#author ily and i hope you’re doing great

[meggie-moo]

very random, but my friend @vmprchn and i read this hxh fic AGES AGO on wattpad when we were kids, and it most definitely got deleted (we can’t find it anywhere :( ), but i need to know if anyone else read this fic, because we want to reread it soooo bad, but of course can’t.

setting the scene: it was a killugon high school musical au i’m pretty sure? the biggest thing about it was that it had a very random self insert character that younger megan was very prepared to hate, and i remember liking her lol. i think she rode around on a cloud, and dated zushi. i remember specifically a scene of everyone bullying retz for being a capricorn, and that gon sang like brendon urie, killua like “a male version of melanie martinez” and i think retz like ariana grande. there was also a gag about kurapika beating up chrollo and getting sent to detention.

it was most definitely a mess, and in hindsight totally something of that era. but just know fetus meg ate that shit UP. and vamp and i love rereading fanfics on calls with silly voices, and we would absolutely love to find it again. 😭 i also need to know if anyone else remembers this fever dream of a fic, or if it’s just really niche.

anyways i hope the author knows we think about this fic like 24/7 and i would love to see it again 🙏 i doubt anyone has like a google doc or pdf saved. but if you do i’ll like give you a free art commission or something (within reason) lol.

[chaotic-mystery]

PROFESSOR’S PET

Pairing: Art Professor!Joel AU x Teacher Assistant!f!reader.

Summary: Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ only! MDNI. Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n.

Authors Note: Good morning, babies! This is for @studioghibelli & their fantastic writing challenge. This moodboard was absolutely brilliant. As someone who did not go to college & can’t retain information well, I tried to research as much as I could about art so I hope I did it justice! 🩵 || wc: 2.6k || beta’d by @wannab-urs <333 ily sm gin ||

“You want me to do what?”

It came out more as an exclamation rather than a question but you didn’t care at the moment.

He couldn’t have been serious.

“I want you to teach the class tomorrow about your two favorite artists. That’s all I’m askin’” Professor Miller says, stuffing his papers back into the desk drawer for the night.

“B-but you know I don’t talk well in front of them, I constantly stutter and they don’t respond well to me yet, I-”

“Do you need me to help you with the lesson plan for tomorrow? I can come over and help you write down some notes on what you want to talk about, but I need you to get more comfortable around them. We have a long school year ahead of us, and it’s not going to work if you’re afraid to speak up here.”

He was annoyed having to explain his reasoning, but he was right. Even if you didn’t want to hear you were doing a terrible job as a teacher's assistant. Scratching your head and turning so he can’t see the look of shame on your face, Joel shuffles towards you and hands you your coat off the coat rack.

“It’ll be fine. All you need is a push and you’ll do great. Hurry before we miss the train.”

You nod and take your coat to put it on, the tan fabric becoming darker as you step outside and rain starts to pelt off it. Mr. Miller sighs and hoists his briefcase above his head and takes his other hand to the side of him searching for yours until he finds it and grabs it, guiding you through the raindrops until you get under the stone archway to take a brief moment for the rain to calm down.

“Can’t believe I’ve had you as a TA for almost two years now and have never once seen where you live or even know about you outside of this place.” His finger wags slowly behind his head, indicating he was referring to the school.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself, but my parents made a really good name for themselves. I was put through all the good schools they could toss their money at. I was supposed to go to school to be a lawyer, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I told my mom I wanted to study visual arts and she wasn’t too surprised, said I always had an eye for that sort of thing. I want to become a professor here one day but for now I just want to learn everything I can, ya know?” You smile at the ground as you think about teaching here someday and hope it doesn’t come off as dorky.

He’s so much older than you and probably knows so much between art and life. You could only hope to have as much knowledge as him when you become a professor.

“I think that’s amazing honestly. I hope to one day see you as a professor here whenever you feel like you’re ready.”

His grin eases your nerves, and you hear the train coming, taking his hand once more to run to the train stop. Your shoes squeak against the vinyl flooring of the moving cabin until you get to a seat by the foggy window, plopping your bag right next to you with Joel sitting across the small white table that was tattered from all the use.

The train ride to your town wasn’t too long and Joel read almost the entire time, asking you every now and then if you were okay. Once you catch a taxi to take you home, it drops you off right at the black iron gates. He steps out of the sleek black car and is a little taken aback by the size of your house.

“What’s the matter? I told you they had money.” You giggle and push the buzzer on the stone post to the left of you, telling them to let you inside. Almost instantly, the gates push open and you walk along the pebble drive, flinging your book bag over your shoulder as he follows a few steps behind you, taking in the beauty that is your house.

Once you get inside and introduce him to the small group of staff working, they tell you your parents went out for the evening to some charity event and there’s food in the fridge if you were hungry.

The nerves about teaching tomorrow overrode the feeling of being hungry, but you still offered Joel anything he could’ve wanted. He settles with water, and you leave him in the study where he’s content with gazing at the walls covered in full bookshelves about any and everything.

You come back in and shut the rosewood pocket doors quietly, careful not to disturb him from the current book in his hand about astronomy. The way his fingers grazed over the corners of the pages made your stomach tingle just a little bit, the dim lighting from the chandelier glowing a soft yellow on his face as he was entranced by the contents.

Get it together, he’s off limits, you tell yourself.

There was no ring on his finger and he always talked about his lonely weekends, but still. You were his teacher's assistant.

You clear your throat and set his water down on the desk before you turn on the green bankers lamp sitting at the edge of the table. Joel closes the red leather book and looks up at you, noticing the water, and he puts the book back where he found it.

“Thank you.” He raises the glass to you before taking a sip, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallows, and it brings that same feeling as before that you felt in your stomach.

So, give me two of your favorite art pieces and the artist with some facts about them. You don’t have to start from their birth or anything.”

He pinches his slacks right on the thighs to hike them up just a little before he sits down in the wooden chair at the head of the table, his hands on the back of his head as his fingers interlock against his skull.

Focus.

You pace back and forth at the other end of the table, Joel’s eyes on you intently as you fiddle with your fingers, running through the list of artists you tend to gravitate towards.

“I got it. Botticelli.”

“Nice choice. Why him?”

You continue to walk back and forth and sort out which facts about him and his artwork you love to tell people they wouldn’t normally know.

“I love the painting Birth of Venus but um- it’s not technically her birth story, it’s m-more like the story continued after her birth; when she steps off her shell and onto the island of Cyprus. S-she’s being blown onto…” you take a deep breath in and put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You turn away from him and look out the window trying to compose yourself.

“Just take your time, I’ve got all night, kid.”

Turning to face him, he’s sitting straight up now and you can tell he’s listening to every word coming out of your mouth. His dark jacket is tight on his arms and it’s just enough to show the outline of his muscles.

“She’s being blown onto shore by the spring winds which is Zephyr, who is accompanied by his wife, Chloris, who’s also blowing Venus’ shell to shore. Her pose was most likely inspired by an ancient marble statue in the Medici’s collection, which we refer to as the Medici Venus, the first ever nude female sculpture in classical art.”

You manage to recite all of that without stuttering this time and he grins proudly.

“I knew you could do it. Good job. Now, what I want you to do is write down bullet points on this note card with a keyword that’ll spark your mind and draw the facts out of you fluently.”

Your cheeks warm at first and then your brows furrow at his instructions.

“What do you mean, professor?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He scoots his chair back enough so you can stand to the side of him and watch as he scribbles down some words on the lined piece of paper. The red ink flows effortlessly and he pushes it to you, pointing at what he did.

“It’s just a keyword that’ll spark your brain to talk about it. If you write down everything you’re gonna say, it sounds like a robot trying to read it. This way, you won’t get overwhelmed by everything you wanna say and you can sound effortless.”

You nod as the gears in your head turn, the idea making perfect sense now. Reaching out to grab another note card, you bend over to write on it, starting at the top. You feel Joel’s hand on the small of your back very lightly as he watches you write, the pen in your hand moving faster than he’s ever seen.

“The next one is gonna be the technique he used for the painting.”

You write the word ‘technique’ shakily, trying to breathe manually.

“What about his technique?” Joel asks, his hand not moving from your back.

“H-he um, he used the tempera technique, it’s when you d-dilute a raw egg with water and mix watered down p-pigment with it and um-um paint with it.” Your words get breathy and all at once you stand straight up, clearing your throat once more.

“You’re still pretty nervous. Is it me? Am I making you nervous?” The condescending tone in Professor Miller's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, feeling like you’ve been called out.

“Partially, maybe.” You admit and turn away from him but you don’t move from next to him.

He runs his hand over his scruff and smirks slyly.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation you nod yes.

“Turn around for me.” Joel’s hands grip your hips and spin you around in your spot.

“Now read your little note card for me. Come on, you’ve got this, smart girl.”

That was all you had to hear to make your stomach flip and arousal flood your body. Smart girl.

His hands never leave your hips as he holds you still, subconsciously rubbing the fabric of your skirt on the waistband while you read your notes. You manage to get through half of them before you stutter out and stop again.

“Again, from the top.” He says softly, still holding onto you. Just as you begin to speak, you feel yourself being guided backwards and you don’t stop talking, going with the flow of things.

For the purpose of learning, right?

Joel puts you right against his thighs, his head peeking over the side of your arm to see what bullet point you were on.

“Keep going, you’re doing such a good job.” He whispers as he rubs your back gently.

“Botticelli used the tempera technique, which is when you mix a r-raw egg with water a-and you dilute yo-our pigment with water and mix th-em together.”

His hand ever so slowly moves around the side of your thigh until he’s on the top of it, his thumb dangerously close to the point of no return. Your breaths were getting heavier and you were almost positive he could feel your heart rattling in your body like a caged animal.

“Joel, I-”

“Start it again, and if you stutter I’ll stop.”

His hand dips under your skirt and he nods to your index card, wanting you to restart.

“Well come on, be a good girl for me.” He grunts out and smirks before biting your arm playfully.

You didn’t know how you got here or why he wanted to touch you this way but you weren’t going to stop him. He was a good looking man and god forbid you do something out of your normal routine.

His fingertips dance over your overly excited clit and release some tension for you, and it’s like a key to a gate, your legs spreading more and more with every circle from his middle finger. You continue to talk through his efforts to make you stutter, even when he gets faster and kisses your back.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Next artist, let’s go.” He pushes you up on the desk and splits your legs apart, ripping your panties in two before he takes off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“The Swing painted by Jean-Honore Fragonard. It’s said it’s a commission from a man on the court who requested Fragonard to paint him and his younger mistress being pushed on a swing while he watches and admires her-oh my god, Joel, right there, yes, yes.”

His tongue dances against your clit after he spits on it, licking every inch of you just to hear your pretty moans. His hands travel up your abdomen until he gets to your shirt, ripping the buttons apart to see your beautiful breasts. A deep groan against your overly sensitive clit makes your eyes almost roll back into your skull and he slaps your pussy firmly.

“That’s not being a good girl. Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.” You whimper and try to get back on track about the painting you were talking about. His curls tickle against the soft insides of your thighs as he continues, licking feverishly at your clit.

“The brushwork is rapid and it exemplifies the Rococo style of playfulness and elegance” you whimper out and buck against his face, your hand dipping into his hair to tug firmly.

He spanks your ass as he feels your body squirm under him, tugging your legs to rest on his shoulders as he continues to lap up your arousal.

“You’re such a filthy girl, riding your professor's face in your house, naughty naughty girl. Oh, yes, cmon sweetheart, use my mouth.”

You moan his name louder and thank god your sounds are muffled from the rest of the house by all the literature covering the walls. Somehow you finish telling him about the painting and he looks at you as you cry out for more from him, your slick glossing over his mustache.

“Please make me come, Joel. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him roughly and try to grab his rock hard bulge but he pulls his hips away and groans loudly on your lips before grinning, going back down to your pussy and moaning against you.

“Come right on my face, right fuckin’ now. Let me taste how sweet you are. I know you can’t handle much more and you don’t wanna disappoint me, right baby?” Joel smirks and flattens his tongue against your clit once more, teasing you and enjoying this just as much as you were.

The burning sensation in your belly starts to spill over and before you can tell him, you grip both edges of the table and come against his face, crying and squirming to get away from him but it only makes Joel pin you down by your wrists and lick harder, tasting every bit you give him.

He licks you clean and kisses his way up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts to your lips, sharing the deliciousness with you. As you come down from your high, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room starts to chime, indicating it was midnight.

“That 7:30 A.M. class is gonna be here before you know it, professor.” You push the damp curls off his forehead and giggle as he stands up tiredly, holding a hand out for you. As you sit up on the table, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you deeply once more.

“You owe me sleep, so much sleep.”

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (5)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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PART 4 — THE VIDEO // MASTERLIST

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 5) — FROM SAN ANTONIO TO DALLAS

liked by bestfriend, sisterinlaw, cuteguy and 63,157 others 

yourinstagram sightseeing tonight 😍 getting to know these cities only gets better and better guys 

view all 9,105 comments

harryfan7 was this before or after dinner with harry? 😏

↳ harryfan3 stoppp. my heart cant take it ↳ harryfan11 no bc the idea of them walking together and stopping to take pictures it’s just so 🤏

lookitsnyoh 🦭 pillowpersonpp 🦥 anthonypham 🧸

↳ harryfan not the teddy bear!!! 

harryfan117 MISS SARAH JONES IS HERE user8 whats with all the emojis guys!! let me innnnn  user1 YOU’RE BACK 🥰 bestfriend its not the city its all you baby bc you light up the world like nobody else

↳ harryfan that was just… ↳ harryfan5 HEJAHDH NO YOU DIDNR ↳ yourinstagram ….  ↳ yourinstagram i dont even know how to react  ↳ bestfriend wish i could say im sorry or embarrassed but im actually not 

cuteguy Looks amazing!

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by user1, user4 and 517 others

cuteguy congrats darling ＠yourinstagram 

view all 75 comments 

harryfan60 see?? she isn’t dating Harry

↳ harryfan58 I fucking knew it  ↳ harryfan62 hope this pr nonsense stops 

user14 little sus but alright ig  randomguy cool bro  user44 dude there’s no way she hasn’t cheated on you lol user3 you guys are so fucking disrespectful can you pls leave this man alone???

↳ user26 I mean he’s the one who decided to go public so… 🤷‍♀️ ↳ user3 his ig being public doesn’t automatically mean you’re supposed to be rude tho. 

user36 Am I the only one who finds this picture adorable?

↳ user38 me too!! i was looking for a nice comment about it lol thanks! ↳ user36 I mean they definitely look like a couple and idk it’s a cute pic :( ❤️ liked by author 

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by annetwist, bestfriend, cuteguy and 63,879 others 

yourinstagram update time: went out for a run and my lungs got on fire. view was great though. zero complaints. also the show last night was INCREDIBLE. 

view all 13,719 comments

bestfriend shut up you actually went for a run?? 

↳ harrystyles I wouldn’t call that going for a “run”.  ↳ bestfriend okay that actually makes more sense now ↳ yourinstagram excuse me????? 

harryfan OMFG harry interacting with yourbff??? 

↳ harryfan5 I KNOW! where are you ＠bestfriend are you still alive???  ↳ bestfriend no  ↳ bestfriend but im pretending to be cool about it so 🤫 ↳ harryfan OMFHAJDHPAHDJ ILY

cuteguy 😍 user7 yessss! two days in a row!!!! thank you!!! user1 looks so prettyyyyyy! hope you’re doing okay <33

↳ yourinstagram i am!! thank you love <333 

yourbrother Won’t believe you’ve moved your ass to be healthy until I see it.  

↳ yourinstagram the fact that you dont believe me wont change the fact that it happened :D

harryfan15 harry is such a stalker. interacting with her posts when he doesn’t even follow her lol harryfan25 Anne started following her!!!  user10 Not to rush you, but are we getting more videos anytime soon? I was so used to getting one every week… :( user25 So… She’s officially dating that cuteguy, isn’t she? 

↳ user17 What? Who said that?  ↳ user25 TMZ updated that article of her and Harry having dinner with this picture of them ↳ user17 Oh… Where can I see this picture? ↳ user25 She’s tagged on it. ＠cuteguy posted it  ↳ user13 i wouldn’t believe (or read) TMZ guys ↳ harryfan68 funny how you won’t believe TMZ when it’s about this guy but you’ll believe them when it’s about harry ↳ user13 lmao I’m not in that fandom so I couldn’t care less about her dating harry or not. 

harryfan13 SO WE ARE ALL GOING TO IGNORE THE FACT THAT HARRY AND YN WENT OUT FOR A RUN TOGETHER?????

↳ harryfan60 Yes bc no one actually believes they did. Next. ↳ harryfan68 hahaha you ate this one 

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by harryfan, harryfan2, harryfan3 and 4,375 others 

harryupdates A fan met Harry in San Antonio today! 

According to the fan, Harry said he was on a tight schedule so couldn’t stay for a chat, but agreed to take a quick picture and thanked her for going to the show. 

view all 675 comments

fanwhometharry “Thank you so much I hope you enjoyed it”, those were his words exactly :’)

↳ harryfan27 OMG IT WAS YOU?? YOU’RE SO LUCKY ↳ fanwhometharry I know!! Thank you!!! ↳ harryfan24 was he alone??  ↳ fanwhometharry No, he was walking with his personal trainer and Yn ↳ harryfan52 his personal trainer also has a name btw and it’s Brad  ↳ fanwhometharry Sorry, I don’t keep up with his personal trainer 🤷 I only know Yn bc I watch her youtube videos ↳ harryfan9 don’t apologize they’re always finding something to complain about lol happy for you!!

harryfan72 How convenient… He always agrees to take pictures when Yn is around 🙄 

↳ harryfan68 right??? almost as if he WANTS people to spread the word… 

harryfan13 I KNEW I WAS RIGHT AND THEY WERE TOGETHER

Sep 10, 2021 •

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liked by annetwist, bestfriend, cuteguy and 61,574 others 

yourinstagram DALLAS! you are sooooo so pretty <3 we arrived yesterday and im already in love. it was a sunny afternoon so i went out for a walk, and as i was on my way to buy some flowers to myself (bc i wanted some so i got some) i had one of those surreal moments thinking about how lucky i am to be where i am right now. im always waiting for this feeling to eventually go away so i can come back to my “old life” and my “old self”, but now im kinda considering that as time goes by and i get to know more and more places, it will actually only grow bigger and bigger, right? :’) 

(in that case, feel free to unfollow me now bc the annoyance will only grow bigger and bigger as well — consider yourself warned.)

view all 14,102 comments

sisterinlaw The summer vibes are gorgeous! harryfan42 WAS HARRY WITH YOU????  user1 another post??? feels like going back to the old times im so happy!!! harryfan64 this girl won’t even post her face and she got like 4k new followers in one day 

↳ harrystyles82 It’s the Harry Styles effect  ↳ harryfan64 glad im not the only one who sees it 🤡

harryfan YN? DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST SAY I WANTED SOME SO I GOT SOME??? 

↳ harryfan5 i saw that too i was like… okay 😂 ↳ harryfan9 hahaha I hope she actually did get some tbh  ↳ harryfan13 ME TOO!! ↳ bestfriend yes. she 100% did ↳ harryfan9 😲 ↳ harryfan lmaoshuahsjbjh  ↳ harryfan17 wait ＠bestfriend she 100% say “i wanted some so i got some” or she 100% got some?  ↳ harryfan23 oh god i cant believe this is a real conversation you guys are having HAHAHA

user17 please keep feeding us with your random cute posts!! <3 i love them!! bestfriend fgs ＠yourinstagram have some manners  bestfriend i thought you didnt like exposing yourself like this  bestfriend also… your mom is on instagram so…  bestfriend PLEASE 

↳ yourinstagram omfg shut upppp ahusdhjahj ↳ yourinstagram stop encouraging the nonsense behavior??? ↳ yourinstagram you KNOW i meant the flowers ↳ yourinstagram i wanted some FLOWERS so i got some FLOWERS ↳ bestfriend yeah i know 💐 ↳ bestfriend sorry its just too funny sometimes 💋

loveynrry did anyone else notice yn hasn’t liked THAT picture yet? 👀

↳ user4 which one? ↳ loveynrry the one @/cuteguy posted ↳ user4 ohhhhhh 👀 ↳ user4 also did you notice yourbff doesn’t follow him ↳ user9 shit ＠user4 i hadn’t noticed that  ↳ loveynrry i did, yeah… thats why im sus about him ↳ user4 I mean, I trust yourbff judgement soooooo…… 

Sep 11, 2021  •

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— — — — — 

PART 6: PHILLY AND DC

— — — — — 

[pedgito]

Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)

author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.

word count: 5.6k

Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.

But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.

“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”

Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.

He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.

“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”

You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.

“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.

“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”

You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.

It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.

And so what if you were?

“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”

“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.

There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.

Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.

The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.

But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.

There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.

The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.

“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.

“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”

Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.

“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“

“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.

“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”

“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”

“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”

“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”

The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.

Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.

You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”

He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.

You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.

“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”

“No bars? No clubs?”

“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”

“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”

And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.

And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.

He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.

“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”

It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.

You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.

“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”

Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.

“How come?” He asks curiously.

“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”

Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.

“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.

“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”

“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.

“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”

“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”

Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.

“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”

He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”

He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?

“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.

The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.

“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”

Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.

“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”

You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.

“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.

It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.

His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.

It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.

“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”

He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.

Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.

At least one thing has gone right for him.

“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.

“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.

“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”

“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.

You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.

“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.

Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.

You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“

“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.

There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.

You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.

“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.

They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.

Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”

You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.

“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”

And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.

“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”

The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.

“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.

A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”

“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.

“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.

And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.

You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.

His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”

You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”

Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”

“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”

His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.

It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.

He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”

“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“

“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”

You nod, affirming his statement.

“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”

And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.

You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.

It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.

“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.

He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”

He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.

“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”

He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.

You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.

You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.

“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.

“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.

“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.

“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.

It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.

“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”

You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.

It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.

“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest

“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“

“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”

Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.

And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.

“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”

You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”

You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.

“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.

And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.

You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.

You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.

“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”

“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”

Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.

“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”

You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.

“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.

“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”

“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”

Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.

“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.

“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.

And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.

“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”

And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[slytherheign]

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR | max verstappen

PART 1/4 OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: max verstappen x fem!reader, slight daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: you find yourself fighting with max again. but this time, it hurts both of you more.

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, unhealthy/abusive relationship (pls if you find yourself in a relationship like this, LEAVE), toxic behavior, hidden relationship, and allusions to sex. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift's song with the same title. also, pls remember that this is a work of fiction and i am in no way saying that max in real life behaves like this. dedicated to @writingstoraes, who helped me with making the social media stuff included in this. i hope you're having a great day, ily!

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

This happened way too often.

The screaming and throwing things at each other in his Monaco penthouse.

The living room was in disarray with shattered pieces of a vase strewn across the floor. Max had thrown it just minutes ago.

Today was the Monaco Grand Prix and Max had a bad race. You watched it from the stands like a typical fan and then left immediately after the race so you could get to his penthouse before him. You wanted to support him from the garage, but despite dating him for almost 2 years, your relationship was still hidden from the public. Even the Red Bull team didn’t know.

He almost lost because of the pitstop strategy and now he was taking his anger out on you. You were used to it at this point.

“It’s not fucking perfect! I didn’t get the fastest lap. I didn’t get driver of the day. Did you even see the interval between Fernando and me? He almost fucking won!” he screamed.

“But you still got P1,” you tried to calm him down although you knew it would do nothing. “You still won.”

He glared at you. Looking at your face with disgust.

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand,” he scoffed. “Because you don’t know a fucking thing about F1.”

That wasn’t true. You were a fan of the sport before you dated him. That was how you met each other, you attended a grand prix years ago. Max also knew that wasn’t true. That was one of the reasons why he loved you, you knew and understood him and his job. But he still said it. He said because he knew it would hurt you.

Silence hung heavy in the air as you stood on opposite sides of the room. You chose not to speak anymore, deciding it would be best if you just let his anger dissipate.

He absolutely hated the silence.

“WHY ARE YOU NOT TALKING?!” he yelled.

“WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!” you yelled back.

“I don’t know—something! You have a brain, fucking use it.” 

“I don’t understand you. When I speak, you get mad. When I don’t speak, you get mad. What am I supposed to fucking do?!” you screamed, tears of frustration pouring down on your cheeks.

Now, he was the one speechless. He moved to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself down.

You followed after him minutes after, blood boiling out of anger because he was trying to escape another argument he caused in the first place.

“Now, you’re the one not talking,” you scoffed, crossing your arms and leaning on the wall. “For fuck’s sake, Max. You’re not the only one having a bad day. At least today, you still fucking won.”

“And you weren’t there to congratulate me,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it clearly. He knew he had hurt you and he was trying to deflect the situation by starting another argument—one that was very sensitive and he wouldn’t win.

“What the fuck are you saying?” you taunted.

“You heard me.” 

“What is wrong with you? I was there. I was in the stands supporting you.”

Max knew he was in the wrong. He knew it wasn’t your fault but his. He realized he should apologize before things got too much out of control, but how was it, that instead of an apology, what left his mouth was another poor insensitive remark?

“Yeah. In the stands. You’re always in the stands. Never close to me.”

“Holy shit,” you laughed. “Is it my fault that even after almost 2 years of dating, you still don’t want to announce our relationship to the public? Are you really blaming me for something I never had control of?”

“Did I blame you? I never said it was your fault,” he wanted to stop, but his pride wouldn’t let him.

“Yes, you did! You know damn well if we weren’t hidden from the public eye, I would support you from the garage and hug you in front of everyone. But here you fucking are. Insinuating that I wanted to be in the stands instead of close to you,” you cried.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood up, wiped your tears, and kissed you roughly. He pushed you into the wall next to the door, locking it—even though no one else was in the house—with his one hand while his other grasped your hair to keep your face close to his. 

You knew what he was doing. He was trying to get you to have sex with him instead of apologizing. He did this way too often and you always let him. But not this time.

“Stop,” you whispered, trying to pull away from him but his hold on you was strong. He moved to your neck, leaving marks everywhere but you pushed him back before the kissing led to something more.

“Max,” you stated sternly.

“What?” he shot back with a warning tone. His eyes were burning with lust and anger. A part of you wanted to give in like how you did almost after every argument with him in the past.

“We can’t continue doing this anymore, Max.” 

“Just shut the fuck up. You know you want it.”

Part of you did want it. 

“Not tonight,” you told him. “I think we should talk this out tonight.”

He pulled back. “Are you fucking serious?”

You glared at him.

“What if I don’t want to talk this out? Can’t we do something else? I’m sorry, okay? Is that enough?”

“You can’t even apologize properly, huh?”

“Can you stop? What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe start by announcing our relationship to the public,” you stated. You weren’t going to let him escape this tonight. 

“Here we fucking go again,” he rolled his eyes.

The atmosphere was still charged with tension that never left. Stood in the center of chaos, was you and Max, faces flushed with anger.

“What? You don’t want to talk about this again? Well, I think we should. We absolutely should. I can't believe you still won't acknowledge our relationship, Max! We've been together for almost 2 years, and it's time we let the world know!”

Max clenched his fists, his voice filled with frustration as well, though quieter than yours was. “Y/N, you know I care about you. It's just... I've always been a private person. I don't like putting my personal life out there for everyone to see,” he said defensively.

“It's not about putting our personal life on display, Max. It's about acknowledging what we have, showing that we're proud to be together. But it feels like you're ashamed of me, like you don't even want people to know we're in love,” you wanted to scream but you didn’t, because he was finally communicating with you.

“It's not that at all! I'm not ashamed of you, I promise. I'm just scared of what might happen if we make this public. I don't want our relationship to become some spectacle.”

Your anger slowly turned into empathy as you saw the pain behind his eyes. You softened your stance and cautiously stepped closer to him. “We can't let fear dictate our lives. We deserve to be in a relationship where we can freely express what we feel for each other.”

“We can go through this like we always do. Whatever it is, We can fix it,” his voice cracked, as he struggled to express his vulnerability.

For a moment, you thought you finally got through him. That was until he talked again.

“Just wait for now.”

“Wait? We’ve already waited for almost 2 years. I’ve waited for you for almost 2 years. How many more years do you need? Another 2 years? 3 years? 6? How many more?” you sighed. “No, Max. We've been through this countless times. All we do is fucking wait.”

Max wasn’t angry anymore. He realized his mistake and knew what he should do. But the thing was, he still wasn’t ready. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered. It was all he could say.

He knew hiding you was unfair. If only you could just give him a little more time.

“Then fucking show it. I’m tired of this, Max. I feel like a fucking toy. Your family doesn’t even know I exist. I’m just someone you call when you want to fuck. I’m always hidden behind closed doors, never allowed to go out. I don’t even know how I lasted this long with you.”

“Because deep inside you know you love it too,” he stated. “Admit it, you love the thrill. The hiding, the fighting, and the screaming. You wouldn’t have stayed with me this long if you didn’t love it.”

He was right. You did love it.

The look in his eyes was doing something to your heart, convincing you to stay. But your mind was screaming at you to leave. You deserved someone and something better than this.

And just like what he said to you earlier, to use your fucking brain, you used your brain this time.

“This time I’ve had enough. I hope that we both find happiness, even if it means being apart,” you told him with a heavy heart.

He didn’t speak and you took that as a sign to leave.

He watched as you left the bedroom, not even bothering to get the clothes you kept in his closet. He sat on the edge of the bed again, left shattered as he heard your heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and the sound of the elevator door closing when you exited the house.

It’s been a few weeks since you walked away in the heat of the fight that night. A couple of race weekends had already passed. 

Max has probably texted and called you a hundred times, none of them you replied to or picked up. You rested on your bed, relishing the silence that your apartment in Menton had. It was the complete opposite of Max’s penthouse, where you screamed at each other almost every day. You looked at your phone, scrolling through Twitter only to see the usual tweets from fans reacting to the previous race. One particular tweet caught your attention. It was a tweet about Max.

You laughed bitterly, thinking how they truly had no idea.

Just then, someone knocked on your door and your heart pounded with anticipation. You opened it to see Max, wearing a hoodie and a mask so the public wouldn’t recognize him. He let himself in when you didn’t acknowledge him. He walked into your living room, hesitantly glancing at you. He was unsure how you’ll react.

“Get back with me,” he said.

“Wow, not even an introduction? No ‘how are you?’ or ‘how have you been?’”

“I’m miserable without you,” he admitted. “Please, Y/N.”

You didn’t answer.

“I can change. If you don’t want us to fight or scream at each other, I’ll do my best to control myself.”

“It was never about the screaming, because if I’m being honest, a part of me loved it,” you confessed. 

He stared at you with a glint in his eyes soon after you said that.

“Although, I would appreciate it if we didn’t argue almost every day. It gets exhausting to deal with you sometimes.”

“I can do that. I’ll work on myself.”

“But?” you asked. You knew there was more to what he was saying. You were sure there was a catch to this.

“But we still have to stay hidden for now. Give me more time, Y/N.”

And there it was. The catch.

“You know, I get the whole hiding from the public thing. I always knew you were a private person and being in the public eye doesn’t help that. But not introducing me to your family? Not even your friends? I can’t even tell my own family because you don’t want me to. I feel like your dirty little secret.”

“That’s not entirely true. Daniel knows. He knows you because I’ve told him about you.”

Your eyebrows were knitted from confusion. “How am I just knowing about this now?”

“It’s not important. I drunkenly told him one time but I warned him not to tell you or anyone what he knew.”

“Why? All this time I could’ve talked to him about us…”

“Why would you even want to talk to him?” he asked, a hint of jealousy evident in his voice.

“You don’t get it. I feel lonely, Max. It would’ve been nice if I had someone to talk to about our relationship. It gets tiring lying to my friends and family and declining their invitations when they want to go out and find me someone to date.”

“I swear I’ll eventually introduce you to everyone. Just not right now.”

“Max… I don’t know,” you told him. “I can’t keep waiting anymore. I don’t want to.”

“Y/N, please…”

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Max.”

“Y/N…”

“Leave,” you opened the door for him.

He looked at you once more, hoping you’ll change your mind. But when you stared at the door instead of him, he obliged.

A month passed, and Max never texted or called you again. You knew you should be thankful. This was what you wanted, right? You told him to leave. And that’s what he did. He left.

And now here you were, sitting alone with your stupid pride as you stared at your phone. You went through the photographs, selecting every photo you had of him just to delete it.

You remembered the pain of leaving, the longing to see Max once more, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different now.

You remembered seeing him again and the pain of telling him to leave. How he pulled your heartstrings to try and make you stay with him, and the way his eyes glistened with hurt and regret.

But then you also remembered that his resolution was to wait. 

Max Verstappen was many things, but when it came to you, sure was not one of them.

Time was not stopping anytime soon. You weren’t getting younger. You deserved to be with someone who was sure. Someone who knew what he was doing.

But still.

There was always a ‘but’ and a ‘still’.

He had a hold on you.

And up until now, the hold was strong, never losing its grip.

You kept going back over the things you both said, recalling the slamming doors and all the things that you misread.

Looking back, you knew you were the one who told him it was over, but you only did that because you were so mad. If he really knew everything about you, then why couldn’t he see that you wanted him to chase after you?

He came back one time, tried to convince you for one time. Was that all of it? 

You stood up, walking towards the window just to stare at the concrete road. You imagined Max standing right there, coming back to ask you to stay with him again.

You wanted him to stand outside your window, throwing pebbles at it to get your attention. And then you imagined him screaming how much he loved you, although that would probably never happen because, again, he was a private person. He couldn’t even introduce you to his family, how in the world could he scream he loved you outside your place where there was no doubt other people would hear him?

Droplets of rain covered the window. It started raining.

You wanted him to be outside, to wait there in the pouring rain because he came back for more.

For more moments with you.

For more time with you.

For more you.

And if he did come back, you knew you wouldn’t want him to leave again. 

Because if you looked closer, you might’ve been the one who told him to leave, but all you really wanted was him.

If only he tried a bit more like what you expected him to do. If only he pushed a bit more, begged a bit more, and fought a bit more. If he asked you to stay with him again, you would’ve said yes.

If only what you needed was at the other side of your door. With his face and his beautiful eyes, bearing a conversation with the little white lies. And then the night would beautifully fade like an old picture because you were with him.

You broke down crying. Was it your fault because you couldn’t wait more like what he wanted you to do? Was it worth this mess?

After everything, you must confess… you needed him.

But he wasn’t here anymore. He wasn’t coming back.

So, you wiped your tears and looked away from the window you were staring through. You glanced at the clock you had in your room, sighing as you realized it was already past 11 p.m. and here you were breaking down over someone who kept you like a secret. The worst part was, you couldn’t talk about this to someone because no one else knew—just you, Max, and Daniel Ricciardo who you didn’t even know that much personally.

You grabbed your phone from your bed, eyes widening when you looked at the unread notification.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

message me or comment down below if you want to be added to my taglist! specify if you want to be added to my main (slytherheign) taglist where i’ll tag you in everything i publish in the future or just the formula one taglist.

[plutoccult]

HAIKYUU X THE OFFICE AU — EPISODE FOUR: OFFICE CHRISTMAS PARTY

pairing: sugawara koushi x female reader

description: it’s the holidays, and that means it’s time for the annual office christmas party where everyone participates in secret santa. much to sugawara’s delight, he has picked your name for secret santa this year and plans to make it count.

word count: 5.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hello and happy holidays! i will admit i’ve been struggling to stay motivated with this series, but i have to remind myself that i’m mainly writing this for MY enjoyment at the end of the day. i’m the ultimate sugawara warrior and it shall stay that way. anyway, it’s christmastime, so of course i’m writing a christmas episode! i strayed away from parts of the episode quite a bit. this definitely has more focus on sugawara than the reader this time around, but i’m not mad about it. it’s nice to see an angsty, pining suga 🤭 i almost thought this would have to be split into two parts, but i’d rather keep it as one. i also made a playlist for sugawara and the reader a good bit ago, so here’s the link here (i am very much open to song suggestions)! i’m so excited to get closer to my favorite episode ever, and i hope you guys enjoy!

tags: @toorubobatea @cowgirlikets @dragon-slayer5 (ily ty for hyping me up) @femme-lune @kazuchaos @bakagun1312 @beingbrokenfitsus @mumblepingu @daedaep69 @darthferbert @intheewrld @msbyomimi @sukxma @akari-fujikawa

taglist form here

christmas was always the best time of year for the office. the holiday spirit was at its peak, everyone loved being a part of it, especially your boss, ukai. he took christmas more seriously than everyone else, even kiyoko who primarily handled planning the annual office christmas party each year. ukai took it so seriously that he chopped his own tree and brought it to the office building, dragging tanaka along in his shenanigans towards festive greatness.

tanaka huffed and puffed as he let go of the bottom half of the tree, ukai holding the top half. “ukai, i don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

“that’s what she said.” ukai joked, resisting the urge to snicker. it was like he was a child in a grown man’s body. plus, that joke aged like milk. only he found it funny.

“no, like, it’s really not gonna fit.” tanaka said.

“again, that’s what she—”

“WE CAN’T FIT THE GODDAMN TREE THROUGH THE DOOR, UKAI!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, completely frustrated with his boss. you could hear tanaka from your desk inside the office, but it came out muffled, so you couldn’t quite make out what was being said. you assumed it was idiotic activities as always.

“i’ll make it fit.” ukai insisted, the spirit of christmas granting him all the determination he needed.

“lemme guess, you’re gonna say that’s what she said, right?” tanaka let out a sigh.

“don’t make me fire you, tanaka.” ukai threatened.

“should’ve just got a fake tree.” tanaka rolled his eyes. yeah, that definitely would’ve worked just fine, but this was ukai here. the man was crazy. he would never do anything the normal way.

“i guess that would’ve worked…” ukai said as he pondered over how he would get this tree through the door, quickly thinking of his idea of the best way to do it. “alright, on three, we’re gonna shove this through and hope for the best. got it?”

“i guess?” no. tanaka didn’t get it, but he had no choice.

“too bad. one… two… THREE!”

with one big push, ukai and tanaka burst through the doors of the office. the tree toppled to the floor, bringing them along with it. the sound startled just about everyone, having been doing their typical duties. to you, it just felt like any other day, and you didn’t bother to help the two men.

tanaka fell face first into the pile of pine, aggressively coughing as he wiped any pine needles off his face. “i think i swallowed a pine needle.”

“well, merry fucking christmas.” ukai said enthusiastically. he seriously needed to be scolded over his cursing.

“ukai!”

•••

in the first time in, well, ever, suga was actually excited to be doing an interview for the documentary crew. why? because of this year’s secret santa.

“so this year, for the first time ever, i got finally y/n for secret santa. i’m pretty excited about it, and i really wanted to do something special for her, so i got her this teapot. as much coffee as she drinks here, y/n is way more of a tea person—i would know—so with this she can make tea at her desk.” suga said excitedly, showing off your gift for the camera.

“but i also stuffed it with some inside jokes, that’s what makes it so special, you know.” he continued, carefully digging through the teapot to show off said inside jokes. “like, this is my high school volleyball photo. she saw it fall out of my wallet on my first day here, and it really made her laugh. not sure why, but i’m letting her have it now.”

with the biggest grin on his face, suga dug through the teapot for more, pulling out a wasabi packet, but it wasn’t just any ordinary packet of wasabi. this had a story behind it, one that had meaning for suga.

“ooh. this is a wasabi packet. she put this on a hot dog a couple years ago because she thought it was relish.” he explained. “i thought it was really funny, so i kept the other two.”

after telling the wasabi story, suga held up a mini toy of a chili pepper with a kawaii face, but made a squeaking noise when someone squished it. poor sound guy jumped when it almost blasted his eardrums.

“this is actually a toy for dogs or babies or something, i don’t know.” suga shrugged. “but i saw it, it was cute, and it reminded me of awards night, so i thought; why not?”

but the most important gift of all—one that outsold everything in that teapot—was a card suga wrote just for you, detailing his feelings towards you all on paper. “and then, uh, this is a special card i wrote for y/n… because christmas is the time to tell people how you feel.”

oh, the documentary crew was going to eat this up.

•••

kiyoko and yachi were put up with the task of decorating for the party, forcing many of their coworkers to partake. they also had to deal with ukai’s hack job of a christmas tree. the two girls tried their best to salvage it, throwing as many ornaments and tinsel on it as possible, but it was a losing battle. it was just going to be an ugly tree, so they put the rest of their effort into decorating the conference room.

when it seemed like they were done with everything, kiyoko made her rounds, examining each decoration, but by the end, she wasn’t a fan. “i don’t like it.”

“you… don’t?” yachi questioned.

honestly, it was the perfect scene; red and green decorations perfectly put together, all strategically placed, but if kiyoko didn’t like it, then it simply meant that more work needed to be done.

“we need more lights.” kiyoko said. “i need someone tall.”

“count me out.” tsukishima, who sat down while drinking a soda, spoke up. he had been put through enough, he was tired of decorating.

“i wasn’t asking you, tsukki.” kiyoko rolled her eyes.

“only yamaguchi is allowed to call me that.” tsukishima said.

“whatever.” she scoffed. “uh, who’s super tall and buff…?”

kiyoko and yachi share a look. they instantly knew exactly who to find.

“asahi.” they say in unison.

not only were the two girls on the same page, they knew exactly how to rope asahi into this mess, and it was all up to yachi to get the job done. “asahi, help! i’m dying!”

“dying?! who’s dying?!” asahi bolted into the conference room, only to find no one was actually in trouble.

“i’m dying… for you to hang up these lights for us.” yachi said with a grin as she held up a roll of christmas lights.

he didn’t have much choice, so asahi let out a sigh before ultimately giving in. “okay…”

•••

“i found that asahi will do pretty much anything for me because he’s afraid i’ll be a scaredy cat around him again.” yachi spoke confidently to the camera while the party preparations were happening behind her. “he’d probably commit murder for me, who knows?”

asahi, who overheard her, yelled out in defense for himself. “that is NOT true!”

“keep hanging up those lights!” she yelled at asahi, who immediately went back to work, further solidifying her point. “see? he totally would. he’s the best.”

•••

right before the party was about to start, ukai exited his office dressed like santa. you immediately laugh and try to mask it with a cough, but ukai caught you anyways. “something funny, y/n?”

“yeah, you look ridiculous.” you snort, covering your mouth to muffle out your laughter.

“that’s the point. this party is supposed to be fun.” ukai said sassily. “i want everyone to let loose. i want this party to be reminiscent of my frat boy days.”

“you were in a frat? what was it called?” you ask him, intrigued to hear his answer.

“beta schmeta—” yeah, he wasn’t actually in a frat. “whatever. all i’m trying to say is i want everyone to get lit!”

you cringe at ukai’s use of outdated slang. “that is so seven years ago…”

“yeah, and i want it to happen anyway.” he said.

“your way of getting lit is drinking, and we’re not allowed to have liquor in the office, so...” you reply. you were always one to follow rules. well, for the most part, at least. it was hard to have any sort of structure at an office ran by someone like ukai.

“don’t… don’t remind me, dammit.” ukai cursed. “stupid corporate losers. like booze ever killed anybody.”

you always found your boss was painfully stupid at times, and this was definitely one of those times. but even so, you tried to combat it every time, always failing no matter what.

“but booze has killed—” you began to say.

“anyway!” he cut you off, tired of this conversation and ready to party. ukai then waved tanaka over to him so they could get the party started. “tanaka, let’s get this show on the road! announcement, everybody! listen to tanaka because he’s a better at yelling than me, as shown earlier when he yelled in my face!”

“yes, everybody listen up!” tanaka yelled out. “you better have your presents wrapped up and ready to go under the tree because we will not wait for you and you will be disqualified from secret santa! don’t be that guy! nobody likes to be that guy, so don’t be him!”

you let out a groan as you grab your present for secret santa from under your desk, eyeing the camera on your way to put it under the tree.

“please, don’t let this party suck ass.” you whisper to yourself. you hear tsukishima snicker behind you, an “ow!” soon following, assuming it was yamaguchi smacking him on the back of his head.

•••

“i love christmas. christmas is fun. it’s the best time of the year besides my birthday.” ukai said, still dressed like santa, knowing this would be seen on television one day. “why do i love christmas, you may ask? because i get free stuff, and who doesn’t love free stuff?”

•••

everyone gathered around the tree, placing their presents underneath. one could compare it to christmas morning with your family. some may argue that this office is like a family, while some may think otherwise, but regardless, it was nice for everyone to be together in harmony.

after daichi and tanaka argued over who would light up the tree—mainly because daichi didn’t trust him with outlets—tanaka was finally given the rein, or, well, extension cord.

“everybody ready?” he asked, a mix of nods and “uh-huh” in response.

“okay, and…” the tree is lit up, but it’s quite dim. “yikes.”

silence plagued the room. no one expected the lighting of the tree to be so anti-climatic, especially since the office makes such a big deal out of christmas every year. kiyoko practically wanted to die of embarrassment given she was responsible for the decorations, even if yachi was the one who brought in the lights from her apartment.

while no one said a word, you were the one to speak up, praising the tree for kiyoko and yachi’s sake. “well, i think the tree looks quite nice.”

“thanks, y/n, but you don’t have to lie.” yachi frowned.

“no, it’s a lovely tree.” ukai insisted. “let’s do secret santa now, okay? tanaka, pick who gets the first present.”

tanaka walked over to the tree and picked up a random present, reading who its intended for. “and it’s… tsukishima.”

“oh?” once handed the gift, tsukishima ripped away the wrapping paper to unveil a dinosaur plushie. much to everyone’s surprise, he was delighted by the gift. “aw, this is actually really nice.”

“oh, thank god.” nishinoya let out the biggest sigh of relief one could take. “that was from me.”

“wow, thanks, nishinoya.” tsukishima said with a smile. someone may as well pass out from shock now. christmas truly brought all types of miracles.

•••

“that is literally the nicest thing tsukishima will ever say to me!” nishinoya exclaimed. “i’m serious! i’ve officially peaked at life!”

•••

secret santa rolled along smoothly so far. suga ended up getting a card, which contained a twenty dollar bill inside, the limit for this year’s secret santa. kageyama claimed he didn’t know what to get, but suga wasn’t all too phased by it. who doesn’t like free money? besides, he was too eager for it to be your turn. luckily for him, it was happening right now.

“y/n, you’re next.” suga perked up once he heard your name, knowing your present would be from him.

you take the box from tanaka with a grin before opening up your gift. inside was the teapot suga spoke of to the documentary crew earlier, although you weren’t aware of its secret contents inside just yet, especially the card. you show off the teapot to your coworkers, and suga was notably the only one excited to see it in your hands. it made you wonder who your secret santa happened to be…

“wow, thank you very much, santa.” you say slyly. “whoever you are, you did good.”

“there’s a little more to it.” suga leaned over and said to you quietly.

oh. so your inkling of a suspicion was right, after all. now you were itching to see what was inside, but the office had to keep the show rolling, which completely distracted you from the anticipation.

“alright, next. asahi.” tanaka threw the present to asahi, which made ukai freak out.

“jesus, tanaka!” he yelled out. such a reaction instantly gave away that ukai was the one to get a gift for asahi. “easy, easy!”

moving on from ukai’s sudden outburst, asahi unwrapped his gift, shocked to see what was inside. “an ipad?”

yeah, ukai got asahi an ipad. asahi was just as shocked as everyone else, and he was the one to receive such a gift. clearly ukai felt he could bend the rules, but no one was happy about it, and it would surely be known soon enough.

“woah. wow. jeez. somebody really got carried away with the spirit of christmas...” ukai said, acting all nonchalant before he revealed himself as asahi’s secret santa, but everyone figures it out anyway. “that was me, i got a little carried away.”

“i don’t even know what to do with this…” asahi said to himself.

“ukai, you got way more than carried away.” you scolded your boss. “you spent god knows what on that thing! we had a limit!”

“okay, well, who cares?” ukai shrugged. “it doesn't matter what i spent. what matters is that christmas is fun, right?”

“it’s kind of unfair.” you cross your arms, but ukai could care less about your irritation, although everyone else was in agreement with you.

“whatever.” he rolled his eyes. “who’s next?”

“you are, ukai.” tanaka said.

“i am? great.” ukai was handed a small bag, opening it up and finding mittens inside, which he wasn’t happy about whatsoever. “really?”

“i knitted them myself…” yachi said shyly. she knew she should’ve knitted a scarf instead.

“mittens? pft, okay.” ukai then proceeded to walk out, confusing everyone.

“uh… did he just leave?”

•••

“these mittens? pathetic. i gave asahi an ipad for christ’s sake. i spent my hard earned money while yachi just did some fucking knitting.” ukai complained, unbothered by his cursing for the umpteenth time. “censor me, i don’t care!”

•••

left to their own devices, the employees of japan pulp and paper weren’t sure if they should continue secret santa without their boss. thankfully, ukai returned with a solution, although not a great one.

“i got it!” he burst through the office doors as if nothing happened. “we are going to turn secret santa into yankee swap.”

“what’s yankee swap?” suga questioned.

“one person chooses a gift, then the next person can either choose a gift or steal that person's gift. if your gift gets stolen, then you can steal somebody else's gift or choose a new gift.” ukai explained. it was confusing coming out of his mouth, but you were just going to roll with it anyway.

“yuck, why are we doing this?” tsukishima questioned, wanting absolutely no parts of ukai’s typical nonsense.

“because it's better, more special.” ukai replied. “duh.”

tsukishima wasn’t the only one who didn’t like this idea. kiyoko was practically fuming about it, especially since it spawned from ukai’s strong dislike towards yachi’s gift. “it’s mean, ukai. that’s what it is.”

“it’s not mean.” he said. kiyoko couldn’t believe how much of an ass he was being right now.

“yes, it is.” she argued. “you’re only doing this because you hate your present and you’re bitter yachi didn’t ball out for you like you did for asahi, which no one asked you to do, by the way.”

“no, it’s not.” ukai argued back. “just give it a shot.”

“i’d rather not, actually. i’ll be taking my present, which is…” kiyoko picked up a card with her name on it and opened it up. “a gift card for coffee. thanks, takeda. and whoever doesn’t want any part of this nonsense can take their gifts and hang with me in the conference room. yachi and i made sugar cookies and they’re very delicious.”

as kiyoko and yachi went to the conference for some real fun, suga followed, much to ukai’s surprise, including yours, although your boss was more vocal about it. “really, suga?”

“yeah, you guys have fun.” suga said before disappearing into the conference room.

“i’m coming too.” tsukishima stood up, clutching onto his new plushie. he couldn’t believe he and suga were on the same page for once. “for the sugar cookies, obviously.”

“yeah, okay.” suga snickered. well, not totally on the same page.

“shut up, sugawara.” tsukishima scoffed before dragging yamaguchi with him to the conference room.

as you watched suga leave with the others, part of you felt guilty. you wanted to follow him, but at the same time, you didn’t want to seem like a little puppy dog following its owner. besides, you were itching to get that ipad too. the teapot is just a teapot, right? you didn’t think there could be anything that special about it, but you couldn’t be more wrong right now.

•••

“why didn’t you opt out of yankee swap?” one of the crew members asked you, stirring the pot—or teapot—for the sake of the drama with suga.

“i don’t know. i thought it’d be fun.” you lie with a little shrug before revealing the whole truth. “plus, i kind of want to get the ipad. i can binge watch my shows with it while ryo hogs up the tv.”

this was totally ruining the crew’s spicy plans right now.

•••

while ukai’s yankee swap commenced, suga obsessively watched the events unravel from the conference room. he didn’t even try one of kiyoko and yachi’s sugar cookies yet. the man was a mess, hoping and praying that teapot wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. it was meant for you and only you, why would you chance giving it up? suga knew it had to be the ipad. he never hated ukai more than he did right now for buying that stupid thing.

the others sat around quietly playing christmas music, snacking on cookies and chatting in the midst of suga’s lovelorn crisis. kiyoko decided to go talk to him and figure out what was up with him, but she had to do a bit of warming up first.

“hey, suga.” she said, forcing him out of his trance. “who did you get for secret santa?”

“oh, um, i got y/n.” suga replied.

to be honest, kiyoko was shocked that suga was capable was picking out something so sweet, but then again, this was suga. of course he would do that. “aw, cute. i really like that teapot.”

“i put little inside jokes inside the teapot.” he added. “plus, um, a really personal card.”

“saying…?” she raised an eyebrow.

“nothing. it’s not important.” suga shook his head. such a terrible lie.

“i think it is, sugawara.” kiyoko said.

suga hated how kiyoko was catching up to him. why did he have to mention that the card was really personal? it was more than just personal, the poor sap poured his feelings out to you in that card. he read it over a dozen times, making sure there were no spelling or grammar mistakes whatsoever. his brain felt like mush by the time he felt the card had reached its best version. this gift had to be perfect, but it never stood a chance at being that way, it seemed.

he had to get the attention off his back before kiyoko fully got the picture of the gift’s important, and thankfully, he knew exactly where to push her buttons. as suga once said, manipulation at its finest.

“shouldn’t you be worried about tanaka giving up the gift you got him?” he questioned. yeah, he heard a little bit from the grapevine about that.

“how did you know?” kiyoko gasped. she knew someone had to snitch. “yachi, was it you?!”

“no, never!” yachi exclaimed.

“actually, daichi told me.” suga smirked.

“that bitch.” kiyoko cursed. it was one more reason to want to slap the shit out of daichi. “whatever. i don’t care what he does with my gift anyway…”

suga let out a chuckle knowing kiyoko was playing off her crush on tanaka—one that was much more innocent than how he felt about you, an engaged woman—but his laughter quickly faded when he looked back at what was going on outside. “oh no.”

“oh no, what?” kiyoko questioned.

“hinata has the teapot.” suga replied. he then let out a loud groan, one that caught the attention of tsukishima who was trying to figure out why suga was acting more of a weirdo than usual.

“oh god, he’ll break it.” yachi said with a quiet gasp.

“i can’t watch.” suga turned away, covering his face with his hands. this was too painful for him to bear.

“y/n took the ipad.” kiyoko spoke up. as if hearing that made this any better.

“please don’t commentate like it’s a football game, kiyoko.” suga whined.

“sorry…”

tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows as he watched suga wail in agony, then gave a look to the camera. he had a weird feeling about this.

•••

“i’m just going to throw a theory out there.” tsukishima said plainly. “you don’t have to say anything, but i can read your faces. sugawara has feelings for y/n, doesn’t he?”

the documentary crew was unsure how to respond, but tsukishima guessed it right instantly. they knew, one by one, slowly but surely, the whole office would figure it out.

“that’s what i thought.”

•••

yankee swap continued, and it only got worse from there. your teapot was passed around like a hot potato, and it was torturous for suga to watch it all unfold. the sparkling cider kiyoko brought just wasn’t sparkling enough for him to dull this soul-sucking ache in his heart.

“i have to get that teapot back.” suga said. “if y/n doesn’t want it, then no one else should have it…”

it’s true. not even because of the card, but because it was specifically catered for you. outside it was just a teapot, but inside was a plethora of memories from your years of friendship. suga may be hopelessly in love with you, but your friendship meant the world to him at the end of the day.

“that’s…” yamaguchi paused. there was only one way to describe this. “really depressing.”

“it’s cause he has feelings for her.” tsukishima blurted out. everyone turned and looked at him in shock. did he really just say that right now?

“do not!” suga protested.

this was suga’s worst nightmare. was it always obvious? did anyone else know? did you know already? the questions swirled in his head a mile a minute. he was absolutely freaking out. from you giving up the teapot to this fiasco, the holidays simply couldn’t get any worse for suga. he just couldn’t catch a break, it seemed.

“ha, you so do! i figured you out, sugawara. you’re in love with y/n.” tsukishima smirked, almost finding joy in his suffering. actually, he found joy in everyone’s suffering, so this wasn’t much different, but since it was suga, he found it much more thrilling.

“what do you want? money?” suga asked desperately. it was the only solution he could think of so this secret wouldn’t spill anywhere else.

and since he mentioned it, tsukishima wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. “yeah, gimme that twenty kageyama gave you.”

“suga, wait.” kiyoko stopped him. “do you really have feelings for y/n?”

ignoring her question, suga quickly handed the money to tsukishima. kiyoko couldn’t believe it. he really did have feelings for you, and now everyone in the room knew it. “oh my god…”

“this secret doesn’t leave this room.” suga demanded. he bought tsukishima’s silence, but luckily for him, everyone else didn’t need to be convinced with money. at least he hoped so...

now that he got that out of the way, suga checked in to see what was going on at the party, and it seemed like yankee swap had ended. worst of all, your teapot was nowhere in his sight. “wait, they’re dispersing. why are they dispersing?”

“ukai probably did something stupid and ruined the party even more.” tsukishima scoffed.

“who has the teapot? who has it?!” suga asked frantically like a madman.

“i think i see tanaka with it.” yachi said, pointing to him with what seemed like the teapot in his possession. it was worse than hinata having it, honestly, and suga needed it back now.

“NO!”

suga bolted out of the conference room, scanning the office floor to find tanaka. however, you walk up to him, holding the ipad in your hands. “hey! ukai left to get booze. he said screw the rules, i guess.”

“oh, really?” he asked. “great. i’ll need it.”

“yankee swap was kinda chaotic, but look who came out on top?” you say excitedly, showing him your new gift.

“that’s nice.” suga said quickly so he could get back to his mission. “uh, where’s tanaka?”

“break room.” you reply.

“great, thanks.” suga swiftly walked past you, abruptly ending your conversation. you found it a little odd, but ended up shrugging it off and heading back to your desk.

in a flash, suga walked into the break room, finding tanaka right where he needed him. “hey, tanaka. i need to talk to you. it’s about the teapot.”

“nuh-uh.” tanaka shook his head. he knew exactly what suga was up to, but he didn’t quite know the reason why, he just knew suga wanted that teapot. “don’t even, suga. this is mine.”

“really?” suga sighed. he had to get it back, someway, somehow. “look, it has sentimental value, tanaka. can i buy it from you? i’m willing to pay a lot.”

“no. i want it. i'm going to use it.” tanaka held it close to his chest like it was a baby.

“you don't even drink tea.” suga said.

“true.” tanaka shrugged. “but it lowkey looks like i could make a bong out of it.”

oh god. this was definitely way worse than hinata having the teapot.

•••

“to think that my gift for y/n will be used for that…” suga began to say, taking a deep breath, almost overcome with emotion. “it’s just too much for me.”

•••

suga walked out of the break room, absolutely defeated he couldn’t get the teapot back. even worse, he found you showing off your new gift to ryo, crushing him even more. despite the pang in his heart, suga couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.

“this is awesome.” he heard ryo say.

“i know.” you reply. “look at the quality on this thing. i can watch stuff in 4k on this.”

“yeah, i was gonna get you one of these for christmas, but now i don't have to since you got one for free.” he said happily, thrilled at the thought of not having to spend that much money on you. it made suga want to barf. “i'm gonna save a ton of money.”

“so what are you going to get me instead?” you ask him.

“i don't know. probably like, an ugly sweater or something.” ryo shrugged.

you look to the camera in disgust before their attention turned to ukai coming back to the office with bottles of alcohol. as if you needed more of that in your life after what happened last time you drank.

“ho, ho, ho!” ukai greeted everyone, on theme with his silly outfit. “santa has come with spirits, as in booze.”

“we’re really not supposed to serve alcohol, ukai…” takeda said, trying to keep his job by the end of the day.

“no one cares, specs.” ukai scoffed, typical when it came to talking to takeda. “it’s a party and it’s christmas! if i can't throw a good party for my employees, then i’m the worst boss ever, and that contradicts with my world’s best boss awards! so, who wants a drink?”

practically everyone raised their hands instantly.

•••

“if i’ve learned anything from my time at japan pulp and paper, it’s that alcohol solves all your problems.” ukai grinned. what terrible advice, the crew thought. “everyone’s having a good time, and why is that? alcohol. i’m such a good influence!”

•••

despite the whole secret santa fiasco, everyone seemed to be having a good time. at least now you could all have fun, even if it was with the help of alcohol. well, plus the food too. that too always helped.

while christmas music blared and many of your coworkers danced on the office floor, suga found you sitting behind your desk, wondering why you weren’t partaking in the festive shenanigans.

“you know, you don't have to answer calls during a party.” he said cheekily. “just thought you should know.”

“oh, i know.” you say, revealing the teapot to suga, showing that it was now yours once again. “i was just checking out my new teapot here.”

“what?” suga gasped. “but how?”

“well, it ended up with nishinoya after tanaka traded it for kiyoko’s gift, so i didn’t have to do much convincing to get it back.” you explained to him. “i figured, you know, letting it go was really stupid of me because what should matter most is that the gift is from you, so i went to get it back. i hope you’re not mad at me...”

it was a christmas miracle for suga, even if you simply just made a trade with nishinoya. of course he would give it up for the ipad. thank god he did, and thank god you were willing to let go of such a lucrative gift for one made with love instead. words couldn’t describe the relief suga felt right now.

“i’m glad, actually. and not to be totally biased right now, but this is an amazing gift because it comes with bonus gifts.” suga said. “look inside.”

suga’s reassurance put you at ease, and as directed, you look inside the teapot, pulling out his infamous volleyball photo. you had never been so happy to have that teapot. if only you knew before. “oh my god. no way.”

•••

you proudly hold up your teapot for the documentary crew, a huge grin on your face, one that only suga could bring out of you. “yeah, i think i made the right choice.”

•••

you looked through the rest of the contents in the teapot, and while you weren’t looking, suga stole the card he wrote back and shoved it in his pocket. he just couldn’t bring himself to let you read it. maybe someday, but not today. the timing is just wrong.

“is this a chili pepper?” you ask as you hold up the toy.

“yeah, cause you’re banned from chili’s. look, it makes noises.” suga squeezed the chili pepper, accidentally ghosting his fingers over yours, and you jump from the squeaking sound coming out of the chili pepper toy. totally not from his soft touch either.

you felt like an idiot for giving this up before. it helped you learn to not judge a book by its cover. you knew that’s something you learn as a kid, but sometimes you have to learn something all over again as an adult. at least you came to your senses. there was still so much for you to figure out.

“you’ve outdone yourself, suga.” you smile and look into suga’s eyes.

“it’s about time i got you for secret santa.” suga replied. god, why did you have to be so beautiful?

“yeah, it really has.“ you say, holding your gaze before gulping when you think you’ve been staring at him for too long. little did you know, he wouldn’t have minded looking into your eyes a little longer. “merry christmas, suga.”

if suga has learned anything about christmas, it’s that it’s definitely not the time to tell people how you feel. he knew that now, no matter how much it hurt. in his eyes, if you had to take some time to come around to fully accepting the teapot, then you had to take your time accepting a life without ryo, potentially in favor for a life with him instead. the only question now was when? it was only a matter of time before suga will grow impatient.

sometimes suga felt like he was better off shoving his feelings down his throat, and you felt the same way. what you have is beautifully complicated, but suga swore that one day he’d tell you how he felt. it just had to be the perfect time.

“merry christmas, y/n.”

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[monin1ca]

Hello, hope you’re well. Could you please write a Chamber imagine where the reader (female or general, idc) says ily for the 1st time? And the reader doesn’t know for sure if Chamber loves them back but he happily & passionately says iyi back. Nothing nsfw, thanks!

Word count:495 

Warnings: nothing~~ just pure fluff

Sypnosis:

“Vincent.”

“Hm?”

You breathed in softly, shutting your eyelids closed;

“I love you.”

The hushed ‘swoosh’ of the wind sent shivers down your spine, even though a thick duvet covered your body; head-to-toe. In front of you, a beautifully carved mantel with elegant clocks softly ticking alongside the occasional crackling of the fireplace, the dancing flame bringing heat into your shared home with Vincent.  ‘The morning would show the beauty of the ice for sure,’ You thought, allowing your brain to be empty, content to exist and be. Your head whipped in the direction of the soft crunches of the snow; you smiled. ‘It must be Vin.’ 

The soft bell rang, signaling Vincent had entered the home. Muffled shuffling of feet and thumps were heard as he made his way to you. “Ah, Mon Cheri. How I’ve missed you….” Your boyfriend hummed, his cherry-tinted fingers skimming your skin, then placing a small peck on your forehead. “Just where have you been, Vincent?”  You playfully pouted; the marksman kneeled at the side of your makeshift fort; “Me? Haha! I was out getting you the most delectable Hot Chocolate of your life!” Vincent proudly presented it; the cup smelled heavenly. Mumbling a soft ‘thank you,’ you carefully took the hot cup and, taking a few sips of the drink, you squealed, delighted. “It’s lovely, Vin!” “See? I know your tastes, mon ange.” 

Your lover hunched down to the level of the fireplace, feeding the fire more logs. The fire roared as it continued to grow and consume the wood. Dusting off his hands, he placed himself beside you, smushing your small fort of pillows and blankets. “Vin!” You whined, softly punching him as he mumbled, “What now?” “You ruined my fort.” “Ah, but aren’t I a great addition? I’m your knight and shining armor, am I not?” You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, c’mere big boy~.” Your arms and legs tangled together as you basked in each other's warmth and love. Vincent’s hair was ruffled, as was his coat. Though he didn’t seem to mind as much, he was half-asleep. While you were taking in his beauty, every perfection and imperfection reminded you how much you love this man.

“Vincent.”

“Hm?”

You breathed in softly, shutting your eyelids closed;

“I love you.”

The silence was almost deafening, but you couldn’t force him to say it back. It was heavy words that not everyone could say to another person. Nevertheless, you wanted him to know how you felt.

“Amour, open your eyes.”

Obeying, you slowly opened one eye and saw Vincent smiling and blushing. Not from the cold but from your words.

“I love you too. I love you to the moon and back.”

You beamed happily, snuggling closer to your man. 

Author’s note: HII I’M BACK FROM MIDTERMS! I THINK THIS WILL BE MY WARM-UP WRITING SINCE IM A BIT RUSTY BUTT DO FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS! 

[moonjxsung]

hi star bb!💜

you deleted 20k 😳 i get it though, i do the same when im not confident about something i’ve done😅 im super excited to read your upcoming stories! (i hope you have a changbin wip! bc my bin brain rot is real and i think a fic by you would be amazing😭)

about the frog, i’ve looked for it on ebay (for my s-i-l’s bday) and it usually goes for like $40ish. so if you have the budget you could check it out!

i feel you so hard bout the pcs tho. when i started stanning skz i didn’t have ✨adult money✨so im now getting into buying pcs and albums and like same but with lee know (and i don’t have kpop stores nearby😭) whilst lurking online.

i’m halfway through Men Without Women and, as usual, Murakami’s prose is impecable. i’ve only read one novella by him but i’ve read many of his short stories (im usually at uni when i get out of my reading slump so i prefer shorter works bc if not i’ll just binge the book and not do anything else) and i love his style of magical realism most. i’ve enjoyed most of the stories, but with me it’s the never ending story of his depiction of women. but i’m pretty used to that already so once you get past it, they’re really interesting stories as expected.

ALSO, i’m going to my mom’s house in a few days to pick up pochacco and kuromi and im ecstatic!! so expect the pics

ilyyyy bb, have a great week as well🖤🖤🖤

-🐈‍⬛

I doubt everything I write like a BILLION times into writing it and then I end up deleting so much or restarting it’s actually such a bad habit 😭😭 BUT WE ARE 20K WORDS IN WITHOUT DELETING SO FAR���.. progress 👼🫶

GIRL THE PC BUYING…. I think I’ve purchased like 4 pcs this week alone and I’m fully intending on buying more (plus one of them was Felix’s broadcast bow pc so they’re not cheap ones) I can’t stop myself 😭😭 HELP.

Ahhh so good to hear you’re enjoying Men Without Women!! Also AGREED about Murakami’s descriptions of women (what’s with the ear fetish😭) but once you put that (and his weird likes for incest) aside he’s an incredible author! Definitely going to check that one out next, thank you for the rec pookie !! 🫶💘 ALSO DID YOU GET KUROMI AND POCHACCHO. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THEM

ily bby I hope you’re well also HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY 💓💕💖💘🩷✨

[theconstantsidekick]

BABES

I’ve been rereading everything in the staticverse bc it’s honestly become like such a great source of comfort for me and ily so much for it.

but as i was rereading i was struck by just HOW MUCH i love it. so i compiled a little list for you 💗

1. you have put absolutely insane amounts of detail into this and i appreciate it so fucking much you have no idea. there is layers upon layers upon layers of lore and plot connections and just UGH.

2. static. that’s it. end of story. just static.

2.2 okay so i know that you have your concerns about creating a reader that might be interpreted as “too similar” to the author but fuck that it’s bullshit. this is your work this is your creation you get to do whatever the fuck you want with it.

2.3 also static is such a badass and it’s honestly so refreshing to see a x reader fanfic where she isn’t a total mary sue or just the human embodiment of a slice of white bread. static is NOT BLAND she is NOT BORING. she has her faults she has her flaws and it makes her so much more relatable as a character. it’s so much easier to like step into the readers shoes when they’re a fully fleshed out character as opposed to a blank slate to project yourself onto. the way that you write static and her interactions with everyone around her is honestly on a whole other level and i like cant describe it it’s just so ajsjfosnsnajakakadjd

3. adding onto my like static and her interactions thing, dude. the way you portray her relationships with each different character so differently and yet so HER is insane. it shows how phenomenally multifaceted she is and i just genuinely love it

4. whenever the story is being “narrated” by a different character, your writing changes tone so well without losing its quality. there’s a stark (haha get it) difference between the way tony narrates as opposed to say steve or harley or even static herself and that’s something that i love with my entire fucking heart. you’re able to so seamlessly blend these characters together to create a beautiful tapestry of a world within the MCU and have i mentioned that i love it?

5. the EFFORT you put into this is unparalleled. like genuinely you could wake up tomorrow and say “im done writing this forever” and delete all of your work and i would still be happy that i got to be a small part of it. everything about the way that you world built and character developed and connected events is just SO GOOD LIKE????

6. this is embarrassing lowkey but static has like become my personality now? if im in a situation where im nervous or intimidated i just think about the avengers ft static when she goes to recruit Steve and he says something along the lines of “people didn’t hold themselves like that unless they were truly very sure of themselves” (i BUTCHERED that ik and im so sorry about it but i hope you know what point im referencing) and it like HELPS A LOT!!!

7. i originally read this bc im a slut for bucky barnes but i adore the way that it’s expanded to become more of just a series about static herself. you’ve developed such an interesting and exciting character that just like reading about what she ate for breakfast would make my month. and i will shamelessly admit that when she said “steve wasn’t the love of her life, bucky isn’t the love of her life, morgan is the love of her life” (again butchering the quote i am so disappointed in myself) i teared up. bc like while i am simply a hole made special for james barnes it was just so nice to see that this was a (cliché alert) strong, independent, female character who’s life didn’t revolve around a love interest. and no one looks for that in x reader fanfiction but it’s such a blessing that you were able to make it and i was able to find it.

8. this series and these fics are literally like free therapy and i love you more than static loves morgan, harley, and peter

sorry for the essay but i need you to know that i love you so so so so much.

im right behind you babe ❤️❤️❤️

when I tell you, I sobbed on a random tuesday morning after reading this....

I had been feeling really fucking shitty and then I woke up, i read this, first thing in the morning and honestly? Depression? Cured. Skin? Cleared. Laundry? Folded.

This was so personal to me. I just.. I cannot express how much this means to me, no matter how hard I try. It moves me so much that you noticed all the little information I had scattered throughout the story thinking like, 'oh this will be a fun callback when i read it later' only to find out you were following along!!!! This is literally the best feeling ever.

Whenever I'm having a shit day, questioning my 'talents' at work (because my job is in a similar zone) I come back to read this and I'm like yeah, well. @third-broparcelicito loved my shit so I cannot be that bad lmao.

Anyway, all this is to say, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading whatever content I put out and investing your time, energy and love into it so deeply. I swear people like you are the only reason I keep coming back to the series and updating it randomly. You keep me going despite my overly busy schedule. Thank you so so much.

I'm right behind you. I've got your back.

[iuwon]

WON AUTHOR NIM :(((((( imyyyyy where r u ???? its been 7 months ever since u took an unannounced(??) hiatus 😭😭 i have been waiting for 5 months i miss ur writings n stufff esp the x series🥲 im ab to lose it rnnnn i hope ure doing absolutely well and i wish ur days r going great <333 come back to us when ure readyy we'll always wait!!!! xoxooo

omg 5 months that’s crazy i love u🤕 ive missed u too i hope you’re still around and i hope you’re still doing amazing rn if u can still see this💔 i’ll try posting as much as i can whenever i have the time! THIS IS SO SWEET ILY you’re the best come here i need to hug u

[daisyvisions]

OH MY GOD YOU BOTH JUST REMINDED ME

tbznewberry (the author of Dollhouse!) has a lot of super good stories. I'm going to go re-binge them now lol. Danger by nctjaetae(?) was also pretty good iirc but I read it a long while ago now (like a few months or something idk). Wattpad gets a lot of shit, but there's still so many talented writers on there. 😭

Also, I hope you feel better soon. 💜 Try to take it easy! Drink lots of water and make sure to get lots of sunlight! I'm not super great with words but I do genuinely hope you are able to pick yourself up again and feel better again soon. 💜 Take care of yourself!!

WAAAH YES I KNOW THE DANGER ONE HOLY SHIT 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I loved reading that one too ugh you guys are reminding me to binge read all of these again over the weekend 💕

🥺 please what did I do to deserve you looking after me huhu you’re too kind and yes thank you for reminding me to go out and get some sun too I need more of it! It’s been an internal battle with me just trying to find the right routine but I’ll get there! I’ll mentally coach myself to do it 💕✨ I hope you’ve been getting enough water, rest, sunlight too babe! Ily 🥰

[tteokdoroki]

hi aali !!! i hope you’re having / have had a great day today :,) i wanted to ask rq— author to author yk— but i was curious: what are some particular habits you do, or don’t indulge in while writing? im sure ive told you this already but i really love your work and from what i see, it’s always received well 🥹 and another thing, i noticed how lengthy your fics are ( which i love ) and im wondering how do you produce such long fics so frequently 😩 im sure you don’t write them all in one sitting but im just amazed every time

hi baby doll!! i hope you’re having a good day or night as well!! 🥺🫶🏾 thank you so much for your sweet words :(

mmm in terms of writing longer fics i always break them down into sections/scenes and work my way through them like that! i write dialogue as i go cause it’s harder for me than exposition or description !! i always have a thesaurus tab open for if i need a funky new word !!

weirdly enough i don’t listen to music that often cause it seriously distracts me 😭😭 but if i do it’s usually a curated playlist !!

i can’t really think of anything else but i hope it helps :(( ily have a great day or night !! MWAH <3

[jayflrt]

introduction

CAST ▸ fem!reader, enhypen, yeonjun from txt

GENRES ▸ mystery, crack

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, banter, mentions of death, jake is a cat (sorry), heeseung and jay text with auto caps (also sorry)

SUMMARY ▸ all you intended was to return a missing phone. never did you expect to become entangled in the lives of five handsome men (and that damn cat).

WORD COUNT ▸ 2127 words

PLAYLIST ▸ mysterious messenger by han

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AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! welcome to the introduction of our series :) while the actual fics will be fully written, the intro is partly written and partly textfic for the mysme vibes >:) i will be writing riki’s installment and @hoonbear​​ will be writing jay’s, but we decided to write the intro together. we hope you guys enjoy ♡ click here for the masterlist

SOMETIMES, YOU WONDERED IF YOU HAD SOME HIDDEN TALENT FOR FINDING LOST ITEMS.

Walking around with two phones in your hand definitely made you look suspicious, but you had been asking around for the owner for the past thirty minutes to no avail. The proper thing to do at this point would’ve been to turn the device in to the police station. However, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to try and turn on the phone, thinking there could be a number you could call.

First of all, you had no way of even ensuring that it would turn on. Even if it did, it wasn’t like you’d be able to get in. Smartphone technology had gotten so advanced with its facial recognition, so even if there was a passcode, you definitely wouldn’t be able to get past the—

Oh, was your only thought as the smartphone unlocked with no security whatsoever.

As if someone had been waiting for this exact moment, you immediately started receiving messages from a blocked number. Your parents had warned you of many situations, but never of one to this degree. You had absolutely no idea what to do as you watched the stream of texts come in.

Common sense warned you that an unknown number was definitely not trustworthy, but the persistent messages made you wonder if it was the owner of the phone trying to contact you. You opened the messaging application to confirm that yes, the owner of the device was indeed asking for it back.

Unknown Number: Hello Unknown Number: I’m not sure if someone found this already Unknown Number: But please give me back my phone D: Unknown Number: I can see that location turned on so someone must’ve unlocked it just now

you: hi sorry i just picked up your phone you: i’ve been trying to find you to return it! where should i leave it

Unknown Number: Umm do you happen to be at the C&R International Expo?? Unknown Number: That’s where I think I lost my phone Unknown Number: And it says you’re there

you: yes!! i’m still here! where are you? i can bring your phone to you

Unknown Number: I just left lol Unknown Number: Could you bring it to my apartment and leave it there? Unknown Number: I got dragged out to a meeting so I won't be back until later tonight, so if you could just drop it off that would be great

you: uhh you: your apartment? just drop it off??

Unknown Number: Yeah I’ll give you the passcode Unknown Number: You just have to leave it on the table and you can leave

you: um haha you trust me with your passcode?? are you sure?

Unknown Number: I was gonna change it this weekend anyways Unknown Number: I’m sorry I know this sounds sketchy

you: it’s fine as long as it’s not too far and during the day you: i’ll just drop it off quickly

Unknown Number: Thank you so much Unknown Number: Here’s my address Unknown Number: [Location Attached]

You weren’t sure who the fool was in this situation. You, on one hand, were going over to a stranger’s house and entering their premises while they weren’t even home. You didn’t even know their name, for God’s sake. The stranger, on the other hand, was trusting you with their passcode and letting you walk into their house unattended.

You looked at the address, recognizing the street written as one that you had passed just minutes ago. You decided it couldn’t hurt to drop by before you went back home. It wasn’t like you had any plans for the rest of the day, so you weren’t in any rush.

Thankfully, the location wasn’t as sketchy as you feared it would be, so you regained some of your confidence when you turned into the street of the phone’s owner. Steeling your nerves, you mentally planned how quickly you would drop off the phone. Something felt unsettling about entering a stranger’s house even though you received permission, but the person had specifically requested how they wanted you to return their phone.

Whoever owned the phone must have been relatively wealthy. You hadn’t seen many password locked doors, and the apartment building looked refined. Considering the owner was at the exposition, you figured they worked for C&R International and probably had some high-ranking position in the company. This made you feel more at ease, so you entered in the passcode to unlock the door.

Of course, you expected it to open, but you still hesitated once your hand was on the door handle. Finally, you braced yourself and just walked in. All you were going to do was put the phone down and leave.

However, right when you walked in with the phone in hand, the screen glitched and you were met with a flood of notifications.

You have entered the chatroom.

jay: For the last time, Jungwon, leave him alone.

jungwon: ur no fun :( jakey enjoys me

jay: That’s Jake the Third to you. If you harass him without my permission again, I’ll show security the CCTV footage.

riki: i think ur forgetting that he’s a hacker, jay. he can probably do whatever he wants with the footage

jungwon: speaking of…did someone just enter the chatroom? jungwon: it says someone named y/n joined just now

sunghoon: ??? sunghoon: ohh my fucking god ur right

riki: jungwon how u gonna be a professional hacker but can’t make a gc private

jungwon: y’all don’t think it’s a hacker right 😹 ik i’m a professional and shit but i’m not trying to fight one here

riki: i’ll be ur minion jungwon what do u need me to do

jungwon: this isn’t league, riki

you: hello ?? i am not a hacker you: who r u guys what are u doing in my phone

sunghoon: ur in OUR gc?

you: man idk i was just trying to drop some mfs phone at their apartment 😭 then the screen glitched

jay: I thought you said it was your phone?

you: i may have exaggerated a little

jungwon: wait guys, something’s wrong jungwon: i tracked this person's geolocation and they’re in ?? sunoo’s apartment

riki: what…?

sunghoon: no way

jay: Sunoo? That can’t be right. jay: Wait, where’s Assistant Lee?

heeseung: I’m here, Mr. Park.

sunghoon: heeseung what do you think about all this

heeseung: I don’t know. I thought Jungwon made sure that only we could download the SFA Messenger?

jay: Let’s cut the bullshit. Who are you? How did you get into Sunoo’s apartment, and this chatroom?

you: well first of all my name’s y/n you: and it’s like i said, i found this phone at c&r international and the owner asked me to drop it off at their apartment. i just got to the apartment and started getting messages from this gc

jay: How did you receive the password to the apartment?

you: the owner texted it to me, i got texts from an unknown number when i found the phone and realized it was them trying to get it back

jay: You trusted a stranger? How naive.

jungwon: i did a background check on her and it doesn’t seem like she’s a hacker jungwon: or dangerous at all for that matter

sunghoon: wait she’s a girl ​​😍

heeseung: Please avoid trying to become romantically involved with strangers, Sunghoon. Think about your career.

riki: do y’all think we should 👁 introduce ourselves

jay: Please don’t tell me you’re serious.

heeseung: I agree. Have we really reached that stage?

sunghoon: i mean i’m pretty sure she knows enough alr but sunghoon: i’m park sunghoon, musical actor, you could say i’m a little famous

jay: He just wanted the attention.

jungwon: i’m jungwon, u know i’m a hacker so i won’t rlly say more than that

riki: i’m nishimura riki, broke college student trying to get a job from jay

jay: You’re still on the list, you know. You just have to improve your scores.

jungwon: btw that company you found the phone at, c&r international? jay’s the heir and heeseung is his assistant

jay: I didn’t agree to introductions.

jungwon: OH and jay has the best cat

jay: Please don’t tell someone we barely know about Jake the Third.

sunghoon: so, y/n, now that you know a little about us all, do you think there’s anything more you can tell us about this ‘unknown’ person?

you: i wish i could 😭 after the screen glitched my messages with them disappeared

heeseung: We should contact Yeonjun.

jungwon: just did, he should be joining in a sec

riki: shouldn’t we tell y/n about what this is though

you: is this not just a chatroom ??

jay: I think we should wait for Yeonjun before we share that.

Yeonjun has entered the chatroom.

yeonjun: I’m here. Jungwon told me everything. yeonjun: Y/N was directed by a stranger to Sunoo’s apartment and suddenly entered the chatroom?

jay: Did any of us even know the password to the apartment?

yeonjun: No, not even me. I only know its location.

heeseung: Then how did a complete stranger end up there?

yeonjun: Maybe…there’s a reason Y/N is there. Maybe Sunoo intended it.

heeseung: How do you mean?

riki: are u saying that he like Knew he was gonna die

yeonjun: Not necessarily, more like he may have wanted someone to continue his work if the need ever arose.

sunghoon: well if that’s what you think that does make me trust her a little more

riki: stfu ur just saying that bc she’s a girl

heeseung: What if Y/N is lying to us? She easily could have made up ‘Unknown’.

yeonjun: I understand your concern, Heeseung, but since Jungwon has checked her information, I think it’s safe to trust her.

jay: In that case, Yeonjun, we will follow your decision.

riki: then should we explain what the sfa is?

heeseung: Alright. heeseung: The SFA is an organization that Sunoo created to plan charity parties for exclusive guests.

you: damn all this for a party?

jay: Not just any party, a fundraising party. Sunoo made this to gather donations from a variety of guests, regardless of their status.

jungwon: the parties were always on orthodox easter

you: orthodox easter........

sunghoon: and this chatroom was meant to plan them

sunghoon: but ever since sunoo died, we’ve been using this to talk ab personal shit instead

riki: sunoo’s job was pretty simple, he mostly just had to contact the guests riki: so if you’ll join the sfa, that’s all you’ll have to do, and hopefully talk to us every now and then

jay: Everything we do here is for a good cause. If you join, you’ll never regret it. jay: So, Y/N. Will you join the SFA?

you: it sounds fun ngl, i’m in!

jay: Fast decision. I like it.

jungwon: or maybe it means she’s extremely stupid <3

riki: jungwon can u stfu and register her before she takes it back

yeonjun: Welcome to the organization, Y/N. yeonjun: Since you already have the SFA Messenger installed, everything you need including information to contact guests should be there. yeonjun: I have to go, but I’ll check in with you later.

Yeonjun has left the chatroom.

jungwon: since i’m still having some trouble finding shit on that ‘unknown’ person, i think it’d be best if i stay at the apartment with y/n to make sure everything’s okay jungwon: is that okay with you y/n?

you: i mean i’m still processing this whole situation so staying with a stranger is a little strange

jungwon: yeah i understand jungwon: it’s mostly for your safety bc we don’t know how this unknown person knows the password to sunoo’s place or why they sent you there jungwon: and since we don’t know you, it’s an easier way to keep a close eye on you to make sure you’re not up to anything suspicious :)

sunghoon: that’s so passive aggressive 💀 

y/n: alright alright i get that

jungwon: riki ur coming too or i’ll get ur league account banned

riki: UNPROVOKED?:?!

jay: Y/N mentioned that she found the phone at C&R International, so I think I’ll drop by to look through it just in case.

heeseung: I suppose I’ll be coming along too, then.

sunghoon: can y’all not leave me out pls 😐 ur giving me fomo now i have to come too

jungwon: then we’ll all see you there soon, y/n

you: see you!

You have left the chatroom. Jay has left the chatroom. Heeseung has left the chatroom. Jungwon has left the chatroom. Riki has left the chatroom. Sunghoon has left the chatroom.

PICK YOUR ROUTE:

NISHIMURA RIKI | PARK JONGSEONG

[nghtwngs]

step by step

description. you’re not sure how you landed yourself in this mess: forced to work with oikawa tooru, the guy who does everything better, and to you, your worst nightmare. you competed against him your entire life, but now you’re expected to work with him? surely things will get messy once feelings and time get involved.

pairing. student council president!oikawa tooru x vice president!reader

genre. fluff, angst, student council au, enemies to friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, hurt/comfort

word count. 7k

warnings. swearing, time-skip spoilers, reader uses she/her pronouns

author’s notes. this was supposed to be longer but im so tired. the reader in this is heavily influenced by my own insecurities, but i hope you can still find a piece of yourself in them too. thank you to my soulmate @cafemiya for starting this collab, and thanks to my bestie @miyamore for the beta. ily both sm

part of the promptly yours collab

The world is out to spite you.

You don’t know what you’ve done to deserve this. You’ve never committed a crime before. Okay, well other than pirating K-dramas at two in the morning—but it’s not like you’ve killed anyone. 

Not yet at least, you think as you stand next to the cause of all your annoyance, Oikawa Tooru. Many girls at Aoba Johsai would kill to be in this position, but you think you’d kill to get out of it. You blink when the click of the camera rings in your ears. It pulls you out from your thoughts. You can only hope the smile on your face isn’t too noticeably strained.

Oikawa looks all too happy about the predicament you both have landed in. From your peripheral, you can see a wide grin stretched on his face. The urge to smack it off of him comes, but you decide it’s inappropriate.

The elected secretary, Mamoru, is next to you. And the elected treasurer, Kaito, stands next to him. The photographer, a student from your class last year, begins to ramble on about how great the pictures turned out.

You nod along, only able to give her a small smile as she scrolls through them. She was right though.

The screen of the camera was small, but you still had to admit that the pictures do look good. Oikawa is undeniably photogenic, and his charming presence is clearly felt through the photo. Your limbs look kind of awkward, but with him in there, it didn’t really matter anyway. He always overshadows you. There’s a pit that forms in your stomach at the thought, but you drive it out of your head as quickly as it comes.

“These look so good,” Mamoru coos. “My hair looks perfect in this one.”

Kaito scoffs. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“What do you think?” He pouts, looking at you expectantly.

You stutter, “Oh, uh, I think you look nice.”

The corners of his lips curl upward. “See! Even Y/N thinks I look good.”

“Hey, I only said you looked nice,” you remark with a teasing smile.

A snort leaves Kaito’s lips while the other whines out your name. But the moment is cut short as all of you are reminded of the time. The bell is chiming, notifying everyone that class would begin soon. The photographer hurries out in a rush to get to her own classroom.

“We should get going.” Kaito sighs, tugging on Mamoru’s arm and pulling him out of the room, leaving you and Oikawa alone.

Both of you are grabbing your belongings. He’s the first to break the silence. “It’s going to be a lot of fun working with you, Y/N-chan.” He offers you an eye smile. It’s the kind that’s sure to make his fan club swoon.

You fight the urge to fake gag. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Your feet begin to carry you out the door, but you pause at the sound of your name being called.

“No goodbye?” There’s a teasing tone laced in his voice.

You try not to roll your eyes. “Goodbye, Oikawa.” You turn again to leave when you feel his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. His hand is warm. You stare at the contact. “What are-”

“We’re going to be seeing each other a lot now, Y/N-chan.” He pouts. “You can’t hate me forever.”

“I don’t hate you,” you mumble. The look on his face tells you he doesn’t believe a single word. If you’re being honest, you wouldn’t either. “Can you let go?”

He clears his throat. “Sorry.”

You hurry down the hall once he lets go, letting out a breath. You rub your wrist. You wonder why it feels so tingly.

It’s eight at night when Hanamaki Takahiro appears at your doorstep with an easy smile. He knows you can’t resist him. He makes a proposal to drag you out to a convenience store for something to satiate his sweet tooth. And you let him. He takes you through each aisle. You search every shelf for your favorite snacks and drinks.

You then find yourself in a small, dimly lit playground. You’re sitting on a swing set and stuffing your mouth with a strawberry sandwich.

“Slow down,” warns Hanamaki, who sits on the swing beside yours. “You’re gonna choke.”

You pout at him, chewing. “And?”

He rolls his eyes. “Where are your manners?”

“Manners? Very funny.” You snort, taking another bite of your sandwich. You hum in delight.

“Y’know, it could be worse.”

You meet his gaze, lips forming a thin line. Your feet scrape against the ground to push the swing. “Really? This seems pretty shitty to me.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“The constant teasing and embarrassing me isn’t that bad. It’s just,” you mutter the last part, “him.”

He hums. “At least you’re not dating him.”

Your face scrunches. “You’re right. That would be worse. But I’m still the newest target of his fan club though.”

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t bother you.”

“Really?” You don’t believe him.

Makki sips his strawberry milk with his head held high. “I’ll protect you.”

“I’m screwed then.”

“Hey-”

You watch as a crowd of students huddle around the bulletin board, blocking your vision. The results of the last exam were posted. You chew on your lip as you watch your classmates talk about their scores. Some have smiles on their faces while others are still scanning down the list for their name.

You’re not sure why your stomach is churning, why it always churns before you look at your grades. They’re never bad, but Oikawa’s are higher than yours sometimes. You huff. Maybe it’s not just the big group of people keeping you from looking.

You slowly walk towards the exam results with a sigh. There are too many people. You can’t see over them all. You stand on the tips of your toes, stretching your head in order to get a better look. The corners of your lips slowly curl downward as your efforts are futile.

“Huh, we got the same mark,” hums Oikawa, who you now realize is standing next to you. He’s tall enough to see over you and the crowd.

You land back softly on your feet, lips slightly agape. “Oh.”

You’re disappointed, a part of you wishing that you had scored higher, but the other relieved that you didn’t receive anything worse. You’d rather not deal with any more of his teasing. Your eyes sneak a glance at him; his hands are shoved in his pockets, shoulders relaxed. His eyes trail to you.

You quickly look away, guilty gaze meeting the hard tile floor. The silence makes you feel awkward. It has you turning away and heading to your classroom. But you don’t miss the feeling of someone’s gaze lingering on you.

The room is mostly empty when you take your seat. You’re glad that you’ve been placed next to the window this year. The sunlight feels so warm on your skin—you now have to reapply your sunscreen between classes, but you have a clear view of much of the campus. It’s especially nice to clear your head. You pull out your work from last night, placing it onto your desk without much care.

The chatter of your classmates as they file into the room grows louder. You tune them out, instead deciding to stare at whatever piques your interest at the moment. You watch as some students are rushing into the building down below, all carrying the same expression of distress. It’s safe to say that punctuality isn’t in the cards for them today. They all look so small from your view, you think. Until you’re reminded that the first meeting for student council is today.

A sigh escapes you as you run your hand down your face. You hope that you don’t stumble over your words, or somehow make a fool of yourself in front of everyone. You’re not even sure where to begin. You should’ve prepared.

The bell chimes, and you notice that the teacher has entered the room. You hear the click of her heels as she greets everyone with a curt smile and bids everyone a good morning before taking attendance. Your eyes squeeze shut.

This is going to be a very long day.

You try to keep up with the class, you really are, but the way you’ve been gazing out the window for the last ten minutes determines otherwise. The tick of the clock doesn’t help either. Really, it manages to make your stomach curl even more. You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, gaze set upon the whiteboard full of formulas.

Too much to memorize.

Finally, your assignment is passed out, but all you can do is blankly stare at it. All the words on its pages look illogical and all the numbers random. Maybe you should’ve paid attention. That’s obvious enough, but you’ll figure it out. You always seem to.

“That one’s actually twenty-two,” Oikawa corrects, finger pointing to one of the questions on the page.

A crease forms between your eyebrows as you redo the problem, coming to realize that he’s correct. You had forgotten a step. You sigh in a mix of defeat and annoyance. “What are you even doing over here, Oikawa? Your seat is across the room.”

“Well, I wanted to give you this.” Oikawa hands you some note cards. The pretty handwriting and highlighting catches your eye. They distract you from the content written on them: a messily put together overview of the meeting. “It’s for later.”

You nod. “Um, thanks.”

“No problem, Y/N-chan.” He flashes you a smile.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you want, Y/N-chan.”

You scoff. “Now can you go away? I can feel people staring.”

You’re shuffling through the cards quickly. You want to make sure you seem like you know what you’re talking about. Your mind wanders. You wonder when he made these. It couldn’t have been that long. You two were only announced as president and vice president yesterday. He must’ve spent a while on it, judging by the amount of information on it alone.

Not even you knew what the meeting would be about. You thought you could wing it from the start. You wish you would’ve thought of it first. You wish you would’ve done more.

You glance at the clock. It's almost time to start, but Oikawa is nowhere to be seen. You scan the hall for him. You feel your heart sinking.

“Where the hell is he?” you mutter, pacing near the door.

He can’t be late. It’s the first official meeting. How were you supposed to do this alone? You don’t have half the charisma nor the popularity he does. They won’t like you. Should you go looking for him? No, it’s not like you can search the entire school. You wrap your arms around yourself, chewing the inside of your cheek.

For the first time in your life, you need Oikawa.

It’s three minutes before the student council meeting when Haruka approaches Oikawa. She asks him if they could walk together to the meeting. There’s something important she wants to tell him on the way. He smiles at her as she falls in step with him. Her cheeks blush a bright red. The words are caught in her throat for too long though as Oikawa spots you.

You’re staring out the window with a frown etched on your face, wringing your hands. He’s by your side in an instant.

“Y/N-chan?”

“Where were you?” you ask.

“What? Missed me?” he teases.

“No.” You glare at him. “I can’t do the meeting without you.”

He doesn’t mind your scrutinizing eyes. He’d rather it than your frown. Your harsh gaze softens as Mamoru calls for the two of you. It’s time. You give Mamoru a small smile. Oikawa thinks that he might give the world to have that smile be for him.

The three of you walk into the room with Haruka trailing behind. You greet everyone with a small smile. You and Oikawa move to the front of the room, standing side by side. He gives an overview of what to expect. The student council will host a couple of events and trips over the course of the school year. He names a few of the festivals as well as a field day that they have to plan.

You go on to explain how the festivals will be done as well as a Valentine’s Day event. A few squeals are elicited from the class representatives at that.

You smile. “We’ll be back here next week to discuss our first trip. Same time.”

Oikawa smiles before asking, “Any questions?”

Oikawa’s eyes linger on you as you walk out to the school’s gates. Haruka calls out to him again. It’s only now that Oikawa notices the thing clutched in her hands. He glances back, only to find you already gone. Any trace of disappointment on his face is masked with a smile.

She’s gnawing at her lips, letting out a shaky breath once he fully turns to face her. There’s a gleam of curiosity in his eyes, but he has a feeling he knows what’s coming.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she holds out a flush pink envelope, the color of it lighter than the stain of red across her cheeks. “Oikawa, I really like you, so please take this!”

“Haruka, you’re very kind, but I don’t think I can return your feelings. Volleyball takes up a lot of my time, so I won’t be the best boyfriend. You deserve more than that.” He offers her a small smile, hoping his words are a big enough cushion for her. Admittedly, they feel cheap and overused, but after the countless confessions he’s received, what else is there to say?

There’s an embarrassed smile on her face as her hands fall to her sides. “It’s okay, I understand.” She walks away, the envelope crumpling in her hand.

The setter can’t help but feel bad as he did with every rejected confession. Though the thought is soon forgotten as he arrives at the gym. He’s greeted by the sight of Mattsun and Makki snickering about something when he feels a sharp pain on the back of his head. He whines, rubbing the spot that stings. “That hurt, Iwa-chan.”

“You’re late, Shittykawa,” says Iwaizumi. The look on his face is less than pleased.

“Sorry, sorry. I received another confession.”

“Another?” questions Hanamaki, but his tone carries no malice. “What do they even see in you?”

“Makki.” He drags his name out with a pout. “It’s because I'm pretty. I’m also an amazing setter.”

Hanamaki doesn’t deny the latter because well, in all seriousness, Oikawa is an amazing setter. There’s no doubt about it. And no matter how he gets, Makki still has a great deal of respect for him. Though he would rather take that to his grave than to ever utter such a truth.

“Well,” Mattsun begins, “what’d you say?”

“No, of course.” Oikawa scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t have time to date.”

And he really does believe that.

The first couple weeks of the school year aren’t too horrible. Having to see Oikawa a lot isn’t ideal, but you were able to keep your interactions short.

It’s an early spring morning when orange and pink hues collide in the sky, slowly being overtaken by a soft blue. The third years are going on a trip to Tokyo today. You walk over to Makki as soon as you spot him. His eyes are still filled with sleep as you poke his cheek.

“Who are you sitting by?” you ask.

He yawns. “Matsukawa.”

“I don’t have anyone to sit with.” You sigh. “All my other friends are sitting with each other.”

“Sit by yourself.”

“But that makes me look sad and lonely.” There’s an exaggerated pout on your face that makes Makki roll his eyes. “And I don’t want to look sad and lonely.”

“I don’t know. Sit with Oikawa then. Iwaizumi’s sick.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Weren’t you just saying how you don’t want to look ‘sad and lonely’?”

“Makki.” You whine.

He shakes his head at you. “You’re just like him- Ow!” He rubs the spot on his forehead that you flicked.

You do end up sitting with the setter, much to your chagrin. Somehow, he manages to not be much of a nuisance. He’s actually uncharacteristically quiet for the entire ride. You’d be lying if you said the silence wasn’t strange.

October arrives quickly. The Halloween season has begun, and the school is filled with excitement as students decorate. Each class is doing their own thing, from haunted houses to little booths. This year, your class is setting up a haunted house. Your classmates are looking for decorations while you and Oikawa work on the banner.

“What’s that supposed to be?” you ask.

He looks at you with a serious expression. “An alien, obviously.”

You snort, examining the little green figure. “The theme is Halloween not aliens.”

“Hey, aliens are kinda scary too!”

You shake your head at him, half amused. Over the course of the year, you’ve come to learn of his slight obsession with the idea of extraterrestrial life. Your strong distaste for him seems to be fading as you get to know him more. Your mutual interest in Buzzfeed Unsolved has even come up in a few conversations. You’re on the middle of the Ryan-Shane spectrum while he’s definitely a Boogara.

Maybe Makki is right. He’s not that bad.

Paint streaks are all over both of your hands after the countless times you had bumped into each other while drawing. Oikawa looks proudly at his creation as he stands up from the ground. “I’m going to go wash my hands.”

You hum in response, continuing to paint on the letters on the banner.

A bit of time passes before you start to wonder where he is. You look in the direction he left. You spot him in the middle of a group of people. They’re all smiling, and you can hear a chorus of laughter leave their lips. The corners of your lips tug down as you stare back down at the banner. It’s all so easy for him.

There’s a bitter feeling that bubbles in your stomach. It’s always been hard for you to connect with people. How does he make it look so simple? It’s your fault, isn’t it? You keep everyone an arm’s length away. You envy him. You envy the way he makes everything look effortless.

“Everything okay?”

The voice makes your hand jerk, smearing the letter you were writing. “Shit,” you mutter as you try to fix it. “Everything’s fine, except for this stupid letter.”

Kaito scratches his neck. “Sorry. You sure you’re okay though?”

“Yes, Kaito.” You offer him a tired smile. “Did you need something?”

There’s a blush that spreads on his cheeks. “Oh, well, uh I needed to ask you something.”

You lay down the paintbrush in your hand, turning to him with an expectant look.

“Do you,” he begins, eyes staring away from you, “know how to confess to someone?”

You blink. “Confess?”

“Yeah.”

He exhales, and you follow where his gaze trails to. Your eyes find Mamoru talking to a girl from your class. “Wait, you don’t mean…” Your hand flies over your mouth in disbelief. “Oh my, God. You do! That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

Your hands come up in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry. But why are you asking me of all people for advice?”

“You’re the only person whose advice I trust.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I’m actually shit at that kind of stuff. My last crush was Gojo Satoru.”

“From Jujutsu Kaisen?”

You give him an embarrassed smile, nodding.

He pauses, turning to face you. “Me too.”

You’re both unable to contain the laughter that escapes your throats, gaining the attention of your fellow classmates. You make yourself smaller, embarrassed at the looks.

You meet his eyes, finding them already on your face. “What?”

“You have paint on your face,” he says before grabbing a washcloth.

“Oh.” You stare at your hands. “It’s just the paint from my hands. Must’ve gotten it on myself when I touched my face earlier.”

He walks away to soak it with some water, coming back to begin wiping off the paint. His touch is gentle as he makes sure to get it all off.

Oikawa comes back, a frown etched on his face. “Are you done yet, Y/N-chan?”

You nod. “Yeah, we can hang it up now.” You take the wet towel from Kaito, thanking him. Quickly, you scrub the paint off your skin. You throw the cloth in the sink outside when you’re done, and begin helping Oikawa lift the banner up.

“What did he want?” The question that runs from his tongue sounds innocent enough to you, but to anyone who really knows Oikawa, something is off.

You give him a half shrug. “Advice. Move it to the right a bit- no my right.”

The next time you find yourself needing Oikawa is when you get caught in the rain on a cold Monday afternoon.

The dreary weather calls for sweaters and thick coats, but you had been in such a hurry, you forgot a warm jacket and umbrella. You didn’t bother to check the weather that morning. You now regret it, seeing the downpour outside get heavier. Student council had a meeting after school to discuss upcoming events.

The rain had lightened earlier, making you think you had a chance to book it home before it got worse again. But the universe seems to enjoy proving you wrong.

You frown as you stare out at the sky. The clouds are a hopeless gray, hiding the blue sky you’re familiar with. You don’t usually mind the rain, but that typically applies when you’re indoors. You curse, wishing Makki had practice today so he could take you home. Do you make a run for it?

You hold out your hand from under the cover of the roofing. It’s quickly drenched, and you pull it back to wipe the water onto your thick sweater. You grimace. You’ll be soaked by the time you get home, but that’s better than waiting here.

You take your first two steps, preparing yourself for the rain, but you find yourself completely dry. You look up at the umbrella that shields you from the stubborn weather, and to the person who’s holding it.

“Oikawa.” You breathe.

He smiles so warmly at you that you think your heart might’ve skipped a beat. “Let me take you home.”

You fall in step with each other easily. There’s a silence between you, but it doesn’t feel awkward anymore. It’s comfortable, even. And the light hum of the rain fills any void.

You can hear the sound of cars passing as you stop outside your front door. “Thanks for walking me home,” you say, watching the drops of rain sliding down your shoes. “You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did.”

You don’t notice the significance behind his words as you step into your house, glancing back to watch his figure moving farther away.

The next few weeks take you by surprise. You start tagging along with Makki when he hangs out with his friends. It’s nice. They’re nice. It doesn’t take long before you’re joining in their shenanigans. What surprises you even more is that you’ve started to hang out with Oikawa too, outside of school activities and your newfound friend group.

It’s on a Friday evening when you watch Oikawa sing his heart out at a small karaoke box, and for the first time it hits you how pretty he is. His cheeks are flushed rosy. The sleeves of his school shirt are rolled up past his elbows. You finally understand it now. The charming aura of Oikawa Tooru has you in awe.

“What should we do for Valentine’s Day?” Oikawa asks during a quick meeting for student council. The holiday is coming up soon, and all of you had yet to figure out an event.

There’s a pause of silence before a girl speaks up, “We could send love letters.”

He hums. “That’s a good idea.”

“And we can let them be anonymous,” comments another. “Wouldn’t that be exciting?” 

“We should deliver flowers too!”

Everyone seems to be in agreement as excited whispers fill the room.

“Alright,” you say. “Love letters and flowers it is.”

It’s the Friday before Valentine’s, and everyone is working hard to get out all the gifts. The idea of sending letters is a lot more popular than expected. There are hundreds of letters that need to be sent out.

There’s currently a pile on Oikawa’s desk, and a tally has started to see how many he’d receive. A bet went around the student council yesterday morning. Currently, Kaito seems to be in the lead with thirty-four.

“Oh, Y/N!” Yui hands you a red envelope with a sweet smile. “Here’s yours.” 

“Mine?” you ask, gaze fixed on the letter. “Um, thanks.”

Should you open it? Your nail slides under the flap when Mamoru calls your name. It’s quickly forgotten after you shove it in your pocket. It’s not your priority right now. You have letters to deliver.

Student council finishes making their rounds right before lunch, and with a few minutes to spare. Everyone is lounging in an empty classroom now, waiting for the bell to ring.

“Who do you think your secret admirer is?” questions Mamoru as he sits at the table next to you. His chin rests on his palm, curious eyes staring at the red envelope in your pocket.

“I don’t know.” You glance at him. “Who do you think sent yours?”

The tips of his ears burn a soft pink. “No idea.”

“Flustered?” You laugh as you nudge him with your shoulder.

“No,” he protests, but the clear heat in his cheeks tells you otherwise.

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’re great.” You hum before you comment teasingly, “Mamoru’s got a secret admirer.” Your voice is loud enough to catch the attention of others, and you don’t miss the flush of Kaito’s cheeks.

“Stop.” He whines. “You do too!”

There’s a giggle leaving your lips as he hides his face.

The day is over so soon, and a long breath escapes you as your feet carry you to your room. You plop on your bed once you set your bag down. You close your eyes as a sigh of relief leaves you, grateful that the weekend has come. You roll onto your side. There’s a curiosity that fills you as you spot the letter sticking out of your messenger bag. You slump up, reaching over to grab the envelope.

You admire the handwriting as you read through it. It’s delicately pretty without being too fancy. It looks kind of familiar actually. You blink. Your eyebrows furrow as you search through your school bag. “Holy shit.”

There’s a reason you recognize the handwriting. It looks exactly like the one on Oikawa’s note cards. Oh. Oh. 

You’ve been dodging Oikawa since your little realization. He can’t like you that way, right? It’s all just a stupid joke that he’s playing on you. Stupid is right. You huff.

It had been so easy to do before, but now it seems like he’s everywhere. You can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt at the way his face falls each time you walk away from him. But you’re caught in an escapable situation when you find yourselves the last ones to leave your meeting.

There’s a deep frown set on Oikawa’s face. “Why are you avoiding me?” 

“I’m not.” You’re such a bad liar.

“Then explain why you’ve been bailing on me for the last two weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“No you haven’t. You sleep in on the weekends because you binge K-dramas until really late. You barely go out, so you can avoid people.”

You blink, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Am I really that easy to read?”

He exhales, exasperated by your attempts to deflect. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you say, pressing your lips into a thin line. “I should go.”

Oikawa’s heart stings as you walk past him. You’ve done it so many times before, so why does it hurt so much now?

The slam of a volleyball echoes throughout the gym as it hits the wooden floor of the gym. It’s the only sound that he’s been listening to for the past two hours other than his own breaths. He doesn’t even notice the hot tears that trail down his cheeks.

It’s over. If only he had been better. If only he had practiced more. If only, if only, if only.

There’s a painful ache in his chest as he falls onto his knees. He stares at the ground. The taste on his tongue is bitter, and he wants to cry out. Nothing but silence escapes his throat. He laughs bitterly. He can’t even cry correctly.

He doesn’t hear your footsteps as you enter either.

“Oikawa?”

He uses the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. “Go away. Please.”

The rawness of his voice hurts to hear. You slide down onto the ground next to him. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I know you wrote that letter.”

Great, he thinks. You’ve come here to reject him.

“And uh,” you begin, “it was really… nice? Fuck, sorry I don’t know how to respond to these things- You’re crying.” Your hand comes up to hold his cheek in concern as you inspect his blotchy face.

The gentleness in your voice is calming, but he feels so weak. There’s no reason to deny your statement. The evidence is written all over his tear-streaked face.

“I couldn’t,” he chokes out. “I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t better- We didn’t even get to play him.”

He’s barely coherent, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s referring to. The news of Seijoh’s loss spread around the school like wildfire. He detests the looks of pity given to him by his classmates and teachers after that.

You swallow. “You can’t blame yourself for something you can’t control. You did your best out there, I’m sure.”

He doesn’t know that you’re trying to reassure yourself too.

“It wasn’t- I wasn’t enough.”

“You’re enough for me, if that means anything.” You offer him a warm smile as you stare into his eyes.

He feels so transparent under your gaze. His bottom lip trembles as you wipe his tears away. You pull him into your embrace. He’s bawling his eyes out into your sweater, and he’s sure that he’s gotten snot all over it. How do you make him so vulnerable?

But he’s comforted by your words. They’re so sincere, and the most heartfelt thing you’ve ever told him. They’re not the kind of sweet that’ll make your teeth ache, but rather like honey: a more subtle, soothing sugar.

You pull away, and he instantly misses your warmth. “You know, I can kind of relate- not to volleyball, sports aren’t my thing, but feeling like you’re not enough. Yeah.” You let out a breath. “I get that. I felt so inadequate next to you. You’re like everything I’m missing and more.

You’re great at volleyball and you get perfect grades- you even manage student council on top of that, and I always hated how people were just… drawn to you. I even hated you for a while. That was dumb, huh?”

He holds onto your hands like you’ll disappear if he lets go. “I’m sorry. I’m such a dick for rubbing it in. It was just a stupid competition.”

“Don’t be.” Your voice comes out so soft. “We’re friends now.”

You sit on the floor of the volleyball court with him until the evening runs into night, and the sky is no longer orange bleeding into blue. You both forget about the letter, the can of worms that he had opened. You’re just two friends enjoying the company of the other.

You start telling silly jokes just to get a laugh out of him. He appreciates it. He appreciates your kindness. He appreciates that smile of yours that seems to be just for him.

You’re sitting on Oikawa’s couch with him for an Unsolved marathon. But for once, he can’t keep his focus on his beloved show. His gaze is fixed on you. There’s a thick blanket covering you, and he watches as you grip it closer to your body. His eyes trail down to your mouth. Your plush lips are slightly parted before you begin giggling at Ryan’s shrill screams.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, and he wishes that you would stop doing that. He doesn’t get why you feel the need to hide yourself, when in his eyes, your beauty is incomparable. 

“What?” you ask him once you realize he’s staring.

Can I kiss you? He coughs, turning back towards his T.V. screen. “Nothing.” 

It’s on a frigid March night when you find Oikawa standing at your doorstep. He’s breathless, and there’s a slight flush in his cheeks from the bite of the cold. You try to pull him inside, but he stops you.

He exhales. “Can I tell you something?”

“Can’t you tell me inside?” You frown. “You’re freezing.”

He pulls you down onto the step with him. You wonder what’s on his mind as he reaches his hand out to yours. His touch is slow, tentative. They finally connect. And it’s like they were always meant to.

Your heart feels so inexplicably full. You let out a slow breath. His lips look so pretty and soft to touch. When did he get so close? Are you the one who’s leaning in? You’re unable to tell as your lips touch.

It’s almost as though you’re pouring out a piece of your soul on a platter for him, wrapping your heartstrings with his. Sharing breaths and a want that could finally be acted upon. Kissing Oikawa is like letting out a sigh of relief as you step into your house after a long day. It’s as easy as breathing.

You pull away, watching and analyzing him down to the subtle twitch of his mouth.

He’s staring back at you, gulping. There’s a blush color that dusts his cheeks. He’s nervous. Oikawa gets nervous? You decide it’s a good thing as a confession tumbles past his lips like he’s uttering his final words.

“I’m so in love with you.”

The words are so terribly honest. They aren’t sweetly dripping from his lips like honey. They’re like a dive off a cliff; a terrifying jump into something that could either kill you, or be the only thing you could never regret. But he says it with so much conviction.

You lean your head on his shoulder and hum. Your eyes are closed, unsure if you can say it back. Maybe it’s the raw honesty in them that scares you. Do you let him see your heart bleed? See you cry and ache and break right in front of his eyes? See you stretch yourself thin for others, and leave nothing for yourself?

It’s as if he knows of the ferocious storm brewing through your head. He plants a kiss on your temple. It’s a gentle reminder that he’s there. It’s okay. I can wait.

You’re grateful for him. For his warm hand, his kisses, his love.

“Oikawa?” Your voice comes out so quiet that he wouldn’t be able to hear you if it weren’t for the proximity between you.

He brushes his thumb over your knuckle. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you.”

He brings your interwoven hands up to his mouth, pressing light pecks on your skin as he mumbles, “I should be thanking you. I don’t know how I’d be if you weren’t there that day.”

You smile as you bring your free hand up, crossing your fingers into a heart; a silent declaration. He lets out a breath, smiling as he mimics you. 

His tongue darts out to wet his lips before they meet yours again in a hasty kiss. He kisses you so fervently that it has the moon and stars yearning for the same touch. His kisses are completely consuming, leaving your head spinning. His thumb traces the outline of your lips when he pulls away.

You look down with a giddy smile. He loves you.

The cold air nips at Oikawa’s skin. He’s standing outside your house, watching his breath blow from his mouth as he waits for you. He looks over at you when he hears his name off your tongue. Why does it sound so nice from you?

He sees you rub your hands in search of some friction. Your hands are bare, and he scolds you for not wearing gloves. You don’t own any, you say. So he wraps his gloved hands around yours. You smile at him, and he thinks that he’d do anything for you.

You’re staring now, and a faint crimson appears on his skin. He’s glad that it’s cold out. “What?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.”

He buries his head in your shoulder. The warm scent of you fills his nose. “Y/N-chan,” he whines out, “you can’t just say things like that.”

He can feel the vibration of your laugh, and the way your fingers card through his soft brown hair. “Pretty Tooru.”

The smile that grows on his face is genuine. Though Oikawa would argue that all his smiles are, but he, too, knows that his most sincere ones are your doing. He takes you to his favorite cafe. You’re the only one he’ll share it with.

You make him feel so warm.

“Argentina,” you echo.

“Yeah.” Oikawa scratches the nape of his neck. He’s going to pursue a career in volleyball there. It’s his dream.

It’s so far away, you think. “Oh.” You swallow hard. “When are you leaving?”

He pulls you in for a tight hug, mumbling the words against your skin. “In a few months.” 

You haven’t even been with him for that long, and he’s already leaving soon? Your heart aches, but you put on your best smile and kiss the top of his head.

“I won’t be the best boyfriend.” His voice is choked. “You can break up with me if you want.” 

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his tears soaking into the fabric of your shirt. “We still have a few months together.”

You see him off when the day comes, of course. There are no teary eyes or passionate grand gestures—the kind you only experience in a K-drama—as you face each other at the Sendai Airport. The both of you keep your composure, but the façade is hard to keep up with when it sets in that this will be the last time you’ll see each other for a while.

But for something new to begin, something else must end, right? At least, that’s what you tell yourself as Tooru leaves for Argentina as your friend while your heart is begging for more.

The warm smell of coffee and baked goods hits your nose. There aren’t many people in the café today, to your relief. Hanamaki orders a coffee so sweet that it has you wondering whether it actually has any coffee in it. You’re sure it’s ninety percent pure sugar.

After waiting for a few minutes, you finally receive your beverages. You take a sip of your drink, sighing in content.

“You’re gonna be there, right?” Makki asks, stirring his coffee.

You look up at him. “Hm?”

“His game.”

You shrug. You don’t have to ask who he’s referring to. “I don’t know.”

“You should.”

“Would he even want to see me?”

He scoffs. “You’re kidding. Dude won’t shut up about you. He misses you.”

He misses you.

The thought brings warmth to your heart as you take another sip of your drink.

Oikawa does ask about you. He asks almost every time that they talk. Though the two of you are still in contact, it’s mainly birthday and holiday wishes over text. Makki’s slightly tired of it, wishing that he would just get the guts to talk to you himself. He’s almost offended, really, how much he asks about how you’re doing and not him.

The two of you had moved to Tokyo after graduation. You for university, and Makki for… whatever he was doing at the time. He’s been “in between jobs”. At least, that’s what he replies with each time Oikawa asks. Makki won’t deny that he’s crashed on your couch more often than not.

“You’re well and single” is what Oikawa gets from Hanamaki. Oikawa tells him he didn’t have to add the last part, but everyone and their mother knows that he was curious. He’s surprised you’re still single, but also relieved.

She said “no one felt right”.

Would he feel right?

Oikawa lets out a long breath as he stands on the floor of the court. He’s still in disbelief. The years of dedicating himself to this passion has finally led him here: at the fucking Olympics.

His bright eyes scan the crowd as he’s shoulder to shoulder with his teammates. Their loud cheers ring in his ears. The familiarity is there, but this time it brings a new rush. He’s made it.

It’s in that moment that his eyes meet yours.

There’s strength behind them; a confidence built from the ground up. That’s new, but your gaze is still every bit as soft as he remembers. A shaky smile makes its way onto your face before you blink, a look of recollection present in your features. You whip your hand up out toward him, fingers crossed in a heart. The smile on your face morphs into a grin as you laugh, nostalgia lacing through your heart.

“Go win!” you mouth to him.

He grins, mimicking your gesture. He mouths back, “I love you too.”

You only nod, but it’s enough for him. He knows things won’t be easy. Time hasn’t been on his or your sides before, but he’s willing to take it step by step with you.

[narratorstragedy]

@goosemixtapes tagged me to post my top books of 2022 so far :) ty max ily

1. when i sing, mountains dance by irene solà, translated from the catalan by mara faye lethem - you have all probably seen me mention this book before, but it completely blew me away. it’s loosely centered around two families in the rural pyrenees but the chapters are narrated not only by various characters, but by mushrooms, storm clouds, dogs, etc… it sounds weird but it’s so well-written & translated, so interesting, and the last chapter is incredible. begging everyone to read it. if this gives you any idea of how much i loved it: two months after i finished reading it, i forced my mom to leave my soccer game early & drive to a book fair to hear the author speak & have her sign my copy. i told her it was one of my favorite books ever.

2. brickmakers by selva almada, translated from the spanish by annie mcdermott - this is inspired by r&j and set in rural argentina. it’s violent and painful and a quick read and soooo good. i read it on a plane in one sitting and when i finished it i just had to sit there staring into space for 30 minutes to process it. definitely try & check content warnings if you’re interested (i can also elaborate if needed) but it’s great

3. labyrinths by jorge luis borges, translated by the spanish from [idk and can’t find my copy rn sorry]- man. both my dad and my spanish teacher used to tell me borges was super difficult (and i get it!), which is why i picked this up in english not spanish, but… wow. he’s famous for a reason. the concepts in his stories and essays are incredibly interesting, and it’s definitely something i hope to revisit when i’m older so that i can get more out of it

4. chilean poet by alejandro zambra, translated from the spanish by megan mcdowell- i am an alejandro zambra fan through and through so i was super excited to read this!! probably not my favorite book of his (multiple choice <3) but still very well-crafted, deceptively simply told, and as always… fathers and sons… they get to me

5. los detectives salvajes by roberto bolaño - this book is VERY long and VERY weird, and i don’t know if i genuinely liked it this much or if i just spent so much time with it i got attached. i remember feeling meh for the first ~200 pages, but once i started really thinking about ulises + belano searching the globe for a writer, just as the narrator searches for them, i got into it. it made me want to read 2666 at some point!!

6. formas breves by ricardo piglia - much shorter than los detectives salvajes haha! this was mostly literary criticism/commentary with a little fiction but i genuinely enjoyed it a lot, plus piglia talked about a couple different writers from argentina that i now want to check out! reading list material hehe :)

7. a ghost in the throat by doireann ní ghríofa - i read this way back in early january, so my memory isn’t quite as sharp, but this is sort of a novel-memoir of an author and mother who becomes fascinated by an 18th century irish nobleman/mother/poet (eibhlín dubh ní chonaill). super interesting!!

8. translating myself and others by jhumpa lahiri - i found these collection of essays, most about lahiri’s ideas on translation after beginning to translate from italian, & since i like the concept of translation & translated literature this was fun for me

9. no voy a pedirle a nadie que me crea by juan pablo villalobos - this was another weird one, i’m not gonna lie, but the way in which it’s told is cool & i found the tone — unsettlingly sarcastic and funny, given that it’s literally about a guy getting blackmailed by a criminal organization — fascinating.

i think a lot of ppl have been tagged already but i will tag @tucurui @rothko @metaphysical-cheese @sofyarostova & honestly anyone else if you want to do it!!

[twopoppies]

hey love, hope you're doing well <3 i was wondering if maybe you have some fics where at the begging of the story one of them is a big fan of the other or just admires them so much. for example in our lives non-fiction harry was kind of a louisʼ fan, and i was looking for more fics that explore and develop this trope more, maybe you can help me a little pls ? and thank you for reading my ask, ily <3

Hi love. I’m sorry it took me so long to answer this. I hope you actually see it!! So... I have a bunch of Famous/Not Famous and Famous/Famous fics, but these are the only ones that are in the realm of what you’re looking for:

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head! by keyshmashlesbian, wreckingtomlinson (karasunonolibero) (T, 22K) Honestly one of the funniest things I’ve ever read. Famous!Louis, disaster gay not-famous Harry. Also includes great OT5 friendship, great banter, and a lot of laughs. Link is to a download.

let me make a thing of cream and stars by missandrogyny (E, 25K) Louis isn’t exactly not famous in this one, as he’s a radio DJ, but Harry is the famous pop star. And the flirting and sexual tension is top notch leading up to some excellent smut (I would expect nothing less from this author) and a happy ending. 

Pull Me Under by zarah5 (E, 140K) One of the very first fics I read coming into this fandom and wow, what an intro. This author is a legend as far as I’m concerned. Everything they write is so good. This one has some of the sexiest smut scenes on top of also being wonderfully paced, and well-written. Famous!Louis, not famous!Harry. Link is to a download.

For Reasons Wretched and Divine by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 95K) Really well written, angsty, emotional fic. I love this author’s ability to draw you in so deeply (and the smut is excellent). 

baby thinking of you keeps me up all night by ballsdeepinjesus (E, 9K) This author is never a let down when it comes to smut. Those is basically just an excuse to write some age difference sexiness, but there’s something about older Louis that just gets me in this one. (Actor Louis / Pop Star Harry)

and the one you mentioned:

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 114K) this is, quite literally, the best fic I’ve read in years. It’s so well written, clever, funny, emotional, and sexy. Its draw you in immediately and you’ll end up falling in love with these characters before you know it. Don’t miss this one.