.

“Great, I did too. Does that mean you like me back?” YangYang wanted to check in with you, before officially asking you the last question he wanted to ask ever since he realized who you were back in the canteen that day.

“You’re so special to me, YangYang. I like you a lot,” you confessed, feeling a little shy, but still trying to keep his eyes on him, because you thought he deserved to know exactly how you felt about him without finding out how nervous you actually were. “By the way, that was my first kiss and I’m so happy it was with you,” you looked at him adoringly.

“Really? That’s so cute!” He exclaimed with a sweet smile. “So you’re sure you haven’t kissed anyone from your friends group?”

“Actually I kissed Jaemin and Jeno on the cheek once at a party because of a dare. And on the same night Haechan and I got so drunk that we almost kissed, but our friends stopped us before we ‘unlock a whole another relationship’, as they said.”

YangYang sighed with annoyance before mustering up the courage to ask you the most important question.

“Do you want to be like… Uh, you know?”

You were looking at him with confusion written all over your face.

“You sound just like Mark, he’s a friend of mine who’s one year older than us,” you teased him, since you really found his nervousness to be cute.

“Come on, you know what I’m trying to say,” he tried to avoid saying it out loud, but you weren’t going to let him do that.

“Do I know, Yangie? How can I know if you haven’t said it yet?”

“You went from a shy girl to a smug girl in just a second,” he mumbled with discontent.

“But you’re the same! You were teasing me earlier and now you sound like Mark Lee!” You complained.

“Who is Mark Lee?” YangYang asked even though he didn’t really insist on knowing; he just wanted to postpone asking his main question for as long as possible.

“That Mark guy I told you about! Are you even listening to me?”

“Should I be jealous of him?” He pouted as he was waiting for your answer.

“Maybe you should,” you continued provoking him in order for him to properly ask you what he wanted to.

“Come on! Aren’t your four handsome guy friends enough people to be jealous of? When I see how you’re looking at Yeji, sometimes I’m jealous of her too! I also can’t stand it when Haechan looks at you as if he has so many improper thoughts. Or when Jeno and Jaemin ask you if you have eaten. Or when Renjun is smiling at you and laughing at your jokes! Ah, I hate it so much that I want to punch-“

You interrupted YangYang with a kiss.

“My answer is yes.”

“You’re going to be my girlfriend?” He asked, hoping you would agree.

“No, I’ve never heard you ask that,” you crossed your arms, smiling at him playfully.

“You’re going to be my girlfriend because I said so~,” he almost sang that sentence, as he decided to make sure you were incapable to refuse by suddenly making you fall on your bed as he trapped your body under his.

“No, I’m not going to do it~,” you answered in the same tone, as you tried to flip him over, so that you could be on top of him.

But when he noticed what you were trying to do, he caught your wrist and kissed your lips deeply, making you forget everything else. In that moment you relaxed under his touch feeling safer than ever. You kissed him back with the same lust as his, as your fingers threaded through his fluffy hair. You continued passionately kissing each other for a few minutes, taking very short breaks to breathe, since you both missed each other’s lips too much to stay separated even for a few seconds that felt like an eternity for you.

But when you heard a knock on your door, YangYang quickly got off you and he sat on the bed innocently, as you followed his example. You quickly fixed his hair which was quite messy because you were running your fingers through it all the time.

“Y-you can come in,” you said with a voice that was a little distorted, while you were trying to normalize your heavy breathing.

When you said that, the door opened and your dad came in.

“Hi, Y/N. Here’s the iced tea,” he said, giving you the bottle of iced tea which you contentedly took from his hands and left on the ground. “YangYang, it’s great to see you again,” he smiled and YangYang smiled back. “Dinner is ready, so you can come downstairs,” your dad said and you nodded synchronously. Then he turned around and walked out the door, closing it.

YangYang got up from your bed as he gave you his hand, which you took. He kept holding your hand as you were walking down the stairs.

“I guess your parents are really going to have the best son-in-law,” YangYang said and as soon as you realized he was talking about himself, you hit his arm as you laughed.

You were finally truly happy again; you felt having YangYang by your side meant that nothing was impossible and all your dreams could come true, just like the seemingly unrealistic dream of having him back while you were longing for him all these years. It turns out your long wait was absolutely worth it and now that he was here with you again, you weren’t going to let him go.

[lupinlongbottom]

Entirely

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary: Being best friends with a Triwizard Champion had it’s challenges, but being tossed to the bottom of the Black Lake was something that (Y/N) never accounted for. 

Prompt: Hi! Could I request #9 from the prompt list with Cedric? Thank you so much :) - Anon

9. “You’re safe here, I got you.”

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none, maybe a swear (like always)

A/N: Cedric Diggory. Golden Boy. Yep. 

__

Cold. (Y/N) had never felt a cold like this, like ice coating her skin wherever the air touched her. To be fair, it was all in likely possible that ice was coating her skin, as she was wading neck-deep in the Black Lake near the end of the winter months, her vision blurred with water.

“You’re safe here, I got you,” a voice said, pulling her into his side.

When had she been thrown in the Black Lake? Why was she struggling to keep herself afloat? And why—why was Cedric holding onto her so tightly?

—

The walk to Herbology was always a loathsome one. (Y/N) always pressed her luck with her class schedule—Potions being directly before Herbology—leaving only a few short minutes to venture from the dungeons to the greenhouses without being late—a feat she endured every week. Of course, walking in with a Prefect may lessen the chances that Sprout’ll go off at her, hopefully.

“Cedric,” (Y/N) groaned, her shoulders slouching forward. “I don’t wanna go to Herbology…”

“Oh come on,” Cedric laughed, patting (Y/N)’s back as they ascended the steps. “We’ve got a few minutes of nothing before fifty minutes of something, enjoy the moment.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) mumbled, fiddling with the textbooks in her arms. “Nothing, just the way I like it.”

“Exactly,” Cedric laughed, effortlessly scooping the books out of (Y/N)’s arms, holding them as if they were nothing. “Enjoy it.”

“Only,” (Y/N) pointed a finger towards Cedric, “only if you promise me that you’ll make more funny faces today. I have a feeling todays lecture is going to be so bleak and boring—Godric, Ced, I might just pass on if you don’t do it,” (Y/N) sighed dramatically, falling into Cedric’s side. The boy laughed, pushing (Y/N)’s figure up.

“Alright,” Cedric said, adjusting the books, “I promise.”

He had been making those faces in Herbology since first year. Neither of them can remember why Cedric began to make those faces, but the memory of (Y/N) nearly toppling to the floor in laughter is etched into their minds forever. The detention the two of them served after was memorable enough, too. Cedric from then on made it a habit to make the faces—if only one or two, not wanting to push his luck with detention again—in each Herbology class that they shared, knowing how much she looked forward to it. Her smiles could rival the sun and stars, but Cedric wouldn’t ever dare tell her that.

“Good,” (Y/N) hummed, a spring in her step.

Cedric and (Y/N) continued to walk along the halls, enjoying nothing together. It was hard to ignore the staring, however. Girls from every year gawked at Cedric as he bounded through the halls—this was nothing new, Cedric was traditionally handsome— but being a Triwizard Champion now was just the icing on the cake. That, and the added pressure of a dance—one in which Cedric Diggory would need a date for—all compiled to the whispers and giggles that surrounded his every moment.  

“Do you ever get tired of it?” (Y/N) asked, leaning closer into Cedric.

“What? The stares?” Cedric asked, glancing around. A group of Hufflepuff first years quickly turned away at the eye contact with the Champion. “They’re all interested in who I’m taking to the Yule Ball,” he shrugged, “at least, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Of course they are,” (Y/N) laughed, “they all want you to take them, that’s why they’re so interested,” she elbowed Cedric in the side, “you have to know that much, right?”

“I don’t know what makes that so interesting to begin with,” Cedric said, stepping out onto the dirt path to the greenhouses. “Obviously I need to ask someone, seeing as I’m a Triwizard Champion—”

“Exactly! You need to ask someone,” (Y/N) said, hopping down the cobblestone steps. “You’re smart, kind,” she began ticking on her fingers, “funny in all the right ways, have a decent smile—”

“Decent?”

“And you’re quite a handsome fellow,” (Y/N) ended, nodding her head lightly. “Quite the catch, on all accounts. Any girl would be mental if they didn’t secretly wish you’d ask them to the ball,” (Y/N) said, pawing for her books.

“Any girl?” Cedric said, smirking lightly. 

“Yes—Cedric, give me my books,” (Y/N) said, growing annoyed, her cheeks growing hot. Cedric tightened his grip on the stack, just a bit, if only to tease her.

“Now, where’re your manners?” Cedric laughed, holding the books closer to his chest. “No please?”

“Come on, Ced,” (Y/N) said, hopping in front of the Hufflepuff, stopping him in his tracks. His smirk didn’t fade.  “Please may I have my books?”

“Alright,” Cedric said, holding a book out. (Y/N) reached forward, but just as her fingers grazed the cover, he pulled it upward. “On one condition—”

“Condition!? Diggory, we’re going to be late—”

“Go to the ball with me,” Cedric said, lowering the book. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned across Cedric’s face, as if to decipher the language he had just spoke. “I mean it, honestly. If I can get all these girls to stop staring—well—might as well ask you, right?”

“Is that why?” (Y/N) said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just to get the staring to end?”

“Of course not,” Cedric said, almost scoffing. “You’re my best friend, and I want to enjoy the dance as much as I can—no pressure to make it a date with a girl I have little interest in spending in the night with. As far as I see it, going with you was my only option,” Cedric shrugged, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “Unless… of course, if you’ve already been asked?”

“No,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head. “I haven’t been asked. Fred Weasley was making a joke of it in Charms yesterday, but never actually asked…”

“Would you’ve said yes? If Fred asked, I mean?”

“No,” (Y/N) smiled, noting Cedric’s worried expression. “Of course not. You know how I feel about those Weasley heathens—”

“Heathens… right,” Cedric laughed, gently placing the books back into (Y/N)’s hands. “Consider it a date, then.”

“Right,” (Y/N) said, nodding curtly. “You, me, the Yule Ball… perfect.”

—

How unprepared she was, to go to a ball in the first place—let alone be the date of a Triwizard Champion. (Y/N) spent hours trying to prefect her hair, tucking any loose strands that may have fallen out of place. Why was she getting so worked up? It was just Cedric. She’d known the Hufflepuff since they were little, growing up nearly neighbors—homes only fields apart. (Y/N) knew that Cedric would think that she looked fine—beautiful—regardless, but now the added pressure of being on his arm, the eyes that’ll be glued to her… it was daunting.

“You look lovely,” Cedric said, greeting (Y/N) outside of the Great Hall. Somehow she managed to slip on her dress and make it on time, nearly seconds to spare. “As always, of course.”

“You do too,” (Y/N) smiled, noting Cedric’s dress robes. They were plain, but distinguished, entirely charming. It was no surprise that he had such elegant looking robes, they were probably a gift from his parents. “Your robes look nice.”

“They were a gift, from my father,” Cedric said, glancing down at his shoes—perfectly polished, of course.

“Of course they were,” (Y/N) chuckled, feeling herself grow lighter. All it took was a few words from her best friend to was any sort of discomfort she had. A quick glance to her left allowed her to see Harry Potter—the other Hogwarts Champion—squabbling with the younger Weasley brother. (Y/N) had always admired Harry, but when his name was also called for the Triwizard Tournament, overshadowing Cedric, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of resentment.

“McGonagall said that the Champions kicked off the dance,” Cedric said, leaning closer to (Y/N). “Start with a waltz—I think, could be another dance—”

“What? A dance in front of everybody?” (Y/N) felt woozy, her head growing light. “Cedric! I don’t know how to dance!”

“Sure you do,” Cedric said, resting a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. His grip was light, but firm, fingers barely pressing into her skin. Grounding her. “You dance around the fields practically every summer—fireflies and all—I’ve seen you dance,” a chuckle, the sound feather light, escaped Cedric’s lips.

“That’s not dancing,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself tense up. “That’s me messing around—you pulling out some music—just hopping around!” She glanced down at her feet, her toes neatly pointed together, closed off. “I can’t classically dance—”  

“Neither can I.”

“What?” Like lightning, (Y/N)’s head shot up, eyes connecting with Cedric’s grey ones. “You can’t…? But I though that you of all people—Cedric Diggory, of all people—could—”

“(Y/N),” Cedric said lightly, hardening his gaze. “You know me. Stop with that ‘Cedric Diggory’ bull, talking as if I’m this bigger and greater person than the kid you met years ago. I’m not. Different, I mean.”

“But you are, Cedric,” (Y/N) pressed, pushing his hand away. “You say that you’re the same kid—the same kid who was bawling his eyes out for his mum, broken arm in tow—but you’re different now, I am too.”

“Doesn’t mean I can dance,” Cedric laughed, “look, (Y/N), you know me better than anyone in this place,” he waved his hand to the vanishing crowd, all headed into the Great Hall. “So, please just… dance with the kid with the broken arm?”

“Well,” (Y/N) took a breath, weighing her options, “I reckon ‘dance’ is a glorified term if we both can’t—we’ll be the laughing stock of the ball, Ced.”

“Let’s let them laugh, then,” Cedric said, holding his arm out. “After all, I am a Hogwarts Champion,” a grin that sparkled like the candles above adorned his face.

Professor McGonagall looked stressed, her features stiff, She was rounding up the Champions for their grand entrance. Harry awkwardly took his date’s arm, the girl grew as stiff as a board, almost unwilling. The other two Champions followed suit, each of their dates gladly adorning their arms.

“Let’s do this, Diggory,” (Y/N) said, looping her hand around Cedric’s arm, resting it lightly. She could’ve sworn she felt Cedric seize up, for just a moment—frozen in place—holding his breath.

She was holding hers, too.

—

Finally she could breathe again, out of the water and on dry land. Turns out, she—along with a few other students—was just a pawn in the Triwizard Tournament, a means to an end and prize to be saved. When McGonagall had called (Y/N) to her office, she assumed it was about her marks. Why else would an educator need to talk so urgently to you? The idea of alternatives never crossed her mind.

“Are you warm enough?”

Cedric hadn’t left (Y/N)’s side the entire time they had been above the water, always attentive, always doting.

“As warm as I can be,” (Y/N) nodded, “are you sure you don’t need your own towel back?” Cedric had not only given (Y/N) his towel, but begged a few of his fellow Hufflepuff friends to loan their scarves and the like, (Y/N) covered in the bright yellow hue.

“Of course not,” Cedric said, shaking his head. “I knew what I was getting into—jumping into the lake at the end of February—you didn’t,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“Still, you look almost blue,” (Y/N) said, prying an extra scarf from around her neck, looping it around his own. “There, at least your neck will be sort of warm—”  

“(Y/N)—”

“Just pretend, okay?” (Y/N) laughed, pulling the end of the fraying scarf lightly. “Besides, I’m just about dried off anyway—hair’s a bit damp—but I reckon I can deal with that later,” she pressed a finger to Cedric’s chest. “You, on the other hand, just got yourself to first place!”

“Tied for first place.”

“Regardless,” (Y/N) said, waving her hand. “That’s still amazing, Ced!” She felt herself swell with pride, her happiness emanating from her smile. A welcoming warmth spread to her cheeks—a nice change from the cold. “You’re amazing…”

“I—uh—thanks,” Cedric said, barely making the words out. He fiddled with the scarf. “So…”

“So…”

Had it always been this awkward? Just the two of them? Surely everyone had already given Cedric his congratulations, leaving the pair alone on the lakeside—alone. While it would’ve been just as easy to retreat to the castle with the crowd of people, Cedric and (Y/N) took the moment to breathe—enjoy their moment of solitude—even if it was entirely a bit too cold outside.

“You—uh—missed the Weasley twins,” Cedric said, eyes locked on his scarf. “They were taking bets on the challenge.”

“Of course they were,” (Y/N) hummed, feeling her gaze grow towards the horizon, gloomy sky reflecting off the lake. “I missed quite a bit, down there.”

“I’m sorry, again, for that—”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” (Y/N) laughed, turning back to Cedric. “You’re not the one who put me down there!”

“Might as well have,” Cedric said, releasing the yellow fabric from his fingers.

“That’s ridiculous, Cedric! You didn’t—”

“You know why you were down there, yeah?” Cedric snapped, his grey eyes meeting (Y/N)’s in what felt like forever. “Right?”

“Well, no,” (Y/N) said honestly. “I’ve been trying to figure out why—I mean, me, Fleur’s sister, the younger Weasley boy and that Granger girl? Why us?”

“So you didn’t hear, then…” Cedric said, his cheeks growing a bright shade of rouge. “I thought that maybe—uh—that you maybe heard why you were down there and—uhm—well…”

“Cedric, you’re rambling,” (Y/N) said softly. He had a nasty habit of doing that, (Y/N) had seen it a few times before, but it only ever happened in a class he was unsure of—never talking to her.

“Right,” Cedric said, clearing his throat. “Each of the people in the lake were something that we the Champions would sorely miss—like the golden egg had sung about—so…” he twiddled his thumbs. 

“Oh…” (Y/N) said, feeling her body relax. “Oh! Of course it would’ve been me then!” She laughed lightly, feeling herself grow light. “Here we thought it would be your broom all this time! Who would’ve thought that they were going to take actual people!”

“Of course?” Cedric mumbled, his brows furrowed.

“Well, yeah,” (Y/N) said, her expression matching Cedric’s. “I mean, you’re my best friend?”

“Well… Krum’s was Hermione Granger… and they…”

“They…” (Y/N) felt her chest fall, for a moment. Victor Krum had taken Hermione to the Yule Ball, entirely in a more-than-a-friend way. “Oh.”

“I mean, of course you’re my best friend!” Cedric corrected quickly, noting (Y/N)’s change in expression and demeanor. “Of course I would sorely miss you! You’re my best friend and I’d miss you and—”

“Cedric—”

“Forget I ever said anything to insinuate otherwise—”

“Cedric!” (Y/N) nearly screamed, her hand gripping Cedric’s tightly, effectively shutting him up. His grey eyes flicked over their connected hands. “Cedric,” she repeated, softer this time, “I guess I didn’t realize that…well…I had felt otherwise, until today, I think.”

“Felt otherwise?”

“About us.”

“O-oh.”

“I know it’s not ideal—probably ruins our friendship—but, when you pulled me out of the lake… I was struggling to keep afloat, but you were there—like you always were,” (Y/N) tightened her grip on Cedric’s hand. “Made me feel safe,” she looked up at Cedric, “you always make me feel safe. I guess… I think—no, I know that I—”

Cedric wasted no time, his lips crashing onto (Y/N)’s quickly. It was soft, like all things Cedric had done before, light as a feather but entirely full of feeling. The kiss lasted no longer than a few moments, but the lingering tingles on each of their lips left much to be desired.

“When,” Cedric began, his face shining with the brilliance of roses. “When I realized you weren’t there, to cheer me on, I realized that you were the thing at the bottom of the lake,” his eyes looked hardened, like stone. “I couldn’t even breathe, (Y/N). I couldn’t see straight, hardly could hold my wand when casting my charm… I felt so helpless.”

“Cedric…”

“So when I finally got to you—Godric, I got you—it felt like like the weight of the world was pulled off my shoulders,” Cedric said, his lip quivering. “I felt it at the dance too, when you were dancing without a care in the world, dancing with me,” he gulped. “I knew it then, too.”

(Y/N) didn’t speak, she didn’t know how—or what—to say.

“(Y/N),” Cedric said, his eyes locking with hers once more. “I care so deeply about you, I—”

“I love you,” (Y/N) said, finally finding the words. Cedric’s eyes grew wide, his mouth hanging slightly agape. “What?” (Y/N) giggled. “I wanted to be the one to say it first, seeing as you cut me off before…”

“No,” Cedric shook his head, his mouth twisting into a smile. “I love you, too. Always have, I think,” he felt his cheeks grow tired of his grin, aching in the most pleasant way. “Can I… kiss you? Again, I mean?”

“Yes, you may,” (Y/N) nodded, her lips curling into a small smile of her own, feeling the gentle pass of his lips against her own once more. It was tender and loving.

Entirely like Cedric.

__

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[lupismaris]

For the requests silver flint Hamilton adopting a cat?

(aahh i loved this thank you!!! it got a bit long so I’ve put most of it under a readmore but I hope you like it!)

Silverflintham in my general modern au.

******

“What’s this?” Silver asked, digging through the grocery bags that now littered the kitchen counter.

Flint was busy sorting through the day’s mail, tortoise shell reading glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he read over a dinner invitation for himself and Thomas.

“What’s what?” he asked, tossing aside the invite and shuffling through bills.

Silver rolled his eyes and slid the stack of high end tins of cat food across the counter until it was in Flint’s line of sight. He knew that if he went down to the first floor he’d find a large bag of high end kibble to match, likely resting by the patio door.

Flint looked up, saw the cans, and snatched them off the counter. “Nothing. Just- for the shelter-“ he muttered as his ears started to burn.

“The shelter you send a check to once a month and whenever they ask?” Silver clarified, perching himself on the edge of the bar as Flint tucked the cans of food in the back of a cupboard. “That shelter?”

Flint scowled at him. “Yes for that shelter, they put out fliers asking for supplies alright? Figured I’d drop some off on my way to work tomorrow,” he snapped. There was very little bite to it, it was rare that Flint ever truly got annoyed with him.

“And it’s not for the slowly growing cat colony you totally aren’t feeding out in the alley each night?” Silver asked in a sweet voice.

He’d known about the stray cats in the neighborhood almost from the beginning of his relationship with Flint, how he’d keep a bag of food at the bar in case any of them came to the kitchen door, how according to Gates he’d managed to trap a few and get them to a rescue. He hadn’t found out about Flint’s unofficial colony of strays, however, until he had moved in. At present Silver guessed it was only a handful, four or five adult cats who were either content being feral or just waiting for the right home.

Flint liked to think he was subtle, that he wasn’t so obviously sneaking out each night before bed to leave food and water in the alley, to make sure the little cat boxes another neighbor had built were in tact. Silver let him believe it, though he couldn’t be sure whether or not Thomas knew about his husband’s unbearably endearing hobby.

Silver laughed softly at the flustered and indignant look on Flint’s face, the flush in his cheeks making his freckles turn ruddy. He reached for his hand. Flint took it without hesitation.

“It’s kitten season,” he said softly, not meeting Silver’s eye, “and that always means a few more strays on the streets. The little ones need different food, more calories so they put on the proper weight. That’s all.”

Of course Flint would be thinking about the kittens. Of course. God Silver had fallen in love with a truly ridiculous, wonderful man.

“I’m only teasing. You’re awful sweet,” he said, pulling Flint in for a kiss. It was enough to soothe Flint’s bristly demeanor, though he was still a bit flustered when he pulled away with a muttered ‘am not.’

Silver hooked his arms around Flint’s middle and tucked his face into his neck, purring slightly when Flint leaned into him and went back to sorting the mail. “You are. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. Your husband might though.”

Flint huffed a laughed and kissed Silver’s curls. “Oh without a doubt. Speaking of, he home yet?”

Home, that was still taking some getting used to.

“No but he did say he’d be a bit late today, last minute student meetings or something.” Silver said against Flint’s throat, pausing to mouth a bit at the hinge of his jaw. He could feel the vibration of Flint’s soft rumble of content and he nipped the soft skin below his ear.

“Well dinner won’t take long, I can fridge the duck for now, wait till it’s closer to supper time.” Flint’s voice held a note of mischief to it. “I’m sure we can think of something to entertain us in the mean time.”

Silver smiled against Flint’s throat, lifting his head to kiss him. “Oh I have a few ideas.”

Flint chuckled into the kiss, pulling back despite Silver’s whine of protest. “I’m sure you do. Help me finish the chores, pup, and you can tell me just what kind of ideas you have hm?”

As if Silver could say no to Flint, in his reading glasses and half buttoned shirt, his hair pulled back in a messy bun so the well trimmed undercut was visible.

They got the groceries put away, the ingredients for dinner prepped and stowed in the fridge, the duck legs braising in the oven, and when Silver thought he’d finally be able to get Flint at least to the sofa to make out like twenty year olds, Flint instead asked him to follow him down to the garden.

He took Silver out to see where he left the food for the cats, no longer keeping up the old pretenses that he was keeping it secret. Three of the cats were lingering in the alley when they stepped out of the back gate, a big black bruiser of a cat with a clipped ear and a few scars on his muzzle. He didn’t like silver one bit but he went right up to Flint as if greeting an old and cherished friend. The other two were younger, long haired domestics Silver would’ve guessed.

“Those two are brothers I think,” Flint told him, as the one with a white belly and rusty brown spots came over to inspect Silver, the other with tabby markings watching warily. “They’re new, oddly friendly, which means they likely had a home first.”

“Poor things,” Silver murmured, letting the two cats inspect his hands. He noted that they didn’t have their ears tagged. “Are they much younger than the others?”

“Probably only a year or so old, I’d guess. I was waiting for them to get a bit bigger before trying to take them to a rescue, so they can get fixed and all their shots and stuff. I could trap them rather easily I think but the closest shelter is overwhelmed right now.”

Silver nodded, setting out a bowl of food for them to share. “This explains all those random scratches you keep coming home with,” he said flatly, relishing the way it made Flint laugh.

Half an hour passed and Bruiser, as Silver now called him, trotted off to do whatever it was stray cats did. The brothers were happily playing with each other, tumbling and rough housing down the alley.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t just…” Silver mulled over his words as he and Flint went back inside, pulling the garden gate closed behind him. He was too focused on Flint, and his own thoughts, to double check if the latch had caught properly.

“Brought them inside?” Flint offered.

“Yeah. I’ve only just met them and I find myself considering how to convince Thomas we should adopt them. Well, I dunno if Bruiser wants to be adopted but the others-“

Flint shrugged, leading the way up the back stairs to the deck that extended from the back of the kitchen, leaving the glass door cracked a little to let in the cooler evening air. “Between you and me, Bruiser is about a week away from being adopted by the little old lady on the next block. I was seeing him less and less and got worried but it turns out shes got a whole set up for him. I’m sure it won’t be long before she gets him inside and he refuses to leave. The others though… I dunno I guess I’ve always had strays and never an actual cat. We had them back in Padstow, and in Camden, in Manhattan, and even when I was stationed abroad. There were always strays.”

Silver considered him, following Flint into the kitchen and again perching himself on the bar. “You knew how to take care of strays but the concept of being their forever home scared you.”

It took a moment for Flint to reply. Silver watched him roll up his sleeves, tattoos vibrant in the golden hour light that filled the kitchen. He watched as he washed his hands, pulled out the prepared ingredients for the duck sauvage and rabe he was making, and set to work.

“I never felt stable enough to have a pet,” Flint said as he coated the pan in butter. “Not even when Thomas and I were first over in Manhattan, once he’d recovered from the accident, it just- there were too many risks, too many variables. We already had so much on our plate, between his recovery and the bar that any pet we did have wouldn’t get the attention it needed.”

He set the seasoned duck breasts in the pan and let them cook, stepping away to pour them each a glass of negroni from the pitcher he’d made the night before. “I refused to adopt an animal only to risk neglecting it. So, once we moved here I found the local ferals and the people with their own colonies and did what I could.”

Silver nodded, taking the drink and the soft kiss that came with it. “And now? Since you both seemed so settled here?”

Flint smiled fondly at him. “I was too busy making sure I could bring you home for good to think about pets.”

For an asshole, Flint really was an unbelievably sappy romantic.

Silver felt himself blushing, knew he must have been from the way Flint’s smile sharpened a little before stealing another kiss. “I suppose thats fair.”

They looked up at the sound of the front door and sure enough Thomas’ voice echoed down the hall. “I hope you two aren’t fucking without me again.”

“Do blow jobs count?” Silver called back as Flint flicked his ear, the sound of Thomas’ laughter preceding him.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells divine,” Thomas said, joining them in the kitchen. He looked tired, his carefully styled hair a bit ruffled from the wind and his fingers toying with it, his shoulders heavy with a full day of lectures so that he leaned more heavily on his ornate walking stick than he had that morning. Silver watched as he pulled Flint in for a kiss, noting the way his body began to relax and shed the stress.

“It’ll be ready in forty minutes, if you both can stop distracting me,” Flint teased, kissing his husband’s cheek before turning back to the stove. “How was your day?”

Thomas groaned, moving around Flint to greet Sliver with a kiss hello. “Don’t ask me that till I’ve had time to process it. Exam season approaches with it’s usual misery.” Silver managed to steal a few more progressively dirty kisses before Thomas pulled away with a hum. “Hello pet.”

“Evening Professor,” Silver replied sweetly, feeling a thrill at the way Thomas’ blue eyes darkened at the title. “Need some help freshening up before dinner?”

Thomas laughed, though he looked like he might be considering it, and took a sip of Silver’s drink. “No, no, best save that for after dinner. I’m just going to go wash up down the hall.”

Begrudgingly Silver let him go, moving to sit in one of the bar chairs so he could watch Flint cook more comfortably. For short time the kitchen was quiet, save for the sounds of food cooking and Flint occasionally muttering to himself.

Then, suddenly, they heard Thomas’ voice in the hall.

“Oh- oh my goodness hello precious! Oh hello just look at you-“

Flint looked up from the stove top with a frown that Silver returned. They listened a moment long as Thomas cooed and made soft little noises, the kind someone made when talking to a cat, for example.

There was a moment of silent realization as they stared at each other. The glass door to the deck was still open.

“Did you make sure the gate was closed?” Flint asked, already moving to clean his hands.

“In theory?” Silver replied, scrambling off his stool and out into the hall.

Thomas sat against the wall with the white and brown stray in his arms, the cat purring loudly and rubbing himself all over Thomas’ shirt. His brother was sniffing curiously at Thomas’ shoes, though upon seeing Silver, he trotted over to him with his long fluffy tail held high. Silver crouched down as best he could without his prosthetic, holding out his hand to the cat who greeted him happily.

“You didn’t tell me we were adopting kittens!” Thomas said in bewildered delight when Flint finally joined them, the poor man staring at his two partners in equal disbelief.

“Uhm.”

“They were curled up in the parlor! They woke up when I came in a suppose and they followed me over to the bathroom- where did you get them? They’re such angels oh my goodness-”

“It’s a bit of a story, actually.” Silver held back his laughter as the more skittish brother crawled into his lap, Flint’s face growing more and more overwhelmed, and more and more flushed as he watched.

“They’re uhm. Strays.” Flint finally managed to say. “From the neighborhood. I must’ve left the gate open, and the- the deck door was- they must've slipped in while I was cooking-”

“Oh you saint of a man,” Thomas said, getting carefully to his feet with an armful of cat. “Were you feeding them? Of course you were, thats a ridiculous question isn’t it. Have they had their shots? Oh we need to find a vet, schedule a visit. And they need baths, and a groomer too I imagine. Do we have enough food-” his voiced trailed off as he went back to the kitchen to search the cabinets.

Silver looked up at Flint with a fond smile.

“Guess I brought a few extra strays with me, huh?” he asked, holding out a hand so Flint could help him up.

It got him a weak laugh, Flint helping him carefully to his feet and greeting the cat in his arms. “Looks like it. Though I don’t think any of you are strays anymore, what with a home like this and all.”

Silver tried not to think too hard about the way his heart ached at Flint’s words, leaning in for a kiss instead. “Go finish dinner, I’ll help Thomas get these two washed up.”

The cat in his arms lifted his striped shaggy head and nuzzled into Flint’s beard a moment, as if to reassure him and Silver watched as any possible argument Flint might muster vanished in an instant.

“Good thing I bought that extra cat food, huh?”

[dwellordream]

dish duty

freeform for @wayhavensummer as I really wanted to write a water fight

T Rating (for passionate kissing and general tomfoolery) Felix x Detective Esme Kingston, 2000 words

“I wish you were a breakfast in bed kind of person,” Felix complains, though not very passionately, as he finishes what seems like his fourth stack of chocolate chip pancakes. 

Esme considers herself a very controlled individual. She dresses neatly and conservatively, her home and office are impeccably organized, and she’s a vegetarian who eats, generally, a very healthy and balanced diet.

However. On the weekends, and especially with Felix’s recent influence, that goes somewhat out the window. Not all the way, but close enough to the edge. No, these are not organic whole wheat dark chocolate chip pancakes. They are the unhealthy kind chock full of additives and preservatives that children adore. But as Tina once said, everything we eat is bioengineered, right? 

Felix doesn’t need to eat; well, he doesn’t need to eat a normal human’s diet, unhealthy or healthy, it doesn’t matter. But he likes to, and he has a keen sweet tooth. He claims his taste buds aren’t dulled compared to the rest of Unit Bravo because he was born as he is now, and so he has no memory or experience of eating food as a human to compare it with. 

Nothing is lacking for him, because he never had it to begin with. And unlike Mason, ‘loud’ flavors or various textures don’t irk him, so Felix is pretty much willing to try anything, no matter how sweet, spicy, or sour. And especially if it involves chocolate. 

“Breakfast in bed on a day like this is a terrible idea,” Esme points out as she gets up to clear her small kitchen table.

It’s not as hot out as it was yesterday, but it’s already very warm for ten o’clock in the morning- they slept in embarrassingly late- and she can tell that by midday it will be unbearable, which is why they have plans to go to an art exhibit in the city.

Esme enjoys long drives and would rather wait out today in air conditioning than suffer through it in her sweltering flat. And Felix is always willing to go to just about anything; it’s all new to him, so why not? 

Worst case scenario, he doesn’t like it, and even when Felix isn’t enjoying something, Esme still enjoys him, because rather than sulk or brood he simply strikes up a running commentary on what he thinks they should be doing instead.

Yes, sometimes it’s irritating, but often she has to fight to hide the smiles he strives to coax out of her. She once took him to a lecture at a university and halfway through had to stop looking at him because he found a way to make her grin with just his eyes- the rest of his face was totally stoic. 

He worked her up so much she had to excuse herself to get a drink of water, just so she didn’t burst out laughing in the middle of the professor’s droning slide-show. Felix, of course, followed her out into the hall and cornered her in an alcove, where they were sharply reprimanded by a passing janitor a few minutes later, who mistook them for two wild students who couldn’t wait to get back to their dormitory. 

A year ago, the thought of this encounter, and of a morning like today, eating syrupy pancakes and lounging around in her pyjamas this late in the day, would have horrified and appalled Esme. But it is very hard to feel guilty or ashamed of anything that happens between her and Felix. Initially that frightened her, that being with him was so… easy. Nothing was ever supposed to be easy, or it wasn’t worth the effort. That had always been her motto. 

But now…

“What are you doing?” she sighs, as she watches Felix stack far too many dishes on the palm of one hand, like a particularly adventurous waiter. 

“Scoot,” he waves his free hand at her, showing off that he doesn’t even need both to hold them. “You’re in front of the sink.”

Esme shakes her head and steps aside as Felix deposits the rest of their dirty dishes inside the sudsy sink, which she’d just finished filling up with water.

This flat came with a small dishwater but it works terribly and Esme lived alone for so long and used so few dishes that it made more sense to just hand wash them immediately after eating. Felix thinks this is terribly boring but she refuses to have an insect infestation by leaving dirty dishes out for that long. 

“I can wash them,” he says now, to her surprise. “You have to go get ready.”

“So do you,” she points out dryly. Yes, she feels oddly exposed in just a camisole and boy shorts, but he’s just in his boxers. She’s doing a very good job of not gawking at him like a schoolgirl.

Felix is not built the way Ava is, with powerful muscles and the stature of a workhorse or, as Mason would put it, a brick shithouse- but nor tall and willowy like Nat or lean and sinewed like Mason. Rather, he is toned and compact- she doesn’t know how else to describe it. 

He’s a few inches taller than her, not much wider, and certainly isn’t bulging with muscles or in possession of washboard abs. But the sight of the smooth dark skin of his toned stomach and chest and the way he moves, almost like an acrobat, like he were ready to pitch forward into action at any moment, propelling himself with his arms or legs- gives her a strange combination of desire and envy. He would be an incredible gymnast and he is a beautiful dancer, moving gracefully to any rhythm without having ever heard it before. 

In contrast, she feels thin and pallid and wretched- she’s petite and lacks much in the way of fat or muscle- she’s not athletic in the least, her belly forms a small pouch when she slouches, her skinny arms strain and tremble when she lugs heavy boxes of case files in and out of her office, she runs awkwardly and can’t dance to save her life, despite several years of ballet and a ballroom class in uni. 

She’d like to be pragmatic and explain it’s just about feeling useful and capable of defending herself, but the truth is she’s vain and self conscious all at once. In her head, she is sleek and hard and beautiful, carved from crystal and not pasty flesh. Compared to Felix, she often feels like a melting snowman. 

Felix is busy recounting her entire getting ready routine; Esme rolls her eyes and huffs but waits patiently until he’s done. 

“Anyways, I just have to shower,” he shrugs.

“You’re my guest,” says Esme, “I’m not going to leave you to clean up while I powder my nose-,”

“I’m your guest?” he lays a hand on his chest in mock offense, and then his grin turns impish. “Your guest? That stings, Ez. Do all your guests come over late at night-,”

“Felix,” she warns, though her lips are twitching-

“And you sashay over the door and pull it open like, Hello, stranger-,”

“I didn’t say that!”

“No, it was cute!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be cute, you said you wanted me to surprise you, so-,”

“So I was very surprised,” he insists, and then catches her off guard by grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close.

Esme wriggles ineffectively- she’s not really trying to get away, which he knows- and then groans when he crushes her against his chest. He’s not a big man but he gives very big hugs, and she’d be lying if she said the weight and pressure wasn’t reassure, like a heavy quilt bundled around her. But… it’s hot. And he runs hot, too.

She says as much, into his chest, and then, to her alarm, hears him laugh, reach over, scoop up some soapy water with his hand, and drizzle it down her head.

Esme shrieks and rips away from him- Felix’s gold eyes are huge in his face, she can tell he’s torn between delight at his own daring and worry that he pushed her too far and she’s truly infuriated- but instead she touches at her damp hair in shock, then snatches up a wet rag from the counter and flings it at him. It hits him directly in the face; he yelps and bats it away, and she darts back, snickering.

“Oh, so you want a bath instead?” He raises his eyebrows at her. 

“No, no, no,” Esme is saying, but the laughter leaking out between her protests says otherwise. “You started it-,”

“Yeah, so I’ll finish it. Come here, Ezza, let me wash you off- you have suds in your hair-,” he feints a lunge at her and she shrieks again, like a giddy teenager, then clamps her hand over her mouth, worrying the neighbors might hear. 

Felix has no such concerns, and makes another grab for her- he secures her wrist and she slips on the tiled floor- he takes advantage of this to scoop her up, and flings her over his shoulder, which is barely broad enough for her thrashing torso to fit. 

“Oh my God, what are you doing- Felix!” she shouts when he pins her there with one arm, grabs a cup with the other, and dumps water down her back. It’s barely cold but she yelps all the same- he sets her back down, triumphant that now her camisole is drenched and clinging to her, and she darts around him and hits him with a sponge, spraying more soap suds all over his bare chest. 

“Wow,” he says. “Wow. That’s weak- that’s a really weak move, Detective, where is your tactical brilliance- okay, pretend I’m a Trapper, what do you do-,” he grabs at her arms to pin them but she successfully ducks out of his reach and hurls the sponge at him as he gives chase out of the kitchen. 

“Don’t get water on the floors! I just mopped!”

“You’re the one who took it here!”

She leaps into the bathroom, breathless and trembling with adrenaline and laughter, and tries to slam the door shut in his face, but she never stood a chance of outrunning him- even if they were both human, she wouldn’t have. Still, she notes how careful he is, in the moment, not to crowd her in the confined space, worried about knocking her into the hard porcelain sink or toilet, and he waits until she steps back into the shower, cornered. 

His hand hovers near the spout. 

“Don’t you dare,” Esme warns. 

He turns it on, and cold water cascades down full force onto her, soaking her to the skin. But before she can even flail or sputter, he’s stepped in beside her, wrapping himself around her, the contrast of his warm skin and the cold water making her cling to him all the more. 

He kisses her lips, and she tastes soap for an instant, making her grimace, but then he’s moved onto her neck, lips tugging and pulling at the skin there, and she digs her fingers into his shoulder blades as she kisses his jaw in return, dragging her teeth across the corner of his lips. 

When he heaves her up so he is half holding her, one hand under her thigh, the other leg stationary, she surges against him until his back is against the tiled wall and they are both directly under the flow of water. Then she gropes at the dial and shuts it off; it extinguishes to a trickle, causing beads to flow down their upturned faces. 

She’s panting- he’s not as breathless, but jittery and shivering all over, and not from the cold water. 

“Felix,” Esme whispers, and pecks him on the lips again as he reluctantly releases her. 

“Yeah?” His pupils are languidly dilating, like a golden bloom. 

“You did say you would do the dishes…”

He heaves with silent laughter, and then mouths something at the ceiling. “You’re killing me.”

“I know,” she smiles. “But you started it.”

Out of kindness, she takes a very quick cold shower, so she can help him dry off, too.

[mysterytickingegos]

At Least We Have Us

Pairing(s): Darkiplier x Platonic!reader

Genre: Angsty with a fluffy end.

Word Count: 1,771

Summary: Strange things happened to those who didn’t leave that dreadful manor in time, and you were one of those people. Becoming something not quite human took some time to get used to, but at least you weren’t alone.

Anonymous Request: Platonic Dark with a soft Y/N that's basically very motherly of him despite being much younger? She cares a lot about him and looks up to him. Maybe she's his assistant and also experienced the events of WKM and Dark basically adopted her after that? Post-WKM please! I need Dark being a wise and over protective big brother rn Thank youuuu

Authors Note: I loved working on this one! It was a fun concept, thank you so much for the request!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A gif of Mark from a vlog video giving a thumbs up to the camera, it has been edited to be gray with Darkipliers afterimages and colors, red and blue.]

Dark...That was such a strange name to call him, at first.

Damien had been a family friend. He was your neighbor, and your best friend’s uncle. When you were a teenager he was a respected member of the local government, a man who hid away in a study and worked far too hard. Eventually with enough pushing from Ophelia, he was your boss, having given you an internship in city hall that Elli really didn’t want. You considered him a friend. Maybe not a close friend, but he was someone you trusted and respected and he would say the same about you.

You jogged up the stairs to the office, dodging past people while muttering quick apologies to anyone who had something to say about it. When you got there, you heard the laughter of your friend through the door and cracked it open. Ophelia was desperately trying to catch her breath between giggles, of course because Damien was telling another story about your completely sophisticated soon-to-be DA. He was surprisingly relaxed, leaning back on his desk and talking with his hands quite a bit.

“But of course, that doesn’t stop them, they run down the street- Oh, Y/n please come in. You’ll want to hear this.” He gestured to the empty chair beside Elli, but when you didn’t move from the doorway, both their faces fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” You tilted your head at them, not realizing how you looked, pale and out of breath. “Damien, they’re done counting. You won.”

He was in shock for a few moments, only standing up a bit straighter as he processed your words. “I won? I’m...?”

“You’re going to be the Mayor.” Ophelia finished for him, just before all three of you started laughing and cheering and jumping around.

In many conversations there were moments where you would catch a glimpse of the person you used to know, and in the beginning you would get a heavy heart. You weren’t ready to let him go, to accept that he was somebody else now. Perhaps that’s because it would mean accepting you were somebody else, too.

None of the guests from that damned party left the manor the same.

You heard it so clearly, a stranger’s voice coaxing you up the stairs, quietly whispering your name over and over as you slipped away from the rowdy party. You were practically hypnotized, not thinking about who it could possibly be or their intentions as they lead you to a room that sent chills down your spine the moment you opened the door. It was a room filled with trinkets of the occult, books with terrifying symbols, and scribbles of a mad man on papers scattered all over.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” You heard a growl from a new voice, just behind you. The person shoved you inside the room and slammed the door as you hit the ground. “In fact, I could’ve sworn this was going to be hidden from all of you.”

You stood up as quickly as you could, turning to see the host of the party scowling at you. “I wasn’t...I was just looking for Elli.” You said quickly, brushing off your clothes.

“The same Elli that told you she was going to lay down for the night a couple of hours ago?” He stepped closer, slowly, ominously.

You thought back to that conversation, spoken quietly, just the two of you on the staircase while everyone else was still playing poker. “How could you even know about that?”

Mark grinned at you, sinister and cold. He gestured around the room, to the books and trinkets. “Things aren’t as they seem here, Y/n. Ever since Celine...left me here, the things in this house had opened my mind to things I never could’ve imagined.” A short laugh bubbled out of him. “I can do anything.”

“You’ve gone mad.” You whispered, backing away. You’d heard bits and pieces of the Iplier drama from Damien, having vented his concerns to you over cups of coffee during work since the day you got your invitations. But you knew now that he had no idea.

“Perhaps they were trying to do the same for you, but I’ve come too far for some kid to screw it all up now.” He turned on his feet and left the room, shutting the door behind him. You rushed over to it, trying to twist the knob before he got a chance to lock it. But it was far too late. You banged on the door and screamed for help until your voice went hoarse, but the room had in fact been hidden away. You were surrounded by taunting spirits in a room that nobody existed, for what felt like weeks. You could feel them gnawing away at bits and pieces of you after that, an itchy feeling under your heart, changing you. Truly, time had been warped, and only one day had passed before you were found by someone who was now immune to the houses secrets and cloaks. And he didn’t say anything, but clearly something had happened to you too.

Funny thing about living forever? (Or at least as long as you have,) It’s not that great, in fact it’s actually very lonely. The world changes around you, and you don’t change that much at all. You often have to leave, not wanting the attention of being the same age after living or working somewhere for 20 or 30 years. Or you get too attached to somebody and you know you will lose them, now or later.

But you weren’t alone. Despite his anger towards Mark, how badly he wanted revenge, Dark kept very close to you. Especially after he learned what happened to his niece, he was going to keep you safe above all else. Mark learned that the hard way when he tried to silence you too, only to find an empty house and a rather cheeky note.

“Catch me if you can.”

Another funny thing, you didn’t even know the power that you had when you first wrote that. As far as you knew you were a normal girl waiting out the storm. But eventually waiting got pretty tiresome.

“How could you be so foolish?” Dark called after you as you both stormed back into the house.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that big a deal.” You huffed, tossing your jacket away.

His image faltered and glitched at what you said. “Not a big deal? You have the gift of longevity, you are NOT impervious to bullets!”

You flopped down into the armchair, crossing your arms. “We don’t know that yet.”

“You sprained your ankle tripping on air last month, I think it’s safe to say.” For a moment you could’ve sworn he smiled. If it wasn’t at your expense, you might’ve been happy. “You wonder why I hover,”

“Someone had to step in and do something.”

“Why did it have to be you?!”

“Because!” You twisted around in the chair to face him, fighting back tears. “I’m bored! I’m sick of living like a hermit! I’m tired of these stupid towns in the middle of nowhere and never having any friends...it’s been almost a century Dark, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He pierced his lips, having to look away from you before he got emotional himself. “So this is your plan? Play hero until you run out of luck?”

“Or we can stop hiding. We can try and live our lives, instead of just surviving. I mean, what's the point if we’re completely miserable?”

“And what about him?”

“To hell with Mark, what about you?” Your voice was softer now. “I can work, and shop and be neighborly. But you...you’ve been stuck in the shadows, holding onto your hate all this time. Maybe you don’t believe it after everything that’s happened, but you deserve better.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What then? Where do you want to go?”

“How about we go home?”

‘Home’ was California, LA specifically. Sure, you could’ve gone back to your hometown but you were both part of a rather famous local mystery and you agreed it was for the best to stay away.

The sun had set a little bit ago and the streets were only illuminated by signs and street lights, that was the only way he’d agree to go out into the city with you, in the dark. Fair enough, he didn’t want to attract attention to himself. Luckily, you’d made some good friends in the last few months, friends like Mike.

“Ah, bonjour!” Mike greeted cheerfully as you and Dark approached the window, before ducking into his shop to get you both a bowl of ice cream. “I was wondering if you were going to show up.”

You nudged Dark over to one of the tables and leaned in the window. “I didn’t mean for it to take so long, thanks for keeping the shop open late for us.”

“Don’t mention it. I actually have a cousin with really bad anxiety, so I get it.” He passed you two bowls with a smile.

Dark squinted at you when you came back to the table. ‘Anxiety?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have anxiety.”

“You’re right, I should’ve told him the truth. You and your sister possessed your best friend in the 1920′s to escape a place called the upside down, but sometimes you drag bits and pieces of it into the real world and that would probably scare the locals in broad daylight.” You didn’t miss a beat in your little rant, scooping some ice cream into your mouth as soon as you were done.

He chuckled and shook his head at you. “I’m supposed to be the one lecturing you on being subtle.”

“Hey, I’m the one who’s been covering for us the past 91 years. It’s your turn to follow my lead.” You said matter-of-factly, pointing your spoon at him, before you dove back into your bowl. You missed the ‘fair-enough’ nod he gave you and the pride written all over his face, another glimpse of someone you used to know. “You know, maybe you should bring you-know-who here someday.”

His eyes went wide and he shook your words off just a little too quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you don’t have a thing for his new friend that you’re watching out for?”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“Fine,” You put your hands up in mock surrender, “But you know I’m right.”

[tsuu-mikii]

glued

chapter two

masterlist

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

You spent the next two days avoiding Eren. You knew it was childish, but you were scared of saying something stupid and impulsive. You knew you couldn’t keep it up forever, though. The two of you shared an Oceanography class that took up your general education science requirement. The two of you had picked it together, wanting to share at least one class despite your different majors. You weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse now.

As you prepared to leave the room, a sudden knock at the door ripped you from your thoughts. You turned to Sasha, who’d just returned from her 9 am class and was now lounging on her bed using her phone, “Are you expecting anyone?”

She shook her head no as she continued to scroll through what you assumed was a social media app. You got up and made your way to the door. To your surprise, Eren was the one standing there.

You blinked, “Eren? What’s up?”

He gave a hopeful smile, “You answered. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“What? What made you think that?” you replied, tensing up slightly.

You heard Sasha let out a snort from her spot on the bed, and you turned back to glare at her. You had given her the rundown of what had happened, and she’d clowned you the past two days over how freaked out you were.

“You didn’t respond to any of my texts or Facetimes,” her frowned, “I thought I did something dumb while I was drunk and upset you.”

Guilt began to build up in your chest at how hurt he looked, “I’m sorry, I was just really busy. I’m not upset with you or anything. I promise.”

It was mostly true, too. You weren’t necessarily upset with him; it was more so at yourself, for being so beat up about him having feelings for someone else.

He breathed a sigh of relief before smiling, “I’m glad. I really thought you hated me now or something.”

You smiled back, “I could never hate you, Eren.”

“I would hope not. You’re my favorite person, y’know?” he said with a grin.

For some reason, the words stung. You knew soon enough the person he was in love with would take that spot. While it was inevitable, it still hurt.

You grinned back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you wanna walk to class together? It’s starting soon.” he asked, shifting the topic of conversation.

You simply nodded in response and went to collect your shoes and school bag. As you gathered your things, Sasha gave you a look. You winced, knowing later she’d tease you about your awkwardness.

The two of you walked to class making idle chatter. It was nice, the stress you had built up melting away as you listened to him laugh and crack jokes like he always did.

You entered the lecture hall a bit early, there was a few minutes to spare before the professor arrived. Eren left your side to chat with some fraternity friends while you made your way over to your usual seat.

“Armin, hey!” you slid into the seat next to him, “Good morning!”

He smiled, “Good morning, y/n!”

Armin was a friend to both you and Eren, though he was closer to him than you. He’d been one of Eren’s friends before he transferred schools way back when and had stayed in touch with him ever since. He introduced you to each other when you were in middle school and you’d formed a close bond since then.

“I hate to pry,” he started, face riddled with concern, “but did you and Eren fight or something this weekend? He was all beat up about you not texting him back or responding to his Facetimes.”

You gave a weak smile, “Oh no, of course not! I was just super busy this weekend. We talked it over before we came to class.”

You hated lying to two of your oldest friends, but it wasn’t like you could come out and say ‘ Hey you spilled your guts to me about being in love with someone while you were drunk and now I’m realizing that I might still have feelings for you! ’ or anything.

Armin smiled at your response, “That’s good! He was talking my ear off about it, I swear. He literally had me help him type up an apology in case you were actually mad.”

You laughed at that, you knew how preciously Eren viewed your friendship. Even if he wouldn’t tell you that he liked someone while he was sober.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind. Did Armin know? It would make sense, the two of them had been friends since actual diapers, so it was entirely possible he knew something.

“Hey, Armi-” you were cut off by your professor making his way into class and taking his place at the front. You slid down your chair with a sigh. ‘What was I thinking anyway?’ you thought, ‘It was an invasion of privacy. If Eren wanted to tell me, he would. Right?’

And so you tried your hardest to push your thoughts about it away, hoping that he’d talk to you about it without alcohol coursing through his system soon.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*

The rest of the week passed quickly, with Saturday night rolling back around in no time. Eren hadn’t brought up that night again, so you kept quiet on it also. It was better to just let it be than to push and end up causing problems.

You scanned your eyes over the paper you’d just finished one last time before submitting. As you put away your laptop, Sasha burst through the door.

“Nic and his friends are having a party tonight, do you wanna come with me? They’re putting my playlist on the aux.” she grinned.

You scrunched your face, “Who’s gonna be there?”

“No one you’re not cool with. Come on, live a little!” she shook your arm up and down as she spoke, “It’s Saturday night and I know you’re done with your work for the day. Plus, I know you’ve been all messed up about the whole Eren fiasco, you need to de-stress.”

You pondered for a second, you had been a bit on edge recently. You sighed, “Fine, but only for a few hours, okay?”

Sasha pumped her fists in the air, “Yes! Now get ready. The party started like thirty minutes ago and sweats aren’t gonna cut it today, sweetheart.”

You rolled her eyes at her antics and grabbed your shower caddy to go freshen up. After returning to your dorm room you slipped on a black dress that you’d bought ages ago before doing a quick face of makeup and styling your hair.

You rummaged through your shoes to find something suitable before turning to face Sasha. “This ready enough for you?”

“You look hot,” she grinned, “who knows, maybe tonight you’ll pull someone that’ll make you forget about the feeling you may or may not have for our dear friend Mr. Jaeger.”

You laughed, “I’ll settle for a few shots and a good dance. Now let’s go, we’re already late. How are you gonna be late to your own boyfriend’s party?”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, “He’ll live.”

The two of you made your way to the house and got past the person at the door with ease. The party was in full swing, music blared from the speakers and people filled the house with chatter. Sasha’s boyfriend Niccolo was in a different fraternity than Eren, but you still recognized a few guys from the couple of parties you’d been to with him.

Sasha all but bolted when she locked eyes on her boyfriend, leaving you to scan the room for a familiar face. You quickly spotted Connie, Sasha’s best friend, and made your way over to him.

You tapped his shoulder causing him to turn around. When he realized it was you he pulled you into a quick hug before releasing you, “Hey, y/n! Sasha dragged you out the dorm this weekend?”

“She did,” you laughed, “do you know where I can get a drink?”

He pointed to the bar area on the far side of the frat house’s basement, “Over there, see the guy with the blonde hair? He’s playing bartender tonight. He’ll hook you up.”

You thanked him and weaved your way through the crowd, eager to get some alcohol in your system and let loose a little. You shouted for the attention of the bartender as you approached the bar. He turned to face you and smiled. “I take it you’re here for the alcohol?”

“I am indeed,” you returned his smile, “gimme something strong.”

He wasted no time in mixing up some concoction and handing it to you in a cup. You thanked him and turned to leave, ready to drink and dance away some of the stress of the past week. After wandering the dance floor for a bit, you found yet another familiar face.

“Mikasa!” you beamed, tapping the dark haired girl on the shoulder.

“Y/n,” looked back at your voice and smiled, “you got dragged out of your dorm tonight too?”

“Yeah, but I think I’m actually having a good time!” you grabbed her hand, “Dance with me!”

She laughed at your eagerness but complied anyway. Mikasa had known you for just as long as Eren had. She was his next door neighbor when he moved back in elementary, and the two of you had become acquainted when play dates overlapped. She was often the mediator whenever you and Eren would get into it, making sure the two of you got it together at the end of the day.

The two of you danced for a good amount of time, talking idly about your days and laughing. You’d finished your first drink and were on the same track with your second, the fuzzy feeling the alcohol gave you eating away your worries.

“I hate to leave you, but do you know where a bathroom is?” you asked.

She pointed to a hallway a bit past the bar, and you made your way over to it. You approached the door and knocked a few times to prevent walking in on someone. A slew of hushed drunken giggles came from behind the door at your actions and you cringed. You immediately turned to walk away, feeling awkward over disrupting the couple in there’s hookup.

The door opened before you could get away, though.

“How may I help,” a familiar voice started, “...you.”

You locked eyes with the person, the teal green color was one you knew all too well. “Eren. Hey.” you smiled awkwardly. His hair was tousled and there was lip gloss all over his face.

Eren froze, “Y/n, what are you doing here?”

“Sasha invited me. Unless you mean the bathroom, which, well obviously I needed to go inside, but since you clearly have it occupied I’m just gonna go back-” you rambled, face flushed.

You knew of Eren’s playboy reputation, but you’d never seen him in the act before. A dull ache panged in your chest, things feeling a bit too real all of a sudden.

“Eren, baby, what’s going on?” the girl in the bathroom chimed in, you couldn’t see her, but she had a pretty voice, you thought.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go find Sasha. See you later, I guess.” And with that, you sped away, ignoring Eren’s shout of your name as you retreated down the hall.

You found Sasha relatively quickly, she was sitting on a couch in a corner of the room with her boyfriend and some other friends. You saw that Mikasa had also made her way over during your trip.

“Y/n, hey!” Sasha greeted when she saw you, obviously tipsy, “come do shots with us!”

On a normal day, you would’ve refused. You liked drinking, but not getting drunk. But you don’t really see your best friend who you may or may not have feelings for mid-hookup on a normal day.

“Hell yes,” you replied.

It was fun drinking with Sasha and her friends. They were just as funny as her, and you found yourself laughing harder than you had in a long time.

You reached for another shot, only to be stopped by Mikasa. “No, y/n. I think you’ve had enough.”

“Whaaaat?” you exclaimed, “I barely drank, right Annie?”

Annie, a friend of Sasha’s, snorted, “Don’t drag me into this.”

“I think you should head back, y/n.” Sasha chimed.

“You guys are all so mean!” you pouted.

“Yeah, you’re done for.” Mikasa stood, “Come on, let’s go back.”

“I don’t want to.” you crossed your arms, you came out to de stress and have a good time, who cared if you had a bit too much to drink?

“You can come to my dorm?” Mikasa offered.

You hummed in thought, a sleepover would be nice. “Fine.”

You grabbed your things and stood up, waving bye to Sasha and her friends. You followed Mikasa through the crowd as she held your hand. On your way out, you passed Eren. You felt childish in your drunkenness and stuck your tongue out with a laugh. If the look of confusion he gave you was anything to go by, he didn’t think it was funny.

When you got back to Mikasa’s dorm, she immediately helped you out of your dress and into some pajamas. She had been blessed with a room all to herself, so she laid you on the spare bed.

“Sleep.” she said, covering you with a blanket.

Your adrenaline had run out, and being nuzzled under the warm blanket she’d given you made you realize how tired you actually were. Sleep claimed you relatively quickly, and you drifted off to the sounds of Mikasa shuffling around her room.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･

a/n: hey besties! not much to say since i’m just trying to catch up on cross posting, but hope y’all enjoyed!

[bloomyn]

green polka dots

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader

summary: your midlife crisis happens rather quickly, and its not midlife, you’re twenty three with a baby whose daddy just left with your best friend. peachy.

part of: pink peonies

blue waves x green polka dots x gold gradients

“mommy you’re gripping the steering wheel too tight again.” akio chides from the back seat, swinging his legs back and forth off his car seat. “don’t be mad”

you sigh, glancing back at your baby boy, “im not mad baby.”

“embarrassed?”

you scoff, a little shocked he remembered the word you had taught him a week ago. “no my love im not embarrassed.”

but you are. 

-

“ushijima this is [l/n] - san, she’s the new addition to misakis department. i mentioned you to her earlier.”

the broad man in front of you gives no reply, only glancing your way and giving you a short nod. not even a smile? you think to yourself. its not like he needs one though. wide shoulders, defined arms AND thighs, soft olive eyes that you would love to get lost in. misaki clears her throat and you realize they’ve been waiting for you to introduce yourself, had you really been so distracted?

“a-ah [l/n] [y/n], i teach biology at tohoku university, biology professor, i teach biology.” you stammer out, and you can see misaki gently lowering her face into her palm. the horribly embarrassing encounter is enough to send a pit of dread to your stomach. 

you cough into your elbow, attempting to avert the conversation elsewhere. “um, this is my son, akio.” you say nudging the boy on your leg. but of course the one time your son shies away from a new friend, its now. he mutters something unintelligible against your leg and curls his fist around the cloth.

“what was that?” misaki asks, bending down to his level.

your son looks up, then down, glances towards ushijima and then looks misaki in the eyes, “i like setters better.”

you gape at his response and the face misaki makes is priceless.

“im so sorry for--”

but captain hirugami laughs. “ushijima ive never heard someone be some blunt with you before!”

and then ushijima smiles down at your son. “setters are the most valuable players in the game.”

“im going to be the best one.” your son quips back, bottom lip jutting out. 

the ace extends his hand and your son matches him. “i can’t wait to see it.”

-

tossing his bag aside ushijima stepped inside his apartment threshold. 

“a-ah [l/n] [y/n], i teach biology at tohoku university, biology professor, i teach biology.”

he shook his head (as if that could get the sight of your small blush out of his head) and sighed. he wasn’t going to lie to himself you were absolutely beautiful. captain hirugami had already called him out several times for stealing glances at you during practice, but truly he couldn’t help himself. ah that sounded a bit, 

he snapped out of his head, making his way to the bedroom while pulling his shirt off, he really had to stop this. i mean it was probably a one time thing he thought to himself, it’s not like you were going to be there every practice. which was good! he was japans canon, and japans canon didn’t need a distraction from practice. 

maybe he wanted one though

-

“don’t.” you say once you see misaki making her way into the lecture hall. 

“i love your son, adore him, please let me adopt him.”

groaning you sip at your thermos, your face still flushed red from last nights events. you didn’t even do anything dirty! how long since you had seen a man like that though, and he got along so well with akio you--

“stop daydreaming about domestic life with that blunt brick.” misaki laughs into her mug.

“im not!”

“you totally are!” she shouts, “you’re 23 years old and you have the mind of at least a 35 year old woman with no lover.”

“hey! ...why at least 35? im at the peak of my life right now!”

the both of you are laughing now and bubbles of air from her laugh are spilling onto the coffee cap.

“you know he was staring at you...” she mumbles just loud enough for you to hear. “...the entire practice.”

“he was not.”

“not according to my loving faithful honest husband.” she sighs, “shame...is my husband a liar now too?”

“ i have a son.”

“you also have a life.”

you leaned back on your desk chair. the last time you had fallen for a man who seemed too perfect you’d ended up nineteen and pregnant ; and you had known him for months before getting together. how long had you known ushijima? 10 minutes?

“i bet he thought about you when he got home.”

“shut up!”

-

“i changed my mind!” akio announces, kicking off his shoes and heading to his plants. oh to be a four year old again, only worried about plants and picking up your shoes. 

“about what?”

“my favorite player is ushijima - san!”

-

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